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PARADISE LOST
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BOOK I.
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Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit
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Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal tast
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Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,
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With loss of EDEN, till one greater Man
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Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,
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Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top
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Of OREB, or of SINAI, didst inspire
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That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen Seed,
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In the Beginning how the Heav'ns and Earth
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Rose out of CHAOS: Or if SION Hill
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Delight thee more, and SILOA'S Brook that flow'd
|
||
Fast by the Oracle of God; I thence
|
||
Invoke thy aid to my adventrous Song,
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||
That with no middle flight intends to soar
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Above th' AONIAN Mount, while it pursues
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Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime.
|
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And chiefly Thou O Spirit, that dost prefer
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Before all Temples th' upright heart and pure,
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Instruct me, for Thou know'st; Thou from the first
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||
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread
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Dove-like satst brooding on the vast Abyss
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And mad'st it pregnant: What in me is dark
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Illumine, what is low raise and support;
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That to the highth of this great Argument
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I may assert th' Eternal Providence,
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And justifie the wayes of God to men.
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Say first, for Heav'n hides nothing from thy view
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Nor the deep Tract of Hell, say first what cause
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||
Mov'd our Grand Parents in that happy State,
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Favour'd of Heav'n so highly, to fall off
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||
From their Creator, and transgress his Will
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For one restraint, Lords of the World besides?
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Who first seduc'd them to that fowl revolt?
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Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile
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Stird up with Envy and Revenge, deceiv'd
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The Mother of Mankinde, what time his Pride
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||
Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his Host
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Of Rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring
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||
To set himself in Glory above his Peers,
|
||
He trusted to have equal'd the most High,
|
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If he oppos'd; and with ambitious aim
|
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Against the Throne and Monarchy of God
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||
Rais'd impious War in Heav'n and Battel proud
|
||
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
|
||
Hurld headlong flaming from th' Ethereal Skie
|
||
With hideous ruine and combustion down
|
||
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
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In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,
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||
Who durst defie th' Omnipotent to Arms.
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Nine times the Space that measures Day and Night
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||
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
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||
Lay vanquisht, rowling in the fiery Gulfe
|
||
Confounded though immortal: But his doom
|
||
Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought
|
||
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
|
||
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
|
||
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
|
||
Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:
|
||
At once as far as Angels kenn he views
|
||
The dismal Situation waste and wilde,
|
||
A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round
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||
As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames
|
||
No light, but rather darkness visible
|
||
Serv'd only to discover sights of woe,
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||
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
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||
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
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||
That comes to all; but torture without end
|
||
Still urges, and a fiery Deluge, fed
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With ever-burning Sulphur unconsum'd:
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||
Such place Eternal Justice had prepar'd
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||
For those rebellious, here their Prison ordain'd
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In utter darkness, and their portion set
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||
As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n
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||
As from the Center thrice to th' utmost Pole.
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O how unlike the place from whence they fell!
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||
There the companions of his fall, o'rewhelm'd
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With Floods and Whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
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He soon discerns, and weltring by his side
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One next himself in power, and next in crime,
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Long after known in PALESTINE, and nam'd
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BEELZEBUB. To whom th' Arch-Enemy,
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And thence in Heav'n call'd Satan, with bold words
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Breaking the horrid silence thus began.
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If thou beest he; But O how fall'n! how chang'd
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||
From him, who in the happy Realms of Light
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Cloth'd with transcendent brightnes didst outshine
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||
Myriads though bright: If he whom mutual league,
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||
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope,
|
||
And hazard in the Glorious Enterprize,
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||
Joynd with me once, now misery hath joynd
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||
In equal ruin: into what Pit thou seest
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||
From what highth fal'n, so much the stronger provd
|
||
He with his Thunder: and till then who knew
|
||
The force of those dire Arms? yet not for those
|
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Nor what the Potent Victor in his rage
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Can else inflict do I repent or change,
|
||
Though chang'd in outward lustre; that fixt mind
|
||
And high disdain, from sence of injur'd merit,
|
||
That with the mightiest rais'd me to contend,
|
||
And to the fierce contention brought along
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||
Innumerable force of Spirits arm'd
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That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,
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||
His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd
|
||
In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav'n,
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||
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
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||
All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,
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||
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
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||
And courage never to submit or yield:
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||
And what is else not to be overcome?
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||
That Glory never shall his wrath or might
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Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
|
||
With suppliant knee, and deifie his power
|
||
Who from the terrour of this Arm so late
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||
Doubted his Empire, that were low indeed,
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||
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
|
||
This downfall; since by Fate the strength of Gods
|
||
And this Empyreal substance cannot fail,
|
||
Since through experience of this great event
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||
In Arms not worse, in foresight much advanc't,
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||
We may with more successful hope resolve
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||
To wage by force or guile eternal Warr
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||
Irreconcileable, to our grand Foe,
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||
Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy
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Sole reigning holds the Tyranny of Heav'n.
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||
So spake th' Apostate Angel, though in pain,
|
||
Vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep despare:
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||
And him thus answer'd soon his bold Compeer.
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O Prince, O Chief of many Throned Powers,
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||
That led th' imbattelld Seraphim to Warr
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||
Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds
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||
Fearless, endanger'd Heav'ns perpetual King;
|
||
And put to proof his high Supremacy,
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||
Whether upheld by strength, or Chance, or Fate,
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||
Too well I see and rue the dire event,
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||
That with sad overthrow and foul defeat
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||
Hath lost us Heav'n, and all this mighty Host
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In horrible destruction laid thus low,
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||
As far as Gods and Heav'nly Essences
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||
Can Perish: for the mind and spirit remains
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||
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
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||
Though all our Glory extinct, and happy state
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||
Here swallow'd up in endless misery.
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||
But what if he our Conquerour, (whom I now
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Of force believe Almighty, since no less
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||
Then such could hav orepow'rd such force as ours)
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Have left us this our spirit and strength intire
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||
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
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||
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
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Or do him mightier service as his thralls
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By right of Warr, what e're his business be
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Here in the heart of Hell to work in Fire,
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||
Or do his Errands in the gloomy Deep;
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||
What can it then avail though yet we feel
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||
Strength undiminisht, or eternal being
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||
To undergo eternal punishment?
|
||
Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-fiend reply'd.
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||
Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserable
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||
Doing or Suffering: but of this be sure,
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||
To do ought good never will be our task,
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||
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
|
||
As being the contrary to his high will
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Whom we resist. If then his Providence
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Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
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Our labour must be to pervert that end,
|
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And out of good still to find means of evil;
|
||
Which oft times may succeed, so as perhaps
|
||
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
|
||
His inmost counsels from their destind aim.
|
||
But see the angry Victor hath recall'd
|
||
His Ministers of vengeance and pursuit
|
||
Back to the Gates of Heav'n: The Sulphurous Hail
|
||
Shot after us in storm, oreblown hath laid
|
||
The fiery Surge, that from the Precipice
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||
Of Heav'n receiv'd us falling, and the Thunder,
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||
Wing'd with red Lightning and impetuous rage,
|
||
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
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||
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
|
||
Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn,
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||
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
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||
Seest thou yon dreary Plain, forlorn and wilde,
|
||
The seat of desolation, voyd of light,
|
||
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
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||
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
|
||
From off the tossing of these fiery waves,
|
||
There rest, if any rest can harbour there,
|
||
And reassembling our afflicted Powers,
|
||
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
|
||
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair,
|
||
How overcome this dire Calamity,
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||
What reinforcement we may gain from Hope,
|
||
If not what resolution from despare.
|
||
Thus Satan talking to his neerest Mate
|
||
With Head up-lift above the wave, and Eyes
|
||
That sparkling blaz'd, his other Parts besides
|
||
Prone on the Flood, extended long and large
|
||
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
|
||
As whom the Fables name of monstrous size,
|
||
TITANIAN, or EARTH-BORN, that warr'd on JOVE,
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||
BRIARIOS or TYPHON, whom the Den
|
||
By ancient TARSUS held, or that Sea-beast
|
||
LEVIATHAN, which God of all his works
|
||
Created hugest that swim th' Ocean stream:
|
||
Him haply slumbring on the NORWAY foam
|
||
The Pilot of some small night-founder'd Skiff,
|
||
Deeming some Island, oft, as Sea-men tell,
|
||
With fixed Anchor in his skaly rind
|
||
Moors by his side under the Lee, while Night
|
||
Invests the Sea, and wished Morn delayes:
|
||
So stretcht out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay
|
||
Chain'd on the burning Lake, nor ever thence
|
||
Had ris'n or heav'd his head, but that the will
|
||
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven
|
||
Left him at large to his own dark designs,
|
||
That with reiterated crimes he might
|
||
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
|
||
Evil to others, and enrag'd might see
|
||
How all his malice serv'd but to bring forth
|
||
Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shewn
|
||
On Man by him seduc't, but on himself
|
||
Treble confusion, wrath and vengeance pour'd.
|
||
Forthwith upright he rears from off the Pool
|
||
His mighty Stature; on each hand the flames
|
||
Drivn backward slope their pointing spires, & rowld
|
||
In billows, leave i'th' midst a horrid Vale.
|
||
Then with expanded wings he stears his flight
|
||
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky Air
|
||
That felt unusual weight, till on dry Land
|
||
He lights, if it were Land that ever burn'd
|
||
With solid, as the Lake with liquid fire;
|
||
And such appear'd in hue, as when the force
|
||
Of subterranean wind transports a Hill
|
||
Torn from PELORUS, or the shatter'd side
|
||
Of thundring AETNA, whose combustible
|
||
And fewel'd entrals thence conceiving Fire,
|
||
Sublim'd with Mineral fury, aid the Winds,
|
||
And leave a singed bottom all involv'd
|
||
With stench and smoak: Such resting found the sole
|
||
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next Mate,
|
||
Both glorying to have scap't the STYGIAN flood
|
||
As Gods, and by their own recover'd strength,
|
||
Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
|
||
Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime,
|
||
Said then the lost Arch Angel, this the seat
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||
That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom
|
||
For that celestial light? Be it so, since hee
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Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid
|
||
What shall be right: fardest from him is best
|
||
Whom reason hath equald, force hath made supream
|
||
Above his equals. Farewel happy Fields
|
||
Where Joy for ever dwells: Hail horrours, hail
|
||
Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell
|
||
Receive thy new Possessor: One who brings
|
||
A mind not to be chang'd by Place or Time.
|
||
The mind is its own place, and in it self
|
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Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.
|
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What matter where, if I be still the same,
|
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And what I should be, all but less then hee
|
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Whom Thunder hath made greater? Here at least
|
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We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built
|
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Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
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Here we may reign secure, and in my choyce
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To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
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Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.
|
||
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
|
||
Th' associates and copartners of our loss
|
||
Lye thus astonisht on th' oblivious Pool,
|
||
And call them not to share with us their part
|
||
In this unhappy Mansion, or once more
|
||
With rallied Arms to try what may be yet
|
||
Regaind in Heav'n, or what more lost in Hell?
|
||
So SATAN spake, and him BEELZEBUB
|
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Thus answer'd. Leader of those Armies bright,
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Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foyld,
|
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If once they hear that voyce, their liveliest pledge
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||
Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft
|
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In worst extreams, and on the perilous edge
|
||
Of battel when it rag'd, in all assaults
|
||
Their surest signal, they will soon resume
|
||
New courage and revive, though now they lye
|
||
Groveling and prostrate on yon Lake of Fire,
|
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As we erewhile, astounded and amaz'd,
|
||
No wonder, fall'n such a pernicious highth.
|
||
He scarce had ceas't when the superiour Fiend
|
||
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield
|
||
Ethereal temper, massy, large and round,
|
||
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
|
||
Hung on his shoulders like the Moon, whose Orb
|
||
Through Optic Glass the TUSCAN Artist views
|
||
At Ev'ning from the top of FESOLE,
|
||
Or in VALDARNO, to descry new Lands,
|
||
Rivers or Mountains in her spotty Globe.
|
||
His Spear, to equal which the tallest Pine
|
||
Hewn on NORWEGIAN hills, to be the Mast
|
||
Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand,
|
||
He walkt with to support uneasie steps
|
||
Over the burning Marle, not like those steps
|
||
On Heavens Azure, and the torrid Clime
|
||
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with Fire;
|
||
Nathless he so endur'd, till on the Beach
|
||
Of that inflamed Sea, he stood and call'd
|
||
His Legions, Angel Forms, who lay intrans't
|
||
Thick as Autumnal Leaves that strow the Brooks
|
||
In VALLOMBROSA, where th' ETRURIAN shades
|
||
High overarch't imbowr; or scatterd sedge
|
||
Afloat, when with fierce Winds ORION arm'd
|
||
Hath vext the Red-Sea Coast, whose waves orethrew
|
||
BUSIRIS and his MEMPHIAN Chivalrie,
|
||
VVhile with perfidious hatred they pursu'd
|
||
The Sojourners of GOSHEN, who beheld
|
||
From the safe shore their floating Carkases
|
||
And broken Chariot Wheels, so thick bestrown
|
||
Abject and lost lay these, covering the Flood,
|
||
Under amazement of their hideous change.
|
||
He call'd so loud, that all the hollow Deep
|
||
Of Hell resounded. Princes, Potentates,
|
||
Warriers, the Flowr of Heav'n, once yours, now lost,
|
||
If such astonishment as this can sieze
|
||
Eternal spirits; or have ye chos'n this place
|
||
After the toyl of Battel to repose
|
||
Your wearied vertue, for the ease you find
|
||
To slumber here, as in the Vales of Heav'n?
|
||
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
|
||
To adore the Conquerour? who now beholds
|
||
Cherube and Seraph rowling in the Flood
|
||
With scatter'd Arms and Ensigns, till anon
|
||
His swift pursuers from Heav'n Gates discern
|
||
Th' advantage, and descending tread us down
|
||
Thus drooping, or with linked Thunderbolts
|
||
Transfix us to the bottom of this Gulfe.
|
||
Awake, arise, or be for ever fall'n.
|
||
They heard, and were abasht, and up they sprung
|
||
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch
|
||
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
|
||
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
|
||
Nor did they not perceave the evil plight
|
||
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
|
||
Yet to their Generals Voyce they soon obeyd
|
||
Innumerable. As when the potent Rod
|
||
Of AMRAMS Son in EGYPTS evill day
|
||
Wav'd round the Coast, up call'd a pitchy cloud
|
||
Of LOCUSTS, warping on the Eastern Wind,
|
||
That ore the Realm of impious PHAROAH hung
|
||
Like Night, and darken'd all the Land of NILE:
|
||
So numberless were those bad Angels seen
|
||
Hovering on wing under the Cope of Hell
|
||
'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding Fires;
|
||
Till, as a signal giv'n, th' uplifted Spear
|
||
Of their great Sultan waving to direct
|
||
Thir course, in even ballance down they light
|
||
On the firm brimstone, and fill all the Plain;
|
||
A multitude, like which the populous North
|
||
Pour'd never from her frozen loyns, to pass
|
||
RHENE or the DANAW, when her barbarous Sons
|
||
Came like a Deluge on the South, and spread
|
||
Beneath GIBRALTAR to the LYBIAN sands.
|
||
Forthwith from every Squadron and each Band
|
||
The Heads and Leaders thither hast where stood
|
||
Their great Commander; Godlike shapes and forms
|
||
Excelling human, Princely Dignities,
|
||
And Powers that earst in Heaven sat on Thrones;
|
||
Though of their Names in heav'nly Records now
|
||
Be no memorial, blotted out and ras'd
|
||
By thir Rebellion, from the Books of Life.
|
||
Nor had they yet among the Sons of EVE
|
||
Got them new Names, till wandring ore the Earth,
|
||
Through Gods high sufferance for the tryal of man,
|
||
By falsities and lyes the greatest part
|
||
Of Mankind they corrupted to forsake
|
||
God their Creator, and th' invisible
|
||
Glory of him, that made them, to transform
|
||
Oft to the Image of a Brute, adorn'd
|
||
With gay Religions full of Pomp and Gold,
|
||
And Devils to adore for Deities:
|
||
Then were they known to men by various Names,
|
||
And various Idols through the Heathen World.
|
||
Say, Muse, their Names then known, who first, who last,
|
||
Rous'd from the slumber, on that fiery Couch,
|
||
At thir great Emperors call, as next in worth
|
||
Came singly where he stood on the bare strand,
|
||
While the promiscuous croud stood yet aloof?
|
||
The chief were those who from the Pit of Hell
|
||
Roaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fix
|
||
Their Seats long after next the Seat of God,
|
||
Their Altars by his Altar, Gods ador'd
|
||
Among the Nations round, and durst abide
|
||
JEHOVAH thundring out of SION, thron'd
|
||
Between the Cherubim; yea, often plac'd
|
||
Within his Sanctuary it self their Shrines,
|
||
Abominations; and with cursed things
|
||
His holy Rites, and solemn Feasts profan'd,
|
||
And with their darkness durst affront his light.
|
||
First MOLOCH, horrid King besmear'd with blood
|
||
Of human sacrifice, and parents tears,
|
||
Though for the noyse of Drums and Timbrels loud
|
||
Their childrens cries unheard, that past through fire
|
||
To his grim Idol. Him the AMMONITE
|
||
Worshipt in RABBA and her watry Plain,
|
||
In ARGOB and in BASAN, to the stream
|
||
Of utmost ARNON. Nor content with such
|
||
Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart
|
||
Of SOLOMON he led by fraud to build
|
||
His Temple right against the Temple of God
|
||
On that opprobrious Hill, and made his Grove
|
||
The pleasant Vally of HINNOM, TOPHET thence
|
||
And black GEHENNA call'd, the Type of Hell.
|
||
Next CHEMOS, th' obscene dread of MOABS Sons,
|
||
From AROER to NEBO, and the wild
|
||
Of Southmost ABARIM; in HESEBON
|
||
And HERONAIM, SEONS Realm, beyond
|
||
The flowry Dale of SIBMA clad with Vines,
|
||
And ELEALE to th' ASPHALTICK Pool.
|
||
PEOR his other Name, when he entic'd
|
||
ISRAEL in SITTIM on their march from NILE
|
||
To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.
|
||
Yet thence his lustful Orgies he enlarg'd
|
||
Even to that Hill of scandal, by the Grove
|
||
Of MOLOCH homicide, lust hard by hate;
|
||
Till good JOSIAH drove them thence to Hell.
|
||
With these came they, who from the bordring flood
|
||
Of old EUPHRATES to the Brook that parts
|
||
EGYPT from SYRIAN ground, had general Names
|
||
Of BAALIM and ASHTAROTH, those male,
|
||
These Feminine. For Spirits when they please
|
||
Can either Sex assume, or both; so soft
|
||
And uncompounded is their Essence pure,
|
||
Not ti'd or manacl'd with joynt or limb,
|
||
Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones,
|
||
Like cumbrous flesh; but in what shape they choose
|
||
Dilated or condens't, bright or obscure,
|
||
Can execute their aerie purposes,
|
||
And works of love or enmity fulfill.
|
||
For those the Race of ISRAEL oft forsook
|
||
Their living strength, and unfrequented left
|
||
His righteous Altar, bowing lowly down
|
||
To bestial Gods; for which their heads as low
|
||
Bow'd down in Battel, sunk before the Spear
|
||
Of despicable foes. With these in troop
|
||
Came ASTORETH, whom the PHOENICIANS call'd
|
||
ASTARTE, Queen of Heav'n, with crescent Horns;
|
||
To whose bright Image nightly by the Moon
|
||
SIDONIAN Virgins paid their Vows and Songs,
|
||
In SION also not unsung, where stood
|
||
Her Temple on th' offensive Mountain, built
|
||
By that uxorious King, whose heart though large,
|
||
Beguil'd by fair Idolatresses, fell
|
||
To Idols foul. THAMMUZ came next behind,
|
||
Whose annual wound in LEBANON allur'd
|
||
The SYRIAN Damsels to lament his fate
|
||
In amorous dittyes all a Summers day,
|
||
While smooth ADONIS from his native Rock
|
||
Ran purple to the Sea, suppos'd with blood
|
||
Of THAMMUZ yearly wounded: the Love-tale
|
||
Infected SIONS daughters with like heat,
|
||
Whose wanton passions in the sacred Porch
|
||
EZEKIEL saw, when by the Vision led
|
||
His eye survay'd the dark Idolatries
|
||
Of alienated JUDAH. Next came one
|
||
Who mourn'd in earnest, when the Captive Ark
|
||
Maim'd his brute Image, head and hands lopt off
|
||
In his own Temple, on the grunsel edge,
|
||
Where he fell flat, and sham'd his Worshipers:
|
||
DAGON his Name, Sea Monster, upward Man
|
||
And downward Fish: yet had his Temple high
|
||
Rear'd in AZOTUS, dreaded through the Coast
|
||
Of PALESTINE, in GATH and ASCALON,
|
||
And ACCARON and GAZA's frontier bounds.
|
||
Him follow'd RIMMON, whose delightful Seat
|
||
Was fair DAMASCUS, on the fertil Banks
|
||
Of ABBANA and PHARPHAR, lucid streams.
|
||
He also against the house of God was bold:
|
||
A Leper once he lost and gain'd a King,
|
||
AHAZ his sottish Conquerour, whom he drew
|
||
Gods Altar to disparage and displace
|
||
For one of SYRIAN mode, whereon to burn
|
||
His odious offrings, and adore the Gods
|
||
Whom he had vanquisht. After these appear'd
|
||
A crew who under Names of old Renown,
|
||
OSIRIS, ISIS, ORUS and their Train
|
||
With monstrous shapes and sorceries abus'd
|
||
Fanatic EGYPT and her Priests, to seek
|
||
Thir wandring Gods disguis'd in brutish forms
|
||
Rather then human. Nor did ISRAEL scape
|
||
Th' infection when their borrow'd Gold compos'd
|
||
The Calf in OREB: and the Rebel King
|
||
Doubl'd that sin in BETHEL and in DAN,
|
||
Lik'ning his Maker to the Grazed Ox,
|
||
JEHOVAH, who in one Night when he pass'd
|
||
From EGYPT marching, equal'd with one stroke
|
||
Both her first born and all her bleating Gods.
|
||
BELIAL came last, then whom a Spirit more lewd
|
||
Fell not from Heaven, or more gross to love
|
||
Vice for it self: To him no Temple stood
|
||
Or Altar smoak'd; yet who more oft then hee
|
||
In Temples and at Altars, when the Priest
|
||
Turns Atheist, as did ELY'S Sons, who fill'd
|
||
With lust and violence the house of God.
|
||
In Courts and Palaces he also Reigns
|
||
And in luxurious Cities, where the noyse
|
||
Of riot ascends above thir loftiest Towrs,
|
||
And injury and outrage: And when Night
|
||
Darkens the Streets, then wander forth the Sons
|
||
Of BELIAL, flown with insolence and wine.
|
||
Witness the Streets of SODOM, and that night
|
||
In GIBEAH, when hospitable Dores
|
||
Yielded thir Matrons to prevent worse rape.
|
||
These were the prime in order and in might;
|
||
The rest were long to tell, though far renown'd,
|
||
Th' IONIAN Gods, of JAVANS Issue held
|
||
Gods, yet confest later then Heav'n and Earth
|
||
Thir boasted Parents; TITAN Heav'ns first born
|
||
With his enormous brood, and birthright seis'd
|
||
By younger SATURN, he from mightier JOVE
|
||
His own and RHEA'S Son like measure found;
|
||
So JOVE usurping reign'd: these first in CREET
|
||
And IDA known, thence on the Snowy top
|
||
Of cold OLYMPUS rul'd the middle Air
|
||
Thir highest Heav'n; or on the DELPHIAN Cliff,
|
||
Or in DODONA, and through all the bounds
|
||
Of DORIC Land; or who with SATURN old
|
||
Fled over ADRIA to th' HESPERIAN Fields,
|
||
And ore the CELTIC roam'd the utmost Isles.
|
||
All these and more came flocking; but with looks
|
||
Down cast and damp, yet such wherein appear'd
|
||
Obscure som glimps of joy, to have found thir chief
|
||
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost
|
||
In loss it self; which on his count'nance cast
|
||
Like doubtful hue: but he his wonted pride
|
||
Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore
|
||
Semblance of worth not substance, gently rais'd
|
||
Their fainted courage, and dispel'd their fears.
|
||
Then strait commands that at the warlike sound
|
||
Of Trumpets loud and Clarions be upreard
|
||
His mighty Standard; that proud honour claim'd
|
||
AZAZEL as his right, a Cherube tall:
|
||
Who forthwith from the glittering Staff unfurld
|
||
Th' Imperial Ensign, which full high advanc't
|
||
Shon like a Meteor streaming to the Wind
|
||
With Gemms and Golden lustre rich imblaz'd,
|
||
Seraphic arms and Trophies: all the while
|
||
Sonorous mettal blowing Martial sounds:
|
||
At which the universal Host upsent
|
||
A shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond
|
||
Frighted the Reign of CHAOS and old Night.
|
||
All in a moment through the gloom were seen
|
||
Ten thousand Banners rise into the Air
|
||
With Orient Colours waving: with them rose
|
||
A Forrest huge of Spears: and thronging Helms
|
||
Appear'd, and serried Shields in thick array
|
||
Of depth immeasurable: Anon they move
|
||
In perfect PHALANX to the Dorian mood
|
||
Of Flutes and soft Recorders; such as rais'd
|
||
To highth of noblest temper Hero's old
|
||
Arming to Battel, and in stead of rage
|
||
Deliberate valour breath'd, firm and unmov'd
|
||
With dread of death to flight or foul retreat,
|
||
Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage
|
||
With solemn touches, troubl'd thoughts, and chase
|
||
Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain
|
||
From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they
|
||
Breathing united force with fixed thought
|
||
Mov'd on in silence to soft Pipes that charm'd
|
||
Thir painful steps o're the burnt soyle; and now
|
||
Advanc't in view they stand, a horrid Front
|
||
Of dreadful length and dazling Arms, in guise
|
||
Of Warriers old with order'd Spear and Shield,
|
||
Awaiting what command thir mighty Chief
|
||
Had to impose: He through the armed Files
|
||
Darts his experienc't eye, and soon traverse
|
||
The whole Battalion views, thir order due,
|
||
Thir visages and stature as of Gods,
|
||
Thir number last he summs. And now his heart
|
||
Distends with pride, and hardning in his strength
|
||
Glories: For never since created man,
|
||
Met such imbodied force, as nam'd with these
|
||
Could merit more then that small infantry
|
||
Warr'd on by Cranes: though all the Giant brood
|
||
Of PHLEGRA with th' Heroic Race were joyn'd
|
||
That fought at THEB'S and ILIUM, on each side
|
||
Mixt with auxiliar Gods; and what resounds
|
||
In Fable or ROMANCE of UTHERS Son
|
||
Begirt with BRITISH and ARMORIC Knights;
|
||
And all who since, Baptiz'd or Infidel
|
||
Jousted in ASPRAMONT or MONTALBAN,
|
||
DAMASCO, or MAROCCO, or TREBISOND,
|
||
Or whom BISERTA sent from AFRIC shore
|
||
When CHARLEMAIN with all his Peerage fell
|
||
By FONTARABBIA. Thus far these beyond
|
||
Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ'd
|
||
Thir dread Commander: he above the rest
|
||
In shape and gesture proudly eminent
|
||
Stood like a Towr; his form had yet not lost
|
||
All her Original brightness, nor appear'd
|
||
Less then Arch Angel ruind, and th' excess
|
||
Of Glory obscur'd: As when the Sun new ris'n
|
||
Looks through the Horizontal misty Air
|
||
Shorn of his Beams, or from behind the Moon
|
||
In dim Eclips disastrous twilight sheds
|
||
On half the Nations, and with fear of change
|
||
Perplexes Monarchs. Dark'n'd so, yet shon
|
||
Above them all th' Arch Angel: but his face
|
||
Deep scars of Thunder had intrencht, and care
|
||
Sat on his faded cheek, but under Browes
|
||
Of dauntless courage, and considerate Pride
|
||
Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but cast
|
||
Signs of remorse and passion to behold
|
||
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather
|
||
(Far other once beheld in bliss) condemn'd
|
||
For ever now to have their lot in pain,
|
||
Millions of Spirits for his fault amerc't
|
||
Of Heav'n, and from Eternal Splendors flung
|
||
For his revolt, yet faithfull how they stood,
|
||
Thir Glory witherd. As when Heavens Fire
|
||
Hath scath'd the Forrest Oaks, or Mountain Pines,
|
||
With singed top their stately growth though bare
|
||
Stands on the blasted Heath. He now prepar'd
|
||
To speak; whereat their doubl'd Ranks they bend
|
||
From Wing to Wing, and half enclose him round
|
||
With all his Peers: attention held them mute.
|
||
Thrice he assayd, and thrice in spite of scorn,
|
||
Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last
|
||
Words interwove with sighs found out their way.
|
||
O Myriads of immortal Spirits, O Powers
|
||
Matchless, but with th' Almighty, and that strife
|
||
Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire,
|
||
As this place testifies, and this dire change
|
||
Hateful to utter: but what power of mind
|
||
Foreseeing or presaging, from the Depth
|
||
Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd,
|
||
How such united force of Gods, how such
|
||
As stood like these, could ever know repulse?
|
||
For who can yet beleeve, though after loss,
|
||
That all these puissant Legions, whose exile
|
||
Hath emptied Heav'n, shall faile to re-ascend
|
||
Self-rais'd, and repossess their native seat.
|
||
For me, be witness all the Host of Heav'n,
|
||
If counsels different, or danger shun'd
|
||
By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns
|
||
Monarch in Heav'n, till then as one secure
|
||
Sat on his Throne, upheld by old repute,
|
||
Consent or custome, and his Regal State
|
||
Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal'd,
|
||
Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.
|
||
Henceforth his might we know, and know our own
|
||
So as not either to provoke, or dread
|
||
New warr, provok't; our better part remains
|
||
To work in close design, by fraud or guile
|
||
What force effected not: that he no less
|
||
At length from us may find, who overcomes
|
||
By force, hath overcome but half his foe.
|
||
Space may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife
|
||
There went a fame in Heav'n that he ere long
|
||
Intended to create, and therein plant
|
||
A generation, whom his choice regard
|
||
Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven:
|
||
Thither, if but to prie, shall be perhaps
|
||
Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:
|
||
For this Infernal Pit shall never hold
|
||
Caelestial Spirits in Bondage, nor th' Abysse
|
||
Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts
|
||
Full Counsel must mature: Peace is despaird,
|
||
For who can think Submission? Warr then, Warr
|
||
Open or understood must be resolv'd.
|
||
He spake: and to confirm his words, out-flew
|
||
Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs
|
||
Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze
|
||
Far round illumin'd hell: highly they rag'd
|
||
Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arm's
|
||
Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war,
|
||
Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heav'n.
|
||
There stood a Hill not far whose griesly top
|
||
Belch'd fire and rowling smoak; the rest entire
|
||
Shon with a glossie scurff, undoubted sign
|
||
That in his womb was hid metallic Ore,
|
||
The work of Sulphur. Thither wing'd with speed
|
||
A numerous Brigad hasten'd. As when bands
|
||
Of Pioners with Spade and Pickaxe arm'd
|
||
Forerun the Royal Camp, to trench a Field,
|
||
Or cast a Rampart. MAMMON led them on,
|
||
MAMMON, the least erected Spirit that fell
|
||
From heav'n, for ev'n in heav'n his looks & thoughts
|
||
Were always downward bent, admiring more
|
||
The riches of Heav'ns pavement, trod'n Gold,
|
||
Then aught divine or holy else enjoy'd
|
||
In vision beatific: by him first
|
||
Men also, and by his suggestion taught,
|
||
Ransack'd the Center, and with impious hands
|
||
Rifl'd the bowels of thir mother Earth
|
||
For Treasures better hid. Soon had his crew
|
||
Op'nd into the Hill a spacious wound
|
||
And dig'd out ribs of Gold. Let none admire
|
||
That riches grow in Hell; that soyle may best
|
||
Deserve the pretious bane. And here let those
|
||
Who boast in mortal things, and wondring tell
|
||
Of BABEL, and the works of MEMPHIAN Kings,
|
||
Learn how thir greatest Monuments of Fame,
|
||
And Strength and Art are easily outdone
|
||
By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour
|
||
What in an age they with incessant toyle
|
||
And hands innumerable scarce perform
|
||
Nigh on the Plain in many cells prepar'd,
|
||
That underneath had veins of liquid fire
|
||
Sluc'd from the Lake, a second multitude
|
||
With wondrous Art founded the massie Ore,
|
||
Severing each kinde, and scum'd the Bullion dross:
|
||
A third as soon had form'd within the ground
|
||
A various mould, and from the boyling cells
|
||
By strange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook,
|
||
As in an Organ from one blast of wind
|
||
To many a row of Pipes the sound-board breaths.
|
||
Anon out of the earth a Fabrick huge
|
||
Rose like an Exhalation, with the sound
|
||
Of Dulcet Symphonies and voices sweet,
|
||
Built like a Temple, where PILASTERS round
|
||
Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid
|
||
With Golden Architrave; nor did there want
|
||
Cornice or Freeze, with bossy Sculptures grav'n,
|
||
The Roof was fretted Gold. Not BABILON,
|
||
Nor great ALCAIRO such magnificence
|
||
Equal'd in all thir glories, to inshrine
|
||
BELUS or SERAPIS thir Gods, or seat
|
||
Thir Kings, when AEGYPT with ASSYRIA strove
|
||
In wealth and luxurie. Th' ascending pile
|
||
Stood fixt her stately highth, and strait the dores
|
||
Op'ning thir brazen foulds discover wide
|
||
Within, her ample spaces, o're the smooth
|
||
And level pavement: from the arched roof
|
||
Pendant by suttle Magic many a row
|
||
Of Starry Lamps and blazing Cressets fed
|
||
With Naphtha and ASPHALTUS yeilded light
|
||
As from a sky. The hasty multitude
|
||
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise
|
||
And some the Architect: his hand was known
|
||
In Heav'n by many a Towred structure high,
|
||
Where Scepter'd Angels held thir residence,
|
||
And sat as Princes, whom the supreme King
|
||
Exalted to such power, and gave to rule,
|
||
Each in his Herarchie, the Orders bright.
|
||
Nor was his name unheard or unador'd
|
||
In ancient Greece; and in AUSONIAN land
|
||
Men call'd him MULCIBER; and how he fell
|
||
From Heav'n, they fabl'd, thrown by angry JOVE
|
||
Sheer o're the Chrystal Battlements: from Morn
|
||
To Noon he fell, from Noon to dewy Eve,
|
||
A Summers day; and with the setting Sun
|
||
Dropt from the Zenith like a falling Star,
|
||
On LEMNOS th' AEGAEAN Ile: thus they relate,
|
||
Erring; for he with this rebellious rout
|
||
Fell long before; nor aught avail'd him now
|
||
To have built in Heav'n high Towrs; nor did he scape
|
||
By all his Engins, but was headlong sent
|
||
With his industrious crew to build in hell.
|
||
Mean while the winged Haralds by command
|
||
Of Sovran power, with awful Ceremony
|
||
And Trumpets sound throughout the Host proclaim
|
||
A solemn Councel forthwith to be held
|
||
At PANDAEMONIUM, the high Capital
|
||
Of Satan and his Peers: thir summons call'd
|
||
From every and Band squared Regiment
|
||
By place or choice the worthiest; they anon
|
||
With hundreds and with thousands trooping came
|
||
Attended: all access was throng'd, the Gates
|
||
And Porches wide, but chief the spacious Hall
|
||
(Though like a cover'd field, where Champions bold
|
||
Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldans chair
|
||
Defi'd the best of Panim chivalry
|
||
To mortal combat or carreer with Lance)
|
||
Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in the air,
|
||
Brusht with the hiss of russling wings. As Bees
|
||
In spring time, when the Sun with Taurus rides,
|
||
Poure forth thir populous youth about the Hive
|
||
In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers
|
||
Flie to and fro, or on the smoothed Plank,
|
||
The suburb of thir Straw-built Cittadel,
|
||
New rub'd with Baume, expatiate and confer
|
||
Thir State affairs. So thick the aerie crowd
|
||
Swarm'd and were straitn'd; till the Signal giv'n,
|
||
Behold a wonder! they but now who seemd
|
||
In bigness to surpass Earths Giant Sons
|
||
Now less then smallest Dwarfs, in narrow room
|
||
Throng numberless, like that Pigmean Race
|
||
Beyond the INDIAN Mount, or Faerie Elves,
|
||
Whose midnight Revels, by a Forrest side
|
||
Or Fountain fome belated Peasant sees,
|
||
Or dreams he sees, while over head the Moon
|
||
Sits Arbitress, and neerer to the Earth
|
||
Wheels her pale course, they on thir mirth & dance
|
||
Intent, with jocond Music charm his ear;
|
||
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
|
||
Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms
|
||
Reduc'd thir shapes immense, and were at large,
|
||
Though without number still amidst the Hall
|
||
Of that infernal Court. But far within
|
||
And in thir own dimensions like themselves
|
||
The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim
|
||
In close recess and secret conclave sat
|
||
A thousand Demy-Gods on golden seat's,
|
||
Frequent and full. After short silence then
|
||
And summons read, the great consult began.
|
||
THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST
|
||
BOOK II.
|
||
|
||
High on a Throne of Royal State, which far
|
||
Outshon the wealth of ORMUS and of IND,
|
||
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
|
||
Showrs on her Kings BARBARIC Pearl & Gold,
|
||
Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd
|
||
To that bad eminence; and from despair
|
||
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires
|
||
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
|
||
Vain Warr with Heav'n, and by success untaught
|
||
His proud imaginations thus displaid.
|
||
Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heav'n,
|
||
For since no deep within her gulf can hold
|
||
Immortal vigor, though opprest and fall'n,
|
||
I give not Heav'n for lost. From this descent
|
||
Celestial vertues rising, will appear
|
||
More glorious and more dread then from no fall,
|
||
And trust themselves to fear no second fate:
|
||
Mee though just right, and the fixt Laws of Heav'n
|
||
Did first create your Leader, next, free choice,
|
||
With what besides, in Counsel or in Fight,
|
||
Hath bin achievd of merit, yet this loss
|
||
Thus farr at least recover'd, hath much more
|
||
Establisht in a safe unenvied Throne
|
||
Yeilded with full consent. The happier state
|
||
In Heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw
|
||
Envy from each inferior; but who here
|
||
Will envy whom the highest place exposes
|
||
Formost to stand against the Thunderers aime
|
||
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share
|
||
Of endless pain? where there is then no good
|
||
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there
|
||
From Faction; for none sure will claim in hell
|
||
Precedence, none, whose portion is so small
|
||
Of present pain, that with ambitious mind
|
||
Will covet more. With this advantage then
|
||
To union, and firm Faith, and firm accord,
|
||
More then can be in Heav'n, we now return
|
||
To claim our just inheritance of old,
|
||
Surer to prosper then prosperity
|
||
Could have assur'd us; and by what best way,
|
||
Whether of open Warr or covert guile,
|
||
We now debate; who can advise, may speak.
|
||
He ceas'd, and next him MOLOC, Scepter'd King
|
||
Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest Spirit
|
||
That fought in Heav'n; now fiercer by despair:
|
||
His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd
|
||
Equal in strength, and rather then be less
|
||
Car'd not to be at all; with that care lost
|
||
Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse
|
||
He reckd not, and these words thereafter spake.
|
||
My sentence is for open Warr: Of Wiles,
|
||
More unexpert, I boast not: them let those
|
||
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.
|
||
For while they sit contriving, shall the rest,
|
||
Millions that stand in Arms, and longing wait
|
||
The Signal to ascend, sit lingring here
|
||
Heav'ns fugitives, and for thir dwelling place
|
||
Accept this dark opprobrious Den of shame,
|
||
The Prison of his Tyranny who Reigns
|
||
By our delay? no, let us rather choose
|
||
Arm'd with Hell flames and fury all at once
|
||
O're Heav'ns high Towrs to force resistless way,
|
||
Turning our Tortures into horrid Arms
|
||
Against the Torturer; when to meet the noise
|
||
Of his Almighty Engin he shall hear
|
||
Infernal Thunder, and for Lightning see
|
||
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage
|
||
Among his Angels; and his Throne it self
|
||
Mixt with TARTAREAN Sulphur, and strange fire,
|
||
His own invented Torments. But perhaps
|
||
The way seems difficult and steep to scale
|
||
With upright wing against a higher foe.
|
||
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench
|
||
Of that forgetful Lake benumme not still,
|
||
That in our proper motion we ascend
|
||
Up to our native seat: descent and fall
|
||
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late
|
||
When the fierce Foe hung on our brok'n Rear
|
||
Insulting, and pursu'd us through the Deep,
|
||
With what compulsion and laborious flight
|
||
We sunk thus low? Th' ascent is easie then;
|
||
Th' event is fear'd; should we again provoke
|
||
Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find
|
||
To our destruction: if there be in Hell
|
||
Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse
|
||
Then to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd
|
||
In this abhorred deep to utter woe;
|
||
Where pain of unextinguishable fire
|
||
Must exercise us without hope of end
|
||
The Vassals of his anger, when the Scourge
|
||
Inexorably, and the torturing houre
|
||
Calls us to Penance? More destroy'd then thus
|
||
We should be quite abolisht and expire.
|
||
What fear we then? what doubt we to incense
|
||
His utmost ire? which to the highth enrag'd,
|
||
Will either quite consume us, and reduce
|
||
To nothing this essential, happier farr
|
||
Then miserable to have eternal being:
|
||
Or if our substance be indeed Divine,
|
||
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
|
||
On this side nothing; and by proof we feel
|
||
Our power sufficient to disturb his Heav'n,
|
||
And with perpetual inrodes to Allarme,
|
||
Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne:
|
||
Which if not Victory is yet Revenge.
|
||
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
|
||
Desperate revenge, and Battel dangerous
|
||
To less then Gods. On th' other side up rose
|
||
BELIAL, in act more graceful and humane;
|
||
A fairer person lost not Heav'n; he seemd
|
||
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
|
||
But all was false and hollow; though his Tongue
|
||
Dropt Manna, and could make the worse appear
|
||
The better reason, to perplex and dash
|
||
Maturest Counsels: for his thoughts were low;
|
||
To vice industrious, but to Nobler deeds
|
||
Timorous and slothful: yet he pleas'd the eare,
|
||
And with perswasive accent thus began.
|
||
I should be much for open Warr, O Peers,
|
||
As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd
|
||
Main reason to perswade immediate Warr,
|
||
Did not disswade me most, and seem to cast
|
||
Ominous conjecture on the whole success:
|
||
When he who most excels in fact of Arms,
|
||
In what he counsels and in what excels
|
||
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair
|
||
And utter dissolution, as the scope
|
||
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.
|
||
First, what Revenge? the Towrs of Heav'n are fill'd
|
||
With Armed watch, that render all access
|
||
Impregnable; oft on the bordering Deep
|
||
Encamp thir Legions, or with obscure wing
|
||
Scout farr and wide into the Realm of night,
|
||
Scorning surprize. Or could we break our way
|
||
By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise
|
||
With blackest Insurrection, to confound
|
||
Heav'ns purest Light, yet our great Enemie
|
||
All incorruptible would on his Throne
|
||
Sit unpolluted, and th' Ethereal mould
|
||
Incapable of stain would soon expel
|
||
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire
|
||
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
|
||
Is flat despair: we must exasperate
|
||
Th' Almighty Victor to spend all his rage,
|
||
And that must end us, that must be our cure,
|
||
To be no more; sad cure; for who would loose,
|
||
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
|
||
Those thoughts that wander through Eternity,
|
||
To perish rather, swallowd up and lost
|
||
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
|
||
Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows,
|
||
Let this be good, whether our angry Foe
|
||
Can give it, or will ever? how he can
|
||
Is doubtful; that he never will is sure.
|
||
Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,
|
||
Belike through impotence, or unaware,
|
||
To give his Enemies thir wish, and end
|
||
Them in his anger, whom his anger saves
|
||
To punish endless? wherefore cease we then?
|
||
Say they who counsel Warr, we are decreed,
|
||
Reserv'd and destin'd to Eternal woe;
|
||
Whatever doing, what can we suffer more,
|
||
What can we suffer worse? is this then worst,
|
||
Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in Arms?
|
||
What when we fled amain, pursu'd and strook
|
||
With Heav'ns afflicting Thunder, and besought
|
||
The Deep to shelter us? this Hell then seem'd
|
||
A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay
|
||
Chain'd on the burning Lake? that sure was worse.
|
||
What if the breath that kindl'd those grim fires
|
||
Awak'd should blow them into sevenfold rage
|
||
And plunge us in the Flames? or from above
|
||
Should intermitted vengeance Arme again
|
||
His red right hand to plague us? what if all
|
||
Her stores were op'n'd, and this Firmament
|
||
Of Hell should spout her Cataracts of Fire,
|
||
Impendent horrors, threatning hideous fall
|
||
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps
|
||
Designing or exhorting glorious Warr,
|
||
Caught in a fierie Tempest shall be hurl'd
|
||
Each on his rock transfixt, the sport and prey
|
||
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk
|
||
Under yon boyling Ocean, wrapt in Chains;
|
||
There to converse with everlasting groans,
|
||
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepreevd,
|
||
Ages of hopeless end; this would be worse.
|
||
Warr therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
|
||
My voice disswades; for what can force or guile
|
||
With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye
|
||
Views all things at one view? he from heav'ns highth
|
||
All these our motions vain, sees and derides;
|
||
Not more Almighty to resist our might
|
||
Then wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.
|
||
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heav'n
|
||
Thus trampl'd, thus expell'd to suffer here
|
||
Chains & these Torments? better these then worse
|
||
By my advice; since fate inevitable
|
||
Subdues us, and Omnipotent Decree,
|
||
The Victors will. To suffer, as to doe,
|
||
Our strength is equal, nor the Law unjust
|
||
That so ordains: this was at first resolv'd,
|
||
If we were wise, against so great a foe
|
||
Contending, and so doubtful what might fall.
|
||
I laugh, when those who at the Spear are bold
|
||
And vent'rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear
|
||
What yet they know must follow, to endure
|
||
Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,
|
||
The sentence of thir Conquerour: This is now
|
||
Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,
|
||
Our Supream Foe in time may much remit
|
||
His anger, and perhaps thus farr remov'd
|
||
Not mind us not offending, satisfi'd
|
||
With what is punish't; whence these raging fires
|
||
Will slack'n, if his breath stir not thir flames.
|
||
Our purer essence then will overcome
|
||
Thir noxious vapour, or enur'd not feel,
|
||
Or chang'd at length, and to the place conformd
|
||
In temper and in nature, will receive
|
||
Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain;
|
||
This horror will grow milde, this darkness light,
|
||
Besides what hope the never-ending flight
|
||
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change
|
||
Worth waiting, since our present lot appeers
|
||
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,
|
||
If we procure not to our selves more woe.
|
||
Thus BELIAL with words cloath'd in reasons garb
|
||
Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloath,
|
||
Not peace: and after him thus MAMMON spake.
|
||
Either to disinthrone the King of Heav'n
|
||
We warr, if warr be best, or to regain
|
||
Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then
|
||
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yeild
|
||
To fickle Chance, and CHAOS judge the strife:
|
||
The former vain to hope argues as vain
|
||
The latter: for what place can be for us
|
||
Within Heav'ns bound, unless Heav'ns Lord supream
|
||
We overpower? Suppose he should relent
|
||
And publish Grace to all, on promise made
|
||
Of new Subjection; with what eyes could we
|
||
Stand in his presence humble, and receive
|
||
Strict Laws impos'd, to celebrate his Throne
|
||
With warbl'd Hymns, and to his Godhead sing
|
||
Forc't Halleluiah's; while he Lordly sits
|
||
Our envied Sovran, and his Altar breathes
|
||
Ambrosial Odours and Ambrosial Flowers,
|
||
Our servile offerings. This must be our task
|
||
In Heav'n, this our delight; how wearisom
|
||
Eternity so spent in worship paid
|
||
To whom we hate. Let us not then pursue
|
||
By force impossible, by leave obtain'd
|
||
Unacceptable, though in Heav'n, our state
|
||
Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek
|
||
Our own good from our selves, and from our own
|
||
Live to our selves, though in this vast recess,
|
||
Free, and to none accountable, preferring
|
||
Hard liberty before the easie yoke
|
||
Of servile Pomp. Our greatness will appear
|
||
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small,
|
||
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse
|
||
We can create, and in what place so e're
|
||
Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain
|
||
Through labour and endurance. This deep world
|
||
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
|
||
Thick clouds and dark doth Heav'ns all-ruling Sire
|
||
Choose to reside, his Glory unobscur'd,
|
||
And with the Majesty of darkness round
|
||
Covers his Throne; from whence deep thunders roar
|
||
Must'ring thir rage, and Heav'n resembles Hell?
|
||
As he our Darkness, cannot we his Light
|
||
Imitate when we please? This Desart soile
|
||
Wants not her hidden lustre, Gemms and Gold;
|
||
Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise
|
||
Magnificence; and what can Heav'n shew more?
|
||
Our torments also may in length of time
|
||
Become our Elements, these piercing Fires
|
||
As soft as now severe, our temper chang'd
|
||
Into their temper; which must needs remove
|
||
The sensible of pain. All things invite
|
||
To peaceful Counsels, and the settl'd State
|
||
Of order, how in safety best we may
|
||
Compose our present evils, with regard
|
||
Of what we are and where, dismissing quite
|
||
All thoughts of Warr: ye have what I advise.
|
||
He scarce had finisht, when such murmur filld
|
||
Th' Assembly, as when hollow Rocks retain
|
||
The sound of blustring winds, which all night long
|
||
Had rous'd the Sea, now with hoarse cadence lull
|
||
Sea-faring men orewatcht, whose Bark by chance
|
||
Or Pinnace anchors in a craggy Bay
|
||
After the Tempest: Such applause was heard
|
||
As MAMMON ended, and his Sentence pleas'd,
|
||
Advising peace: for such another Field
|
||
They dreaded worse then Hell: so much the fear
|
||
Of Thunder and the Sword of MICHAEL
|
||
Wrought still within them; and no less desire
|
||
To found this nether Empire, which might rise
|
||
By pollicy, and long process of time,
|
||
In emulation opposite to Heav'n.
|
||
Which when BEELZEBUB perceiv'd, then whom,
|
||
SATAN except, none higher sat, with grave
|
||
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd
|
||
A Pillar of State; deep on his Front engraven
|
||
Deliberation sat and publick care;
|
||
And Princely counsel in his face yet shon,
|
||
Majestick though in ruin: sage he stood
|
||
With ATLANTEAN shoulders fit to bear
|
||
The weight of mightiest Monarchies; his look
|
||
Drew audience and attention still as Night
|
||
Or Summers Noon-tide air, while thus he spake.
|
||
Thrones and imperial Powers, off-spring of heav'n,
|
||
Ethereal Vertues; or these Titles now
|
||
Must we renounce, and changing stile be call'd
|
||
Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote
|
||
Inclines, here to continue, and build up here
|
||
A growing Empire; doubtless; while we dream,
|
||
And know not that the King of Heav'n hath doom'd
|
||
This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat
|
||
Beyond his Potent arm, to live exempt
|
||
From Heav'ns high jurisdiction, in new League
|
||
Banded against his Throne, but to remaine
|
||
In strictest bondage, though thus far remov'd,
|
||
Under th' inevitable curb, reserv'd
|
||
His captive multitude: For he, be sure,
|
||
In highth or depth, still first and last will Reign
|
||
Sole King, and of his Kingdom loose no part
|
||
By our revolt, but over Hell extend
|
||
His Empire, and with Iron Scepter rule
|
||
Us here, as with his Golden those in Heav'n.
|
||
What sit we then projecting Peace and Warr?
|
||
Warr hath determin'd us, and foild with loss
|
||
Irreparable; tearms of peace yet none
|
||
Voutsaf't or sought; for what peace will be giv'n
|
||
To us enslav'd, but custody severe,
|
||
And stripes, and arbitrary punishment
|
||
Inflicted? and what peace can we return,
|
||
But to our power hostility and hate,
|
||
Untam'd reluctance, and revenge though slow,
|
||
Yet ever plotting how the Conquerour least
|
||
May reap his conquest, and may least rejoyce
|
||
In doing what we most in suffering feel?
|
||
Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need
|
||
With dangerous expedition to invade
|
||
Heav'n, whose high walls fear no assault or Siege,
|
||
Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find
|
||
Some easier enterprize? There is a place
|
||
(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heav'n
|
||
Err not) another World, the happy seat
|
||
Of som new Race call'd MAN, about this time
|
||
To be created like to us, though less
|
||
In power and excellence, but favour'd more
|
||
Of him who rules above; so was his will
|
||
Pronounc'd among the Gods, and by an Oath,
|
||
That shook Heav'ns whol circumference, confirm'd.
|
||
Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn
|
||
What creatures there inhabit, of what mould,
|
||
Or substance, how endu'd, and what thir Power,
|
||
And where thir weakness, how attempted best,
|
||
By force or suttlety: Though Heav'n be shut,
|
||
And Heav'ns high Arbitrator sit secure
|
||
In his own strength, this place may lye expos'd
|
||
The utmost border of his Kingdom, left
|
||
To their defence who hold it: here perhaps
|
||
Som advantagious act may be achiev'd
|
||
By sudden onset, either with Hell fire
|
||
To waste his whole Creation, or possess
|
||
All as our own, and drive as we were driven,
|
||
The punie habitants, or if not drive,
|
||
Seduce them to our Party, that thir God
|
||
May prove thir foe, and with repenting hand
|
||
Abolish his own works. This would surpass
|
||
Common revenge, and interrupt his joy
|
||
In our Confusion, and our Joy upraise
|
||
In his disturbance; when his darling Sons
|
||
Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse
|
||
Thir frail Originals, and faded bliss,
|
||
Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth
|
||
Attempting, or to sit in darkness here
|
||
Hatching vain Empires. Thus BEELZEBUB
|
||
Pleaded his devilish Counsel, first devis'd
|
||
By SATAN, and in part propos'd: for whence,
|
||
But from the Author of all ill could Spring
|
||
So deep a malice, to confound the race
|
||
Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell
|
||
To mingle and involve, done all to spite
|
||
The great Creatour? But thir spite still serves
|
||
His glory to augment. The bold design
|
||
Pleas'd highly those infernal States, and joy
|
||
Sparkl'd in all thir eyes; with full assent
|
||
They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews.
|
||
Well have ye judg'd, well ended long debate,
|
||
Synod of Gods, and like to what ye are,
|
||
Great things resolv'd; which from the lowest deep
|
||
Will once more lift us up, in spight of Fate,
|
||
Neerer our ancient Seat; perhaps in view
|
||
Of those bright confines, whence with neighbouring Arms
|
||
And opportune excursion we may chance
|
||
Re-enter Heav'n; or else in some milde Zone
|
||
Dwell not unvisited of Heav'ns fair Light
|
||
Secure, and at the brightning Orient beam
|
||
Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious Air,
|
||
To heal the scarr of these corrosive Fires
|
||
Shall breath her balme. But first whom shall we send
|
||
In search of this new world, whom shall we find
|
||
Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandring feet
|
||
The dark unbottom'd infinite Abyss
|
||
And through the palpable obscure find out
|
||
His uncouth way, or spread his aerie flight
|
||
Upborn with indefatigable wings
|
||
Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive
|
||
The happy Ile; what strength, what art can then
|
||
Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe
|
||
Through the strict Senteries and Stations thick
|
||
Of Angels watching round? Here he had need
|
||
All circumspection, and we now no less
|
||
Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send,
|
||
The weight of all and our last hope relies.
|
||
This said, he sat; and expectation held
|
||
His look suspence, awaiting who appeer'd
|
||
To second, or oppose, or undertake
|
||
The perilous attempt: but all sat mute,
|
||
Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; & each
|
||
In others count'nance red his own dismay
|
||
Astonisht: none among the choice and prime
|
||
Of those Heav'n-warring Champions could be found
|
||
So hardie as to proffer or accept
|
||
Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last
|
||
SATAN, whom now transcendent glory rais'd
|
||
Above his fellows, with Monarchal pride
|
||
Conscious of highest worth, unmov'd thus spake.
|
||
O Progeny of Heav'n, Empyreal Thrones,
|
||
With reason hath deep silence and demurr
|
||
Seis'd us, though undismaid: long is the way
|
||
And hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light;
|
||
Our prison strong, this huge convex of Fire,
|
||
Outrageous to devour, immures us round
|
||
Ninefold, and gates of burning Adamant
|
||
Barr'd over us prohibit all egress.
|
||
These past, if any pass, the void profound
|
||
Of unessential Night receives him next
|
||
Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being
|
||
Threatens him, plung'd in that abortive gulf.
|
||
If thence he scape into what ever world,
|
||
Or unknown Region, what remains him less
|
||
Then unknown dangers and as hard escape.
|
||
But I should ill become this Throne, O Peers,
|
||
And this Imperial Sov'ranty, adorn'd
|
||
With splendor, arm'd with power, if aught propos'd
|
||
And judg'd of public moment, in the shape
|
||
Of difficulty or danger could deterre
|
||
Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume
|
||
These Royalties, and not refuse to Reign,
|
||
Refusing to accept as great a share
|
||
Of hazard as of honour, due alike
|
||
To him who Reigns, and so much to him due
|
||
Of hazard more, as he above the rest
|
||
High honourd sits? Go therfore mighty powers,
|
||
Terror of Heav'n, though fall'n; intend at home,
|
||
While here shall be our home, what best may ease
|
||
The present misery, and render Hell
|
||
More tollerable; if there be cure or charm
|
||
To respite or deceive, or slack the pain
|
||
Of this ill Mansion: intermit no watch
|
||
Against a wakeful Foe, while I abroad
|
||
Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek
|
||
Deliverance for us all: this enterprize
|
||
None shall partake with me. Thus saying rose
|
||
The Monarch, and prevented all reply,
|
||
Prudent, least from his resolution rais'd
|
||
Others among the chief might offer now
|
||
(Certain to be refus'd) what erst they feard;
|
||
And so refus'd might in opinion stand
|
||
His rivals, winning cheap the high repute
|
||
Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they
|
||
Dreaded not more th' adventure then his voice
|
||
Forbidding; and at once with him they rose;
|
||
Thir rising all at once was as the sound
|
||
Of Thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend
|
||
With awful reverence prone; and as a God
|
||
Extoll him equal to the highest in Heav'n:
|
||
Nor fail'd they to express how much they prais'd,
|
||
That for the general safety he despis'd
|
||
His own: for neither do the Spirits damn'd
|
||
Loose all thir vertue; least bad men should boast
|
||
Thir specious deeds on earth, which glory excites,
|
||
Or close ambition varnisht o're with zeal.
|
||
Thus they thir doubtful consultations dark
|
||
Ended rejoycing in thir matchless Chief:
|
||
As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds
|
||
Ascending, while the North wind sleeps, o'respread
|
||
Heav'ns chearful face, the lowring Element
|
||
Scowls ore the dark'nd lantskip Snow, or showre;
|
||
If chance the radiant Sun with farewell sweet
|
||
Extend his ev'ning beam, the fields revive,
|
||
The birds thir notes renew, and bleating herds
|
||
Attest thir joy, that hill and valley rings.
|
||
O shame to men! Devil with Devil damn'd
|
||
Firm concord holds, men onely disagree
|
||
Of Creatures rational, though under hope
|
||
Of heavenly Grace: and God proclaiming peace,
|
||
Yet live in hatred, enmitie, and strife
|
||
Among themselves, and levie cruel warres,
|
||
Wasting the Earth, each other to destroy:
|
||
As if (which might induce us to accord)
|
||
Man had not hellish foes anow besides,
|
||
That day and night for his destruction waite.
|
||
The STYGIAN Councel thus dissolv'd; and forth
|
||
In order came the grand infernal Peers,
|
||
Midst came thir mighty Paramount, and seemd
|
||
Alone th' Antagonist of Heav'n, nor less
|
||
Then Hells dread Emperour with pomp Supream,
|
||
And God-like imitated State; him round
|
||
A Globe of fierie Seraphim inclos'd
|
||
With bright imblazonrie, and horrent Arms.
|
||
Then of thir Session ended they bid cry
|
||
With Trumpets regal sound the great result:
|
||
Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim
|
||
Put to thir mouths the sounding Alchymie
|
||
By Haralds voice explain'd: the hollow Abyss
|
||
Heard farr and wide, and all the host of Hell
|
||
With deafning shout, return'd them loud acclaim.
|
||
Thence more at ease thir minds and somwhat rais'd
|
||
By false presumptuous hope, the ranged powers
|
||
Disband, and wandring, each his several way
|
||
Pursues, as inclination or sad choice
|
||
Leads him perplext, where he may likeliest find
|
||
Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain
|
||
The irksome hours, till his great Chief return.
|
||
Part on the Plain, or in the Air sublime
|
||
Upon the wing, or in swift race contend,
|
||
As at th' Olympian Games or PYTHIAN fields;
|
||
Part curb thir fierie Steeds, or shun the Goal
|
||
With rapid wheels, or fronted Brigads form.
|
||
As when to warn proud Cities warr appears
|
||
Wag'd in the troubl'd Skie, and Armies rush
|
||
To Battel in the Clouds, before each Van
|
||
Pric forth the Aerie Knights, and couch thir spears
|
||
Till thickest Legions close; with feats of Arms
|
||
From either end of Heav'n the welkin burns.
|
||
Others with vast TYPHOEAN rage more fell
|
||
Rend up both Rocks and Hills, and ride the Air
|
||
In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wilde uproar.
|
||
As when ALCIDES from OEALIA Crown'd
|
||
With conquest, felt th' envenom'd robe, and tore
|
||
Through pain up by the roots THESSALIAN Pines,
|
||
And LICHAS from the top of OETA threw
|
||
Into th' EUBOIC Sea. Others more milde,
|
||
Retreated in a silent valley, sing
|
||
With notes Angelical to many a Harp
|
||
Thir own Heroic deeds and hapless fall
|
||
By doom of Battel; and complain that Fate
|
||
Free Vertue should enthrall to Force or Chance.
|
||
Thir song was partial, but the harmony
|
||
(What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?)
|
||
Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment
|
||
The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet
|
||
(For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense,)
|
||
Others apart sat on a Hill retir'd,
|
||
In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
|
||
Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate,
|
||
Fixt Fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,
|
||
And found no end, in wandring mazes lost.
|
||
Of good and evil much they argu'd then,
|
||
Of happiness and final misery,
|
||
Passion and Apathie, and glory and shame,
|
||
Vain wisdom all, and false Philosophie:
|
||
Yet with a pleasing sorcerie could charm
|
||
Pain for a while or anguish, and excite
|
||
Fallacious hope, or arm th' obdured brest
|
||
With stubborn patience as with triple steel.
|
||
Another part in Squadrons and gross Bands,
|
||
On bold adventure to discover wide
|
||
That dismal world, if any Clime perhaps
|
||
Might yeild them easier habitation, bend
|
||
Four ways thir flying March, along the Banks
|
||
Of four infernal Rivers that disgorge
|
||
Into the burning Lake thir baleful streams;
|
||
Abhorred STYX the flood of deadly hate,
|
||
Sad ACHERON of sorrow, black and deep;
|
||
COCYTUS, nam'd of lamentation loud
|
||
Heard on the ruful stream; fierce PHLEGETON
|
||
Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.
|
||
Farr off from these a slow and silent stream,
|
||
LETHE the River of Oblivion roules
|
||
Her watrie Labyrinth, whereof who drinks,
|
||
Forthwith his former state and being forgets,
|
||
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.
|
||
Beyond this flood a frozen Continent
|
||
Lies dark and wilde, beat with perpetual storms
|
||
Of Whirlwind and dire Hail, which on firm land
|
||
Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems
|
||
Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice,
|
||
A gulf profound as that SERBONIAN Bog
|
||
Betwixt DAMIATA and mount CASIUS old,
|
||
Where Armies whole have sunk: the parching Air
|
||
Burns frore, and cold performs th' effect of Fire.
|
||
Thither by harpy-footed Furies hail'd,
|
||
At certain revolutions all the damn'd
|
||
Are brought: and feel by turns the bitter change
|
||
Of fierce extreams, extreams by change more fierce,
|
||
From Beds of raging Fire to starve in Ice
|
||
Thir soft Ethereal warmth, and there to pine
|
||
Immovable, infixt, and frozen round,
|
||
Periods of time, thence hurried back to fire.
|
||
They ferry over this LETHEAN Sound
|
||
Both to and fro, thir sorrow to augment,
|
||
And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reach
|
||
The tempting stream, with one small drop to loose
|
||
In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe,
|
||
All in one moment, and so neer the brink;
|
||
But fate withstands, and to oppose th' attempt
|
||
MEDUSA with GORGONIAN terror guards
|
||
The Ford, and of it self the water flies
|
||
All taste of living wight, as once it fled
|
||
The lip of TANTALUS. Thus roving on
|
||
In confus'd march forlorn, th' adventrous Bands
|
||
With shuddring horror pale, and eyes agast
|
||
View'd first thir lamentable lot, and found
|
||
No rest: through many a dark and drearie Vaile
|
||
They pass'd, and many a Region dolorous,
|
||
O're many a Frozen, many a Fierie Alpe,
|
||
Rocks, Caves, Lakes, Fens, Bogs, Dens, and shades of death,
|
||
A Universe of death, which God by curse
|
||
Created evil, for evil only good,
|
||
Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds,
|
||
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,
|
||
Abominable, inutterable, and worse
|
||
Then Fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd,
|
||
GORGONS and HYDRA'S, and CHIMERA'S dire.
|
||
Mean while the Adversary of God and Man,
|
||
SATAN with thoughts inflam'd of highest design,
|
||
Puts on swift wings, and toward the Gates of Hell
|
||
Explores his solitary flight; som times
|
||
He scours the right hand coast, som times the left,
|
||
Now shaves with level wing the Deep, then soares
|
||
Up to the fiery concave touring high.
|
||
As when farr off at Sea a Fleet descri'd
|
||
Hangs in the Clouds, by AEQUINOCTIAL Winds
|
||
Close sailing from BENGALA, or the Iles
|
||
Of TERNATE and TIDORE, whence Merchants bring
|
||
Thir spicie Drugs: they on the trading Flood
|
||
Through the wide ETHIOPIAN to the Cape
|
||
Ply stemming nightly toward the Pole. So seem'd
|
||
Farr off the flying Fiend: at last appeer
|
||
Hell bounds high reaching to the horrid Roof,
|
||
And thrice threefold the Gates; three folds were Brass
|
||
Three Iron, three of Adamantine Rock,
|
||
Impenitrable, impal'd with circling fire,
|
||
Yet unconsum'd. Before the Gates there sat
|
||
On either side a formidable shape;
|
||
The one seem'd Woman to the waste, and fair,
|
||
But ended foul in many a scaly fould
|
||
Voluminous and vast, a Serpent arm'd
|
||
With mortal sting: about her middle round
|
||
A cry of Hell Hounds never ceasing bark'd
|
||
With wide CERBEREAN mouths full loud, and rung
|
||
A hideous Peal: yet, when they list, would creep,
|
||
If aught disturb'd thir noyse, into her woomb,
|
||
And kennel there, yet there still bark'd and howl'd
|
||
Within unseen. Farr less abhorrd then these
|
||
Vex'd SCYLLA bathing in the Sea that parts
|
||
CALABRIA from the hoarce TRINACRIAN shore:
|
||
Nor uglier follow the Night-Hag, when call'd
|
||
In secret, riding through the Air she comes
|
||
Lur'd with the smell of infant blood, to dance
|
||
With LAPLAND Witches, while the labouring Moon
|
||
Eclipses at thir charms. The other shape,
|
||
If shape it might be call'd that shape had none
|
||
Distinguishable in member, joynt, or limb,
|
||
Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd,
|
||
For each seem'd either; black it stood as Night,
|
||
Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell,
|
||
And shook a dreadful Dart; what seem'd his head
|
||
The likeness of a Kingly Crown had on.
|
||
SATAN was now at hand, and from his seat
|
||
The Monster moving onward came as fast,
|
||
With horrid strides, Hell trembled as he strode.
|
||
Th' undaunted Fiend what this might be admir'd,
|
||
Admir'd, not fear'd; God and his Son except,
|
||
Created thing naught vallu'd he nor shun'd;
|
||
And with disdainful look thus first began.
|
||
Whence and what art thou, execrable shape,
|
||
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance
|
||
Thy miscreated Front athwart my way
|
||
To yonder Gates? through them I mean to pass,
|
||
That be assur'd, without leave askt of thee:
|
||
Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof,
|
||
Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heav'n.
|
||
To whom the Goblin full of wrauth reply'd,
|
||
Art thou that Traitor Angel, art thou hee,
|
||
Who first broke peace in Heav'n and Faith, till then
|
||
Unbrok'n, and in proud rebellious Arms
|
||
Drew after him the third part of Heav'ns Sons
|
||
Conjur'd against the highest, for which both Thou
|
||
And they outcast from God, are here condemn'd
|
||
To waste Eternal daies in woe and pain?
|
||
And reck'n'st thou thy self with Spirits of Heav'n,
|
||
Hell-doomd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn,
|
||
Where I reign King, and to enrage thee more,
|
||
Thy King and Lord? Back to thy punishment,
|
||
False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings,
|
||
Least with a whip of Scorpions I pursue
|
||
Thy lingring, or with one stroke of this Dart
|
||
Strange horror seise thee, and pangs unfelt before.
|
||
So spake the grieslie terrour, and in shape,
|
||
So speaking and so threatning, grew ten fold
|
||
More dreadful and deform: on th' other side
|
||
Incenc't with indignation SATAN stood
|
||
Unterrifi'd, and like a Comet burn'd,
|
||
That fires the length of OPHIUCUS huge
|
||
In th' Artick Sky, and from his horrid hair
|
||
Shakes Pestilence and Warr. Each at the Head
|
||
Level'd his deadly aime; thir fatall hands
|
||
No second stroke intend, and such a frown
|
||
Each cast at th' other, as when two black Clouds
|
||
With Heav'ns Artillery fraught, come rattling on
|
||
Over the CASPIAN, then stand front to front
|
||
Hov'ring a space, till Winds the signal blow
|
||
To joyn thir dark Encounter in mid air:
|
||
So frownd the mighty Combatants, that Hell
|
||
Grew darker at thir frown, so matcht they stood;
|
||
For never but once more was either like
|
||
To meet so great a foe: and now great deeds
|
||
Had been achiev'd, whereof all Hell had rung,
|
||
Had not the Snakie Sorceress that sat
|
||
Fast by Hell Gate, and kept the fatal Key,
|
||
Ris'n, and with hideous outcry rush'd between.
|
||
O Father, what intends thy hand, she cry'd,
|
||
Against thy only Son? What fury O Son,
|
||
Possesses thee to bend that mortal Dart
|
||
Against thy Fathers head? and know'st for whom;
|
||
For him who sits above and laughs the while
|
||
At thee ordain'd his drudge, to execute
|
||
What e're his wrath, which he calls Justice, bids,
|
||
His wrath which one day will destroy ye both.
|
||
She spake, and at her words the hellish Pest
|
||
Forbore, then these to her SATAN return'd:
|
||
So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange
|
||
Thou interposest, that my sudden hand
|
||
Prevented spares to tell thee yet by deeds
|
||
What it intends; till first I know of thee,
|
||
What thing thou art, thus double-form'd, and why
|
||
In this infernal Vaile first met thou call'st
|
||
Me Father, and that Fantasm call'st my Son?
|
||
I know thee not, nor ever saw till now
|
||
Sight more detestable then him and thee.
|
||
T' whom thus the Portress of Hell Gate reply'd;
|
||
Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem
|
||
Now in thine eye so foul, once deemd so fair
|
||
In Heav'n, when at th' Assembly, and in sight
|
||
Of all the Seraphim with thee combin'd
|
||
In bold conspiracy against Heav'ns King,
|
||
All on a sudden miserable pain
|
||
Surpris'd thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzie swumm
|
||
In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast
|
||
Threw forth, till on the left side op'ning wide,
|
||
Likest to thee in shape and count'nance bright,
|
||
Then shining heav'nly fair, a Goddess arm'd
|
||
Out of thy head I sprung: amazement seis'd
|
||
All th' Host of Heav'n; back they recoild affraid
|
||
At first, and call'd me SIN, and for a Sign
|
||
Portentous held me; but familiar grown,
|
||
I pleas'd, and with attractive graces won
|
||
The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft
|
||
Thy self in me thy perfect image viewing
|
||
Becam'st enamour'd, and such joy thou took'st
|
||
With me in secret, that my womb conceiv'd
|
||
A growing burden. Mean while Warr arose,
|
||
And fields were fought in Heav'n; wherein remaind
|
||
(For what could else) to our Almighty Foe
|
||
Cleer Victory, to our part loss and rout
|
||
Through all the Empyrean: down they fell
|
||
Driv'n headlong from the Pitch of Heaven, down
|
||
Into this Deep, and in the general fall
|
||
I also; at which time this powerful Key
|
||
Into my hand was giv'n, with charge to keep
|
||
These Gates for ever shut, which none can pass
|
||
Without my op'ning. Pensive here I sat
|
||
Alone, but long I sat not, till my womb
|
||
Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown
|
||
Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes.
|
||
At last this odious offspring whom thou seest
|
||
Thine own begotten, breaking violent way
|
||
Tore through my entrails, that with fear and pain
|
||
Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew
|
||
Transform'd: but he my inbred enemie
|
||
Forth issu'd, brandishing his fatal Dart
|
||
Made to destroy: I fled, and cry'd out DEATH;
|
||
Hell trembl'd at the hideous Name, and sigh'd
|
||
From all her Caves, and back resounded DEATH.
|
||
I fled, but he pursu'd (though more, it seems,
|
||
Inflam'd with lust then rage) and swifter far,
|
||
Me overtook his mother all dismaid,
|
||
And in embraces forcible and foule
|
||
Ingendring with me, of that rape begot
|
||
These yelling Monsters that with ceasless cry
|
||
Surround me, as thou sawst, hourly conceiv'd
|
||
And hourly born, with sorrow infinite
|
||
To me, for when they list into the womb
|
||
That bred them they return, and howle and gnaw
|
||
My Bowels, their repast; then bursting forth
|
||
Afresh with conscious terrours vex me round,
|
||
That rest or intermission none I find.
|
||
Before mine eyes in opposition sits
|
||
Grim DEATH my Son and foe, who sets them on,
|
||
And me his Parent would full soon devour
|
||
For want of other prey, but that he knows
|
||
His end with mine involvd; and knows that I
|
||
Should prove a bitter Morsel, and his bane,
|
||
When ever that shall be; so Fate pronounc'd.
|
||
But thou O Father, I forewarn thee, shun
|
||
His deadly arrow; neither vainly hope
|
||
To be invulnerable in those bright Arms,
|
||
Though temper'd heav'nly, for that mortal dint,
|
||
Save he who reigns above, none can resist.
|
||
She finish'd, and the suttle Fiend his lore
|
||
Soon learnd, now milder, and thus answerd smooth.
|
||
Dear Daughter, since thou claim'st me for thy Sire,
|
||
And my fair Son here showst me, the dear pledge
|
||
Of dalliance had with thee in Heav'n, and joys
|
||
Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change
|
||
Befalln us unforeseen, unthought of, know
|
||
I come no enemie, but to set free
|
||
From out this dark and dismal house of pain,
|
||
Both him and thee, and all the heav'nly Host
|
||
Of Spirits that in our just pretenses arm'd
|
||
Fell with us from on high: from them I go
|
||
This uncouth errand sole, and one for all
|
||
My self expose, with lonely steps to tread
|
||
Th' unfounded deep, & through the void immense
|
||
To search with wandring quest a place foretold
|
||
Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now
|
||
Created vast and round, a place of bliss
|
||
In the Pourlieues of Heav'n, and therein plac't
|
||
A race of upstart Creatures, to supply
|
||
Perhaps our vacant room, though more remov'd,
|
||
Least Heav'n surcharg'd with potent multitude
|
||
Might hap to move new broiles: Be this or aught
|
||
Then this more secret now design'd, I haste
|
||
To know, and this once known, shall soon return,
|
||
And bring ye to the place where Thou and Death
|
||
Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen
|
||
Wing silently the buxom Air, imbalm'd
|
||
With odours; there ye shall be fed and fill'd
|
||
Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey.
|
||
He ceas'd, for both seemd highly pleasd, and Death
|
||
Grinnd horrible a gastly smile, to hear
|
||
His famine should be fill'd, and blest his mawe
|
||
Destin'd to that good hour: no less rejoyc'd
|
||
His mother bad, and thus bespake her Sire.
|
||
The key of this infernal Pit by due,
|
||
And by command of Heav'ns all-powerful King
|
||
I keep, by him forbidden to unlock
|
||
These Adamantine Gates; against all force
|
||
Death ready stands to interpose his dart,
|
||
Fearless to be o'rematcht by living might.
|
||
But what ow I to his commands above
|
||
Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down
|
||
Into this gloom of TARTARUS profound,
|
||
To sit in hateful Office here confin'd,
|
||
Inhabitant of Heav'n, and heav'nlie-born,
|
||
Here in perpetual agonie and pain,
|
||
With terrors and with clamors compasst round
|
||
Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed:
|
||
Thou art my Father, thou my Author, thou
|
||
My being gav'st me; whom should I obey
|
||
But thee, whom follow? thou wilt bring me soon
|
||
To that new world of light and bliss, among
|
||
The Gods who live at ease, where I shall Reign
|
||
At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems
|
||
Thy daughter and thy darling, without end.
|
||
Thus saying, from her side the fatal Key,
|
||
Sad instrument of all our woe, she took;
|
||
And towards the Gate rouling her bestial train,
|
||
Forthwith the huge Porcullis high up drew,
|
||
Which but her self not all the STYGIAN powers
|
||
Could once have mov'd; then in the key-hole turns
|
||
Th' intricate wards, and every Bolt and Bar
|
||
Of massie Iron or sollid Rock with ease
|
||
Unfast'ns: on a sudden op'n flie
|
||
With impetuous recoile and jarring sound
|
||
Th' infernal dores, and on thir hinges great
|
||
Harsh Thunder, that the lowest bottom shook
|
||
Of EREBUS. She op'nd, but to shut
|
||
Excel'd her power; the Gates wide op'n stood,
|
||
That with extended wings a Bannerd Host
|
||
Under spread Ensigns marching might pass through
|
||
With Horse and Chariots rankt in loose array;
|
||
So wide they stood, and like a Furnace mouth
|
||
Cast forth redounding smoak and ruddy flame.
|
||
Before thir eyes in sudden view appear
|
||
The secrets of the hoarie deep, a dark
|
||
Illimitable Ocean without bound,
|
||
Without dimension, where length, breadth, and highth,
|
||
And time and place are lost; where eldest Night
|
||
And CHAOS, Ancestors of Nature, hold
|
||
Eternal ANARCHIE, amidst the noise
|
||
Of endless warrs and by confusion stand.
|
||
For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four Champions fierce
|
||
Strive here for Maistrie, and to Battel bring
|
||
Thir embryon Atoms; they around the flag
|
||
Of each his faction, in thir several Clanns,
|
||
Light-arm'd or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow,
|
||
Swarm populous, unnumber'd as the Sands
|
||
Of BARCA or CYRENE'S torrid soil,
|
||
Levied to side with warring Winds, and poise
|
||
Thir lighter wings. To whom these most adhere,
|
||
Hee rules a moment; CHAOS Umpire sits,
|
||
And by decision more imbroiles the fray
|
||
By which he Reigns: next him high Arbiter
|
||
CHANCE governs all. Into this wilde Abyss,
|
||
The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave,
|
||
Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire,
|
||
But all these in thir pregnant causes mixt
|
||
Confus'dly, and which thus must ever fight,
|
||
Unless th' Almighty Maker them ordain
|
||
His dark materials to create more Worlds,
|
||
Into this wilde Abyss the warie fiend
|
||
Stood on the brink of Hell and look'd a while,
|
||
Pondering his Voyage; for no narrow frith
|
||
He had to cross. Nor was his eare less peal'd
|
||
With noises loud and ruinous (to compare
|
||
Great things with small) then when BELLONA storms,
|
||
With all her battering Engines bent to rase
|
||
Som Capital City, or less then if this frame
|
||
Of Heav'n were falling, and these Elements
|
||
In mutinie had from her Axle torn
|
||
The stedfast Earth. At last his Sail-broad Vannes
|
||
He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoak
|
||
Uplifted spurns the ground, thence many a League
|
||
As in a cloudy Chair ascending rides
|
||
Audacious, but that seat soon failing, meets
|
||
A vast vacuitie: all unawares
|
||
Fluttring his pennons vain plumb down he drops
|
||
Ten thousand fadom deep, and to this hour
|
||
Down had been falling, had not by ill chance
|
||
The strong rebuff of som tumultuous cloud
|
||
Instinct with Fire and Nitre hurried him
|
||
As many miles aloft: that furie stay'd,
|
||
Quencht in a Boggie SYRTIS, neither Sea,
|
||
Nor good dry Land: nigh founderd on he fares,
|
||
Treading the crude consistence, half on foot,
|
||
Half flying; behoves him now both Oare and Saile.
|
||
As when a Gryfon through the Wilderness
|
||
With winged course ore Hill or moarie Dale,
|
||
Pursues the ARIMASPIAN, who by stelth
|
||
Had from his wakeful custody purloind
|
||
The guarded Gold: So eagerly the fiend
|
||
Ore bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
|
||
With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way,
|
||
And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flyes:
|
||
At length a universal hubbub wilde
|
||
Of stunning sounds and voices all confus'd
|
||
Born through the hollow dark assaults his eare
|
||
With loudest vehemence: thither he plyes,
|
||
Undaunted to meet there what ever power
|
||
Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss
|
||
Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask
|
||
Which way the neerest coast of darkness lyes
|
||
Bordering on light; when strait behold the Throne
|
||
Of CHAOS, and his dark Pavilion spread
|
||
Wide on the wasteful Deep; with him Enthron'd
|
||
Sat Sable-vested Night, eldest of things,
|
||
The consort of his Reign; and by them stood
|
||
ORCUS and ADES, and the dreaded name
|
||
Of DEMOGORGON; Rumor next and Chance,
|
||
And Tumult and Confusion all imbroild,
|
||
And Discord with a thousand various mouths.
|
||
T' whom SATAN turning boldly, thus. Ye Powers
|
||
And Spirits of this nethermost Abyss,
|
||
CHAOS and ANCIENT NIGHT, I come no Spie,
|
||
With purpose to explore or to disturb
|
||
The secrets of your Realm, but by constraint
|
||
Wandring this darksome desart, as my way
|
||
Lies through your spacious Empire up to light,
|
||
Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek
|
||
What readiest path leads where your gloomie bounds
|
||
Confine with Heav'n; or if som other place
|
||
From your Dominion won, th' Ethereal King
|
||
Possesses lately, thither to arrive
|
||
I travel this profound, direct my course;
|
||
Directed, no mean recompence it brings
|
||
To your behoof, if I that Region lost,
|
||
All usurpation thence expell'd, reduce
|
||
To her original darkness and your sway
|
||
(Which is my present journey) and once more
|
||
Erect the Standerd there of ANCIENT NIGHT;
|
||
Yours be th' advantage all, mine the revenge.
|
||
Thus SATAN; and him thus the Anarch old
|
||
With faultring speech and visage incompos'd
|
||
Answer'd. I know thee, stranger, who thou art,
|
||
That mighty leading Angel, who of late
|
||
Made head against Heav'ns King, though overthrown.
|
||
I saw and heard, for such a numerous host
|
||
Fled not in silence through the frighted deep
|
||
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,
|
||
Confusion worse confounded; and Heav'n Gates
|
||
Pourd out by millions her victorious Bands
|
||
Pursuing. I upon my Frontieres here
|
||
Keep residence; if all I can will serve,
|
||
That little which is left so to defend
|
||
Encroacht on still through our intestine broiles
|
||
Weakning the Scepter of old Night: first Hell
|
||
Your dungeon stretching far and wide beneath;
|
||
Now lately Heaven and Earth, another World
|
||
Hung ore my Realm, link'd in a golden Chain
|
||
To that side Heav'n from whence your Legions fell:
|
||
If that way be your walk, you have not farr;
|
||
So much the neerer danger; goe and speed;
|
||
Havock and spoil and ruin are my gain.
|
||
He ceas'd; and SATAN staid not to reply,
|
||
But glad that now his Sea should find a shore,
|
||
With fresh alacritie and force renew'd
|
||
Springs upward like a Pyramid of fire
|
||
Into the wilde expanse, and through the shock
|
||
Of fighting Elements, on all sides round
|
||
Environ'd wins his way; harder beset
|
||
And more endanger'd, then when ARGO pass'd
|
||
Through BOSPORUS betwixt the justling Rocks:
|
||
Or when ULYSSES on the Larbord shunnd
|
||
CHARYBDIS, and by th' other whirlpool steard.
|
||
So he with difficulty and labour hard
|
||
Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour hee;
|
||
But hee once past, soon after when man fell,
|
||
Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain
|
||
Following his track, such was the will of Heav'n,
|
||
Pav'd after him a broad and beat'n way
|
||
Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling Gulf
|
||
Tamely endur'd a Bridge of wondrous length
|
||
From Hell continu'd reaching th' utmost Orbe
|
||
Of this frail World; by which the Spirits perverse
|
||
With easie intercourse pass to and fro
|
||
To tempt or punish mortals, except whom
|
||
God and good Angels guard by special grace.
|
||
But now at last the sacred influence
|
||
Of light appears, and from the walls of Heav'n
|
||
Shoots farr into the bosom of dim Night
|
||
A glimmering dawn; here Nature first begins
|
||
Her fardest verge, and CHAOS to retire
|
||
As from her outmost works a brok'n foe
|
||
With tumult less and with less hostile din,
|
||
That SATAN with less toil, and now with ease
|
||
Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light
|
||
And like a weather-beaten Vessel holds
|
||
Gladly the Port, though Shrouds and Tackle torn;
|
||
Or in the emptier waste, resembling Air,
|
||
Weighs his spread wings, at leasure to behold
|
||
Farr off th' Empyreal Heav'n, extended wide
|
||
In circuit, undetermind square or round,
|
||
With Opal Towrs and Battlements adorn'd
|
||
Of living Saphire, once his native Seat;
|
||
And fast by hanging in a golden Chain
|
||
This pendant world, in bigness as a Starr
|
||
Of smallest Magnitude close by the Moon.
|
||
Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge,
|
||
Accurst, and in a cursed hour he hies.
|
||
THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST
|
||
BOOK III
|
||
|
||
HAil holy light, ofspring of Heav'n first-born,
|
||
Or of th' Eternal Coeternal beam
|
||
May I express thee unblam'd? since God is light,
|
||
And never but in unapproached light
|
||
Dwelt from Eternitie, dwelt then in thee,
|
||
Bright effluence of bright essence increate.
|
||
Or hear'st thou rather pure Ethereal stream,
|
||
Whose Fountain who shall tell? before the Sun,
|
||
Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice
|
||
Of God, as with a Mantle didst invest
|
||
The rising world of waters dark and deep,
|
||
Won from the void and formless infinite.
|
||
Thee I re-visit now with bolder wing,
|
||
Escap't the STYGIAN Pool, though long detain'd
|
||
In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight
|
||
Through utter and through middle darkness borne
|
||
With other notes then to th' ORPHEAN Lyre
|
||
I sung of CHAOS and ETERNAL NIGHT,
|
||
Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down
|
||
The dark descent, and up to reascend,
|
||
Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,
|
||
And feel thy sovran vital Lamp; but thou
|
||
Revisit'st not these eyes, that rowle in vain
|
||
To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;
|
||
So thick a drop serene hath quencht thir Orbs,
|
||
Or dim suffusion veild. Yet not the more
|
||
Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt
|
||
Cleer Spring, or shadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill,
|
||
Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief
|
||
Thee SION and the flowrie Brooks beneath
|
||
That wash thy hallowd feet, and warbling flow,
|
||
Nightly I visit: nor somtimes forget
|
||
Those other two equal'd with me in Fate,
|
||
So were I equal'd with them in renown,
|
||
Blind THAMYRIS and blind MAEONIDES,
|
||
And TIRESIAS and PHINEUS Prophets old.
|
||
Then feed on thoughts, that voluntarie move
|
||
Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful Bird
|
||
Sings darkling, and in shadiest Covert hid
|
||
Tunes her nocturnal Note. Thus with the Year
|
||
Seasons return, but not to me returns
|
||
Day, or the sweet approach of Ev'n or Morn,
|
||
Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose,
|
||
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
|
||
But cloud in stead, and ever-during dark
|
||
Surrounds me, from the chearful waies of men
|
||
Cut off, and for the book of knowledg fair
|
||
Presented with a Universal blanc
|
||
Of Natures works to mee expung'd and ras'd,
|
||
And wisdome at one entrance quite shut out.
|
||
So much the rather thou Celestial light
|
||
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
|
||
Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence
|
||
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
|
||
Of things invisible to mortal sight.
|
||
Now had the Almighty Father from above,
|
||
From the pure Empyrean where he sits
|
||
High Thron'd above all highth, bent down his eye,
|
||
His own works and their works at once to view:
|
||
About him all the Sanctities of Heaven
|
||
Stood thick as Starrs, and from his sight receiv'd
|
||
Beatitude past utterance; on his right
|
||
The radiant image of his Glory sat,
|
||
His onely Son; On Earth he first beheld
|
||
Our two first Parents, yet the onely two
|
||
Of mankind, in the happie Garden plac't,
|
||
Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love,
|
||
Uninterrupted joy, unrivald love
|
||
In blissful solitude; he then survey'd
|
||
Hell and the Gulf between, and SATAN there
|
||
Coasting the wall of Heav'n on this side Night
|
||
In the dun Air sublime, and ready now
|
||
To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feet
|
||
On the bare outside of this World, that seem'd
|
||
Firm land imbosom'd without Firmament,
|
||
Uncertain which, in Ocean or in Air.
|
||
Him God beholding from his prospect high,
|
||
Wherein past, present, future he beholds,
|
||
Thus to his onely Son foreseeing spake.
|
||
Onely begotten Son, seest thou what rage
|
||
Transports our adversarie, whom no bounds
|
||
Prescrib'd, no barrs of Hell, nor all the chains
|
||
Heapt on him there, nor yet the main Abyss
|
||
Wide interrupt can hold; so bent he seems
|
||
On desperat revenge, that shall redound
|
||
Upon his own rebellious head. And now
|
||
Through all restraint broke loose he wings his way
|
||
Not farr off Heav'n, in the Precincts of light,
|
||
Directly towards the new created World,
|
||
And Man there plac't, with purpose to assay
|
||
If him by force he can destroy, or worse,
|
||
By som false guile pervert; and shall pervert;
|
||
For man will heark'n to his glozing lyes,
|
||
And easily transgress the sole Command,
|
||
Sole pledge of his obedience: So will fall
|
||
Hee and his faithless Progenie: whose fault?
|
||
Whose but his own? ingrate, he had of mee
|
||
All he could have; I made him just and right,
|
||
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.
|
||
Such I created all th' Ethereal Powers
|
||
And Spirits, both them who stood & them who faild;
|
||
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.
|
||
Not free, what proof could they have givn sincere
|
||
Of true allegiance, constant Faith or Love,
|
||
Where onely what they needs must do, appeard,
|
||
Not what they would? what praise could they receive?
|
||
What pleasure I from such obedience paid,
|
||
When Will and Reason (Reason also is choice)
|
||
Useless and vain, of freedom both despoild,
|
||
Made passive both, had servd necessitie,
|
||
Not mee. They therefore as to right belongd,
|
||
So were created, nor can justly accuse
|
||
Thir maker, or thir making, or thir Fate;
|
||
As if Predestination over-rul'd
|
||
Thir will, dispos'd by absolute Decree
|
||
Or high foreknowledge; they themselves decreed
|
||
Thir own revolt, not I: if I foreknew,
|
||
Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault,
|
||
Which had no less prov'd certain unforeknown.
|
||
So without least impulse or shadow of Fate,
|
||
Or aught by me immutablie foreseen,
|
||
They trespass, Authors to themselves in all
|
||
Both what they judge and what they choose; for so
|
||
I formd them free, and free they must remain,
|
||
Till they enthrall themselves: I else must change
|
||
Thir nature, and revoke the high Decree
|
||
Unchangeable, Eternal, which ordain'd
|
||
Thir freedom, they themselves ordain'd thir fall.
|
||
The first sort by thir own suggestion fell,
|
||
Self-tempted, self-deprav'd: Man falls deceiv'd
|
||
By the other first: Man therefore shall find grace,
|
||
The other none: in Mercy and Justice both,
|
||
Through Heav'n and Earth, so shall my glorie excel,
|
||
But Mercy first and last shall brightest shine.
|
||
Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fill'd
|
||
All Heav'n, and in the blessed Spirits elect
|
||
Sense of new joy ineffable diffus'd:
|
||
Beyond compare the Son of God was seen
|
||
Most glorious, in him all his Father shon
|
||
Substantially express'd, and in his face
|
||
Divine compassion visibly appeerd,
|
||
Love without end, and without measure Grace,
|
||
Which uttering thus he to his Father spake.
|
||
O Father, gracious was that word which clos'd
|
||
Thy sovran sentence, that Man should find grace;
|
||
For which both Heav'n and Earth shall high extoll
|
||
Thy praises, with th' innumerable sound
|
||
Of Hymns and sacred Songs, wherewith thy Throne
|
||
Encompass'd shall resound thee ever blest.
|
||
For should Man finally be lost, should Man
|
||
Thy creature late so lov'd, thy youngest Son
|
||
Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though joynd
|
||
With his own folly? that be from thee farr,
|
||
That farr be from thee, Father, who art Judge
|
||
Of all things made, and judgest onely right.
|
||
Or shall the Adversarie thus obtain
|
||
His end, and frustrate thine, shall he fulfill
|
||
His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught,
|
||
Or proud return though to his heavier doom,
|
||
Yet with revenge accomplish't and to Hell
|
||
Draw after him the whole Race of mankind,
|
||
By him corrupted? or wilt thou thy self
|
||
Abolish thy Creation, and unmake,
|
||
For him, what for thy glorie thou hast made?
|
||
So should thy goodness and thy greatness both
|
||
Be questiond and blaspheam'd without defence.
|
||
To whom the great Creatour thus reply'd.
|
||
O Son, in whom my Soul hath chief delight,
|
||
Son of my bosom, Son who art alone
|
||
My word, my wisdom, and effectual might,
|
||
All hast thou spok'n as my thoughts are, all
|
||
As my Eternal purpose hath decreed:
|
||
Man shall not quite be lost, but sav'd who will,
|
||
Yet not of will in him, but grace in me
|
||
Freely voutsaft; once more I will renew
|
||
His lapsed powers, though forfeit and enthrall'd
|
||
By sin to foul exorbitant desires;
|
||
Upheld by me, yet once more he shall stand
|
||
On even ground against his mortal foe,
|
||
By me upheld, that he may know how frail
|
||
His fall'n condition is, and to me ow
|
||
All his deliv'rance, and to none but me.
|
||
Some I have chosen of peculiar grace
|
||
Elect above the rest; so is my will:
|
||
The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warnd
|
||
Thir sinful state, and to appease betimes
|
||
Th' incensed Deitie, while offerd grace
|
||
Invites; for I will cleer thir senses dark,
|
||
What may suffice, and soft'n stonie hearts
|
||
To pray, repent, and bring obedience due.
|
||
To prayer, repentance, and obedience due,
|
||
Though but endevord with sincere intent,
|
||
Mine eare shall not be slow, mine eye not shut.
|
||
And I will place within them as a guide
|
||
My Umpire CONSCIENCE, whom if they will hear,
|
||
Light after light well us'd they shall attain,
|
||
And to the end persisting, safe arrive.
|
||
This my long sufferance and my day of grace
|
||
They who neglect and scorn, shall never taste;
|
||
But hard be hard'nd, blind be blinded more,
|
||
That they may stumble on, and deeper fall;
|
||
And none but such from mercy I exclude.
|
||
But yet all is not don; Man disobeying,
|
||
Disloyal breaks his fealtie, and sinns
|
||
Against the high Supremacie of Heav'n,
|
||
Affecting God-head, and so loosing all,
|
||
To expiate his Treason hath naught left,
|
||
But to destruction sacred and devote,
|
||
He with his whole posteritie must die,
|
||
Die hee or Justice must; unless for him
|
||
Som other able, and as willing, pay
|
||
The rigid satisfaction, death for death.
|
||
Say Heav'nly Powers, where shall we find such love,
|
||
Which of ye will be mortal to redeem
|
||
Mans mortal crime, and just th' unjust to save,
|
||
Dwels in all Heaven charitie so deare?
|
||
He ask'd, but all the Heav'nly Quire stood mute,
|
||
And silence was in Heav'n: on mans behalf
|
||
Patron or Intercessor none appeerd,
|
||
Much less that durst upon his own head draw
|
||
The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set.
|
||
And now without redemption all mankind
|
||
Must have bin lost, adjudg'd to Death and Hell
|
||
By doom severe, had not the Son of God,
|
||
In whom the fulness dwels of love divine,
|
||
His dearest mediation thus renewd.
|
||
Father, thy word is past, man shall find grace;
|
||
And shall grace not find means, that finds her way,
|
||
The speediest of thy winged messengers,
|
||
To visit all thy creatures, and to all
|
||
Comes unprevented, unimplor'd, unsought,
|
||
Happie for man, so coming; he her aide
|
||
Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost;
|
||
Attonement for himself or offering meet,
|
||
Indebted and undon, hath none to bring:
|
||
Behold mee then, mee for him, life for life
|
||
I offer, on mee let thine anger fall;
|
||
Account mee man; I for his sake will leave
|
||
Thy bosom, and this glorie next to thee
|
||
Freely put off, and for him lastly die
|
||
Well pleas'd, on me let Death wreck all his rage;
|
||
Under his gloomie power I shall not long
|
||
Lie vanquisht; thou hast givn me to possess
|
||
Life in my self for ever, by thee I live,
|
||
Though now to Death I yeild, and am his due
|
||
All that of me can die, yet that debt paid,
|
||
Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsom grave
|
||
His prey, nor suffer my unspotted Soule
|
||
For ever with corruption there to dwell;
|
||
But I shall rise Victorious, and subdue
|
||
My Vanquisher, spoild of his vanted spoile;
|
||
Death his deaths wound shall then receive, & stoop
|
||
Inglorious, of his mortall sting disarm'd.
|
||
I through the ample Air in Triumph high
|
||
Shall lead Hell Captive maugre Hell, and show
|
||
The powers of darkness bound. Thou at the sight
|
||
Pleas'd, out of Heaven shalt look down and smile,
|
||
While by thee rais'd I ruin all my Foes,
|
||
Death last, and with his Carcass glut the Grave:
|
||
Then with the multitude of my redeemd
|
||
Shall enter Heaven long absent, and returne,
|
||
Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud
|
||
Of anger shall remain, but peace assur'd,
|
||
And reconcilement; wrauth shall be no more
|
||
Thenceforth, but in thy presence Joy entire.
|
||
His words here ended, but his meek aspect
|
||
Silent yet spake, and breath'd immortal love
|
||
To mortal men, above which only shon
|
||
Filial obedience: as a sacrifice
|
||
Glad to be offer'd, he attends the will
|
||
Of his great Father. Admiration seis'd
|
||
All Heav'n, what this might mean, & whither tend
|
||
Wondring; but soon th' Almighty thus reply'd:
|
||
O thou in Heav'n and Earth the only peace
|
||
Found out for mankind under wrauth, O thou
|
||
My sole complacence! well thou know'st how dear,
|
||
To me are all my works, nor Man the least
|
||
Though last created, that for him I spare
|
||
Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save,
|
||
By loosing thee a while, the whole Race lost.
|
||
Thou therefore whom thou only canst redeeme,
|
||
Thir Nature also to thy Nature joyne;
|
||
And be thy self Man among men on Earth,
|
||
Made flesh, when time shall be, of Virgin seed,
|
||
By wondrous birth: Be thou in ADAMS room
|
||
The Head of all mankind, though ADAMS Son.
|
||
As in him perish all men, so in thee
|
||
As from a second root shall be restor'd,
|
||
As many as are restor'd, without thee none.
|
||
His crime makes guiltie all his Sons, thy merit
|
||
Imputed shall absolve them who renounce
|
||
Thir own both righteous and unrighteous deeds,
|
||
And live in thee transplanted, and from thee
|
||
Receive new life. So Man, as is most just,
|
||
Shall satisfie for Man, be judg'd and die,
|
||
And dying rise, and rising with him raise
|
||
His Brethren, ransomd with his own dear life.
|
||
So Heav'nly love shal outdoo Hellish hate,
|
||
Giving to death, and dying to redeeme,
|
||
So dearly to redeem what Hellish hate
|
||
So easily destroy'd, and still destroyes
|
||
In those who, when they may, accept not grace.
|
||
Nor shalt thou by descending to assume
|
||
Mans Nature, less'n or degrade thine owne.
|
||
Because thou hast, though Thron'd in highest bliss
|
||
Equal to God, and equally enjoying
|
||
God-like fruition, quitted all to save
|
||
A World from utter loss, and hast been found
|
||
By Merit more then Birthright Son of God,
|
||
Found worthiest to be so by being Good,
|
||
Farr more then Great or High; because in thee
|
||
Love hath abounded more then Glory abounds,
|
||
Therefore thy Humiliation shall exalt
|
||
With thee thy Manhood also to this Throne;
|
||
Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt Reigne
|
||
Both God and Man, Son both of God and Man,
|
||
Anointed universal King; all Power
|
||
I give thee, reign for ever, and assume
|
||
Thy Merits; under thee as Head Supream
|
||
Thrones, Princedoms, Powers, Dominions I reduce:
|
||
All knees to thee shall bow, of them that bide
|
||
In Heaven, or Earth, or under Earth in Hell;
|
||
When thou attended gloriously from Heav'n
|
||
Shalt in the Skie appeer, and from thee send
|
||
The summoning Arch-Angels to proclaime
|
||
Thy dread Tribunal: forthwith from all Windes
|
||
The living, and forthwith the cited dead
|
||
Of all past Ages to the general Doom
|
||
Shall hast'n, such a peal shall rouse thir sleep.
|
||
Then all thy Saints assembl'd, thou shalt judge
|
||
Bad men and Angels, they arraignd shall sink
|
||
Beneath thy Sentence; Hell, her numbers full,
|
||
Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Mean while
|
||
The World shall burn, and from her ashes spring
|
||
New Heav'n and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell
|
||
And after all thir tribulations long
|
||
See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,
|
||
With Joy and Love triumphing, and fair Truth.
|
||
Then thou thy regal Scepter shalt lay by,
|
||
For regal Scepter then no more shall need,
|
||
God shall be All in All. But all ye Gods,
|
||
Adore him, who to compass all this dies,
|
||
Adore the Son, and honour him as mee.
|
||
No sooner had th' Almighty ceas't, but all
|
||
The multitude of Angels with a shout
|
||
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet
|
||
As from blest voices, uttering joy, Heav'n rung
|
||
With Jubilee, and loud Hosanna's fill'd
|
||
Th' eternal Regions: lowly reverent
|
||
Towards either Throne they bow, & to the ground
|
||
With solemn adoration down they cast
|
||
Thir Crowns inwove with Amarant and Gold,
|
||
Immortal Amarant, a Flour which once
|
||
In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life
|
||
Began to bloom, but soon for mans offence
|
||
To Heav'n remov'd where first it grew, there grows,
|
||
And flours aloft shading the Fount of Life,
|
||
And where the river of Bliss through midst of Heavn
|
||
Rowls o're ELISIAN Flours her Amber stream;
|
||
With these that never fade the Spirits Elect
|
||
Bind thir resplendent locks inwreath'd with beams,
|
||
Now in loose Garlands thick thrown off, the bright
|
||
Pavement that like a Sea of Jasper shon
|
||
Impurpl'd with Celestial Roses smil'd.
|
||
Then Crown'd again thir gold'n Harps they took,
|
||
Harps ever tun'd, that glittering by their side
|
||
Like Quivers hung, and with Praeamble sweet
|
||
Of charming symphonie they introduce
|
||
Thir sacred Song, and waken raptures high;
|
||
No voice exempt, no voice but well could joine
|
||
Melodious part, such concord is in Heav'n.
|
||
Thee Father first they sung Omnipotent,
|
||
Immutable, Immortal, Infinite,
|
||
Eternal King; thee Author of all being,
|
||
Fountain of Light, thy self invisible
|
||
Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sit'st
|
||
Thron'd inaccessible, but when thou shad'st
|
||
The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud
|
||
Drawn round about thee like a radiant Shrine,
|
||
Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appeer,
|
||
Yet dazle Heav'n, that brightest Seraphim
|
||
Approach not, but with both wings veil thir eyes.
|
||
Thee next they sang of all Creation first,
|
||
Begotten Son, Divine Similitude,
|
||
In whose conspicuous count'nance, without cloud
|
||
Made visible, th' Almighty Father shines,
|
||
Whom else no Creature can behold; on thee
|
||
Impresst the effulgence of his Glorie abides,
|
||
Transfus'd on thee his ample Spirit rests.
|
||
Hee Heav'n of Heavens and all the Powers therein
|
||
By thee created, and by thee threw down
|
||
Th' aspiring Dominations: thou that day
|
||
Thy Fathers dreadful Thunder didst not spare,
|
||
Nor stop thy flaming Chariot wheels, that shook
|
||
Heav'ns everlasting Frame, while o're the necks
|
||
Thou drov'st of warring Angels disarraid.
|
||
Back from pursuit thy Powers with loud acclaime
|
||
Thee only extold, Son of thy Fathers might,
|
||
To execute fierce vengeance on his foes,
|
||
Not so on Man; him through their malice fall'n,
|
||
Father of Mercie and Grace, thou didst not doome
|
||
So strictly, but much more to pitie encline:
|
||
No sooner did thy dear and onely Son
|
||
Perceive thee purpos'd not to doom frail Man
|
||
So strictly, but much more to pitie enclin'd,
|
||
He to appease thy wrauth, and end the strife
|
||
Of Mercy and Justice in thy face discern'd,
|
||
Regardless of the Bliss wherein hee sat
|
||
Second to thee, offerd himself to die
|
||
For mans offence. O unexampl'd love,
|
||
Love no where to be found less then Divine!
|
||
Hail Son of God, Saviour of Men, thy Name
|
||
Shall be the copious matter of my Song
|
||
Henceforth, and never shall my Harp thy praise
|
||
Forget, nor from thy Fathers praise disjoine.
|
||
Thus they in Heav'n, above the starry Sphear,
|
||
Thir happie hours in joy and hymning spent.
|
||
Mean while upon the firm opacous Globe
|
||
Of this round World, whose first convex divides
|
||
The luminous inferior Orbs, enclos'd
|
||
From CHAOS and th' inroad of Darkness old,
|
||
SATAN alighted walks: a Globe farr off
|
||
It seem'd, now seems a boundless Continent
|
||
Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of Night
|
||
Starless expos'd, and ever-threatning storms
|
||
Of CHAOS blustring round, inclement skie;
|
||
Save on that side which from the wall of Heav'n
|
||
Though distant farr som small reflection gaines
|
||
Of glimmering air less vext with tempest loud:
|
||
Here walk'd the Fiend at large in spacious field.
|
||
As when a Vultur on IMAUS bred,
|
||
Whose snowie ridge the roving TARTAR bounds,
|
||
Dislodging from a Region scarce of prey
|
||
To gorge the flesh of Lambs or yeanling Kids
|
||
On Hills where Flocks are fed, flies toward the Springs
|
||
Of GANGES or HYDASPES, INDIAN streams;
|
||
But in his way lights on the barren plaines
|
||
Of SERICANA, where CHINESES drive
|
||
With Sails and Wind thir canie Waggons light:
|
||
So on this windie Sea of Land, the Fiend
|
||
Walk'd up and down alone bent on his prey,
|
||
Alone, for other Creature in this place
|
||
Living or liveless to be found was none,
|
||
None yet, but store hereafter from the earth
|
||
Up hither like Aereal vapours flew
|
||
Of all things transitorie and vain, when Sin
|
||
With vanity had filld the works of men:
|
||
Both all things vain, and all who in vain things
|
||
Built thir fond hopes of Glorie or lasting fame,
|
||
Or happiness in this or th' other life;
|
||
All who have thir reward on Earth, the fruits
|
||
Of painful Superstition and blind Zeal,
|
||
Naught seeking but the praise of men, here find
|
||
Fit retribution, emptie as thir deeds;
|
||
All th' unaccomplisht works of Natures hand,
|
||
Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mixt,
|
||
Dissolvd on earth, fleet hither, and in vain,
|
||
Till final dissolution, wander here,
|
||
Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some have dreamd;
|
||
Those argent Fields more likely habitants,
|
||
Translated Saints, or middle Spirits hold
|
||
Betwixt th' Angelical and Human kinde:
|
||
Hither of ill-joynd Sons and Daughters born
|
||
First from the ancient World those Giants came
|
||
With many a vain exploit, though then renownd:
|
||
The builders next of BABEL on the Plain
|
||
Of SENNAAR, and still with vain designe
|
||
New BABELS, had they wherewithall, would build:
|
||
Others came single; hee who to be deemd
|
||
A God, leap'd fondly into AETNA flames,
|
||
EMPEDOCLES, and hee who to enjoy
|
||
PLATO'S ELYSIUM, leap'd into the Sea,
|
||
CLEOMBROTUS, and many more too long,
|
||
Embryo's and Idiots, Eremits and Friers
|
||
White, Black and Grey, with all thir trumperie.
|
||
Here Pilgrims roam, that stray'd so farr to seek
|
||
In GOLGOTHA him dead, who lives in Heav'n;
|
||
And they who to be sure of Paradise
|
||
Dying put on the weeds of DOMINIC,
|
||
Or in FRANCISCAN think to pass disguis'd;
|
||
They pass the Planets seven, and pass the fixt,
|
||
And that Crystalline Sphear whose ballance weighs
|
||
The Trepidation talkt, and that first mov'd;
|
||
And now Saint PETER at Heav'ns Wicket seems
|
||
To wait them with his Keys, and now at foot
|
||
Of Heav'ns ascent they lift thir Feet, when loe
|
||
A violent cross wind from either Coast
|
||
Blows them transverse ten thousand Leagues awry
|
||
Into the devious Air; then might ye see
|
||
Cowles, Hoods and Habits with thir wearers tost
|
||
And flutterd into Raggs, then Reliques, Beads,
|
||
Indulgences, Dispenses, Pardons, Bulls,
|
||
The sport of Winds: all these upwhirld aloft
|
||
Fly o're the backside of the World farr off
|
||
Into a LIMBO large and broad, since calld
|
||
The Paradise of Fools, to few unknown
|
||
Long after, now unpeopl'd, and untrod;
|
||
All this dark Globe the Fiend found as he pass'd,
|
||
And long he wanderd, till at last a gleame
|
||
Of dawning light turnd thither-ward in haste
|
||
His travell'd steps; farr distant hee descries
|
||
Ascending by degrees magnificent
|
||
Up to the wall of Heaven a Structure high,
|
||
At top whereof, but farr more rich appeerd
|
||
The work as of a Kingly Palace Gate
|
||
With Frontispice of Diamond and Gold
|
||
Imbellisht, thick with sparkling orient Gemmes
|
||
The Portal shon, inimitable on Earth
|
||
By Model, or by shading Pencil drawn.
|
||
The Stairs were such as whereon JACOB saw
|
||
Angels ascending and descending, bands
|
||
Of Guardians bright, when he from ESAU fled
|
||
To PADAN-ARAM in the field of LUZ,
|
||
Dreaming by night under the open Skie,
|
||
And waking cri'd, This is the Gate of Heav'n.
|
||
Each Stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood
|
||
There alwaies, but drawn up to Heav'n somtimes
|
||
Viewless, and underneath a bright Sea flow'd
|
||
Of Jasper, or of liquid Pearle, whereon
|
||
Who after came from Earth, sayling arriv'd,
|
||
Wafted by Angels, or flew o're the Lake
|
||
Rapt in a Chariot drawn by fiery Steeds.
|
||
The Stairs were then let down, whether to dare
|
||
The Fiend by easie ascent, or aggravate
|
||
His sad exclusion from the dores of Bliss.
|
||
Direct against which op'nd from beneath,
|
||
Just o're the blissful seat of Paradise,
|
||
A passage down to th' Earth, a passage wide,
|
||
Wider by farr then that of after-times
|
||
Over Mount SION, and, though that were large,
|
||
Over the PROMIS'D LAND to God so dear,
|
||
By which, to visit oft those happy Tribes,
|
||
On high behests his Angels to and fro
|
||
Pass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regard
|
||
From PANEAS the fount of JORDANS flood
|
||
To BEERSABA, where the HOLY LAND
|
||
Borders on AEGYPT and the ARABIAN shoare;
|
||
So wide the op'ning seemd, where bounds were set
|
||
To darkness, such as bound the Ocean wave.
|
||
SATAN from hence now on the lower stair
|
||
That scal'd by steps of Gold to Heav'n Gate
|
||
Looks down with wonder at the sudden view
|
||
Of all this World at once. As when a Scout
|
||
Through dark and desart wayes with peril gone
|
||
All night; at last by break of chearful dawne
|
||
Obtains the brow of some high-climbing Hill,
|
||
Which to his eye discovers unaware
|
||
The goodly prospect of some forein land
|
||
First-seen, or some renownd Metropolis
|
||
With glistering Spires and Pinnacles adornd,
|
||
Which now the Rising Sun guilds with his beams.
|
||
Such wonder seis'd, though after Heaven seen,
|
||
The Spirit maligne, but much more envy seis'd
|
||
At sight of all this World beheld so faire.
|
||
Round he surveys, and well might, where he stood
|
||
So high above the circling Canopie
|
||
Of Nights extended shade; from Eastern Point
|
||
Of LIBRA to the fleecie Starr that bears
|
||
ANDROMEDA farr off ATLANTICK Seas
|
||
Beyond th' HORIZON; then from Pole to Pole
|
||
He views in bredth, and without longer pause
|
||
Down right into the Worlds first Region throws
|
||
His flight precipitant, and windes with ease
|
||
Through the pure marble Air his oblique way
|
||
Amongst innumerable Starrs, that shon
|
||
Stars distant, but nigh hand seemd other Worlds,
|
||
Or other Worlds they seemd, or happy Iles,
|
||
Like those HESPERIAN Gardens fam'd of old,
|
||
Fortunate Fields, and Groves and flourie Vales,
|
||
Thrice happy Iles, but who dwelt happy there
|
||
He stayd not to enquire: above them all
|
||
The golden Sun in splendor likest Heaven
|
||
Allur'd his eye: Thither his course he bends
|
||
Through the calm Firmament; but up or downe
|
||
By center, or eccentric, hard to tell,
|
||
Or Longitude, where the great Luminarie
|
||
Alooff the vulgar Constellations thick,
|
||
That from his Lordly eye keep distance due,
|
||
Dispenses Light from farr; they as they move
|
||
Thir Sarry dance in numbers that compute
|
||
Days, months, and years, towards his all-chearing Lamp
|
||
Turn swift their various motions, or are turnd
|
||
By his Magnetic beam, that gently warms
|
||
The Univers, and to each inward part
|
||
With gentle penetration, though unseen,
|
||
Shoots invisible vertue even to the deep:
|
||
So wondrously was set his Station bright.
|
||
There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps
|
||
Astronomer in the Sun's lucent Orbe
|
||
Through his glaz'd Optic Tube yet never saw.
|
||
The place he found beyond expression bright,
|
||
Compar'd with aught on Earth, Medal or Stone;
|
||
Not all parts like, but all alike informd
|
||
Which radiant light, as glowing Iron with fire;
|
||
If mettal, part seemd Gold, part Silver cleer;
|
||
If stone, Carbuncle most or Chrysolite,
|
||
Rubie or Topaz, to the Twelve that shon
|
||
In AARONS Brest-plate, and a stone besides
|
||
Imagind rather oft then elsewhere seen,
|
||
That stone, or like to that which here below
|
||
Philosophers in vain so long have sought,
|
||
In vain, though by thir powerful Art they binde
|
||
Volatil HERMES, and call up unbound
|
||
In various shapes old PROTEUS from the Sea,
|
||
Draind through a Limbec to his Native forme.
|
||
What wonder then if fields and regions here
|
||
Breathe forth ELIXIR pure, and Rivers run
|
||
Potable Gold, when with one vertuous touch
|
||
Th' Arch-chimic Sun so farr from us remote
|
||
Produces with Terrestrial Humor mixt
|
||
Here in the dark so many precious things
|
||
Of colour glorious and effect so rare?
|
||
Here matter new to gaze the Devil met
|
||
Undazl'd, farr and wide his eye commands,
|
||
For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade,
|
||
But all Sun-shine, as when his Beams at Noon
|
||
Culminate from th' AEQUATOR, as they now
|
||
Shot upward still direct, whence no way round
|
||
Shadow from body opaque can fall, and the Aire,
|
||
No where so cleer, sharp'nd his visual ray
|
||
To objects distant farr, whereby he soon
|
||
Saw within kenn a glorious Angel stand,
|
||
The same whom JOHN saw also in the Sun:
|
||
His back was turnd, but not his brightness hid;
|
||
Of beaming sunnie Raies, a golden tiar
|
||
Circl'd his Head, nor less his Locks behind
|
||
Illustrious on his Shoulders fledge with wings
|
||
Lay waving round; on som great charge imploy'd
|
||
Hee seemd, or fixt in cogitation deep.
|
||
Glad was the Spirit impure as now in hope
|
||
To find who might direct his wandring flight
|
||
To Paradise the happie seat of Man,
|
||
His journies end and our beginning woe.
|
||
But first he casts to change his proper shape,
|
||
Which else might work him danger or delay:
|
||
And now a stripling Cherube he appeers,
|
||
Not of the prime, yet such as in his face
|
||
Youth smil'd Celestial, and to every Limb
|
||
Sutable grace diffus'd, so well he feignd;
|
||
Under a Coronet his flowing haire
|
||
In curles on either cheek plaid, wings he wore
|
||
Of many a colourd plume sprinkl'd with Gold,
|
||
His habit fit for speed succinct, and held
|
||
Before his decent steps a Silver wand.
|
||
He drew not nigh unheard, the Angel bright,
|
||
Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turnd,
|
||
Admonisht by his eare, and strait was known
|
||
Th' Arch-Angel URIEL, one of the seav'n
|
||
Who in Gods presence, neerest to his Throne
|
||
Stand ready at command, and are his Eyes
|
||
That run through all the Heav'ns, or down to th' Earth
|
||
Bear his swift errands over moist and dry,
|
||
O're Sea and Land: him SATAN thus accostes;
|
||
URIEL, for thou of those seav'n Spirits that stand
|
||
In sight of God's high Throne, gloriously bright,
|
||
The first art wont his great authentic will
|
||
Interpreter through highest Heav'n to bring,
|
||
Where all his Sons thy Embassie attend;
|
||
And here art likeliest by supream decree
|
||
Like honour to obtain, and as his Eye
|
||
To visit oft this new Creation round;
|
||
Unspeakable desire to see, and know
|
||
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man,
|
||
His chief delight and favour, him for whom
|
||
All these his works so wondrous he ordaind,
|
||
Hath brought me from the Quires of Cherubim
|
||
Alone thus wandring. Brightest Seraph tell
|
||
In which of all these shining Orbes hath Man
|
||
His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,
|
||
But all these shining Orbes his choice to dwell;
|
||
That I may find him, and with secret gaze,
|
||
Or open admiration him behold
|
||
On whom the great Creator hath bestowd
|
||
Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces powrd;
|
||
That both in him and all things, as is meet,
|
||
The Universal Maker we may praise;
|
||
Who justly hath drivn out his Rebell Foes
|
||
To deepest Hell, and to repair that loss
|
||
Created this new happie Race of Men
|
||
To serve him better: wise are all his wayes.
|
||
So spake the false dissembler unperceivd;
|
||
For neither Man nor Angel can discern
|
||
Hypocrisie, the only evil that walks
|
||
Invisible, except to God alone,
|
||
By his permissive will, through Heav'n and Earth:
|
||
And oft though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps
|
||
At wisdoms Gate, and to simplicitie
|
||
Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill
|
||
Where no ill seems: Which now for once beguil'd
|
||
URIEL, though Regent of the Sun, and held
|
||
The sharpest sighted Spirit of all in Heav'n;
|
||
Who to the fraudulent Impostor foule
|
||
In his uprightness answer thus returnd.
|
||
Faire Angel, thy desire which tends to know
|
||
The works of God, thereby to glorifie
|
||
The great Work-Maister, leads to no excess
|
||
That reaches blame, but rather merits praise
|
||
The more it seems excess, that led thee hither
|
||
From thy Empyreal Mansion thus alone,
|
||
To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps
|
||
Contented with report heare onely in heav'n:
|
||
For wonderful indeed are all his works,
|
||
Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all
|
||
Had in remembrance alwayes with delight;
|
||
But what created mind can comprehend
|
||
Thir number, or the wisdom infinite
|
||
That brought them forth, but hid thir causes deep.
|
||
I saw when at his Word the formless Mass,
|
||
This worlds material mould, came to a heap:
|
||
Confusion heard his voice, and wilde uproar
|
||
Stood rul'd, stood vast infinitude confin'd;
|
||
Till at his second bidding darkness fled,
|
||
Light shon, and order from disorder sprung:
|
||
Swift to thir several Quarters hasted then
|
||
The cumbrous Elements, Earth, Flood, Aire, Fire,
|
||
And this Ethereal quintessence of Heav'n
|
||
Flew upward, spirited with various forms,
|
||
That rowld orbicular, and turnd to Starrs
|
||
Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move;
|
||
Each had his place appointed, each his course,
|
||
The rest in circuit walles this Universe.
|
||
Look downward on that Globe whose hither side
|
||
With light from hence, though but reflected, shines;
|
||
That place is Earth the seat of Man, that light
|
||
His day, which else as th' other Hemisphere
|
||
Night would invade, but there the neighbouring Moon
|
||
(So call that opposite fair Starr) her aide
|
||
Timely interposes, and her monthly round
|
||
Still ending, still renewing, through mid Heav'n;
|
||
With borrowd light her countenance triform
|
||
Hence fills and empties to enlighten th' Earth,
|
||
And in her pale dominion checks the night.
|
||
That spot to which I point is PARADISE,
|
||
ADAMS abode, those loftie shades his Bowre.
|
||
Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires.
|
||
Thus said, he turnd, and SATAN bowing low,
|
||
As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven,
|
||
Where honour due and reverence none neglects,
|
||
Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth beneath,
|
||
Down from th' Ecliptic, sped with hop'd success,
|
||
Throws his steep flight with many an Aerie wheele,
|
||
Nor staid, till on NIPHATES top he lights.
|
||
THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST
|
||
BOOK IV.
|
||
|
||
O For that warning voice, which he who saw
|
||
Th' APOCALYPS, heard cry in Heaven aloud,
|
||
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,
|
||
Came furious down to be reveng'd on men,
|
||
WO TO THE INHABITANTS ON EARTH! that now,
|
||
While time was, our first Parents had bin warnd
|
||
The coming of thir secret foe, and scap'd
|
||
Haply so scap'd his mortal snare; for now
|
||
SATAN, now first inflam'd with rage, came down,
|
||
The Tempter ere th' Accuser of man-kind,
|
||
To wreck on innocent frail man his loss
|
||
Of that first Battel, and his flight to Hell:
|
||
Yet not rejoycing in his speed, though bold,
|
||
Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,
|
||
Begins his dire attempt, which nigh the birth
|
||
Now rowling, boiles in his tumultuous brest,
|
||
And like a devillish Engine back recoiles
|
||
Upon himself; horror and doubt distract
|
||
His troubl'd thoughts, and from the bottom stirr
|
||
The Hell within him, for within him Hell
|
||
He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell
|
||
One step no more then from himself can fly
|
||
By change of place: Now conscience wakes despair
|
||
That slumberd, wakes the bitter memorie
|
||
Of what he was, what is, and what must be
|
||
Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue.
|
||
Sometimes towards EDEN which now in his view
|
||
Lay pleasant, his grievd look he fixes sad,
|
||
Sometimes towards Heav'n and the full-blazing Sun,
|
||
Which now sat high in his Meridian Towre:
|
||
Then much revolving, thus in sighs began.
|
||
O thou that with surpassing Glory crownd,
|
||
Look'st from thy sole Dominion like the God
|
||
Of this new World; at whose sight all the Starrs
|
||
Hide thir diminisht heads; to thee I call,
|
||
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name
|
||
O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams
|
||
That bring to my remembrance from what state
|
||
I fell, how glorious once above thy Spheare;
|
||
Till Pride and worse Ambition threw me down
|
||
Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchless King:
|
||
Ah wherefore! he deservd no such return
|
||
From me, whom he created what I was
|
||
In that bright eminence, and with his good
|
||
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
|
||
What could be less then to afford him praise,
|
||
The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks,
|
||
How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me,
|
||
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high
|
||
I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher
|
||
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
|
||
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
|
||
So burthensome, still paying, still to ow;
|
||
Forgetful what from him I still receivd,
|
||
And understood not that a grateful mind
|
||
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
|
||
Indebted and dischargd; what burden then?
|
||
O had his powerful Destiny ordaind
|
||
Me some inferiour Angel, I had stood
|
||
Then happie; no unbounded hope had rais'd
|
||
Ambition. Yet why not? som other Power
|
||
As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean
|
||
Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great
|
||
Fell not, but stand unshak'n, from within
|
||
Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
|
||
Hadst thou the same free Will and Power to stand?
|
||
Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse,
|
||
But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all?
|
||
Be then his Love accurst, since love or hate,
|
||
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
|
||
Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will
|
||
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
|
||
Me miserable! which way shall I flie
|
||
Infinite wrauth, and infinite despaire?
|
||
Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell;
|
||
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
|
||
Still threatning to devour me opens wide,
|
||
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n.
|
||
O then at last relent: is there no place
|
||
Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left?
|
||
None left but by submission; and that word
|
||
DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame
|
||
Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd
|
||
With other promises and other vaunts
|
||
Then to submit, boasting I could subdue
|
||
Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know
|
||
How dearly I abide that boast so vaine,
|
||
Under what torments inwardly I groane;
|
||
While they adore me on the Throne of Hell,
|
||
With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd
|
||
The lower still I fall, onely Supream
|
||
In miserie; such joy Ambition findes.
|
||
But say I could repent and could obtaine
|
||
By Act of Grace my former state; how soon
|
||
Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay
|
||
What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant
|
||
Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
|
||
For never can true reconcilement grow
|
||
Where wounds of deadly hate have peirc'd so deep:
|
||
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse
|
||
And heavier fall: so should I purchase deare
|
||
Short intermission bought with double smart.
|
||
This knows my punisher; therefore as farr
|
||
From granting hee, as I from begging peace:
|
||
All hope excluded thus, behold in stead
|
||
Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight,
|
||
Mankind created, and for him this World.
|
||
So farwel Hope, and with Hope farwel Fear,
|
||
Farwel Remorse: all Good to me is lost;
|
||
Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least
|
||
Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold
|
||
By thee, and more then half perhaps will reigne;
|
||
As Man ere long, and this new World shall know.
|
||
Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face
|
||
Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envie and despair,
|
||
Which marrd his borrow'd visage, and betraid
|
||
Him counterfet, if any eye beheld.
|
||
For heav'nly mindes from such distempers foule
|
||
Are ever cleer. Whereof hee soon aware,
|
||
Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calme,
|
||
Artificer of fraud; and was the first
|
||
That practisd falshood under saintly shew,
|
||
Deep malice to conceale, couch't with revenge:
|
||
Yet not anough had practisd to deceive
|
||
URIEL once warnd; whose eye pursu'd him down
|
||
The way he went, and on th' ASSYRIAN mount
|
||
Saw him disfigur'd, more then could befall
|
||
Spirit of happie sort: his gestures fierce
|
||
He markd and mad demeanour, then alone,
|
||
As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen.
|
||
So on he fares, and to the border comes
|
||
Of EDEN, where delicious Paradise,
|
||
Now nearer, Crowns with her enclosure green,
|
||
As with a rural mound the champain head
|
||
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairie sides
|
||
With thicket overgrown, grottesque and wilde,
|
||
Access deni'd; and over head up grew
|
||
Insuperable highth of loftiest shade,
|
||
Cedar, and Pine, and Firr, and branching Palm,
|
||
A Silvan Scene, and as the ranks ascend
|
||
Shade above shade, a woodie Theatre
|
||
Of stateliest view. Yet higher then thir tops
|
||
The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung:
|
||
Which to our general Sire gave prospect large
|
||
Into his neather Empire neighbouring round.
|
||
And higher then that Wall a circling row
|
||
Of goodliest Trees loaden with fairest Fruit,
|
||
Blossoms and Fruits at once of golden hue
|
||
Appeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt:
|
||
On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams
|
||
Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow,
|
||
When God hath showrd the earth; so lovely seemd
|
||
That Lantskip: And of pure now purer aire
|
||
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
|
||
Vernal delight and joy, able to drive
|
||
All sadness but despair: now gentle gales
|
||
Fanning thir odoriferous wings dispense
|
||
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
|
||
Those balmie spoiles. As when to them who saile
|
||
Beyond the CAPE OF HOPE, and now are past
|
||
MOZAMBIC, off at Sea North-East windes blow
|
||
SABEAN Odours from the spicie shoare
|
||
Of ARABIE the blest, with such delay
|
||
Well pleas'd they slack thir course, and many a League
|
||
Cheard with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles.
|
||
So entertaind those odorous sweets the Fiend
|
||
Who came thir bane, though with them better pleas'd
|
||
Then ASMODEUS with the fishie fume,
|
||
That drove him, though enamourd, from the Spouse
|
||
Of TOBITS Son, and with a vengeance sent
|
||
From MEDIA post to AEGYPT, there fast bound.
|
||
Now to th' ascent of that steep savage Hill
|
||
SATAN had journied on, pensive and slow;
|
||
But further way found none, so thick entwin'd,
|
||
As one continu'd brake, the undergrowth
|
||
Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplext
|
||
All path of Man or Beast that past that way:
|
||
One Gate there onely was, and that look'd East
|
||
On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw
|
||
Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt,
|
||
At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound
|
||
Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within
|
||
Lights on his feet. As when a prowling Wolfe,
|
||
Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey,
|
||
Watching where Shepherds pen thir Flocks at eeve
|
||
In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure,
|
||
Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould:
|
||
Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash
|
||
Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores,
|
||
Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault,
|
||
In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles;
|
||
So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould:
|
||
So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe.
|
||
Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life,
|
||
The middle Tree and highest there that grew,
|
||
Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true Life
|
||
Thereby regaind, but sat devising Death
|
||
To them who liv'd; nor on the vertue thought
|
||
Of that life-giving Plant, but only us'd
|
||
For prospect, what well us'd had bin the pledge
|
||
Of immortalitie. So little knows
|
||
Any, but God alone, to value right
|
||
The good before him, but perverts best things
|
||
To worst abuse, or to thir meanest use.
|
||
Beneath him with new wonder now he views
|
||
To all delight of human sense expos'd
|
||
In narrow room Natures whole wealth, yea more,
|
||
A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise
|
||
Of God the Garden was, by him in the East
|
||
Of EDEN planted; EDEN stretchd her Line
|
||
From AURAN Eastward to the Royal Towrs
|
||
Of great SELEUCIA, built by GRECIAN Kings,
|
||
Or where the Sons of EDEN long before
|
||
Dwelt in TELASSAR: in this pleasant soile
|
||
His farr more pleasant Garden God ordaind;
|
||
Out of the fertil ground he caus'd to grow
|
||
All Trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;
|
||
And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,
|
||
High eminent, blooming Ambrosial Fruit
|
||
Of vegetable Gold; and next to Life
|
||
Our Death the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by,
|
||
Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.
|
||
Southward through EDEN went a River large,
|
||
Nor chang'd his course, but through the shaggie hill
|
||
Pass'd underneath ingulft, for God had thrown
|
||
That Mountain as his Garden mould high rais'd
|
||
Upon the rapid current, which through veins
|
||
Of porous Earth with kindly thirst up drawn,
|
||
Rose a fresh Fountain, and with many a rill
|
||
Waterd the Garden; thence united fell
|
||
Down the steep glade, and met the neather Flood,
|
||
Which from his darksom passage now appeers,
|
||
And now divided into four main Streams,
|
||
Runs divers, wandring many a famous Realme
|
||
And Country whereof here needs no account,
|
||
But rather to tell how, if Art could tell,
|
||
How from that Saphire Fount the crisped Brooks,
|
||
Rowling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold,
|
||
With mazie error under pendant shades
|
||
Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed
|
||
Flours worthy of Paradise which not nice Art
|
||
In Beds and curious Knots, but Nature boon
|
||
Powrd forth profuse on Hill and Dale and Plaine,
|
||
Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote
|
||
The open field, and where the unpierc't shade
|
||
Imbround the noontide Bowrs: Thus was this place,
|
||
A happy rural seat of various view;
|
||
Groves whose rich Trees wept odorous Gumms and Balme,
|
||
Others whose fruit burnisht with Golden Rinde
|
||
Hung amiable, HESPERIAN Fables true,
|
||
If true, here onely, and of delicious taste:
|
||
Betwixt them Lawns, or level Downs, and Flocks
|
||
Grasing the tender herb, were interpos'd,
|
||
Or palmie hilloc, or the flourie lap
|
||
Of som irriguous Valley spread her store,
|
||
Flours of all hue, and without Thorn the Rose:
|
||
Another side, umbrageous Grots and Caves
|
||
Of coole recess, o're which the mantling Vine
|
||
Layes forth her purple Grape, and gently creeps
|
||
Luxuriant; mean while murmuring waters fall
|
||
Down the slope hills, disperst, or in a Lake,
|
||
That to the fringed Bank with Myrtle crownd,
|
||
Her chrystall mirror holds, unite thir streams.
|
||
The Birds thir quire apply; aires, vernal aires,
|
||
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune
|
||
The trembling leaves, while Universal PAN
|
||
Knit with the GRACES and the HOURS in dance
|
||
Led on th' Eternal Spring. Not that faire field
|
||
Of ENNA, where PROSERPIN gathring flours
|
||
Her self a fairer Floure by gloomie DIS
|
||
Was gatherd, which cost CERES all that pain
|
||
To seek her through the world; nor that sweet Grove
|
||
Of DAPHNE by ORONTES, and th' inspir'd
|
||
CASTALIAN Spring might with this Paradise
|
||
Of EDEN strive; nor that NYSEIAN Ile
|
||
Girt with the River TRITON, where old CHAM,
|
||
Whom Gentiles AMMON call and LIBYAN JOVE,
|
||
Hid AMALTHEA and her Florid Son
|
||
Young BACCHUS from his Stepdame RHEA'S eye;
|
||
Nor where ABASSIN Kings thir issue Guard,
|
||
Mount AMARA, though this by som suppos'd
|
||
True Paradise under the ETHIOP Line
|
||
By NILUS head, enclos'd with shining Rock,
|
||
A whole dayes journey high, but wide remote
|
||
From this ASSYRIAN Garden, where the Fiend
|
||
Saw undelighted all delight, all kind
|
||
Of living Creatures new to sight and strange:
|
||
Two of far nobler shape erect and tall,
|
||
Godlike erect, with native Honour clad
|
||
In naked Majestie seemd Lords of all,
|
||
And worthie seemd, for in thir looks Divine
|
||
The image of thir glorious Maker shon,
|
||
Truth, Wisdome, Sanctitude severe and pure,
|
||
Severe, but in true filial freedom plac't;
|
||
Whence true autoritie in men; though both
|
||
Not equal, as thir sex not equal seemd;
|
||
For contemplation hee and valour formd,
|
||
For softness shee and sweet attractive Grace,
|
||
Hee for God only, shee for God in him:
|
||
His fair large Front and Eye sublime declar'd
|
||
Absolute rule; and Hyacinthin Locks
|
||
Round from his parted forelock manly hung
|
||
Clustring, but not beneath his shoulders broad:
|
||
Shee as a vail down to the slender waste
|
||
Her unadorned golden tresses wore
|
||
Dissheveld, but in wanton ringlets wav'd
|
||
As the Vine curles her tendrils, which impli'd
|
||
Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway,
|
||
And by her yeilded, by him best receivd,
|
||
Yeilded with coy submission, modest pride,
|
||
And sweet reluctant amorous delay.
|
||
Nor those mysterious parts were then conceald,
|
||
Then was not guiltie shame, dishonest shame
|
||
Of natures works, honor dishonorable,
|
||
Sin-bred, how have ye troubl'd all mankind
|
||
With shews instead, meer shews of seeming pure,
|
||
And banisht from mans life his happiest life,
|
||
Simplicitie and spotless innocence.
|
||
So passd they naked on, nor shund the sight
|
||
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill:
|
||
So hand in hand they passd, the lovliest pair
|
||
That ever since in loves imbraces met,
|
||
ADAM the goodliest man of men since borne
|
||
His Sons, the fairest of her Daughters EVE.
|
||
Under a tuft of shade that on a green
|
||
Stood whispering soft, by a fresh Fountain side
|
||
They sat them down, and after no more toil
|
||
Of thir sweet Gardning labour then suffic'd
|
||
To recommend coole ZEPHYR, and made ease
|
||
More easie, wholsom thirst and appetite
|
||
More grateful, to thir Supper Fruits they fell,
|
||
Nectarine Fruits which the compliant boughes
|
||
Yeilded them, side-long as they sat recline
|
||
On the soft downie Bank damaskt with flours:
|
||
The savourie pulp they chew, and in the rinde
|
||
Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream;
|
||
Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles
|
||
Wanted, nor youthful dalliance as beseems
|
||
Fair couple, linkt in happie nuptial League,
|
||
Alone as they. About them frisking playd
|
||
All Beasts of th' Earth, since wilde, and of all chase
|
||
In Wood or Wilderness, Forrest or Den;
|
||
Sporting the Lion rampd, and in his paw
|
||
Dandl'd the Kid; Bears, Tygers, Ounces, Pards
|
||
Gambold before them, th' unwieldy Elephant
|
||
To make them mirth us'd all his might, & wreathd
|
||
His Lithe Proboscis; close the Serpent sly
|
||
Insinuating, wove with Gordian twine
|
||
His breaded train, and of his fatal guile
|
||
Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass
|
||
Coucht, and now fild with pasture gazing sat,
|
||
Or Bedward ruminating: for the Sun
|
||
Declin'd was hasting now with prone carreer
|
||
To th' Ocean Iles, and in th' ascending Scale
|
||
Of Heav'n the Starrs that usher Evening rose:
|
||
When SATAN still in gaze, as first he stood,
|
||
Scarce thus at length faild speech recoverd sad.
|
||
O Hell! what doe mine eyes with grief behold,
|
||
Into our room of bliss thus high advanc't
|
||
Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps,
|
||
Not Spirits, yet to heav'nly Spirits bright
|
||
Little inferior; whom my thoughts pursue
|
||
With wonder, and could love, so lively shines
|
||
In them Divine resemblance, and such grace
|
||
The hand that formd them on thir shape hath pourd.
|
||
Ah gentle pair, yee little think how nigh
|
||
Your change approaches, when all these delights
|
||
Will vanish and deliver ye to woe,
|
||
More woe, the more your taste is now of joy;
|
||
Happie, but for so happie ill secur'd
|
||
Long to continue, and this high seat your Heav'n
|
||
Ill fenc't for Heav'n to keep out such a foe
|
||
As now is enterd; yet no purpos'd foe
|
||
To you whom I could pittie thus forlorne
|
||
Though I unpittied: League with you I seek,
|
||
And mutual amitie so streight, so close,
|
||
That I with you must dwell, or you with me
|
||
Henceforth; my dwelling haply may not please
|
||
Like this fair Paradise, your sense, yet such
|
||
Accept your Makers work; he gave it me,
|
||
Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfould,
|
||
To entertain you two, her widest Gates,
|
||
And send forth all her Kings; there will be room,
|
||
Not like these narrow limits, to receive
|
||
Your numerous ofspring; if no better place,
|
||
Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge
|
||
On you who wrong me not for him who wrongd.
|
||
And should I at your harmless innocence
|
||
Melt, as I doe, yet public reason just,
|
||
Honour and Empire with revenge enlarg'd,
|
||
By conquering this new World, compels me now
|
||
To do what else though damnd I should abhorre.
|
||
So spake the Fiend, and with necessitie,
|
||
The Tyrants plea, excus'd his devilish deeds.
|
||
Then from his loftie stand on that high Tree
|
||
Down he alights among the sportful Herd
|
||
Of those fourfooted kindes, himself now one,
|
||
Now other, as thir shape servd best his end
|
||
Neerer to view his prey, and unespi'd
|
||
To mark what of thir state he more might learn
|
||
By word or action markt: about them round
|
||
A Lion now he stalkes with fierie glare,
|
||
Then as a Tiger, who by chance hath spi'd
|
||
In some Purlieu two gentle Fawnes at play,
|
||
Strait couches close, then rising changes oft
|
||
His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground
|
||
Whence rushing he might surest seise them both
|
||
Grip't in each paw: when ADAM first of men
|
||
To first of women EVE thus moving speech,
|
||
Turnd him all eare to heare new utterance flow.
|
||
Sole partner and sole part of all these joyes,
|
||
Dearer thy self then all; needs must the Power
|
||
That made us, and for us this ample World
|
||
Be infinitly good, and of his good
|
||
As liberal and free as infinite,
|
||
That rais'd us from the dust and plac't us here
|
||
In all this happiness, who at his hand
|
||
Have nothing merited, nor can performe
|
||
Aught whereof hee hath need, hee who requires
|
||
From us no other service then to keep
|
||
This one, this easie charge, of all the Trees
|
||
In Paradise that beare delicious fruit
|
||
So various, not to taste that onely Tree
|
||
Of knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life,
|
||
So neer grows Death to Life, what ere Death is,
|
||
Som dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou knowst
|
||
God hath pronounc't it death to taste that Tree,
|
||
The only sign of our obedience left
|
||
Among so many signes of power and rule
|
||
Conferrd upon us, and Dominion giv'n
|
||
Over all other Creatures that possesse
|
||
Earth, Aire, and Sea. Then let us not think hard
|
||
One easie prohibition, who enjoy
|
||
Free leave so large to all things else, and choice
|
||
Unlimited of manifold delights:
|
||
But let us ever praise him, and extoll
|
||
His bountie, following our delightful task
|
||
To prune these growing Plants, & tend these Flours,
|
||
Which were it toilsom, yet with thee were sweet.
|
||
To whom thus Eve repli'd. O thou for whom
|
||
And from whom I was formd flesh of thy flesh,
|
||
And without whom am to no end, my Guide
|
||
And Head, what thou hast said is just and right.
|
||
For wee to him indeed all praises owe,
|
||
And daily thanks, I chiefly who enjoy
|
||
So farr the happier Lot, enjoying thee
|
||
Preeminent by so much odds, while thou
|
||
Like consort to thy self canst no where find.
|
||
That day I oft remember, when from sleep
|
||
I first awak't, and found my self repos'd
|
||
Under a shade on flours, much wondring where
|
||
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
|
||
Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound
|
||
Of waters issu'd from a Cave and spread
|
||
Into a liquid Plain, then stood unmov'd
|
||
Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n; I thither went
|
||
With unexperienc't thought, and laid me downe
|
||
On the green bank, to look into the cleer
|
||
Smooth Lake, that to me seemd another Skie.
|
||
As I bent down to look, just opposite,
|
||
A Shape within the watry gleam appeerd
|
||
Bending to look on me, I started back,
|
||
It started back, but pleasd I soon returnd,
|
||
Pleas'd it returnd as soon with answering looks
|
||
Of sympathie and love, there I had fixt
|
||
Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire,
|
||
Had not a voice thus warnd me, What thou seest,
|
||
What there thou seest fair Creature is thy self,
|
||
With thee it came and goes: but follow me,
|
||
And I will bring thee where no shadow staies
|
||
Thy coming, and thy soft imbraces, hee
|
||
Whose image thou art, him thou shall enjoy
|
||
Inseparablie thine, to him shalt beare
|
||
Multitudes like thy self, and thence be call'd
|
||
Mother of human Race: what could I doe,
|
||
But follow strait, invisibly thus led?
|
||
Till I espi'd thee, fair indeed and tall,
|
||
Under a Platan, yet methought less faire,
|
||
Less winning soft, less amiablie milde,
|
||
Then that smooth watry image; back I turnd,
|
||
Thou following cryd'st aloud, Return fair EVE,
|
||
Whom fli'st thou? whom thou fli'st, of him thou art,
|
||
His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent
|
||
Out of my side to thee, neerest my heart
|
||
Substantial Life, to have thee by my side
|
||
Henceforth an individual solace dear;
|
||
Part of my Soul I seek thee, and thee claim
|
||
My other half: with that thy gentle hand
|
||
Seisd mine, I yeilded, and from that time see
|
||
How beauty is excelld by manly grace
|
||
And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.
|
||
So spake our general Mother, and with eyes
|
||
Of conjugal attraction unreprov'd,
|
||
And meek surrender, half imbracing leand
|
||
On our first Father, half her swelling Breast
|
||
Naked met his under the flowing Gold
|
||
Of her loose tresses hid: he in delight
|
||
Both of her Beauty and submissive Charms
|
||
Smil'd with superior Love, as JUPITER
|
||
On JUNO smiles, when he impregns the Clouds
|
||
That shed MAY Flowers; and press'd her Matron lip
|
||
With kisses pure: aside the Devil turnd
|
||
For envie, yet with jealous leer maligne
|
||
Ey'd them askance, and to himself thus plaind.
|
||
Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two
|
||
Imparadis't in one anothers arms
|
||
The happier EDEN, shall enjoy thir fill
|
||
Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust,
|
||
Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire,
|
||
Among our other torments not the least,
|
||
Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines;
|
||
Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd
|
||
From thir own mouths; all is not theirs it seems:
|
||
One fatal Tree there stands of Knowledge call'd,
|
||
Forbidden them to taste: Knowledge forbidd'n?
|
||
Suspicious, reasonless. Why should thir Lord
|
||
Envie them that? can it be sin to know,
|
||
Can it be death? and do they onely stand
|
||
By Ignorance, is that thir happie state,
|
||
The proof of thir obedience and thir faith?
|
||
O fair foundation laid whereon to build
|
||
Thir ruine! Hence I will excite thir minds
|
||
With more desire to know, and to reject
|
||
Envious commands, invented with designe
|
||
To keep them low whom knowledge might exalt
|
||
Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such,
|
||
They taste and die: what likelier can ensue?
|
||
But first with narrow search I must walk round
|
||
This Garden, and no corner leave unspi'd;
|
||
A chance but chance may lead where I may meet
|
||
Some wandring Spirit of Heav'n, by Fountain side,
|
||
Or in thick shade retir'd, from him to draw
|
||
What further would be learnt. Live while ye may,
|
||
Yet happie pair; enjoy, till I return,
|
||
Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed.
|
||
So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd,
|
||
But with sly circumspection, and began
|
||
Through wood, through waste, o're hil, o're dale his roam.
|
||
Mean while in utmost Longitude, where Heav'n
|
||
With Earth and Ocean meets, the setting Sun
|
||
Slowly descended, and with right aspect
|
||
Against the eastern Gate of Paradise
|
||
Leveld his eevning Rayes: it was a Rock
|
||
Of Alablaster, pil'd up to the Clouds,
|
||
Conspicuous farr, winding with one ascent
|
||
Accessible from Earth, one entrance high;
|
||
The rest was craggie cliff, that overhung
|
||
Still as it rose, impossible to climbe.
|
||
Betwixt these rockie Pillars GABRIEL sat
|
||
Chief of th' Angelic Guards, awaiting night;
|
||
About him exercis'd Heroic Games
|
||
Th' unarmed Youth of Heav'n, but nigh at hand
|
||
Celestial Armourie, Shields, Helmes, and Speares
|
||
Hung high with Diamond flaming, and with Gold.
|
||
Thither came URIEL, gliding through the Eeven
|
||
On a Sun beam, swift as a shooting Starr
|
||
In AUTUMN thwarts the night, when vapors fir'd
|
||
Impress the Air, and shews the Mariner
|
||
From what point of his Compass to beware
|
||
Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste.
|
||
GABRIEL, to thee thy cours by Lot hath giv'n
|
||
Charge and strict watch that to this happie place
|
||
No evil thing approach or enter in;
|
||
This day at highth of Noon came to my Spheare
|
||
A Spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know
|
||
More of th' Almighties works, and chiefly Man
|
||
Gods latest Image: I describ'd his way
|
||
Bent all on speed, and markt his Aerie Gate;
|
||
But in the Mount that lies from EDEN North,
|
||
Where he first lighted, soon discernd his looks
|
||
Alien from Heav'n, with passions foul obscur'd:
|
||
Mine eye pursu'd him still, but under shade
|
||
Lost sight of him; one of the banisht crew
|
||
I fear, hath ventur'd from the deep, to raise
|
||
New troubles; him thy care must be to find.
|
||
To whom the winged Warriour thus returnd:
|
||
URIEL, no wonder if thy perfet sight,
|
||
Amid the Suns bright circle where thou sitst,
|
||
See farr and wide: in at this Gate none pass
|
||
The vigilance here plac't, but such as come
|
||
Well known from Heav'n; and since Meridian hour
|
||
No Creature thence: if Spirit of other sort,
|
||
So minded, have oreleapt these earthie bounds
|
||
On purpose, hard thou knowst it to exclude
|
||
Spiritual substance with corporeal barr.
|
||
But if within the circuit of these walks
|
||
In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom
|
||
Thou telst, by morrow dawning I shall know.
|
||
So promis'd hee, and URIEL to his charge
|
||
Returnd on that bright beam, whose point now raisd
|
||
Bore him slope downward to the Sun now fall'n
|
||
Beneath th' AZORES; whither the prime Orb,
|
||
Incredible how swift, had thither rowl'd
|
||
Diurnal, or this less volubil Earth
|
||
By shorter flight to th' East, had left him there
|
||
Arraying with reflected Purple and Gold
|
||
The Clouds that on his Western Throne attend:
|
||
Now came still Eevning on, and Twilight gray
|
||
Had in her sober Liverie all things clad;
|
||
Silence accompanied, for Beast and Bird,
|
||
They to thir grassie Couch, these to thir Nests
|
||
Were slunk, all but the wakeful Nightingale;
|
||
She all night long her amorous descant sung;
|
||
Silence was pleas'd: now glow'd the Firmament
|
||
With living Saphirs: HESPERUS that led
|
||
The starrie Host, rode brightest, till the Moon
|
||
Rising in clouded Majestie, at length
|
||
Apparent Queen unvaild her peerless light,
|
||
And o're the dark her Silver Mantle threw.
|
||
When ADAM thus to EVE: Fair Consort, th' hour
|
||
Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest
|
||
Mind us of like repose, since God hath set
|
||
Labour and rest, as day and night to men
|
||
Successive, and the timely dew of sleep
|
||
Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines
|
||
Our eye-lids; other Creatures all day long
|
||
Rove idle unimploid, and less need rest;
|
||
Man hath his daily work of body or mind
|
||
Appointed, which declares his Dignitie,
|
||
And the regard of Heav'n on all his waies;
|
||
While other Animals unactive range,
|
||
And of thir doings God takes no account.
|
||
Tomorrow ere fresh Morning streak the East
|
||
With first approach of light, we must be ris'n,
|
||
And at our pleasant labour, to reform
|
||
Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green,
|
||
Our walks at noon, with branches overgrown,
|
||
That mock our scant manuring, and require
|
||
More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth:
|
||
Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms,
|
||
That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth,
|
||
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease;
|
||
Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest.
|
||
To whom thus EVE with perfet beauty adornd.
|
||
My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst
|
||
Unargu'd I obey; so God ordains,
|
||
God is thy Law, thou mine: to know no more
|
||
Is womans happiest knowledge and her praise.
|
||
With thee conversing I forget all time,
|
||
All seasons and thir change, all please alike.
|
||
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
|
||
With charm of earliest Birds; pleasant the Sun
|
||
When first on this delightful Land he spreads
|
||
His orient Beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flour,
|
||
Glistring with dew; fragrant the fertil earth
|
||
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
|
||
Of grateful Eevning milde, then silent Night
|
||
With this her solemn Bird and this fair Moon,
|
||
And these the Gemms of Heav'n, her starrie train:
|
||
But neither breath of Morn when she ascends
|
||
With charm of earliest Birds, nor rising Sun
|
||
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, floure,
|
||
Glistring with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
|
||
Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night
|
||
With this her solemn Bird, nor walk by Moon,
|
||
Or glittering Starr-light without thee is sweet.
|
||
But wherfore all night long shine these, for whom
|
||
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?
|
||
To whom our general Ancestor repli'd.
|
||
Daughter of God and Man, accomplisht EVE,
|
||
Those have thir course to finish, round the Earth,
|
||
By morrow Eevning, and from Land to Land
|
||
In order, though to Nations yet unborn,
|
||
Ministring light prepar'd, they set and rise;
|
||
Least total darkness should by Night regaine
|
||
Her old possession, and extinguish life
|
||
In Nature and all things, which these soft fires
|
||
Not only enlighten, but with kindly heate
|
||
Of various influence foment and warme,
|
||
Temper or nourish, or in part shed down
|
||
Thir stellar vertue on all kinds that grow
|
||
On Earth, made hereby apter to receive
|
||
Perfection from the Suns more potent Ray.
|
||
These then, though unbeheld in deep of night,
|
||
Shine not in vain, nor think, though men were none,
|
||
That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise;
|
||
Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth
|
||
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep:
|
||
All these with ceasless praise his works behold
|
||
Both day and night: how often from the steep
|
||
Of echoing Hill or Thicket have we heard
|
||
Celestial voices to the midnight air,
|
||
Sole, or responsive each to others note
|
||
Singing thir great Creator: oft in bands
|
||
While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk
|
||
With Heav'nly touch of instrumental sounds
|
||
In full harmonic number joind, thir songs
|
||
Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven.
|
||
Thus talking hand in hand alone they pass'd
|
||
On to thir blissful Bower; it was a place
|
||
Chos'n by the sovran Planter, when he fram'd
|
||
All things to mans delightful use; the roofe
|
||
Of thickest covert was inwoven shade
|
||
Laurel and Mirtle, and what higher grew
|
||
Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side
|
||
ACANTHUS, and each odorous bushie shrub
|
||
Fenc'd up the verdant wall; each beauteous flour,
|
||
IRIS all hues, Roses, and Gessamin
|
||
Rear'd high thir flourisht heads between, and wrought
|
||
Mosaic; underfoot the Violet,
|
||
Crocus, and Hyacinth with rich inlay
|
||
Broiderd the ground, more colour'd then with stone
|
||
Of costliest Emblem: other Creature here
|
||
Beast, Bird, Insect, or Worm durst enter none;
|
||
Such was thir awe of man. In shadier Bower
|
||
More sacred and sequesterd, though but feignd,
|
||
PAN or SILVANUS never slept, nor Nymph,
|
||
Nor FAUNUS haunted. Here in close recess
|
||
With Flowers, Garlands, and sweet-smelling Herbs
|
||
Espoused EVE deckt first her Nuptial Bed,
|
||
And heav'nly Quires the Hymenaean sung,
|
||
What day the genial Angel to our Sire
|
||
Brought her in naked beauty more adorn'd,
|
||
More lovely then PANDORA, whom the Gods
|
||
Endowd with all thir gifts, and O too like
|
||
In sad event, when to the unwiser Son
|
||
Of JAPHET brought by HERMES, she ensnar'd
|
||
Mankind with her faire looks, to be aveng'd
|
||
On him who had stole JOVES authentic fire.
|
||
Thus at thir shadie Lodge arriv'd, both stood,
|
||
Both turnd, and under op'n Skie ador'd
|
||
The God that made both Skie, Air, Earth & Heav'n
|
||
Which they beheld, the Moons resplendent Globe
|
||
And starrie Pole: Thou also mad'st the Night,
|
||
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the Day,
|
||
Which we in our appointed work imployd
|
||
Have finisht happie in our mutual help
|
||
And mutual love, the Crown of all our bliss
|
||
Ordain'd by thee, and this delicious place
|
||
For us too large, where thy abundance wants
|
||
Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground.
|
||
But thou hast promis'd from us two a Race
|
||
To fill the Earth, who shall with us extoll
|
||
Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake,
|
||
And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep.
|
||
This said unanimous, and other Rites
|
||
Observing none, but adoration pure
|
||
Which God likes best, into thir inmost bower
|
||
Handed they went; and eas'd the putting off
|
||
These troublesom disguises which wee wear,
|
||
Strait side by side were laid, nor turnd I weene
|
||
ADAM from his fair Spouse, nor EVE the Rites
|
||
Mysterious of connubial Love refus'd:
|
||
Whatever Hypocrites austerely talk
|
||
Of puritie and place and innocence,
|
||
Defaming as impure what God declares
|
||
Pure, and commands to som, leaves free to all.
|
||
Our Maker bids increase, who bids abstain
|
||
But our Destroyer, foe to God and Man?
|
||
Haile wedded Love, mysterious Law, true source
|
||
Of human ofspring, sole proprietie,
|
||
In Paradise of all things common else.
|
||
By thee adulterous lust was driv'n from men
|
||
Among the bestial herds to raunge, by thee
|
||
Founded in Reason, Loyal, Just, and Pure,
|
||
Relations dear, and all the Charities
|
||
Of Father, Son, and Brother first were known.
|
||
Farr be it, that I should write thee sin or blame,
|
||
Or think thee unbefitting holiest place,
|
||
Perpetual Fountain of Domestic sweets,
|
||
Whose Bed is undefil'd and chast pronounc't,
|
||
Present, or past, as Saints and Patriarchs us'd.
|
||
Here Love his golden shafts imploies, here lights
|
||
His constant Lamp, and waves his purple wings,
|
||
Reigns here and revels; not in the bought smile
|
||
Of Harlots, loveless, joyless, unindeard,
|
||
Casual fruition, nor in Court Amours
|
||
Mixt Dance, or wanton Mask, or Midnight Bal,
|
||
Or Serenate, which the starv'd Lover sings
|
||
To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain.
|
||
These lulld by Nightingales imbraceing slept,
|
||
And on thir naked limbs the flourie roof
|
||
Showrd Roses, which the Morn repair'd. Sleep on,
|
||
Blest pair; and O yet happiest if ye seek
|
||
No happier state, and know to know no more.
|
||
Now had night measur'd with her shaddowie Cone
|
||
Half way up Hill this vast Sublunar Vault,
|
||
And from thir Ivorie Port the Cherubim
|
||
Forth issuing at th' accustomd hour stood armd
|
||
To thir night watches in warlike Parade,
|
||
When GABRIEL to his next in power thus spake.
|
||
UZZIEL, half these draw off, and coast the South
|
||
With strictest watch; these other wheel the North,
|
||
Our circuit meets full West. As flame they part
|
||
Half wheeling to the Shield, half to the Spear.
|
||
From these, two strong and suttle Spirits he calld
|
||
That neer him stood, and gave them thus in charge.
|
||
ITHURIEL and ZEPHON, with wingd speed
|
||
Search through this Garden, leav unsearcht no nook,
|
||
But chiefly where those two fair Creatures Lodge,
|
||
Now laid perhaps asleep secure of harme.
|
||
This Eevning from the Sun's decline arriv'd
|
||
Who tells of som infernal Spirit seen
|
||
Hitherward bent (who could have thought?) escap'd
|
||
The barrs of Hell, on errand bad no doubt:
|
||
Such where ye find, seise fast, and hither bring.
|
||
So saying, on he led his radiant Files,
|
||
Daz'ling the Moon; these to the Bower direct
|
||
In search of whom they sought: him there they found
|
||
Squat like a Toad, close at the eare of EVE;
|
||
Assaying by his Devilish art to reach
|
||
The Organs of her Fancie, and with them forge
|
||
Illusions as he list, Phantasms and Dreams,
|
||
Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint
|
||
Th' animal Spirits that from pure blood arise
|
||
Like gentle breaths from Rivers pure, thence raise
|
||
At least distemperd, discontented thoughts,
|
||
Vain hopes, vain aimes, inordinate desires
|
||
Blown up with high conceits ingendring pride.
|
||
Him thus intent ITHURIEL with his Spear
|
||
Touch'd lightly; for no falshood can endure
|
||
Touch of Celestial temper, but returns
|
||
Of force to its own likeness: up he starts
|
||
Discoverd and surpriz'd. As when a spark
|
||
Lights on a heap of nitrous Powder, laid
|
||
Fit for the Tun som Magazin to store
|
||
Against a rumord Warr, the Smuttie graine
|
||
With sudden blaze diffus'd, inflames the Aire:
|
||
So started up in his own shape the Fiend.
|
||
Back stept those two fair Angels half amaz'd
|
||
So sudden to behold the grieslie King;
|
||
Yet thus, unmovd with fear, accost him soon.
|
||
Which of those rebell Spirits adjudg'd to Hell
|
||
Com'st thou, escap'd thy prison, and transform'd,
|
||
Why satst thou like an enemie in waite
|
||
Here watching at the head of these that sleep?
|
||
Know ye not then said SATAN, filld with scorn,
|
||
Know ye not me? ye knew me once no mate
|
||
For you, there sitting where ye durst not soare;
|
||
Not to know mee argues your selves unknown,
|
||
The lowest of your throng; or if ye know,
|
||
Why ask ye, and superfluous begin
|
||
Your message, like to end as much in vain?
|
||
To whom thus ZEPHON, answering scorn with scorn.
|
||
Think not, revolted Spirit, thy shape the same,
|
||
Or undiminisht brightness, to be known
|
||
As when thou stoodst in Heav'n upright and pure;
|
||
That Glorie then, when thou no more wast good,
|
||
Departed from thee, and thou resembl'st now
|
||
Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foule.
|
||
But come, for thou, be sure, shalt give account
|
||
To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep
|
||
This place inviolable, and these from harm.
|
||
So spake the Cherube, and his grave rebuke
|
||
Severe in youthful beautie, added grace
|
||
Invincible: abasht the Devil stood,
|
||
And felt how awful goodness is, and saw
|
||
Vertue in her shape how lovly, saw, and pin'd
|
||
His loss; but chiefly to find here observd
|
||
His lustre visibly impar'd; yet seemd
|
||
Undaunted. If I must contend, said he,
|
||
Best with the best, the Sender not the sent,
|
||
Or all at once; more glorie will be wonn,
|
||
Or less be lost. Thy fear, said ZEPHON bold,
|
||
Will save us trial what the least can doe
|
||
Single against thee wicked, and thence weak.
|
||
The Fiend repli'd not, overcome with rage;
|
||
But like a proud Steed reind, went hautie on,
|
||
Chaumping his iron curb: to strive or flie
|
||
He held it vain; awe from above had quelld
|
||
His heart, not else dismai'd. Now drew they nigh
|
||
The western point, where those half-rounding guards
|
||
Just met, & closing stood in squadron joind
|
||
Awaiting next command. To whom thir Chief
|
||
GABRIEL from the Front thus calld aloud.
|
||
O friends, I hear the tread of nimble feet
|
||
Hasting this way, and now by glimps discerne
|
||
ITHURIEL and ZEPHON through the shade,
|
||
And with them comes a third of Regal port,
|
||
But faded splendor wan; who by his gate
|
||
And fierce demeanour seems the Prince of Hell,
|
||
Not likely to part hence without contest;
|
||
Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours.
|
||
He scarce had ended, when those two approachd
|
||
And brief related whom they brought, wher found,
|
||
How busied, in what form and posture coucht.
|
||
To whom with stern regard thus GABRIEL spake.
|
||
Why hast thou, SATAN, broke the bounds prescrib'd
|
||
To thy transgressions, and disturbd the charge
|
||
Of others, who approve not to transgress
|
||
By thy example, but have power and right
|
||
To question thy bold entrance on this place;
|
||
Imploi'd it seems to violate sleep, and those
|
||
Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss?
|
||
To whom thus SATAN with contemptuous brow.
|
||
GABRIEL, thou hadst in Heav'n th' esteem of wise,
|
||
And such I held thee; but this question askt
|
||
Puts me in doubt. Lives ther who loves his pain?
|
||
Who would not, finding way, break loose from Hell,
|
||
Though thither doomd? Thou wouldst thy self, no doubt,
|
||
And boldly venture to whatever place
|
||
Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to change
|
||
Torment with ease, & soonest recompence
|
||
Dole with delight, which in this place I sought;
|
||
To thee no reason; who knowst only good,
|
||
But evil hast not tri'd: and wilt object
|
||
His will who bound us? let him surer barr
|
||
His Iron Gates, if he intends our stay
|
||
In that dark durance: thus much what was askt.
|
||
The rest is true, they found me where they say;
|
||
But that implies not violence or harme.
|
||
Thus hee in scorn. The warlike Angel mov'd,
|
||
Disdainfully half smiling thus repli'd.
|
||
O loss of one in Heav'n to judge of wise,
|
||
Since SATAN fell, whom follie overthrew,
|
||
And now returns him from his prison scap't,
|
||
Gravely in doubt whether to hold them wise
|
||
Or not, who ask what boldness brought him hither
|
||
Unlicenc't from his bounds in Hell prescrib'd;
|
||
So wise he judges it to fly from pain
|
||
However, and to scape his punishment.
|
||
So judge thou still, presumptuous, till the wrauth,
|
||
Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight
|
||
Seavenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell,
|
||
Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain
|
||
Can equal anger infinite provok't.
|
||
But wherefore thou alone? wherefore with thee
|
||
Came not all Hell broke loose? is pain to them
|
||
Less pain, less to be fled, or thou then they
|
||
Less hardie to endure? courageous Chief,
|
||
The first in flight from pain, had'st thou alleg'd
|
||
To thy deserted host this cause of flight,
|
||
Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive.
|
||
To which the Fiend thus answerd frowning stern.
|
||
Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain,
|
||
Insulting Angel, well thou knowst I stood
|
||
Thy fiercest, when in Battel to thy aide
|
||
The blasting volied Thunder made all speed
|
||
And seconded thy else not dreaded Spear.
|
||
But still thy words at random, as before,
|
||
Argue thy inexperience what behooves
|
||
From hard assaies and ill successes past
|
||
A faithful Leader, not to hazard all
|
||
Through wayes of danger by himself untri'd.
|
||
I therefore, I alone first undertook
|
||
To wing the desolate Abyss, and spie
|
||
This new created World, whereof in Hell
|
||
Fame is not silent, here in hope to find
|
||
Better abode, and my afflicted Powers
|
||
To settle here on Earth, or in mid Aire;
|
||
Though for possession put to try once more
|
||
What thou and thy gay Legions dare against;
|
||
Whose easier business were to serve thir Lord
|
||
High up in Heav'n, with songs to hymne his Throne,
|
||
And practis'd distances to cringe, not fight.
|
||
To whom the warriour Angel soon repli'd.
|
||
To say and strait unsay, pretending first
|
||
Wise to flie pain, professing next the Spie,
|
||
Argues no Leader, but a lyar trac't,
|
||
SATAN, and couldst thou faithful add? O name,
|
||
O sacred name of faithfulness profan'd!
|
||
Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew?
|
||
Armie of Fiends, fit body to fit head;
|
||
Was this your discipline and faith ingag'd,
|
||
Your military obedience, to dissolve
|
||
Allegeance to th' acknowledg'd Power supream?
|
||
And thou sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem
|
||
Patron of liberty, who more then thou
|
||
Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilly ador'd
|
||
Heav'ns awful Monarch? wherefore but in hope
|
||
To dispossess him, and thy self to reigne?
|
||
But mark what I arreede thee now, avant;
|
||
Flie thither whence thou fledst: if from this houre
|
||
Within these hallowd limits thou appeer,
|
||
Back to th' infernal pit I drag thee chaind,
|
||
And Seale thee so, as henceforth not to scorne
|
||
The facil gates of hell too slightly barrd.
|
||
So threatn'd hee, but SATAN to no threats
|
||
Gave heed, but waxing more in rage repli'd.
|
||
Then when I am thy captive talk of chaines,
|
||
Proud limitarie Cherube, but ere then
|
||
Farr heavier load thy self expect to feel
|
||
From my prevailing arme, though Heavens King
|
||
Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy Compeers,
|
||
Us'd to the yoak, draw'st his triumphant wheels
|
||
In progress through the rode of Heav'n Star-pav'd.
|
||
While thus he spake, th' Angelic Squadron bright
|
||
Turnd fierie red, sharpning in mooned hornes
|
||
Thir Phalanx, and began to hemm him round
|
||
With ported Spears, as thick as when a field
|
||
Of CERES ripe for harvest waving bends
|
||
Her bearded Grove of ears, which way the wind
|
||
Swayes them; the careful Plowman doubting stands
|
||
Least on the threshing floore his hopeful sheaves
|
||
Prove chaff. On th' other side SATAN allarm'd
|
||
Collecting all his might dilated stood,
|
||
Like TENERIFF or ATLAS unremov'd:
|
||
His stature reacht the Skie, and on his Crest
|
||
Sat horror Plum'd; nor wanted in his graspe
|
||
What seemd both Spear and Shield: now dreadful deeds
|
||
Might have ensu'd, nor onely Paradise
|
||
In this commotion, but the Starrie Cope
|
||
Of Heav'n perhaps, or all the Elements
|
||
At least had gon to rack, disturbd and torne
|
||
With violence of this conflict, had not soon
|
||
Th' Eternal to prevent such horrid fray
|
||
Hung forth in Heav'n his golden Scales, yet seen
|
||
Betwixt ASTREA and the SCORPION signe,
|
||
Wherein all things created first he weighd,
|
||
The pendulous round Earth with ballanc't Aire
|
||
In counterpoise, now ponders all events,
|
||
Battels and Realms: in these he put two weights
|
||
The sequel each of parting and of fight;
|
||
The latter quick up flew, and kickt the beam;
|
||
Which GABRIEL spying, thus bespake the Fiend.
|
||
SATAN, I know thy strength, and thou knowst mine,
|
||
Neither our own but giv'n; what follie then
|
||
To boast what Arms can doe, since thine no more
|
||
Then Heav'n permits, nor mine, though doubld now
|
||
To trample thee as mire: for proof look up,
|
||
And read thy Lot in yon celestial Sign
|
||
Where thou art weigh'd, & shown how light, how weak,
|
||
If thou resist. The Fiend lookt up and knew
|
||
His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled
|
||
Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.
|
||
THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST
|
||
BOOK V.
|
||
|
||
Now Morn her rosie steps in th' Eastern Clime
|
||
Advancing, sow'd the Earth with Orient Pearle,
|
||
When ADAM wak't, so customd, for his sleep
|
||
Was Aerie light, from pure digestion bred,
|
||
And temperat vapors bland, which th' only sound
|
||
Of leaves and fuming rills, AURORA's fan,
|
||
Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill Matin Song
|
||
Of Birds on every bough; so much the more
|
||
His wonder was to find unwak'nd EVE
|
||
With Tresses discompos'd, and glowing Cheek,
|
||
As through unquiet rest: he on his side
|
||
Leaning half-rais'd, with looks of cordial Love
|
||
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
|
||
Beautie, which whether waking or asleep,
|
||
Shot forth peculiar Graces; then with voice
|
||
Milde, as when ZEPHYRUS on FLORA breathes,
|
||
Her hand soft touching, whisperd thus. Awake
|
||
My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found,
|
||
Heav'ns last best gift, my ever new delight,
|
||
Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh field
|
||
Calls us, we lose the prime, to mark how spring
|
||
Our tended Plants, how blows the Citron Grove,
|
||
What drops the Myrrhe, & what the balmie Reed,
|
||
How Nature paints her colours, how the Bee
|
||
Sits on the Bloom extracting liquid sweet.
|
||
Such whispering wak'd her, but with startl'd eye
|
||
On ADAM, whom imbracing, thus she spake.
|
||
O Sole in whom my thoughts find all repose,
|
||
My Glorie, my Perfection, glad I see
|
||
Thy face, and Morn return'd, for I this Night,
|
||
Such night till this I never pass'd, have dream'd,
|
||
If dream'd, not as I oft am wont, of thee,
|
||
Works of day pass't, or morrows next designe,
|
||
But of offence and trouble, which my mind
|
||
Knew never till this irksom night; methought
|
||
Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walk
|
||
With gentle voice, I thought it thine; it said,
|
||
Why sleepst thou EVE? now is the pleasant time,
|
||
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
|
||
To the night-warbling Bird, that now awake
|
||
Tunes sweetest his love-labor'd song; now reignes
|
||
Full Orb'd the Moon, and with more pleasing light
|
||
Shadowie sets off the face of things; in vain,
|
||
If none regard; Heav'n wakes with all his eyes,
|
||
Whom to behold but thee, Natures desire,
|
||
In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment
|
||
Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.
|
||
I rose as at thy call, but found thee not;
|
||
To find thee I directed then my walk;
|
||
And on, methought, alone I pass'd through ways
|
||
That brought me on a sudden to the Tree
|
||
Of interdicted Knowledge: fair it seem'd,
|
||
Much fairer to my Fancie then by day:
|
||
And as I wondring lookt, beside it stood
|
||
One shap'd & wing'd like one of those from Heav'n
|
||
By us oft seen; his dewie locks distill'd
|
||
Ambrosia; on that Tree he also gaz'd;
|
||
And O fair Plant, said he, with fruit surcharg'd,
|
||
Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet,
|
||
Nor God, nor Man; is Knowledge so despis'd?
|
||
Or envie, or what reserve forbids to taste?
|
||
Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold
|
||
Longer thy offerd good, why else set here?
|
||
This said he paus'd not, but with ventrous Arme
|
||
He pluckt, he tasted; mee damp horror chil'd
|
||
At such bold words voucht with a deed so bold:
|
||
But he thus overjoy'd, O Fruit Divine,
|
||
Sweet of thy self, but much more sweet thus cropt,
|
||
Forbidd'n here, it seems, as onely fit
|
||
For Gods, yet able to make Gods of Men:
|
||
And why not Gods of Men, since good, the more
|
||
Communicated, more abundant growes,
|
||
The Author not impair'd, but honourd more?
|
||
Here, happie Creature, fair Angelic EVE,
|
||
Partake thou also; happie though thou art,
|
||
Happier thou mayst be, worthier canst not be:
|
||
Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods
|
||
Thy self a Goddess, not to Earth confind,
|
||
But somtimes in the Air, as wee, somtimes
|
||
Ascend to Heav'n, by merit thine, and see
|
||
What life the Gods live there, and such live thou.
|
||
So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held,
|
||
Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part
|
||
Which he had pluckt; the pleasant savourie smell
|
||
So quick'nd appetite, that I, methought,
|
||
Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the Clouds
|
||
With him I flew, and underneath beheld
|
||
The Earth outstretcht immense, a prospect wide
|
||
And various: wondring at my flight and change
|
||
To this high exaltation; suddenly
|
||
My Guide was gon, and I, me thought, sunk down,
|
||
And fell asleep; but O how glad I wak'd
|
||
To find this but a dream! Thus EVE her Night
|
||
Related, and thus ADAM answerd sad.
|
||
Best Image of my self and dearer half,
|
||
The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep
|
||
Affects me equally; nor can I like
|
||
This uncouth dream, of evil sprung I fear;
|
||
Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,
|
||
Created pure. But know that in the Soule
|
||
Are many lesser Faculties that serve
|
||
Reason as chief; among these Fansie next
|
||
Her office holds; of all external things,
|
||
Which the five watchful Senses represent,
|
||
She forms Imaginations, Aerie shapes,
|
||
Which Reason joyning or disjoyning, frames
|
||
All what we affirm or what deny, and call
|
||
Our knowledge or opinion; then retires
|
||
Into her private Cell when Nature rests.
|
||
Oft in her absence mimic Fansie wakes
|
||
To imitate her; but misjoyning shapes,
|
||
Wilde work produces oft, and most in dreams,
|
||
Ill matching words and deeds long past or late.
|
||
Som such resemblances methinks I find
|
||
Of our last Eevnings talk, in this thy dream,
|
||
But with addition strange; yet be not sad.
|
||
Evil into the mind of God or Man
|
||
May come and go, so unapprov'd, and leave
|
||
No spot or blame behind: Which gives me hope
|
||
That what in sleep thou didst abhorr to dream,
|
||
Waking thou never wilt consent to do.
|
||
Be not disheart'nd then, nor cloud those looks
|
||
That wont to be more chearful and serene
|
||
Then when fair Morning first smiles on the World,
|
||
And let us to our fresh imployments rise
|
||
Among the Groves, the Fountains, and the Flours
|
||
That open now thir choicest bosom'd smells
|
||
Reservd from night, and kept for thee in store.
|
||
So cheard he his fair Spouse, and she was cheard,
|
||
But silently a gentle tear let fall
|
||
From either eye, and wip'd them with her haire;
|
||
Two other precious drops that ready stood,
|
||
Each in thir chrystal sluce, hee ere they fell
|
||
Kiss'd as the gracious signs of sweet remorse
|
||
And pious awe, that feard to have offended.
|
||
So all was cleard, and to the Field they haste.
|
||
But first from under shadie arborous roof,
|
||
Soon as they forth were come to open sight
|
||
Of day-spring, and the Sun, who scarce up risen
|
||
With wheels yet hov'ring o're the Ocean brim,
|
||
Shot paralel to the earth his dewie ray,
|
||
Discovering in wide Lantskip all the East
|
||
Of Paradise and EDENS happie Plains,
|
||
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began
|
||
Thir Orisons, each Morning duly paid
|
||
In various style, for neither various style
|
||
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise
|
||
Thir Maker, in fit strains pronounc't or sung
|
||
Unmeditated, such prompt eloquence
|
||
Flowd from thir lips, in Prose or numerous Verse,
|
||
More tuneable then needed Lute or Harp
|
||
To add more sweetness, and they thus began.
|
||
These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
|
||
Almightie, thine this universal Frame,
|
||
Thus wondrous fair; thy self how wondrous then!
|
||
Unspeakable, who sitst above these Heavens
|
||
To us invisible or dimly seen
|
||
In these thy lowest works, yet these declare
|
||
Thy goodness beyond thought, and Power Divine:
|
||
Speak yee who best can tell, ye Sons of light,
|
||
Angels, for yee behold him, and with songs
|
||
And choral symphonies, Day without Night,
|
||
Circle his Throne rejoycing, yee in Heav'n,
|
||
On Earth joyn all yee Creatures to extoll
|
||
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
|
||
Fairest of Starrs, last in the train of Night,
|
||
If better thou belong not to the dawn,
|
||
Sure pledge of day, that crownst the smiling Morn
|
||
With thy bright Circlet, praise him in thy Spheare
|
||
While day arises, that sweet hour of Prime.
|
||
Thou Sun, of this great World both Eye and Soule,
|
||
Acknowledge him thy Greater, sound his praise
|
||
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
|
||
And when high Noon hast gaind, & when thou fallst.
|
||
Moon, that now meetst the orient Sun, now fli'st
|
||
With the fixt Starrs, fixt in thir Orb that flies,
|
||
And yee five other wandring Fires that move
|
||
In mystic Dance not without Song, resound
|
||
His praise, who out of Darkness call'd up Light.
|
||
Aire, and ye Elements the eldest birth
|
||
Of Natures Womb, that in quaternion run
|
||
Perpetual Circle, multiform; and mix
|
||
And nourish all things, let your ceasless change
|
||
Varie to our great Maker still new praise.
|
||
Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise
|
||
From Hill or steaming Lake, duskie or grey,
|
||
Till the Sun paint your fleecie skirts with Gold,
|
||
In honour to the Worlds great Author rise,
|
||
Whether to deck with Clouds the uncolourd skie,
|
||
Or wet the thirstie Earth with falling showers,
|
||
Rising or falling still advance his praise.
|
||
His praise ye Winds, that from four Quarters blow,
|
||
Breath soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines,
|
||
With every Plant, in sign of Worship wave.
|
||
Fountains and yee, that warble, as ye flow,
|
||
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
|
||
Joyn voices all ye living Souls, ye Birds,
|
||
That singing up to Heaven Gate ascend,
|
||
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise;
|
||
Yee that in Waters glide, and yee that walk
|
||
The Earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
|
||
Witness if I be silent, Morn or Eeven,
|
||
To Hill, or Valley, Fountain, or fresh shade
|
||
Made vocal by my Song, and taught his praise.
|
||
Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still
|
||
To give us onely good; and if the night
|
||
Have gathered aught of evil or conceald,
|
||
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.
|
||
So pray'd they innocent, and to thir thoughts
|
||
Firm peace recoverd soon and wonted calm.
|
||
On to thir mornings rural work they haste
|
||
Among sweet dewes and flours; where any row
|
||
Of Fruit-trees overwoodie reachd too farr
|
||
Thir pamperd boughes, and needed hands to check
|
||
Fruitless imbraces: or they led the Vine
|
||
To wed her Elm; she spous'd about him twines
|
||
Her mariageable arms, and with her brings
|
||
Her dowr th' adopted Clusters, to adorn
|
||
His barren leaves. Them thus imploid beheld
|
||
With pittie Heav'ns high King, and to him call'd
|
||
RAPHAEL, the sociable Spirit, that deign'd
|
||
To travel with TOBIAS, and secur'd
|
||
His marriage with the seaventimes-wedded Maid.
|
||
RAPHAEL, said hee, thou hear'st what stir on Earth
|
||
SATAN from Hell scap't through the darksom Gulf
|
||
Hath raisd in Paradise, and how disturbd
|
||
This night the human pair, how he designes
|
||
In them at once to ruin all mankind.
|
||
Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend
|
||
Converse with ADAM, in what Bowre or shade
|
||
Thou find'st him from the heat of Noon retir'd,
|
||
To respit his day-labour with repast,
|
||
Or with repose; and such discourse bring on,
|
||
As may advise him of his happie state,
|
||
Happiness in his power left free to will,
|
||
Left to his own free Will, his Will though free,
|
||
Yet mutable; whence warne him to beware
|
||
He swerve not too secure: tell him withall
|
||
His danger, and from whom, what enemie
|
||
Late falln himself from Heav'n, is plotting now
|
||
The fall of others from like state of bliss;
|
||
By violence, no, for that shall be withstood,
|
||
But by deceit and lies; this let him know,
|
||
Least wilfully transgressing he pretend
|
||
Surprisal, unadmonisht, unforewarnd.
|
||
So spake th' Eternal Father, and fulfilld
|
||
All Justice: nor delaid the winged Saint
|
||
After his charge receivd, but from among
|
||
Thousand Celestial Ardors, where he stood
|
||
Vaild with his gorgeous wings, up springing light
|
||
Flew through the midst of Heav'n; th' angelic Quires
|
||
On each hand parting, to his speed gave way
|
||
Through all th' Empyreal road; till at the Gate
|
||
Of Heav'n arriv'd, the gate self-opend wide
|
||
On golden Hinges turning, as by work
|
||
Divine the sov'ran Architect had fram'd.
|
||
From hence, no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight,
|
||
Starr interpos'd, however small he sees,
|
||
Not unconform to other shining Globes,
|
||
Earth and the Gard'n of God, with Cedars crownd
|
||
Above all Hills. As when by night the Glass
|
||
Of GALILEO, less assur'd, observes
|
||
Imagind Lands and Regions in the Moon:
|
||
Or Pilot from amidst the CYCLADES
|
||
DELOS or SAMOS first appeering kenns
|
||
A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight
|
||
He speeds, and through the vast Ethereal Skie
|
||
Sailes between worlds & worlds, with steddie wing
|
||
Now on the polar windes, then with quick Fann
|
||
Winnows the buxom Air; till within soare
|
||
Of Towring Eagles, to all the Fowles he seems
|
||
A PHOENIX, gaz'd by all, as that sole Bird
|
||
When to enshrine his reliques in the Sun's
|
||
Bright Temple, to AEGYPTIAN THEB'S he flies.
|
||
At once on th' Eastern cliff of Paradise
|
||
He lights, and to his proper shape returns
|
||
A Seraph wingd; six wings he wore, to shade
|
||
His lineaments Divine; the pair that clad
|
||
Each shoulder broad, came mantling o're his brest
|
||
With regal Ornament; the middle pair
|
||
Girt like a Starrie Zone his waste, and round
|
||
Skirted his loines and thighes with downie Gold
|
||
And colours dipt in Heav'n; the third his feet
|
||
Shaddowd from either heele with featherd maile
|
||
Skie-tinctur'd grain. Like MAIA'S son he stood,
|
||
And shook his Plumes, that Heav'nly fragrance filld
|
||
The circuit wide. Strait knew him all the bands
|
||
Of Angels under watch; and to his state,
|
||
And to his message high in honour rise;
|
||
For on som message high they guessd him bound.
|
||
Thir glittering Tents he passd, and now is come
|
||
Into the blissful field, through Groves of Myrrhe,
|
||
And flouring Odours, Cassia, Nard, and Balme;
|
||
A Wilderness of sweets; for Nature here
|
||
Wantond as in her prime, and plaid at will
|
||
Her Virgin Fancies, pouring forth more sweet,
|
||
Wilde above rule or art; enormous bliss.
|
||
Him through the spicie Forrest onward com
|
||
ADAM discernd, as in the dore he sat
|
||
Of his coole Bowre, while now the mounted Sun
|
||
Shot down direct his fervid Raies, to warme
|
||
Earths inmost womb, more warmth then ADAM need;
|
||
And EVE within, due at her hour prepar'd
|
||
For dinner savourie fruits, of taste to please
|
||
True appetite, and not disrelish thirst
|
||
Of nectarous draughts between, from milkie stream,
|
||
Berrie or Grape: to whom thus ADAM call'd.
|
||
Haste hither EVE, and worth thy sight behold
|
||
Eastward among those Trees, what glorious shape
|
||
Comes this way moving; seems another Morn
|
||
Ris'n on mid-noon; som great behest from Heav'n
|
||
To us perhaps he brings, and will voutsafe
|
||
This day to be our Guest. But goe with speed,
|
||
And what thy stores contain, bring forth and poure
|
||
Abundance, fit to honour and receive
|
||
Our Heav'nly stranger; well we may afford
|
||
Our givers thir own gifts, and large bestow
|
||
From large bestowd, where Nature multiplies
|
||
Her fertil growth, and by disburd'ning grows
|
||
More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare.
|
||
To whom thus EVE. ADAM, earths hallowd mould,
|
||
Of God inspir'd, small store will serve, where store,
|
||
All seasons, ripe for use hangs on the stalk;
|
||
Save what by frugal storing firmness gains
|
||
To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes:
|
||
But I will haste and from each bough and break,
|
||
Each Plant & juciest Gourd will pluck such choice
|
||
To entertain our Angel guest, as hee
|
||
Beholding shall confess that here on Earth
|
||
God hath dispenst his bounties as in Heav'n.
|
||
So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste
|
||
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent
|
||
What choice to chuse for delicacie best,
|
||
What order, so contriv'd as not to mix
|
||
Tastes, not well joynd, inelegant, but bring
|
||
Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change,
|
||
Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk
|
||
Whatever Earth all-bearing Mother yeilds
|
||
In INDIA East or West, or middle shoare
|
||
In PONTUS or the PUNIC Coast, or where
|
||
ALCINOUS reign'd, fruit of all kindes, in coate,
|
||
Rough, or smooth rin'd, or bearded husk, or shell
|
||
She gathers, Tribute large, and on the board
|
||
Heaps with unsparing hand; for drink the Grape
|
||
She crushes, inoffensive moust, and meathes
|
||
From many a berrie, and from sweet kernels prest
|
||
She tempers dulcet creams, nor these to hold
|
||
Wants her fit vessels pure, then strews the ground
|
||
With Rose and Odours from the shrub unfum'd.
|
||
Mean while our Primitive great Sire, to meet
|
||
His god-like Guest, walks forth, without more train
|
||
Accompani'd then with his own compleat
|
||
Perfections, in himself was all his state,
|
||
More solemn then the tedious pomp that waits
|
||
On Princes, when thir rich Retinue long
|
||
Of Horses led, and Grooms besmeard with Gold
|
||
Dazles the croud, and sets them all agape.
|
||
Neerer his presence ADAM though not awd,
|
||
Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek,
|
||
As to a superior Nature, bowing low,
|
||
Thus said. Native of Heav'n, for other place
|
||
None can then Heav'n such glorious shape contain;
|
||
Since by descending from the Thrones above,
|
||
Those happie places thou hast deignd a while
|
||
To want, and honour these, voutsafe with us
|
||
Two onely, who yet by sov'ran gift possess
|
||
This spacious ground, in yonder shadie Bowre
|
||
To rest, and what the Garden choicest bears
|
||
To sit and taste, till this meridian heat
|
||
Be over, and the Sun more coole decline.
|
||
Whom thus the Angelic Vertue answerd milde.
|
||
ADAM, I therefore came, nor art thou such
|
||
Created, or such place hast here to dwell,
|
||
As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heav'n
|
||
To visit thee; lead on then where thy Bowre
|
||
Oreshades; for these mid-hours, till Eevning rise
|
||
I have at will. So to the Silvan Lodge
|
||
They came, that like POMONA'S Arbour smil'd
|
||
With flourets deck't and fragrant smells; but EVE
|
||
Undeckt, save with her self more lovely fair
|
||
Then Wood-Nymph, or the fairest Goddess feign'd
|
||
Of three that in Mount IDA naked strove,
|
||
Stood to entertain her guest from Heav'n; no vaile
|
||
Shee needed, Vertue-proof, no thought infirme
|
||
Alterd her cheek. On whom the Angel HAILE
|
||
Bestowd, the holy salutation us'd
|
||
Long after to blest MARIE, second EVE.
|
||
Haile Mother of Mankind, whose fruitful Womb
|
||
Shall fill the World more numerous with thy Sons
|
||
Then with these various fruits the Trees of God
|
||
Have heap'd this Table. Rais'd of grassie terf
|
||
Thir Table was, and mossie seats had round,
|
||
And on her ample Square from side to side
|
||
All AUTUMN pil'd, though SPRING and AUTUMN here
|
||
Danc'd hand in hand. A while discourse they hold;
|
||
No fear lest Dinner coole; when thus began
|
||
Our Authour. Heav'nly stranger, please to taste
|
||
These bounties which our Nourisher, from whom
|
||
All perfet good unmeasur'd out, descends,
|
||
To us for food and for delight hath caus'd
|
||
The Earth to yeild; unsavourie food perhaps
|
||
To spiritual Natures; only this I know,
|
||
That one Celestial Father gives to all.
|
||
To whom the Angel. Therefore what he gives
|
||
(Whose praise be ever sung) to man in part
|
||
Spiritual, may of purest Spirits be found
|
||
No ingrateful food: and food alike those pure
|
||
Intelligential substances require
|
||
As doth your Rational; and both contain
|
||
Within them every lower facultie
|
||
Of sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste,
|
||
Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate,
|
||
And corporeal to incorporeal turn.
|
||
For know, whatever was created, needs
|
||
To be sustaind and fed; of Elements
|
||
The grosser feeds the purer, earth the sea,
|
||
Earth and the Sea feed Air, the Air those Fires
|
||
Ethereal, and as lowest first the Moon;
|
||
Whence in her visage round those spots, unpurg'd
|
||
Vapours not yet into her substance turnd.
|
||
Nor doth the Moon no nourishment exhale
|
||
From her moist Continent to higher Orbes.
|
||
The Sun that light imparts to all, receives
|
||
From all his alimental recompence
|
||
In humid exhalations, and at Even
|
||
Sups with the Ocean: though in Heav'n the Trees
|
||
Of life ambrosial frutage bear, and vines
|
||
Yeild Nectar, though from off the boughs each Morn
|
||
We brush mellifluous Dewes, and find the ground
|
||
Cover'd with pearly grain: yet God hath here
|
||
Varied his bounty so with new delights,
|
||
As may compare with Heaven; and to taste
|
||
Think not I shall be nice. So down they sat,
|
||
And to thir viands fell, nor seemingly
|
||
The Angel, nor in mist, the common gloss
|
||
Of Theologians, but with keen dispatch
|
||
Of real hunger, and concoctive heate
|
||
To transubstantiate; what redounds, transpires
|
||
Through Spirits with ease; nor wonder; if by fire
|
||
Of sooty coal the Empiric Alchimist
|
||
Can turn, or holds it possible to turn
|
||
Metals of drossiest Ore to perfet Gold
|
||
As from the Mine. Mean while at Table EVE
|
||
Ministerd naked, and thir flowing cups
|
||
With pleasant liquors crown'd: O innocence
|
||
Deserving Paradise! if ever, then,
|
||
Then had the Sons of God excuse to have bin
|
||
Enamour'd at that sight; but in those hearts
|
||
Love unlibidinous reign'd, nor jealousie
|
||
Was understood, the injur'd Lovers Hell.
|
||
Thus when with meats & drinks they had suffic'd,
|
||
Not burd'nd Nature, sudden mind arose
|
||
In ADAM, not to let th' occasion pass
|
||
Given him by this great Conference to know
|
||
Of things above his World, and of thir being
|
||
Who dwell in Heav'n, whose excellence he saw
|
||
Transcend his own so farr, whose radiant forms
|
||
Divine effulgence, whose high Power so far
|
||
Exceeded human, and his wary speech
|
||
Thus to th' Empyreal Minister he fram'd.
|
||
Inhabitant with God, now know I well
|
||
Thy favour, in this honour done to man,
|
||
Under whose lowly roof thou hast voutsaf't
|
||
To enter, and these earthly fruits to taste,
|
||
Food not of Angels, yet accepted so,
|
||
As that more willingly thou couldst not seem
|
||
At Heav'ns high feasts to have fed: yet what compare?
|
||
To whom the winged Hierarch repli'd.
|
||
O ADAM, one Almightie is, from whom
|
||
All things proceed, and up to him return,
|
||
If not deprav'd from good, created all
|
||
Such to perfection, one first matter all,
|
||
Indu'd with various forms, various degrees
|
||
Of substance, and in things that live, of life;
|
||
But more refin'd, more spiritous, and pure,
|
||
As neerer to him plac't or neerer tending
|
||
Each in thir several active Sphears assignd,
|
||
Till body up to spirit work, in bounds
|
||
Proportiond to each kind. So from the root
|
||
Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves
|
||
More aerie, last the bright consummate floure
|
||
Spirits odorous breathes: flours and thir fruit
|
||
Mans nourishment, by gradual scale sublim'd
|
||
To vital Spirits aspire, to animal,
|
||
To intellectual, give both life and sense,
|
||
Fansie and understanding, whence the soule
|
||
Reason receives, and reason is her being,
|
||
Discursive, or Intuitive; discourse
|
||
Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours,
|
||
Differing but in degree, of kind the same.
|
||
Wonder not then, what God for you saw good
|
||
If I refuse not, but convert, as you,
|
||
To proper substance; time may come when men
|
||
With Angels may participate, and find
|
||
No inconvenient Diet, nor too light Fare:
|
||
And from these corporal nutriments perhaps
|
||
Your bodies may at last turn all to Spirit
|
||
Improv'd by tract of time, and wingd ascend
|
||
Ethereal, as wee, or may at choice
|
||
Here or in Heav'nly Paradises dwell;
|
||
If ye be found obedient, and retain
|
||
Unalterably firm his love entire
|
||
Whose progenie you are. Mean while enjoy
|
||
Your fill what happiness this happie state
|
||
Can comprehend, incapable of more.
|
||
To whom the Patriarch of mankind repli'd.
|
||
O favourable spirit, propitious guest,
|
||
Well hast thou taught the way that might direct
|
||
Our knowledge, and the scale of Nature set
|
||
From center to circumference, whereon
|
||
In contemplation of created things
|
||
By steps we may ascend to God. But say,
|
||
What meant that caution joind, IF YE BE FOUND
|
||
OBEDIENT? can wee want obedience then
|
||
To him, or possibly his love desert
|
||
Who formd us from the dust, and plac'd us here
|
||
Full to the utmost measure of what bliss
|
||
Human desires can seek or apprehend?
|
||
To whom the Angel. Son of Heav'n and Earth,
|
||
Attend: That thou art happie, owe to God;
|
||
That thou continu'st such, owe to thy self,
|
||
That is, to thy obedience; therein stand.
|
||
This was that caution giv'n thee; be advis'd.
|
||
God made thee perfet, not immutable;
|
||
And good he made thee, but to persevere
|
||
He left it in thy power, ordaind thy will
|
||
By nature free, not over-rul'd by Fate
|
||
Inextricable, or strict necessity;
|
||
Our voluntarie service he requires,
|
||
Not our necessitated, such with him
|
||
Findes no acceptance, nor can find, for how
|
||
Can hearts, not free, be tri'd whether they serve
|
||
Willing or no, who will but what they must
|
||
By Destinie, and can no other choose?
|
||
My self and all th' Angelic Host that stand
|
||
In sight of God enthron'd, our happie state
|
||
Hold, as you yours, while our obedience holds;
|
||
On other surety none; freely we serve.
|
||
Because wee freely love, as in our will
|
||
To love or not; in this we stand or fall:
|
||
And som are fall'n, to disobedience fall'n,
|
||
And so from Heav'n to deepest Hell; O fall
|
||
From what high state of bliss into what woe!
|
||
To whom our great Progenitor. Thy words
|
||
Attentive, and with more delighted eare
|
||
Divine instructer, I have heard, then when
|
||
Cherubic Songs by night from neighbouring Hills
|
||
Aereal Music send: nor knew I not
|
||
To be both will and deed created free;
|
||
Yet that we never shall forget to love
|
||
Our maker, and obey him whose command
|
||
Single, is yet so just, my constant thoughts
|
||
Assur'd me and still assure: though what thou tellst
|
||
Hath past in Heav'n, som doubt within me move,
|
||
But more desire to hear, if thou consent,
|
||
The full relation, which must needs be strange,
|
||
Worthy of Sacred silence to be heard;
|
||
And we have yet large day, for scarce the Sun
|
||
Hath finisht half his journey, and scarce begins
|
||
His other half in the great Zone of Heav'n.
|
||
Thus ADAM made request, and RAPHAEL
|
||
After short pause assenting, thus began.
|
||
High matter thou injoinst me, O prime of men,
|
||
Sad task and hard, for how shall I relate
|
||
To human sense th' invisible exploits
|
||
Of warring Spirits; how without remorse
|
||
The ruin of so many glorious once
|
||
And perfet while they stood; how last unfould
|
||
The secrets of another world, perhaps
|
||
Not lawful to reveal? yet for thy good
|
||
This is dispenc't, and what surmounts the reach
|
||
Of human sense, I shall delineate so,
|
||
By lik'ning spiritual to corporal forms,
|
||
As may express them best, though what if Earth
|
||
Be but the shaddow of Heav'n, and things therein
|
||
Each to other like, more then on earth is thought?
|
||
As yet this world was not, and CHAOS wilde
|
||
Reignd where these Heav'ns now rowl, where Earth now rests
|
||
Upon her Center pois'd, when on a day
|
||
(For Time, though in Eternitie, appli'd
|
||
To motion, measures all things durable
|
||
By present, past, and future) on such day
|
||
As Heav'ns great Year brings forth, th' Empyreal Host
|
||
Of Angels by Imperial summons call'd,
|
||
Innumerable before th' Almighties Throne
|
||
Forthwith from all the ends of Heav'n appeerd
|
||
Under thir Hierarchs in orders bright
|
||
Ten thousand thousand Ensignes high advanc'd,
|
||
Standards, and Gonfalons twixt Van and Reare
|
||
Streame in the Aire, and for distinction serve
|
||
Of Hierarchies, of Orders, and Degrees;
|
||
Or in thir glittering Tissues bear imblaz'd
|
||
Holy Memorials, acts of Zeale and Love
|
||
Recorded eminent. Thus when in Orbes
|
||
Of circuit inexpressible they stood,
|
||
Orb within Orb, the Father infinite,
|
||
By whom in bliss imbosom'd sat the Son,
|
||
Amidst as from a flaming Mount, whoseop
|
||
Brightness had made invisible, thus spake.
|
||
Hear all ye Angels, Progenie of Light,
|
||
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Vertues, Powers,
|
||
Hear my Decree, which unrevok't shall stand.
|
||
This day I have begot whom I declare
|
||
My onely Son, and on this holy Hill
|
||
Him have anointed, whom ye now behold
|
||
At my right hand; your Head I him appoint;
|
||
And by my Self have sworn to him shall bow
|
||
All knees in Heav'n, and shall confess him Lord:
|
||
Under his great Vice-gerent Reign abide
|
||
United as one individual Soule
|
||
For ever happie: him who disobeyes
|
||
Mee disobeyes, breaks union, and that day
|
||
Cast out from God and blessed vision, falls
|
||
Into utter darkness, deep ingulft, his place
|
||
Ordaind without redemption, without end.
|
||
So spake th' Omnipotent, and with his words
|
||
All seemd well pleas'd, all seem'd, but were not all.
|
||
That day, as other solem dayes, they spent
|
||
In song and dance about the sacred Hill,
|
||
Mystical dance, which yonder starrie Spheare
|
||
Of Planets and of fixt in all her Wheeles
|
||
Resembles nearest, mazes intricate,
|
||
Eccentric, intervolv'd, yet regular
|
||
Then most, when most irregular they seem:
|
||
And in thir motions harmonie Divine
|
||
So smooths her charming tones, that Gods own ear
|
||
Listens delighted. Eevning approachd
|
||
(For we have also our Eevning and our Morn,
|
||
We ours for change delectable, not need)
|
||
Forthwith from dance to sweet repast they turn
|
||
Desirous, all in Circles as they stood,
|
||
Tables are set, and on a sudden pil'd
|
||
With Angels Food, and rubied Nectar flows:
|
||
In Pearl, in Diamond, and massie Gold,
|
||
Fruit of delicious Vines, the growth of Heav'n.
|
||
They eat, they drink, and with refection sweet
|
||
Are fill'd, before th' all bounteous King, who showrd
|
||
With copious hand, rejoycing in thir joy.
|
||
Now when ambrosial Night with Clouds exhal'd
|
||
From that high mount of God, whence light & shade
|
||
Spring both, the face of brightest Heav'n had changd
|
||
To grateful Twilight (for Night comes not there
|
||
In darker veile) and roseat Dews dispos'd
|
||
All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest,
|
||
Wide over all the Plain, and wider farr
|
||
Then all this globous Earth in Plain outspred,
|
||
(Such are the Courts of God) Th' Angelic throng
|
||
Disperst in Bands and Files thir Camp extend
|
||
By living Streams among the Trees of Life,
|
||
Pavilions numberless, and sudden reard,
|
||
Celestial Tabernacles, where they slept
|
||
Fannd with coole Winds, save those who in thir course
|
||
Melodious Hymns about the sovran Throne
|
||
Alternate all night long: but not so wak'd
|
||
SATAN, so call him now, his former name
|
||
Is heard no more Heav'n; he of the first,
|
||
If not the first Arch-Angel, great in Power,
|
||
In favour and praeeminence, yet fraught
|
||
With envie against the Son of God, that day
|
||
Honourd by his great Father, and proclaimd
|
||
MESSIAH King anointed, could not beare
|
||
Through pride that sight, and thought himself impaird.
|
||
Deep malice thence conceiving & disdain,
|
||
Soon as midnight brought on the duskie houre
|
||
Friendliest to sleep and silence, he resolv'd
|
||
With all his Legions to dislodge, and leave
|
||
Unworshipt, unobey'd the Throne supream
|
||
Contemptuous, and his next subordinate
|
||
Awak'ning, thus to him in secret spake.
|
||
Sleepst thou Companion dear, what sleep can close
|
||
Thy eye-lids? and remembrest what Decree
|
||
Of yesterday, so late hath past the lips
|
||
Of Heav'ns Almightie. Thou to me thy thoughts
|
||
Wast wont, I mine to thee was wont to impart;
|
||
Both waking we were one; how then can now
|
||
Thy sleep dissent? new Laws thou seest impos'd;
|
||
New Laws from him who reigns, new minds may raise
|
||
In us who serve, new Counsels, to debate
|
||
What doubtful may ensue, more in this place
|
||
To utter is not safe. Assemble thou
|
||
Of all those Myriads which we lead the chief;
|
||
Tell them that by command, ere yet dim Night
|
||
Her shadowie Cloud withdraws, I am to haste,
|
||
And all who under me thir Banners wave,
|
||
Homeward with flying march where we possess
|
||
The Quarters of the North, there to prepare
|
||
Fit entertainment to receive our King
|
||
The great MESSIAH, and his new commands,
|
||
Who speedily through all the Hierarchies
|
||
Intends to pass triumphant, and give Laws.
|
||
So spake the false Arch-Angel, and infus'd
|
||
Bad influence into th' unwarie brest
|
||
Of his Associate; hee together calls,
|
||
Or several one by one, the Regent Powers,
|
||
Under him Regent, tells, as he was taught,
|
||
That the most High commanding, now ere Night,
|
||
Now ere dim Night had disincumberd Heav'n,
|
||
The great Hierarchal Standard was to move;
|
||
Tells the suggested cause, and casts between
|
||
Ambiguous words and jealousies, to sound
|
||
Or taint integritie; but all obey'd
|
||
The wonted signal, and superior voice
|
||
Of thir great Potentate; for great indeed
|
||
His name, and high was his degree in Heav'n;
|
||
His count'nance, as the Morning Starr that guides
|
||
The starrie flock, allur'd them, and with lyes
|
||
Drew after him the third part of Heav'ns Host:
|
||
Mean while th' Eternal eye, whose sight discernes
|
||
Abstrusest thoughts, from forth his holy Mount
|
||
And from within the golden Lamps that burne
|
||
Nightly before him, saw without thir light
|
||
Rebellion rising, saw in whom, how spred
|
||
Among the sons of Morn, what multitudes
|
||
Were banded to oppose his high Decree;
|
||
And smiling to his onely Son thus said.
|
||
Son, thou in whom my glory I behold
|
||
In full resplendence, Heir of all my might,
|
||
Neerly it now concernes us to be sure
|
||
Of our Omnipotence, and with what Arms
|
||
We mean to hold what anciently we claim
|
||
Of Deitie or Empire, such a foe
|
||
Is rising, who intends to erect his Throne
|
||
Equal to ours, throughout the spacious North;
|
||
Nor so content, hath in his thought to trie
|
||
In battel, what our Power is, or our right.
|
||
Let us advise, and to this hazard draw
|
||
With speed what force is left, and all imploy
|
||
In our defence, lest unawares we lose
|
||
This our high place, our Sanctuarie, our Hill.
|
||
To whom the Son with calm aspect and cleer
|
||
Light'ning Divine, ineffable, serene,
|
||
Made answer. Mightie Father, thou thy foes
|
||
Justly hast in derision, and secure
|
||
Laugh'st at thir vain designes and tumults vain,
|
||
Matter to mee of Glory, whom thir hate
|
||
Illustrates, when they see all Regal Power
|
||
Giv'n me to quell thir pride, and in event
|
||
Know whether I be dextrous to subdue
|
||
Thy Rebels, or be found the worst in Heav'n.
|
||
So spake the Son, but SATAN with his Powers
|
||
Farr was advanc't on winged speed, an Host
|
||
Innumerable as the Starrs of Night,
|
||
Or Starrs of Morning, Dew-drops, which the Sun
|
||
Impearls on every leaf and every flouer.
|
||
Regions they pass'd, the mightie Regencies
|
||
Of Seraphim and Potentates and Thrones
|
||
In thir triple Degrees, Regions to which
|
||
All thy Dominion, ADAM, is no more
|
||
Then what this Garden is to all the Earth,
|
||
And all the Sea, from one entire globose
|
||
Stretcht into Longitude; which having pass'd
|
||
At length into the limits of the North
|
||
They came, and SATAN to his Royal seat
|
||
High on a Hill, far blazing, as a Mount
|
||
Rais'd on a Mount, with Pyramids and Towrs
|
||
From Diamond Quarries hew'n, & Rocks of Gold,
|
||
The Palace of great LUCIFER, (so call
|
||
That Structure in the Dialect of men
|
||
Interpreted) which not long after, hee
|
||
Affecting all equality with God,
|
||
In imitation of that Mount whereon
|
||
MESSIAH was declar'd in sight of Heav'n,
|
||
The Mountain of the Congregation call'd;
|
||
For thither he assembl'd all his Train,
|
||
Pretending so commanded to consult
|
||
About the great reception of thir King,
|
||
Thither to come, and with calumnious Art
|
||
Of counterfeted truth thus held thir ears.
|
||
Thrones, Dominations, Princedomes, Vertues, Powers,
|
||
If these magnific Titles yet remain
|
||
Not meerly titular, since by Decree
|
||
Another now hath to himself ingross't
|
||
All Power, and us eclipst under the name
|
||
Of King anointed, for whom all this haste
|
||
Of midnight march, and hurried meeting here,
|
||
This onely to consult how we may best
|
||
With what may be devis'd of honours new
|
||
Receive him coming to receive from us
|
||
Knee-tribute yet unpaid, prostration vile,
|
||
Too much to one, but double how endur'd,
|
||
To one and to his image now proclaim'd?
|
||
But what if better counsels might erect
|
||
Our minds and teach us to cast off this Yoke?
|
||
Will ye submit your necks, and chuse to bend
|
||
The supple knee? ye will not, if I trust
|
||
To know ye right, or if ye know your selves
|
||
Natives and Sons of Heav'n possest before
|
||
By none, and if not equal all, yet free,
|
||
Equally free; for Orders and Degrees
|
||
Jarr not with liberty, but well consist.
|
||
Who can in reason then or right assume
|
||
Monarchie over such as live by right
|
||
His equals, if in power and splendor less,
|
||
In freedome equal? or can introduce
|
||
Law and Edict on us, who without law
|
||
Erre not, much less for this to be our Lord,
|
||
And look for adoration to th' abuse
|
||
Of those Imperial Titles which assert
|
||
Our being ordain'd to govern, not to serve?
|
||
Thus farr his bold discourse without controule
|
||
Had audience, when among the Seraphim
|
||
ABDIEL, then whom none with more zeale ador'd
|
||
The Deitie, and divine commands obei'd,
|
||
Stood up, and in a flame of zeale severe
|
||
The current of his fury thus oppos'd.
|
||
O argument blasphemous, false and proud!
|
||
Words which no eare ever to hear in Heav'n
|
||
Expected, least of all from thee, ingrate
|
||
In place thy self so high above thy Peeres.
|
||
Canst thou with impious obloquie condemne
|
||
The just Decree of God, pronounc't and sworn,
|
||
That to his only Son by right endu'd
|
||
With Regal Scepter, every Soule in Heav'n
|
||
Shall bend the knee, and in that honour due
|
||
Confess him rightful King? unjust thou saist
|
||
Flatly unjust, to binde with Laws the free,
|
||
And equal over equals to let Reigne,
|
||
One over all with unsucceeded power.
|
||
Shalt thou give Law to God, shalt thou dispute
|
||
With him the points of libertie, who made
|
||
Thee what thou art, & formd the Pow'rs of Heav'n
|
||
Such as he pleasd, and circumscrib'd thir being?
|
||
Yet by experience taught we know how good,
|
||
And of our good, and of our dignitie
|
||
How provident he is, how farr from thought
|
||
To make us less, bent rather to exalt
|
||
Our happie state under one Head more neer
|
||
United. But to grant it thee unjust,
|
||
That equal over equals Monarch Reigne:
|
||
Thy self though great & glorious dost thou count,
|
||
Or all Angelic Nature joind in one,
|
||
Equal to him begotten Son, by whom
|
||
As by his Word the mighty Father made
|
||
All things, ev'n thee, and all the Spirits of Heav'n
|
||
By him created in thir bright degrees,
|
||
Crownd them with Glory, & to thir Glory nam'd
|
||
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Vertues, Powers
|
||
Essential Powers, nor by his Reign obscur'd,
|
||
But more illustrious made, since he the Head
|
||
One of our number thus reduc't becomes,
|
||
His Laws our Laws, all honour to him done
|
||
Returns our own. Cease then this impious rage,
|
||
And tempt not these; but hast'n to appease
|
||
Th' incensed Father, and th' incensed Son,
|
||
While Pardon may be found in time besought.
|
||
So spake the fervent Angel, but his zeale
|
||
None seconded, as out of season judg'd,
|
||
Or singular and rash, whereat rejoic'd
|
||
Th' Apostat, and more haughty thus repli'd.
|
||
That we were formd then saist thou? & the work
|
||
Of secondarie hands, by task transferd
|
||
From Father to his Son? strange point and new!
|
||
Doctrin which we would know whence learnt: who saw
|
||
When this creation was? rememberst thou
|
||
Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being?
|
||
We know no time when we were not as now;
|
||
Know none before us, self-begot, self-rais'd
|
||
By our own quick'ning power, when fatal course
|
||
Had circl'd his full Orbe, the birth mature
|
||
Of this our native Heav'n, Ethereal Sons.
|
||
Our puissance is our own, our own right hand
|
||
Shall teach us highest deeds, by proof to try
|
||
Who is our equal: then thou shalt behold
|
||
Whether by supplication we intend
|
||
Address, and to begirt th' Almighty Throne
|
||
Beseeching or besieging. This report,
|
||
These tidings carrie to th' anointed King;
|
||
And fly, ere evil intercept thy flight.
|
||
He said, and as the sound of waters deep
|
||
Hoarce murmur echo'd to his words applause
|
||
Through the infinite Host, nor less for that
|
||
The flaming Seraph fearless, though alone
|
||
Encompass'd round with foes, thus answerd bold.
|
||
O alienate from God, O spirit accurst,
|
||
Forsak'n of all good; I see thy fall
|
||
Determind, and thy hapless crew involv'd
|
||
In this perfidious fraud, contagion spred
|
||
Both of thy crime and punishment: henceforth
|
||
No more be troubl'd how to quit the yoke
|
||
Of Gods MESSIAH; those indulgent Laws
|
||
Will not be now voutsaf't, other Decrees
|
||
Against thee are gon forth without recall;
|
||
That Golden Scepter which thou didst reject
|
||
Is now an Iron Rod to bruise and breake
|
||
Thy disobedience. Well thou didst advise,
|
||
Yet not for thy advise or threats I fly
|
||
These wicked Tents devoted, least the wrauth
|
||
Impendent, raging into sudden flame
|
||
Distinguish not: for soon expect to feel
|
||
His Thunder on thy head, devouring fire.
|
||
Then who created thee lamenting learne,
|
||
When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know.
|
||
So spake the Seraph ABDIEL faithful found,
|
||
Among the faithless, faithful only hee;
|
||
Among innumerable false, unmov'd,
|
||
Unshak'n, unseduc'd, unterrifi'd
|
||
His Loyaltie he kept, his Love, his Zeale;
|
||
Nor number, nor example with him wrought
|
||
To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind
|
||
Though single. From amidst them forth he passd,
|
||
Long way through hostile scorn, which he susteind
|
||
Superior, nor of violence fear'd aught;
|
||
And with retorted scorn his back he turn'd
|
||
On those proud Towrs to swift destruction doom'd.
|
||
THE END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST
|
||
BOOK VI.
|
||
|
||
All night the dreadless Angel unpursu'd
|
||
Through Heav'ns wide Champain held his way, till Morn,
|
||
Wak't by the circling Hours, with rosie hand
|
||
Unbarr'd the gates of Light. There is a Cave
|
||
Within the Mount of God, fast by his Throne,
|
||
Where light and darkness in perpetual round
|
||
Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heav'n
|
||
Grateful vicissitude, like Day and Night;
|
||
Light issues forth, and at the other dore
|
||
Obsequious darkness enters, till her houre
|
||
To veile the Heav'n, though darkness there might well
|
||
Seem twilight here; and now went forth the Morn
|
||
Such as in highest Heav'n, arrayd in Gold
|
||
Empyreal, from before her vanisht Night,
|
||
Shot through with orient Beams: when all the Plain
|
||
Coverd with thick embatteld Squadrons bright,
|
||
Chariots and flaming Armes, and fierie Steeds
|
||
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view:
|
||
Warr he perceav'd, warr in procinct, and found
|
||
Already known what he for news had thought
|
||
To have reported: gladly then he mixt
|
||
Among those friendly Powers who him receav'd
|
||
With joy and acclamations loud, that one
|
||
That of so many Myriads fall'n, yet one
|
||
Returnd not lost: On to the sacred hill
|
||
They led him high applauded, and present
|
||
Before the seat supream; from whence a voice
|
||
From midst a Golden Cloud thus milde was heard.
|
||
Servant of God, well done, well hast thou fought
|
||
The better fight, who single hast maintaind
|
||
Against revolted multitudes the Cause
|
||
Of Truth, in word mightier then they in Armes;
|
||
And for the testimonie of Truth hast born
|
||
Universal reproach, far worse to beare
|
||
Then violence: for this was all thy care
|
||
To stand approv'd in sight of God, though Worlds
|
||
Judg'd thee perverse: the easier conquest now
|
||
Remains thee, aided by this host of friends,
|
||
Back on thy foes more glorious to return
|
||
Then scornd thou didst depart, and to subdue
|
||
By force, who reason for thir Law refuse,
|
||
Right reason for thir Law, and for thir King
|
||
MESSIAH, who by right of merit Reigns.
|
||
Goe MICHAEL of Celestial Armies Prince,
|
||
And thou in Military prowess next
|
||
GABRIEL, lead forth to Battel these my Sons
|
||
Invincible, lead forth my armed Saints
|
||
By Thousands and by Millions rang'd for fight;
|
||
Equal in number to that Godless crew
|
||
Rebellious, them with Fire and hostile Arms
|
||
Fearless assault, and to the brow of Heav'n
|
||
Pursuing drive them out from God and bliss,
|
||
Into thir place of punishment, the Gulf
|
||
Of TARTARUS, which ready opens wide
|
||
His fiery CHAOS to receave thir fall.
|
||
So spake the Sovran voice, and Clouds began
|
||
To darken all the Hill, and smoak to rowl
|
||
In duskie wreathes, reluctant flames, the signe
|
||
Of wrauth awak't: nor with less dread the loud
|
||
Ethereal Trumpet from on high gan blow:
|
||
At which command the Powers Militant,
|
||
That stood for Heav'n, in mighty Quadrate joyn'd
|
||
Of Union irresistible, mov'd on
|
||
In silence thir bright Legions, to the sound
|
||
Of instrumental Harmonie that breath'd
|
||
Heroic Ardor to advent'rous deeds
|
||
Under thir God-like Leaders, in the Cause
|
||
Of God and his MESSIAH. On they move
|
||
Indissolubly firm; nor obvious Hill,
|
||
Nor streit'ning Vale, nor Wood, nor Stream divides
|
||
Thir perfet ranks; for high above the ground
|
||
Thir march was, and the passive Air upbore
|
||
Thir nimble tread; as when the total kind
|
||
Of Birds in orderly array on wing
|
||
Came summond over EDEN to receive
|
||
Thir names of thee; so over many a tract
|
||
Of Heav'n they march'd, and many a Province wide
|
||
Tenfold the length of this terrene: at last
|
||
Farr in th' Horizon to the North appeer'd
|
||
From skirt to skirt a fierie Region, stretcht
|
||
In battailous aspect, and neerer view
|
||
Bristl'd with upright beams innumerable
|
||
Of rigid Spears, and Helmets throng'd, and Shields
|
||
Various, with boastful Argument portraid,
|
||
The banded Powers of SATAN hasting on
|
||
With furious expedition; for they weend
|
||
That self same day by fight, or by surprize
|
||
To win the Mount of God, and on his Throne
|
||
To set the envier of his State, the proud
|
||
Aspirer, but thir thoughts prov'd fond and vain
|
||
In the mid way: though strange to us it seemd
|
||
At first, that Angel should with Angel warr,
|
||
And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet
|
||
So oft in Festivals of joy and love
|
||
Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire
|
||
Hymning th' Eternal Father: but the shout
|
||
Of Battel now began, and rushing sound
|
||
Of onset ended soon each milder thought.
|
||
High in the midst exalted as a God
|
||
Th' Apostat in his Sun-bright Chariot sate
|
||
Idol of Majestie Divine, enclos'd
|
||
With Flaming Cherubim, and golden Shields;
|
||
Then lighted from his gorgeous Throne, for now
|
||
'Twixt Host and Host but narrow space was left,
|
||
A dreadful interval, and Front to Front
|
||
Presented stood in terrible array
|
||
Of hideous length: before the cloudie Van,
|
||
On the rough edge of battel ere it joyn'd,
|
||
SATAN with vast and haughtie strides advanc't,
|
||
Came towring, armd in Adamant and Gold;
|
||
ABDIEL that sight endur'd not, where he stood
|
||
Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds,
|
||
And thus his own undaunted heart explores.
|
||
O Heav'n! that such resemblance of the Highest
|
||
Should yet remain, where faith and realtie
|
||
Remain not; wherfore should not strength & might
|
||
There fail where Vertue fails, or weakest prove
|
||
Where boldest; though to sight unconquerable?
|
||
His puissance, trusting in th' Almightie's aide,
|
||
I mean to try, whose Reason I have tri'd
|
||
Unsound and false; nor is it aught but just,
|
||
That he who in debate of Truth hath won,
|
||
Should win in Arms, in both disputes alike
|
||
Victor; though brutish that contest and foule,
|
||
When Reason hath to deal with force, yet so
|
||
Most reason is that Reason overcome.
|
||
So pondering, and from his armed Peers
|
||
Forth stepping opposite, half way he met
|
||
His daring foe, at this prevention more
|
||
Incens't, and thus securely him defi'd.
|
||
Proud, art thou met? thy hope was to have reacht
|
||
The highth of thy aspiring unoppos'd,
|
||
The Throne of God unguarded, and his side
|
||
Abandond at the terror of thy Power
|
||
Or potent tongue; fool, not to think how vain
|
||
Against th' Omnipotent to rise in Arms;
|
||
Who out of smallest things could without end
|
||
Have rais'd incessant Armies to defeat
|
||
Thy folly; or with solitarie hand
|
||
Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow
|
||
Unaided could have finisht thee, and whelmd
|
||
Thy Legions under darkness; but thou seest
|
||
All are not of thy Train; there be who Faith
|
||
Prefer, and Pietie to God, though then
|
||
To thee not visible, when I alone
|
||
Seemd in thy World erroneous to dissent
|
||
From all: my Sect thou seest, now learn too late
|
||
How few somtimes may know, when thousands err.
|
||
Whom the grand foe with scornful eye askance
|
||
Thus answerd. Ill for thee, but in wisht houre
|
||
Of my revenge, first sought for thou returnst
|
||
From flight, seditious Angel, to receave
|
||
Thy merited reward, the first assay
|
||
Of this right hand provok't, since first that tongue
|
||
Inspir'd with contradiction durst oppose
|
||
A third part of the Gods, in Synod met
|
||
Thir Deities to assert, who while they feel
|
||
Vigour Divine within them, can allow
|
||
Omnipotence to none. But well thou comst
|
||
Before thy fellows, ambitious to win
|
||
From me som Plume, that thy success may show
|
||
Destruction to the rest: this pause between
|
||
(Unanswerd least thou boast) to let thee know;
|
||
At first I thought that Libertie and Heav'n
|
||
To heav'nly Soules had bin all one; but now
|
||
I see that most through sloth had rather serve,
|
||
Ministring Spirits, traind up in Feast and Song;
|
||
Such hast thou arm'd, the Minstrelsie of Heav'n,
|
||
Servilitie with freedom to contend,
|
||
As both thir deeds compar'd this day shall prove.
|
||
To whom in brief thus ABDIEL stern repli'd.
|
||
Apostat, still thou errst, nor end wilt find
|
||
Of erring, from the path of truth remote:
|
||
Unjustly thou deprav'st it with the name
|
||
Of SERVITUDE to serve whom God ordains,
|
||
Or Nature; God and Nature bid the same,
|
||
When he who rules is worthiest, and excells
|
||
Them whom he governs. This is servitude,
|
||
To serve th' unwise, or him who hath rebelld
|
||
Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee,
|
||
Thy self not free, but to thy self enthrall'd;
|
||
Yet leudly dar'st our ministring upbraid.
|
||
Reign thou in Hell thy Kingdom, let mee serve
|
||
In Heav'n God ever blessed, and his Divine
|
||
Behests obey, worthiest to be obey'd,
|
||
Yet Chains in Hell, not Realms expect: mean while
|
||
From mee returnd, as erst thou saidst, from flight,
|
||
This greeting on thy impious Crest receive.
|
||
So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high,
|
||
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell
|
||
On the proud Crest of SATAN, that no sight,
|
||
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his Shield
|
||
Such ruin intercept: ten paces huge
|
||
He back recoild; the tenth on bended knee
|
||
His massie Spear upstaid; as if on Earth
|
||
Winds under ground or waters forcing way
|
||
Sidelong, had push't a Mountain from his seat
|
||
Half sunk with all his Pines. Amazement seis'd
|
||
The Rebel Thrones, but greater rage to see
|
||
Thus foil'd thir mightiest, ours joy filld, and shout,
|
||
Presage of Victorie and fierce desire
|
||
Of Battel: whereat MICHAEL bid sound
|
||
Th' Arch-Angel trumpet; through the vast of Heav'n
|
||
It sounded, and the faithful Armies rung
|
||
HOSANNA to the Highest: nor stood at gaze
|
||
The adverse Legions, nor less hideous joyn'd
|
||
The horrid shock: now storming furie rose,
|
||
And clamour such as heard in Heav'n till now
|
||
Was never, Arms on Armour clashing bray'd
|
||
Horrible discord, and the madding Wheeles
|
||
Of brazen Chariots rag'd; dire was the noise
|
||
Of conflict; over head the dismal hiss
|
||
Of fiery Darts in flaming volies flew,
|
||
And flying vaulted either Host with fire.
|
||
Sounder fierie Cope together rush'd
|
||
Both Battels maine, with ruinous assault
|
||
And inextinguishable rage; all Heav'n
|
||
Resounded, and had Earth bin then, all Earth
|
||
Had to her Center shook. What wonder? when
|
||
Millions of fierce encountring Angels fought
|
||
On either side, the least of whom could weild
|
||
These Elements, and arm him with the force
|
||
Of all thir Regions: how much more of Power
|
||
Armie against Armie numberless to raise
|
||
Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb,
|
||
Though not destroy, thir happie Native seat;
|
||
Had not th' Eternal King Omnipotent
|
||
From his strong hold of Heav'n high over-rul'd
|
||
And limited thir might; though numberd such
|
||
As each divided Legion might have seemd
|
||
A numerous Host, in strength each armed hand
|
||
A Legion; led in fight, yet Leader seemd
|
||
Each Warriour single as in Chief, expert
|
||
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway
|
||
Of Battel, open when, and when to close
|
||
The ridges of grim Warr; no thought of flight,
|
||
None of retreat, no unbecoming deed
|
||
That argu'd fear; each on himself reli'd,
|
||
As onely in his arm the moment lay
|
||
Of victorie; deeds of eternal fame
|
||
Were don, but infinite: for wide was spred
|
||
That Warr and various; somtimes on firm ground
|
||
A standing fight, then soaring on main wing
|
||
Tormented all the Air; all Air seemd then
|
||
Conflicting Fire: long time in eeven scale
|
||
The Battel hung; till SATAN, who that day
|
||
Prodigious power had shewn, and met in Armes
|
||
No equal, raunging through the dire attack
|
||
Of fighting Seraphim confus'd, at length
|
||
Saw where the Sword of MICHAEL smote, and fell'd
|
||
Squadrons at once, with huge two-handed sway
|
||
Brandisht aloft the horrid edge came down
|
||
Wide wasting; such destruction to withstand
|
||
He hasted, and oppos'd the rockie Orb
|
||
Of tenfold Adamant, his ample Shield
|
||
A vast circumference: At his approach
|
||
The great Arch-Angel from his warlike toile
|
||
Surceas'd, and glad as hoping here to end
|
||
Intestine War in Heav'n, the arch foe subdu'd
|
||
Or Captive drag'd in Chains, with hostile frown
|
||
And visage all enflam'd first thus began.
|
||
Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,
|
||
Unnam'd in Heav'n, now plenteous, as thou seest
|
||
These Acts of hateful strife, hateful to all,
|
||
Though heaviest by just measure on thy self
|
||
And thy adherents: how hast thou disturb'd
|
||
Heav'ns blessed peace, and into Nature brought
|
||
Miserie, uncreated till the crime
|
||
Of thy Rebellion? how hast thou instill'd
|
||
Thy malice into thousands, once upright
|
||
And faithful, now prov'd false. But think not here
|
||
To trouble Holy Rest; Heav'n casts thee out
|
||
From all her Confines. Heav'n the seat of bliss
|
||
Brooks not the works of violence and Warr.
|
||
Hence then, and evil go with thee along
|
||
Thy ofspring, to the place of evil, Hell,
|
||
Thou and thy wicked crew; there mingle broiles,
|
||
Ere this avenging Sword begin thy doome,
|
||
Or som more sudden vengeance wing'd from God
|
||
Precipitate thee with augmented paine.
|
||
So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thus
|
||
The Adversarie. Nor think thou with wind
|
||
Of airie threats to aw whom yet with deeds
|
||
Thou canst not. Hast thou turnd the least of these
|
||
To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise
|
||
Unvanquisht, easier to transact with mee
|
||
That thou shouldst hope, imperious, & with threats
|
||
To chase me hence? erre not that so shall end
|
||
The strife which thou call'st evil, but wee style
|
||
The strife of Glorie: which we mean to win,
|
||
Or turn this Heav'n it self into the Hell
|
||
Thou fablest, here however to dwell free,
|
||
If not to reign: mean while thy utmost force,
|
||
And join him nam'd ALMIGHTIE to thy aid,
|
||
I flie not, but have sought thee farr and nigh.
|
||
They ended parle, and both addrest for fight
|
||
Unspeakable; for who, though with the tongue
|
||
Of Angels, can relate, or to what things
|
||
Liken on Earth conspicuous, that may lift
|
||
Human imagination to such highth
|
||
Of Godlike Power: for likest Gods they seemd,
|
||
Stood they or mov'd, in stature, motion, arms
|
||
Fit to decide the Empire of great Heav'n.
|
||
Now wav'd thir fierie Swords, and in the Aire
|
||
Made horrid Circles; two broad Suns thir Shields
|
||
Blaz'd opposite, while expectation stood
|
||
In horror; from each hand with speed retir'd
|
||
Where erst was thickest fight, th' Angelic throng,
|
||
And left large field, unsafe within the wind
|
||
Of such commotion, such as to set forth
|
||
Great things by small, If Natures concord broke,
|
||
Among the Constellations warr were sprung,
|
||
Two Planets rushing from aspect maligne
|
||
Of fiercest opposition in mid Skie,
|
||
Should combat, and thir jarring Sphears confound.
|
||
Together both with next to Almightie Arme,
|
||
Uplifted imminent one stroke they aim'd
|
||
That might determine, and not need repeate,
|
||
As not of power, at once; nor odds appeerd
|
||
In might or swift prevention; but the sword
|
||
Of MICHAEL from the Armorie of God
|
||
Was giv'n him temperd so, that neither keen
|
||
Nor solid might resist that edge: it met
|
||
The sword of SATAN with steep force to smite
|
||
Descending, and in half cut sheere, nor staid,
|
||
But with swift wheele reverse, deep entring shar'd
|
||
All his right side; then SATAN first knew pain,
|
||
And writh'd him to and fro convolv'd; so sore
|
||
The griding sword with discontinuous wound
|
||
Pass'd through him, but th' Ethereal substance clos'd
|
||
Not long divisible, and from the gash
|
||
A stream of Nectarous humor issuing flow'd
|
||
Sanguin, such as Celestial Spirits may bleed,
|
||
And all his Armour staind ere while so bright.
|
||
Forthwith on all sides to his aide was run
|
||
By Angels many and strong, who interpos'd
|
||
Defence, while others bore him on thir Shields
|
||
Back to his Chariot; where it stood retir'd
|
||
From off the files of warr; there they him laid
|
||
Gnashing for anguish and despite and shame
|
||
To find himself not matchless, and his pride
|
||
Humbl'd by such rebuke, so farr beneath
|
||
His confidence to equal God in power.
|
||
Yet soon he heal'd; for Spirits that live throughout
|
||
Vital in every part, not as frail man
|
||
In Entrailes, Heart or Head, Liver or Reines,
|
||
Cannot but by annihilating die;
|
||
Nor in thir liquid texture mortal wound
|
||
Receive, no more then can the fluid Aire:
|
||
All Heart they live, all Head, all Eye, all Eare,
|
||
All Intellect, all Sense, and as they please,
|
||
They Limb themselves, and colour, shape or size
|
||
Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare.
|
||
Mean while in other parts like deeds deservd
|
||
Memorial, where the might of GABRIEL fought,
|
||
And with fierce Ensignes pierc'd the deep array
|
||
Of MOLOC furious King, who him defi'd,
|
||
And at his Chariot wheeles to drag him bound
|
||
Threatn'd, nor from the Holie One of Heav'n
|
||
Refrein'd his tongue blasphemous; but anon
|
||
Down clov'n to the waste, with shatterd Armes
|
||
And uncouth paine fled bellowing. On each wing
|
||
URIEL and RAPHAEL his vaunting foe,
|
||
Though huge, and in a Rock of Diamond Armd,
|
||
Vanquish'd ADRAMELEC, and ASMADAI,
|
||
Two potent Thrones, that to be less then Gods
|
||
Disdain'd, but meaner thoughts learnd in thir flight,
|
||
Mangl'd with gastly wounds through Plate and Maile.
|
||
Nor stood unmindful ABDIEL to annoy
|
||
The Atheist crew, but with redoubl'd blow
|
||
ARIEL and ARIOC, and the violence
|
||
Of RAMIEL scorcht and blasted overthrew.
|
||
I might relate of thousands, and thir names
|
||
Eternize here on Earth; but those elect
|
||
Angels contented with thir fame in Heav'n
|
||
Seek not the praise of men: the other sort
|
||
In might though wondrous and in Acts of Warr,
|
||
Nor of Renown less eager, yet by doome
|
||
Canceld from Heav'n and sacred memorie,
|
||
Nameless in dark oblivion let them dwell.
|
||
For strength from Truth divided and from Just,
|
||
Illaudable, naught merits but dispraise
|
||
And ignominie, yet to glorie aspires
|
||
Vain glorious, and through infamie seeks fame:
|
||
Therfore Eternal silence be thir doome.
|
||
And now thir mightiest quelld, the battel swerv'd,
|
||
With many an inrode gor'd; deformed rout
|
||
Enter'd, and foul disorder; all the ground
|
||
With shiverd armour strow'n, and on a heap
|
||
Chariot and Charioter lay overturnd
|
||
And fierie foaming Steeds; what stood, recoyld
|
||
Orewearied, through the faint Satanic Host
|
||
Defensive scarse, or with pale fear surpris'd,
|
||
Then first with fear surpris'd and sense of paine
|
||
Fled ignominious, to such evil brought
|
||
By sinne of disobedience, till that hour
|
||
Not liable to fear or flight or paine.
|
||
Far otherwise th' inviolable Saints
|
||
In Cubic Phalanx firm advanc't entire,
|
||
Invulnerable, impenitrably arm'd:
|
||
Such high advantages thir innocence
|
||
Gave them above thir foes, not to have sinnd,
|
||
Not to have disobei'd; in fight they stood
|
||
Unwearied, unobnoxious to be pain'd
|
||
By wound, though from thir place by violence mov'd.
|
||
Now Night her course began, and over Heav'n
|
||
Inducing darkness, grateful truce impos'd,
|
||
And silence on the odious dinn of Warr:
|
||
Under her Cloudie covert both retir'd,
|
||
Victor and Vanquisht: on the foughten field
|
||
MICHAEL and his Angels prevalent
|
||
Encamping, plac'd in Guard thir Watches round,
|
||
Cherubic waving fires: on th' other part
|
||
SATAN with his rebellious disappeerd,
|
||
Far in the dark dislodg'd, and void of rest,
|
||
His Potentates to Councel call'd by night;
|
||
And in the midst thus undismai'd began.
|
||
O now in danger tri'd, now known in Armes
|
||
Not to be overpowerd, Companions deare,
|
||
Found worthy not of Libertie alone,
|
||
Too mean pretense, but what we more affect,
|
||
Honour, Dominion, Glorie, and renowne,
|
||
Who have sustaind one day in doubtful fight,
|
||
(And if one day, why not Eternal dayes?)
|
||
What Heavens Lord had powerfullest to send
|
||
Against us from about his Throne, and judg'd
|
||
Sufficient to subdue us to his will,
|
||
But proves not so: then fallible, it seems,
|
||
Of future we may deem him, though till now
|
||
Omniscient thought. True is, less firmly arm'd,
|
||
Some disadvantage we endur'd and paine,
|
||
Till now not known, but known as soon contemnd,
|
||
Since now we find this our Empyreal forme
|
||
Incapable of mortal injurie
|
||
Imperishable, and though peirc'd with wound,
|
||
Soon closing, and by native vigour heal'd.
|
||
Of evil then so small as easie think
|
||
The remedie; perhaps more valid Armes,
|
||
Weapons more violent, when next we meet,
|
||
May serve to better us, and worse our foes,
|
||
Or equal what between us made the odds,
|
||
In Nature none: if other hidden cause
|
||
Left them Superiour, while we can preserve
|
||
Unhurt our mindes, and understanding sound,
|
||
Due search and consultation will disclose.
|
||
He sat; and in th' assembly next upstood
|
||
NISROC, of Principalities the prime;
|
||
As one he stood escap't from cruel fight,
|
||
Sore toild, his riv'n Armes to havoc hewn,
|
||
And cloudie in aspect thus answering spake.
|
||
Deliverer from new Lords, leader to free
|
||
Enjoyment of our right as Gods; yet hard
|
||
For Gods, and too unequal work we find
|
||
Against unequal armes to fight in paine,
|
||
Against unpaind, impassive; from which evil
|
||
Ruin must needs ensue; for what availes
|
||
Valour or strength, though matchless, quelld with pain
|
||
Which all subdues, and makes remiss the hands
|
||
Of Mightiest. Sense of pleasure we may well
|
||
Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine,
|
||
But live content, which is the calmest life:
|
||
But pain is perfet miserie, the worst
|
||
Of evils, and excessive, overturnes
|
||
All patience. He who therefore can invent
|
||
With what more forcible we may offend
|
||
Our yet unwounded Enemies, or arme
|
||
Our selves with like defence, to mee deserves
|
||
No less then for deliverance what we owe.
|
||
Whereto with look compos'd SATAN repli'd.
|
||
Not uninvented that, which thou aright
|
||
Beleivst so main to our success, I bring;
|
||
Which of us who beholds the bright surface
|
||
Of this Ethereous mould whereon we stand,
|
||
This continent of spacious Heav'n, adornd
|
||
With Plant, Fruit, Flour Ambrosial, Gemms & Gold,
|
||
Whose Eye so superficially surveyes
|
||
These things, as not to mind from whence they grow
|
||
Deep under ground, materials dark and crude,
|
||
Of spiritous and fierie spume, till toucht
|
||
With Heav'ns ray, and temperd they shoot forth
|
||
So beauteous, op'ning to the ambient light.
|
||
These in thir dark Nativitie the Deep
|
||
Shall yeild us, pregnant with infernal flame,
|
||
Which into hallow Engins long and round
|
||
Thick-rammd, at th' other bore with touch of fire
|
||
Dilated and infuriate shall send forth
|
||
From far with thundring noise among our foes
|
||
Such implements of mischief as shall dash
|
||
To pieces, and orewhelm whatever stands
|
||
Adverse, that they shall fear we have disarmd
|
||
The Thunderer of his only dreaded bolt.
|
||
Nor long shall be our labour, yet ere dawne,
|
||
Effect shall end our wish. Mean while revive;
|
||
Abandon fear; to strength and counsel joind
|
||
Think nothing hard, much less to be despaird.
|
||
He ended, and his words thir drooping chere
|
||
Enlightn'd, and thir languisht hope reviv'd.
|
||
Th' invention all admir'd, and each, how hee
|
||
To be th' inventer miss'd, so easie it seemd
|
||
Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought
|
||
Impossible: yet haply of thy Race
|
||
In future dayes, if Malice should abound,
|
||
Some one intent on mischief, or inspir'd
|
||
With dev'lish machination might devise
|
||
Like instrument to plague the Sons of men
|
||
For sin, on warr and mutual slaughter bent.
|
||
Forthwith from Councel to the work they flew,
|
||
None arguing stood, innumerable hands
|
||
Were ready, in a moment up they turnd
|
||
Wide the Celestial soile, and saw beneath
|
||
Th' originals of Nature in thir crude
|
||
Conception; Sulphurous and Nitrous Foame
|
||
They found, they mingl'd, and with suttle Art,
|
||
Concocted and adusted they reduc'd
|
||
To blackest grain, and into store conveyd:
|
||
Part hidd'n veins diggd up (nor hath this Earth
|
||
Entrails unlike) of Mineral and Stone,
|
||
Whereof to found thir Engins and thir Balls
|
||
Of missive ruin; part incentive reed
|
||
Provide, pernicious with one touch to fire.
|
||
So all ere day spring, under conscious Night
|
||
Secret they finish'd, and in order set,
|
||
With silent circumspection unespi'd.
|
||
Now when fair Morn Orient in Heav'n appeerd
|
||
Up rose the Victor Angels, and to Arms
|
||
The matin Trumpet Sung: in Arms they stood
|
||
Of Golden Panoplie, refulgent Host,
|
||
Soon banded; others from the dawning Hills
|
||
Lookd round, and Scouts each Coast light-armed scoure,
|
||
Each quarter, to descrie the distant foe,
|
||
Where lodg'd, or whither fled, or if for fight,
|
||
In motion or in alt: him soon they met
|
||
Under spred Ensignes moving nigh, in slow
|
||
But firm Battalion; back with speediest Sail
|
||
ZEPHIEL, of Cherubim the swiftest wing,
|
||
Came flying, and in mid Aire aloud thus cri'd.
|
||
Arme, Warriours, Arme for fight, the foe at hand,
|
||
Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit
|
||
This day, fear not his flight; so thick a Cloud
|
||
He comes, and settl'd in his face I see
|
||
Sad resolution and secure: let each
|
||
His Adamantine coat gird well, and each
|
||
Fit well his Helme, gripe fast his orbed Shield,
|
||
Born eevn or high, for this day will pour down,
|
||
If I conjecture aught, no drizling showr,
|
||
But ratling storm of Arrows barbd with fire.
|
||
So warnd he them aware themselves, and soon
|
||
In order, quit of all impediment;
|
||
Instant without disturb they took Allarm,
|
||
And onward move Embattelld; when behold
|
||
Not distant far with heavie pace the Foe
|
||
Approaching gross and huge; in hollow Cube
|
||
Training his devilish Enginrie, impal'd
|
||
On every side with shaddowing Squadrons Deep,
|
||
To hide the fraud. At interview both stood
|
||
A while, but suddenly at head appeerd
|
||
SATAN: And thus was heard Commanding loud.
|
||
Vangard, to Right and Left the Front unfould;
|
||
That all may see who hate us, how we seek
|
||
Peace and composure, and with open brest
|
||
Stand readie to receive them, if they like
|
||
Our overture, and turn not back perverse;
|
||
But that I doubt, however witness Heaven,
|
||
Heav'n witness thou anon, while we discharge
|
||
Freely our part: yee who appointed stand
|
||
Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch
|
||
What we propound, and loud that all may hear.
|
||
So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce
|
||
Had ended; when to Right and Left the Front
|
||
Divided, and to either Flank retir'd.
|
||
Which to our eyes discoverd new and strange,
|
||
A triple-mounted row of Pillars laid
|
||
On Wheels (for like to Pillars most they seem'd
|
||
Or hollow'd bodies made of Oak or Firr
|
||
With branches lopt, in Wood or Mountain fell'd)
|
||
Brass, Iron, Stonie mould, had not thir mouthes
|
||
With hideous orifice gap't on us wide,
|
||
Portending hollow truce; at each behind
|
||
A Seraph stood, and in his hand a Reed
|
||
Stood waving tipt with fire; while we suspense,
|
||
Collected stood within our thoughts amus'd,
|
||
Not long, for sudden all at once thir Reeds
|
||
Put forth, and to a narrow vent appli'd
|
||
With nicest touch. Immediate in a flame,
|
||
But soon obscur'd with smoak, all Heav'n appeerd,
|
||
From those deep-throated Engins belcht, whose roar
|
||
Emboweld with outragious noise the Air,
|
||
And all her entrails tore, disgorging foule
|
||
Thir devillish glut, chaind Thunderbolts and Hail
|
||
Of Iron Globes, which on the Victor Host
|
||
Level'd, with such impetuous furie smote,
|
||
That whom they hit, none on thir feet might stand,
|
||
Though standing else as Rocks, but down they fell
|
||
By thousands, Angel on Arch-Angel rowl'd;
|
||
The sooner for thir Arms, unarm'd they might
|
||
Have easily as Spirits evaded swift
|
||
By quick contraction or remove; but now
|
||
Foule dissipation follow'd and forc't rout;
|
||
Nor serv'd it to relax thir serried files.
|
||
What should they do? if on they rusht, repulse
|
||
Repeated, and indecent overthrow
|
||
Doubl'd, would render them yet more despis'd,
|
||
And to thir foes a laughter; for in view
|
||
Stood rankt of Seraphim another row
|
||
In posture to displode thir second tire
|
||
Of Thunder: back defeated to return
|
||
They worse abhorr'd. SATAN beheld thir plight,
|
||
And to his Mates thus in derision call'd.
|
||
O Friends, why come not on these Victors proud?
|
||
Ere while they fierce were coming, and when wee,
|
||
To entertain them fair with open Front
|
||
And Brest, (what could we more?) propounded terms
|
||
Of composition, strait they chang'd thir minds,
|
||
Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell,
|
||
As they would dance, yet for a dance they seemd
|
||
Somwhat extravagant and wilde, perhaps
|
||
For joy of offerd peace: but I suppose
|
||
If our proposals once again were heard
|
||
We should compel them to a quick result.
|
||
To whom thus BELIAL in like gamesom mood.
|
||
Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight,
|
||
Of hard contents, and full of force urg'd home,
|
||
Such as we might perceive amus'd them all,
|
||
And stumbl'd many, who receives them right,
|
||
Had need from head to foot well understand;
|
||
Not understood, this gift they have besides,
|
||
They shew us when our foes walk not upright.
|
||
So they among themselves in pleasant veine
|
||
Stood scoffing, highthn'd in thir thoughts beyond
|
||
All doubt of Victorie, eternal might
|
||
To match with thir inventions they presum'd
|
||
So easie, and of his Thunder made a scorn,
|
||
And all his Host derided, while they stood
|
||
A while in trouble; but they stood not long,
|
||
Rage prompted them at length, & found them arms
|
||
Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose.
|
||
Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power
|
||
Which God hath in his mighty Angels plac'd)
|
||
Thir Arms away they threw, and to the Hills
|
||
(For Earth hath this variety from Heav'n
|
||
Of pleasure situate in Hill and Dale)
|
||
Light as the Lightning glimps they ran, they flew,
|
||
From thir foundations loosning to and fro
|
||
They pluckt the seated Hills with all thir load,
|
||
Rocks, Waters, Woods, and by the shaggie tops
|
||
Up lifting bore them in thir hands: Amaze,
|
||
Be sure, and terrour seis'd the rebel Host,
|
||
When coming towards them so dread they saw
|
||
The bottom of the Mountains upward turn'd,
|
||
Till on those cursed Engins triple-row
|
||
They saw them whelmd, and all thir confidence
|
||
Under the weight of Mountains buried deep,
|
||
Themselves invaded next, and on thir heads
|
||
Main Promontories flung, which in the Air
|
||
Came shadowing, and opprest whole Legions arm'd,
|
||
Thir armor help'd thir harm, crush't in and brus'd
|
||
Into thir substance pent, which wrought them pain
|
||
Implacable, and many a dolorous groan,
|
||
Long strugling underneath, ere they could wind
|
||
Out of such prison, though Spirits of purest light,
|
||
Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown.
|
||
The rest in imitation to like Armes
|
||
Betook them, and the neighbouring Hills uptore;
|
||
So Hills amid the Air encounterd Hills
|
||
Hurl'd to and fro with jaculation dire,
|
||
That under ground they fought in dismal shade;
|
||
Infernal noise; Warr seem'd a civil Game
|
||
To this uproar; horrid confusion heapt
|
||
Upon confusion rose: and now all Heav'n
|
||
Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspred,
|
||
Had not th' Almightie Father where he sits
|
||
Shrin'd in his Sanctuarie of Heav'n secure,
|
||
Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen
|
||
This tumult, and permitted all, advis'd:
|
||
That his great purpose he might so fulfill,
|
||
To honour his Anointed Son aveng'd
|
||
Upon his enemies, and to declare
|
||
All power on him transferr'd: whence to his Son
|
||
Th' Assessor of his Throne he thus began.
|
||
Effulgence of my Glorie, Son belov'd,
|
||
Son in whose face invisible is beheld
|
||
Visibly, what by Deitie I am,
|
||
And in whose hand what by Decree I doe,
|
||
Second Omnipotence, two dayes are past,
|
||
Two dayes, as we compute the dayes of Heav'n,
|
||
Since MICHAEL and his Powers went forth to tame
|
||
These disobedient; sore hath been thir fight,
|
||
As likeliest was, when two such Foes met arm'd;
|
||
For to themselves I left them, and thou knowst,
|
||
Equal in their Creation they were form'd,
|
||
Save what sin hath impaird, which yet hath wrought
|
||
Insensibly, for I suspend thir doom;
|
||
Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last
|
||
Endless, and no solution will be found:
|
||
Warr wearied hath perform'd what Warr can do,
|
||
And to disorder'd rage let loose the reines,
|
||
With Mountains as with Weapons arm'd, which makes
|
||
Wild work in Heav'n, and dangerous to the maine.
|
||
Two dayes are therefore past, the third is thine;
|
||
For thee I have ordain'd it, and thus farr
|
||
Have sufferd, that the Glorie may be thine
|
||
Of ending this great Warr, since none but Thou
|
||
Can end it. Into thee such Vertue and Grace
|
||
Immense I have transfus'd, that all may know
|
||
In Heav'n and Hell thy Power above compare,
|
||
And this perverse Commotion governd thus,
|
||
To manifest thee worthiest to be Heir
|
||
Of all things, to be Heir and to be King
|
||
By Sacred Unction, thy deserved right.
|
||
Go then thou Mightiest in thy Fathers might,
|
||
Ascend my Chariot, guide the rapid Wheeles
|
||
That shake Heav'ns basis, bring forth all my Warr,
|
||
My Bow and Thunder, my Almightie Arms
|
||
Gird on, and Sword upon thy puissant Thigh;
|
||
Pursue these sons of Darkness, drive them out
|
||
From all Heav'ns bounds into the utter Deep:
|
||
There let them learn, as likes them, to despise
|
||
God and MESSIAH his anointed King.
|
||
He said, and on his Son with Rayes direct
|
||
Shon full, he all his Father full exprest
|
||
Ineffably into his face receiv'd,
|
||
And thus the filial Godhead answering spake.
|
||
O Father, O Supream of heav'nly Thrones,
|
||
First, Highest, Holiest, Best, thou alwayes seekst
|
||
To glorifie thy Son, I alwayes thee,
|
||
As is most just; this I my Glorie account,
|
||
My exaltation, and my whole delight,
|
||
That thou in me well pleas'd, declarst thy will
|
||
Fulfill'd, which to fulfil is all my bliss.
|
||
Scepter and Power, thy giving, I assume,
|
||
And gladlier shall resign, when in the end
|
||
Thou shalt be All in All, and I in thee
|
||
For ever, and in mee all whom thou lov'st:
|
||
But whom thou hat'st, I hate, and can put on
|
||
Thy terrors, as I put thy mildness on,
|
||
Image of thee in all things; and shall soon,
|
||
Armd with thy might, rid heav'n of these rebell'd,
|
||
To thir prepar'd ill Mansion driven down
|
||
To chains of Darkness, and th' undying Worm,
|
||
That from thy just obedience could revolt,
|
||
Whom to obey is happiness entire.
|
||
Then shall thy Saints unmixt, and from th' impure
|
||
Farr separate, circling thy holy Mount
|
||
Unfained HALLELUIAHS to thee sing,
|
||
Hymns of high praise, and I among them chief.
|
||
So said, he o're his Scepter bowing, rose
|
||
From the right hand of Glorie where he sate,
|
||
And the third sacred Morn began to shine
|
||
Dawning through Heav'n: forth rush'd with whirlwind sound
|
||
The Chariot of Paternal Deitie,
|
||
Flashing thick flames, Wheele within Wheele undrawn,
|
||
It self instinct with Spirit, but convoyd
|
||
By four Cherubic shapes, four Faces each
|
||
Had wondrous, as with Starrs thir bodies all
|
||
And Wings were set with Eyes, with Eyes the Wheels
|
||
Of Beril, and careering Fires between;
|
||
Over thir heads a chrystal Firmament,
|
||
Whereon a Saphir Throne, inlaid with pure
|
||
Amber, and colours of the showrie Arch.
|
||
Hee in Celestial Panoplie all armd
|
||
Of radiant URIM, work divinely wrought,
|
||
Ascended, at his right hand Victorie
|
||
Sate Eagle-wing'd, beside him hung his Bow
|
||
And Quiver with three-bolted Thunder stor'd,
|
||
And from about him fierce Effusion rowld
|
||
Of smoak and bickering flame, and sparkles dire;
|
||
Attended with ten thousand thousand Saints,
|
||
He onward came, farr off his coming shon,
|
||
And twentie thousand (I thir number heard)
|
||
Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen:
|
||
Hee on the wings of Cherub rode sublime
|
||
On the Crystallin Skie, in Saphir Thron'd.
|
||
Illustrious farr and wide, but by his own
|
||
First seen, them unexpected joy surpriz'd,
|
||
When the great Ensign of MESSIAH blaz'd
|
||
Aloft by Angels born, his Sign in Heav'n:
|
||
Under whose Conduct MICHAEL soon reduc'd
|
||
His Armie, circumfus'd on either Wing,
|
||
Under thir Head imbodied all in one.
|
||
Before him Power Divine his way prepar'd;
|
||
At his command the uprooted Hills retir'd
|
||
Each to his place, they heard his voice and went
|
||
Obsequious, Heav'n his wonted face renewd,
|
||
And with fresh Flourets Hill and Valley smil'd.
|
||
This saw his hapless Foes, but stood obdur'd,
|
||
And to rebellious fight rallied thir Powers
|
||
Insensate, hope conceiving from despair.
|
||
In heav'nly Spirits could such perverseness dwell?
|
||
But to convince the proud what Signs availe,
|
||
Or Wonders move th' obdurate to relent?
|
||
They hard'nd more by what might most reclame,
|
||
Grieving to see his Glorie, at the sight
|
||
Took envie, and aspiring to his highth,
|
||
Stood reimbattell'd fierce, by force or fraud
|
||
Weening to prosper, and at length prevaile
|
||
Against God and MESSIAH, or to fall
|
||
In universal ruin last, and now
|
||
To final Battel drew, disdaining flight,
|
||
Or faint retreat; when the great Son of God
|
||
To all his Host on either hand thus spake.
|
||
Stand still in bright array ye Saints, here stand
|
||
Ye Angels arm'd, this day from Battel rest;
|
||
Faithful hath been your Warfare, and of God
|
||
Accepted, fearless in his righteous Cause,
|
||
And as ye have receivd, so have ye don
|
||
Invincibly; but of this cursed crew
|
||
The punishment to other hand belongs,
|
||
Vengeance is his, or whose he sole appoints;
|
||
Number to this dayes work is not ordain'd
|
||
Nor multitude, stand onely and behold
|
||
Gods indignation on these Godless pourd
|
||
By mee; not you but mee they have despis'd,
|
||
Yet envied; against mee is all thir rage,
|
||
Because the Father, t' whom in Heav'n supream
|
||
Kingdom and Power and Glorie appertains,
|
||
Hath honourd me according to his will.
|
||
Therefore to mee thir doom he hath assig'n'd;
|
||
That they may have thir wish, to trie with mee
|
||
In Battel which the stronger proves, they all,
|
||
Or I alone against them, since by strength
|
||
They measure all, of other excellence
|
||
Not emulous, nor care who them excells;
|
||
Nor other strife with them do I voutsafe.
|
||
So spake the Son, and into terrour chang'd
|
||
His count'nance too severe to be beheld
|
||
And full of wrauth bent on his Enemies.
|
||
At once the Four spred out thir Starrie wings
|
||
With dreadful shade contiguous, and the Orbes
|
||
Of his fierce Chariot rowld, as with the sound
|
||
Of torrent Floods, or of a numerous Host.
|
||
Hee on his impious Foes right onward drove,
|
||
Gloomie as Night; under his burning Wheeles
|
||
The stedfast Empyrean shook throughout,
|
||
All but the Throne it self of God. Full soon
|
||
Among them he arriv'd; in his right hand
|
||
Grasping ten thousand Thunders, which he sent
|
||
Before him, such as in thir Soules infix'd
|
||
Plagues; they astonisht all resistance lost,
|
||
All courage; down thir idle weapons drop'd;
|
||
O're Shields and Helmes, and helmed heads he rode
|
||
Of Thrones and mighty Seraphim prostrate,
|
||
That wish'd the Mountains now might be again
|
||
Thrown on them as a shelter from his ire.
|
||
Nor less on either side tempestuous fell
|
||
His arrows, from the fourfold-visag'd Foure,
|
||
Distinct with eyes, and from the living Wheels,
|
||
Distinct alike with multitude of eyes,
|
||
One Spirit in them rul'd, and every eye
|
||
Glar'd lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire
|
||
Among th' accurst, that witherd all thir strength,
|
||
And of thir wonted vigour left them draind,
|
||
Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fall'n.
|
||
Yet half his strength he put not forth, but check'd
|
||
His Thunder in mid Volie, for he meant
|
||
Not to destroy, but root them out of Heav'n:
|
||
The overthrown he rais'd, and as a Heard
|
||
Of Goats or timerous flock together throngd
|
||
Drove them before him Thunder-struck, pursu'd
|
||
With terrors and with furies to the bounds
|
||
And Chrystall wall of Heav'n, which op'ning wide,
|
||
Rowld inward, and a spacious Gap disclos'd
|
||
Into the wastful Deep; the monstrous sight
|
||
Strook them with horror backward, but far worse
|
||
Urg'd them behind; headlong themselvs they threw
|
||
Down from the verge of Heav'n, Eternal wrauth
|
||
Burnt after them to the bottomless pit.
|
||
Hell heard th' unsufferable noise, Hell saw
|
||
Heav'n ruining from Heav'n and would have fled
|
||
Affrighted; but strict Fate had cast too deep
|
||
Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound.
|
||
Nine dayes they fell; confounded CHAOS roard,
|
||
And felt tenfold confusion in thir fall
|
||
Through his wilde Anarchie, so huge a rout
|
||
Incumberd him with ruin: Hell at last
|
||
Yawning receavd them whole, and on them clos'd,
|
||
Hell thir fit habitation fraught with fire
|
||
Unquenchable, the house of woe and paine.
|
||
Disburd'nd Heav'n rejoic'd, and soon repaird
|
||
Her mural breach, returning whence it rowld.
|
||
Sole Victor from th' expulsion of his Foes
|
||
MESSIAH his triumphal Chariot turnd:
|
||
To meet him all his Saints, who silent stood
|
||
Eye witnesses of his Almightie Acts,
|
||
With Jubilie advanc'd; and as they went,
|
||
Shaded with branching Palme, each order bright,
|
||
Sung Triumph, and him sung Victorious King,
|
||
Son, Heire, and Lord, to him Dominion giv'n,
|
||
Worthiest to Reign: he celebrated rode
|
||
Triumphant through mid Heav'n, into the Courts
|
||
And Temple of his mightie Father Thron'd
|
||
On high; who into Glorie him receav'd,
|
||
Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss.
|
||
Thus measuring things in Heav'n by things on Earth
|
||
At thy request, and that thou maist beware
|
||
By what is past, to thee I have reveal'd
|
||
What might have else to human Race bin hid;
|
||
The discord which befel, and Warr in Heav'n
|
||
Among th' Angelic Powers, and the deep fall
|
||
Of those too high aspiring, who rebelld
|
||
With SATAN, hee who envies now thy state,
|
||
Who now is plotting how he may seduce
|
||
Thee also from obedience, that with him
|
||
Bereavd of happiness thou maist partake
|
||
His punishment, Eternal miserie;
|
||
Which would be all his solace and revenge,
|
||
As a despite don against the most High,
|
||
Thee once to gaine Companion of his woe.
|
||
But list'n not to his Temptations, warne
|
||
Thy weaker; let it profit thee to have heard
|
||
By terrible Example the reward
|
||
Of disobedience; firm they might have stood,
|
||
Yet fell; remember, and fear to transgress.
|
||
THE END OF THE SIXTH BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST.
|
||
BOOK VII.
|
||
|
||
Descend from Heav'n URANIA, by that name
|
||
If rightly thou art call'd, whose Voice divine
|
||
Following, above th' OLYMPIAN Hill I soare,
|
||
Above the flight of PEGASEAN wing.
|
||
The meaning, not the Name I call: for thou
|
||
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
|
||
Of old OLYMPUS dwell'st, but Heav'nlie borne,
|
||
Before the Hills appeerd, or Fountain flow'd,
|
||
Thou with Eternal wisdom didst converse,
|
||
Wisdom thy Sister, and with her didst play
|
||
In presence of th' Almightie Father, pleas'd
|
||
With thy Celestial Song. Up led by thee
|
||
Into the Heav'n of Heav'ns I have presum'd,
|
||
An Earthlie Guest, and drawn Empyreal Aire,
|
||
Thy tempring; with like safetie guided down
|
||
Return me to my Native Element:
|
||
Least from this flying Steed unrein'd, (as once
|
||
BELLEROPHON, though from a lower Clime)
|
||
Dismounted, on th' ALEIAN Field I fall
|
||
Erroneous, there to wander and forlorne.
|
||
Half yet remaines unsung, but narrower bound
|
||
Within the visible Diurnal Spheare;
|
||
Standing on Earth, not rapt above the Pole,
|
||
More safe I Sing with mortal voice, unchang'd
|
||
To hoarce or mute, though fall'n on evil dayes,
|
||
On evil dayes though fall'n, and evil tongues;
|
||
In darkness, and with dangers compast rouud,
|
||
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
|
||
Visit'st my slumbers Nightly, or when Morn
|
||
Purples the East: still govern thou my Song,
|
||
URANIA, and fit audience find, though few.
|
||
But drive farr off the barbarous dissonance
|
||
Of BACCHUS and his Revellers, the Race
|
||
Of that wilde Rout that tore the THRACIAN Bard
|
||
In RHODOPE, where Woods and Rocks had Eares
|
||
To rapture, till the savage clamor dround
|
||
Both Harp and Voice; nor could the Muse defend
|
||
Her Son. So fail not thou, who thee implores:
|
||
For thou art Heav'nlie, shee an empty dreame.
|
||
Say Goddess, what ensu'd when RAPHAEL,
|
||
The affable Arch-angel, had forewarn'd
|
||
ADAM by dire example to beware
|
||
Apostasie, by what befell in Heaven
|
||
To those Apostates, least the like befall
|
||
In Paradise to ADAM or his Race,
|
||
Charg'd not to touch the interdicted Tree,
|
||
If they transgress, and slight that sole command,
|
||
So easily obeyd amid the choice
|
||
Of all tasts else to please thir appetite,
|
||
Though wandring. He with his consorted EVE
|
||
The storie heard attentive, and was fill'd
|
||
With admiration, and deep Muse to heare
|
||
Of things so high and strange, things to thir thought
|
||
So unimaginable as hate in Heav'n,
|
||
And Warr so neer the Peace of God in bliss
|
||
With such confusion: but the evil soon
|
||
Driv'n back redounded as a flood on those
|
||
From whom it sprung, impossible to mix
|
||
With Blessedness. Whence ADAM soon repeal'd
|
||
The doubts that in his heart arose: and now
|
||
Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know
|
||
What neerer might concern him, how this World
|
||
Of Heav'n and Earth conspicuous first began,
|
||
When, and whereof created, for what cause,
|
||
What within EDEN or without was done
|
||
Before his memorie, as one whose drouth
|
||
Yet scarce allay'd still eyes the current streame,
|
||
Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites,
|
||
Proceeded thus to ask his Heav'nly Guest.
|
||
Great things, and full of wonder in our eares,
|
||
Farr differing from this World, thou hast reveal'd
|
||
Divine Interpreter, by favour sent
|
||
Down from the Empyrean to forewarne
|
||
Us timely of what might else have bin our loss,
|
||
Unknown, which human knowledg could not reach:
|
||
For which to the infinitly Good we owe
|
||
Immortal thanks, and his admonishment
|
||
Receave with solemne purpose to observe
|
||
Immutably his sovran will, the end
|
||
Of what we are. But since thou hast voutsaf't
|
||
Gently for our instruction to impart
|
||
Things above Earthly thought, which yet concernd
|
||
Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seemd,
|
||
Deign to descend now lower, and relate
|
||
What may no less perhaps availe us known,
|
||
How first began this Heav'n which we behold
|
||
Distant so high, with moving Fires adornd
|
||
Innumerable, and this which yeelds or fills
|
||
All space, the ambient Aire wide interfus'd
|
||
Imbracing round this florid Earth, what cause
|
||
Mov'd the Creator in his holy Rest
|
||
Through all Eternitie so late to build
|
||
In CHAOS, and the work begun, how soon
|
||
Absolv'd, if unforbid thou maist unfould
|
||
What wee, not to explore the secrets aske
|
||
Of his Eternal Empire, but the more
|
||
To magnifie his works, the more we know.
|
||
And the great Light of Day yet wants to run
|
||
Much of his Race though steep, suspens in Heav'n
|
||
Held by thy voice, thy potent voice he heares,
|
||
And longer will delay to heare thee tell
|
||
His Generation, and the rising Birth
|
||
Of Nature from the unapparent Deep:
|
||
Or if the Starr of Eevning and the Moon
|
||
Haste to thy audience, Night with her will bring
|
||
Silence, and Sleep listning to thee will watch,
|
||
Or we can bid his absence, till thy Song
|
||
End, and dismiss thee ere the Morning shine.
|
||
Thus ADAM his illustrous Guest besought:
|
||
And thus the Godlike Angel answerd milde.
|
||
This also thy request with caution askt
|
||
Obtaine: though to recount Almightie works
|
||
What words or tongue of Seraph can suffice,
|
||
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend?
|
||
Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve
|
||
To glorifie the Maker, and inferr
|
||
Thee also happier, shall not be withheld
|
||
Thy hearing, such Commission from above
|
||
I have receav'd, to answer thy desire
|
||
Of knowledge within bounds; beyond abstain
|
||
To ask, nor let thine own inventions hope
|
||
Things not reveal'd, which th' invisible King,
|
||
Onely Omniscient, hath supprest in Night,
|
||
To none communicable in Earth or Heaven:
|
||
Anough is left besides to search and know.
|
||
But Knowledge is as food, and needs no less
|
||
Her Temperance over Appetite, to know
|
||
In measure what the mind may well contain,
|
||
Oppresses else with Surfet, and soon turns
|
||
Wisdom to Folly, as Nourishment to Winde.
|
||
Know then, that after LUCIFER from Heav'n
|
||
(So call him, brighter once amidst the Host
|
||
Of Angels, then that Starr the Starrs among)
|
||
Fell with his flaming Legions through the Deep
|
||
Into his place, and the great Son returnd
|
||
Victorious with his Saints, th' Omnipotent
|
||
Eternal Father from his Throne beheld
|
||
Thir multitude, and to his Son thus spake.
|
||
At least our envious Foe hath fail'd, who thought
|
||
All like himself rebellious, by whose aid
|
||
This inaccessible high strength, the seat
|
||
Of Deitie supream, us dispossest,
|
||
He trusted to have seis'd, and into fraud
|
||
Drew many, whom thir place knows here no more;
|
||
Yet farr the greater part have kept, I see,
|
||
Thir station, Heav'n yet populous retaines
|
||
Number sufficient to possess her Realmes
|
||
Though wide, and this high Temple to frequent
|
||
With Ministeries due and solemn Rites:
|
||
But least his heart exalt him in the harme
|
||
Already done, to have dispeopl'd Heav'n,
|
||
My damage fondly deem'd, I can repaire
|
||
That detriment, if such it be to lose
|
||
Self-lost, and in a moment will create
|
||
Another World, out of one man a Race
|
||
Of men innumerable, there to dwell,
|
||
Not here, till by degrees of merit rais'd
|
||
They open to themselves at length the way
|
||
Up hither, under long obedience tri'd,
|
||
And Earth be chang'd to Heavn, & Heav'n to Earth,
|
||
One Kingdom, Joy and Union without end.
|
||
Mean while inhabit laxe, ye Powers of Heav'n,
|
||
And thou my Word, begotten Son, by thee
|
||
This I perform, speak thou, and be it don:
|
||
My overshadowing Spirit and might with thee
|
||
I send along, ride forth, and bid the Deep
|
||
Within appointed bounds be Heav'n and Earth,
|
||
Boundless the Deep, because I am who fill
|
||
Infinitude, nor vacuous the space.
|
||
Though I uncircumscrib'd my self retire,
|
||
And put not forth my goodness, which is free
|
||
To act or not, Necessitie and Chance
|
||
Approach not mee, and what I will is Fate.
|
||
So spake th' Almightie, and to what he spake
|
||
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect.
|
||
Immediate are the Acts of God, more swift
|
||
Then time or motion, but to human ears
|
||
Cannot without process of speech be told,
|
||
So told as earthly notion can receave.
|
||
Great triumph and rejoycing was in Heav'n
|
||
When such was heard declar'd the Almightie's will;
|
||
Glorie they sung to the most High, good will
|
||
To future men, and in thir dwellings peace:
|
||
Glorie to him whose just avenging ire
|
||
Had driven out th' ungodly from his sight
|
||
And th' habitations of the just; to him
|
||
Glorie and praise, whose wisdom had ordain'd
|
||
Good out of evil to create, in stead
|
||
Of Spirits maligne a better Race to bring
|
||
Into thir vacant room, and thence diffuse
|
||
His good to Worlds and Ages infinite.
|
||
So sang the Hierarchies: Mean while the Son
|
||
On his great Expedition now appeer'd,
|
||
Girt with Omnipotence, with Radiance crown'd
|
||
Of Majestie Divine, Sapience and Love
|
||
Immense, and all his Father in him shon.
|
||
About his Chariot numberless were pour'd
|
||
Cherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones,
|
||
And Vertues, winged Spirits, and Chariots wing'd,
|
||
From the Armoury of God, where stand of old
|
||
Myriads between two brazen Mountains lodg'd
|
||
Against a solemn day, harnest at hand,
|
||
Celestial Equipage; and now came forth
|
||
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit livd,
|
||
Attendant on thir Lord: Heav'n op'nd wide
|
||
Her ever during Gates, Harmonious sound
|
||
On golden Hinges moving, to let forth
|
||
The King of Glorie in his powerful Word
|
||
And Spirit coming to create new Worlds.
|
||
On heav'nly ground they stood, and from the shore
|
||
They view'd the vast immeasurable Abyss
|
||
Outrageous as a Sea, dark, wasteful, wilde,
|
||
Up from the bottom turn'd by furious windes
|
||
And surging waves, as Mountains to assault
|
||
Heav'ns highth, and with the Center mix the Pole.
|
||
Silence, ye troubl'd waves, and thou Deep, peace,
|
||
Said then th' Omnific Word, your discord end:
|
||
Nor staid, but on the Wings of Cherubim
|
||
Uplifted, in Paternal Glorie rode
|
||
Farr into CHAOS, and the World unborn;
|
||
For CHAOS heard his voice: him all his Traine
|
||
Follow'd in bright procession to behold
|
||
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
|
||
Then staid the fervid Wheeles, and in his hand
|
||
He took the golden Compasses, prepar'd
|
||
In Gods Eternal store, to circumscribe
|
||
This Universe, and all created things:
|
||
One foot he center'd, and the other turn'd
|
||
Round through the vast profunditie obscure,
|
||
And said, thus farr extend, thus farr thy bounds,
|
||
This be thy just Circumference, O World.
|
||
Thus God the Heav'n created, thus the Earth,
|
||
Matter unform'd and void: Darkness profound
|
||
Cover'd th' Abyss: but on the watrie calme
|
||
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspred,
|
||
And vital vertue infus'd, and vital warmth
|
||
Throughout the fluid Mass, but downward purg'd
|
||
The black tartareous cold infernal dregs
|
||
Adverse to life: then founded, then conglob'd
|
||
Like things to like, the rest to several place
|
||
Disparted, and between spun out the Air,
|
||
And Earth self-ballanc't on her Center hung.
|
||
Let ther be Light, said God, and forthwith Light
|
||
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure
|
||
Sprung from the Deep, and from her Native East
|
||
To journie through the airie gloom began,
|
||
Sphear'd in a radiant Cloud, for yet the Sun
|
||
Was not; shee in a cloudie Tabernacle
|
||
Sojourn'd the while. God saw the Light was good;
|
||
And light from darkness by the Hemisphere
|
||
Divided: Light the Day, and Darkness Night
|
||
He nam'd. Thus was the first Day Eev'n and Morn:
|
||
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung
|
||
By the Celestial Quires, when Orient Light
|
||
Exhaling first from Darkness they beheld;
|
||
Birth-day of Heav'n and Earth; with joy and shout
|
||
The hollow Universal Orb they fill'd,
|
||
And touch't thir Golden Harps, & hymning prais'd
|
||
God and his works, Creatour him they sung,
|
||
Both when first Eevning was, and when first Morn.
|
||
Again, God said, let ther be Firmament
|
||
Amid the Waters, and let it divide
|
||
The Waters from the Waters: and God made
|
||
The Firmament, expanse of liquid, pure,
|
||
Transparent, Elemental Air, diffus'd
|
||
In circuit to the uttermost convex
|
||
Of this great Round: partition firm and sure,
|
||
The Waters underneath from those above
|
||
Dividing: for as Earth, so hee the World
|
||
Built on circumfluous Waters calme, in wide
|
||
Crystallin Ocean, and the loud misrule
|
||
Of CHAOS farr remov'd, least fierce extreames
|
||
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame:
|
||
And Heav'n he nam'd the Firmament: So Eev'n
|
||
And Morning CHORUS sung the second Day.
|
||
The Earth was form'd, but in the Womb as yet
|
||
Of Waters, Embryon immature involv'd,
|
||
Appeer'd not: over all the face of Earth
|
||
Main Ocean flow'd, not idle, but with warme
|
||
Prolific humour soft'ning all her Globe,
|
||
Fermented the great Mother to conceave,
|
||
Satiate with genial moisture, when God said
|
||
Be gather'd now ye Waters under Heav'n
|
||
Into one place, and let dry Land appeer.
|
||
Immediately the Mountains huge appeer
|
||
Emergent, and thir broad bare backs upheave
|
||
Into the Clouds, thir tops ascend the Skie:
|
||
So high as heav'd the tumid Hills, so low
|
||
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
|
||
Capacious bed of Waters: thither they
|
||
Hasted with glad precipitance, uprowld
|
||
As drops on dust conglobing from the drie;
|
||
Part rise in crystal Wall, or ridge direct,
|
||
For haste; such flight the great command impress'd
|
||
On the swift flouds: as Armies at the call
|
||
Of Trumpet (for of Armies thou hast heard)
|
||
Troop to thir Standard, so the watrie throng,
|
||
Wave rowling after Wave, where way they found,
|
||
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through Plaine,
|
||
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them Rock or Hill,
|
||
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide
|
||
With Serpent errour wandring, found thir way,
|
||
And on the washie Oose deep Channels wore;
|
||
Easie, e're God had bid the ground be drie,
|
||
All but within those banks, where Rivers now
|
||
Stream, and perpetual draw thir humid traine.
|
||
The dry Land, Earth, and the great receptacle
|
||
Of congregated Waters he call'd Seas:
|
||
And saw that it was good, and said, Let th' Earth
|
||
Put forth the verdant Grass, Herb yeilding Seed,
|
||
And Fruit Tree yeilding Fruit after her kind;
|
||
Whose Seed is in her self upon the Earth.
|
||
He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then
|
||
Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorn'd,
|
||
Brought forth the tender Grass, whose verdure clad
|
||
Her Universal Face with pleasant green,
|
||
Then Herbs of every leaf, that sudden flour'd
|
||
Op'ning thir various colours, and made gay
|
||
Her bosom smelling sweet: and these scarce blown,
|
||
Forth flourish't thick the clustring Vine, forth crept
|
||
The smelling Gourd, up stood the cornie Reed
|
||
Embattell'd in her field: add the humble Shrub,
|
||
And Bush with frizl'd hair implicit: last
|
||
Rose as in Dance the stately Trees, and spred
|
||
Thir branches hung with copious Fruit; or gemm'd
|
||
Thir Blossoms: with high Woods the Hills were crownd,
|
||
With tufts the vallies & each fountain side,
|
||
With borders long the Rivers. That Earth now
|
||
Seemd like to Heav'n, a seat where Gods might dwell,
|
||
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
|
||
Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rain'd
|
||
Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground
|
||
None was, but from the Earth a dewie Mist
|
||
Went up and waterd all the ground, and each
|
||
Plant of the field, which e're it was in the Earth
|
||
God made, and every Herb, before it grew
|
||
On the green stemm; God saw that it was good:
|
||
So Eev'n and Morn recorded the Third Day.
|
||
Again th' Almightie spake: Let there be Lights
|
||
High in th' expanse of Heaven to divide
|
||
The Day from Night; and let them be for Signes,
|
||
For Seasons, and for Dayes, and circling Years,
|
||
And let them be for Lights as I ordaine
|
||
Thir Office in the Firmament of Heav'n
|
||
To give Light on the Earth; and it was so.
|
||
And God made two great Lights, great for thir use
|
||
To Man, the greater to have rule by Day,
|
||
The less by Night alterne: and made the Starrs,
|
||
And set them in the Firmament of Heav'n
|
||
To illuminate the Earth, and rule the Day
|
||
In thir vicissitude, and rule the Night,
|
||
And Light from Darkness to divide. God saw,
|
||
Surveying his great Work, that it was good:
|
||
For of Celestial Bodies first the Sun
|
||
A mightie Spheare he fram'd, unlightsom first,
|
||
Though of Ethereal Mould: then form'd the Moon
|
||
Globose, and everie magnitude of Starrs,
|
||
And sowd with Starrs the Heav'n thick as a field:
|
||
Of Light by farr the greater part he took,
|
||
Transplanted from her cloudie Shrine, and plac'd
|
||
In the Suns Orb, made porous to receive
|
||
And drink the liquid Light, firm to retaine
|
||
Her gather'd beams, great Palace now of Light.
|
||
Hither as to thir Fountain other Starrs
|
||
Repairing, in thir gold'n Urns draw Light,
|
||
And hence the Morning Planet guilds his horns;
|
||
By tincture or reflection they augment
|
||
Thir small peculiar, though from human sight
|
||
So farr remote, with diminution seen.
|
||
First in his East the glorious Lamp was seen,
|
||
Regent of Day, and all th' Horizon round
|
||
Invested with bright Rayes, jocond to run
|
||
His Longitude through Heav'ns high rode: the gray
|
||
Dawn, and the PLEIADES before him danc'd
|
||
Shedding sweet influence: less bright the Moon,
|
||
But opposite in leveld West was set
|
||
His mirror, with full face borrowing her Light
|
||
From him, for other light she needed none
|
||
In that aspect, and still that distance keepes
|
||
Till night, then in the East her turn she shines,
|
||
Revolvd on Heav'ns great Axle, and her Reign
|
||
With thousand lesser Lights dividual holds,
|
||
With thousand thousand Starres, that then appeer'd
|
||
Spangling the Hemisphere: then first adornd
|
||
With thir bright Luminaries that Set and Rose,
|
||
Glad Eevning & glad Morn crownd the fourth day.
|
||
And God said, let the Waters generate
|
||
Reptil with Spawn abundant, living Soule:
|
||
And let Fowle flie above the Earth, with wings
|
||
Displayd on the op'n Firmament of Heav'n.
|
||
And God created the great Whales, and each
|
||
Soul living, each that crept, which plenteously
|
||
The waters generated by thir kindes,
|
||
And every Bird of wing after his kinde;
|
||
And saw that it was good, and bless'd them, saying,
|
||
Be fruitful, multiply, and in the Seas
|
||
And Lakes and running Streams the waters fill;
|
||
And let the Fowle be multiply'd on the Earth.
|
||
Forthwith the Sounds and Seas, each Creek & Bay
|
||
With Frie innumerable swarme, and Shoales
|
||
Of Fish that with thir Finns and shining Scales
|
||
Glide under the green Wave, in Sculles that oft
|
||
Bank the mid Sea: part single or with mate
|
||
Graze the Sea weed thir pasture, & through Groves
|
||
Of Coral stray, or sporting with quick glance
|
||
Show to the Sun thir wav'd coats dropt with Gold,
|
||
Or in thir Pearlie shells at ease, attend
|
||
Moist nutriment, or under Rocks thir food
|
||
In jointed Armour watch: on smooth the Seale,
|
||
And bended Dolphins play: part huge of bulk
|
||
Wallowing unweildie, enormous in thir Gate
|
||
Tempest the Ocean: there Leviathan
|
||
Hugest of living Creatures, on the Deep
|
||
Stretcht like a Promontorie sleeps or swimmes,
|
||
And seems a moving Land, and at his Gilles
|
||
Draws in, and at his Trunck spouts out a Sea.
|
||
Mean while the tepid Caves, and Fens and shoares
|
||
Thir Brood as numerous hatch, from the Egg that soon
|
||
Bursting with kindly rupture forth disclos'd
|
||
Thir callow young, but featherd soon and fledge
|
||
They summ'd thir Penns, and soaring th' air sublime
|
||
With clang despis'd the ground, under a cloud
|
||
In prospect; there the Eagle and the Stork
|
||
On Cliffs and Cedar tops thir Eyries build:
|
||
Part loosly wing the Region, part more wise
|
||
In common, rang'd in figure wedge thir way,
|
||
Intelligent of seasons, and set forth
|
||
Thir Aierie Caravan high over Sea's
|
||
Flying, and over Lands with mutual wing
|
||
Easing thir flight; so stears the prudent Crane
|
||
Her annual Voiage, born on Windes; the Aire
|
||
Floats, as they pass, fann'd with unnumber'd plumes:
|
||
From Branch to Branch the smaller Birds with song
|
||
Solac'd the Woods, and spred thir painted wings
|
||
Till Ev'n, nor then the solemn Nightingal
|
||
Ceas'd warbling, but all night tun'd her soft layes:
|
||
Others on Silver Lakes and Rivers Bath'd
|
||
Thir downie Brest; the Swan with Arched neck
|
||
Between her white wings mantling proudly, Rowes
|
||
Her state with Oarie feet: yet oft they quit
|
||
The Dank, and rising on stiff Pennons, towre
|
||
The mid Aereal Skie: Others on ground
|
||
Walk'd firm; the crested Cock whose clarion sounds
|
||
The silent hours, and th' other whose gay Traine
|
||
Adorns him, colour'd with the Florid hue
|
||
Of Rainbows and Starrie Eyes. The Waters thus
|
||
With Fish replenisht, and the Aire with Fowle,
|
||
Ev'ning and Morn solemniz'd the Fift day.
|
||
The Sixt, and of Creation last arose
|
||
With Eevning Harps and Mattin, when God said,
|
||
Let th' Earth bring forth Fowle living in her kinde,
|
||
Cattel and Creeping things, and Beast of the Earth,
|
||
Each in their kinde. The Earth obey'd, and strait
|
||
Op'ning her fertil Woomb teem'd at a Birth
|
||
Innumerous living Creatures, perfet formes,
|
||
Limb'd and full grown: out of the ground up-rose
|
||
As from his Laire the wilde Beast where he wonns
|
||
In Forrest wilde, in Thicket, Brake, or Den;
|
||
Among the Trees in Pairs they rose, they walk'd:
|
||
The Cattel in the Fields and Meddowes green:
|
||
Those rare and solitarie, these in flocks
|
||
Pasturing at once, and in broad Herds upsprung:
|
||
The grassie Clods now Calv'd, now half appeer'd
|
||
The Tawnie Lion, pawing to get free
|
||
His hinder parts, then springs as broke from Bonds,
|
||
And Rampant shakes his Brinded main; the Ounce,
|
||
The Libbard, and the Tyger, as the Moale
|
||
Rising, the crumbl'd Earth above them threw
|
||
In Hillocks; the swift Stag from under ground
|
||
Bore up his branching head: scarse from his mould
|
||
BEHEMOTH biggest born of Earth upheav'd
|
||
His vastness: Fleec't the Flocks and bleating rose,
|
||
As Plants: ambiguous between Sea and Land
|
||
The River Horse and scalie Crocodile.
|
||
At once came forth whatever creeps the ground,
|
||
Insect or Worme; those wav'd thir limber fans
|
||
For wings, and smallest Lineaments exact
|
||
In all the Liveries dect of Summers pride
|
||
With spots of Gold and Purple, azure and green:
|
||
These as a line thir long dimension drew,
|
||
Streaking the ground with sinuous trace; not all
|
||
Minims of Nature; some of Serpent kinde
|
||
Wondrous in length and corpulence involv'd
|
||
Thir Snakie foulds, and added wings. First crept
|
||
The Parsimonious Emmet, provident
|
||
Of future, in small room large heart enclos'd,
|
||
Pattern of just equalitie perhaps
|
||
Hereafter, join'd in her popular Tribes
|
||
Of Commonaltie: swarming next appeer'd
|
||
The Femal Bee that feeds her Husband Drone
|
||
Deliciously, and builds her waxen Cells
|
||
With Honey stor'd: the rest are numberless,
|
||
And thou thir Natures know'st, and gav'st them Names,
|
||
Needlest to thee repeaed; nor unknown
|
||
The Serpent suttl'st Beast of all the field,
|
||
Of huge extent somtimes, with brazen Eyes
|
||
And hairie Main terrific, though to thee
|
||
Not noxious, but obedient at thy call.
|
||
Now Heav'n in all her Glorie shon, and rowld
|
||
Her motions, as the great first-Movers hand
|
||
First wheeld thir course; Earth in her rich attire
|
||
Consummate lovly smil'd; Aire, Water, Earth,
|
||
By Fowl, Fish, Beast, was flown, was swum, was walkt
|
||
Frequent; and of the Sixt day yet remain'd;
|
||
There wanted yet the Master work, the end
|
||
Of all yet don; a Creature who not prone
|
||
And Brute as other Creatures, but endu'd
|
||
With Sanctitie of Reason, might erect
|
||
His Stature, and upright with Front serene
|
||
Govern the rest, self-knowing, and from thence
|
||
Magnanimous to correspond with Heav'n,
|
||
But grateful to acknowledge whence his good
|
||
Descends, thither with heart and voice and eyes
|
||
Directed in Devotion, to adore
|
||
And worship God Supream, who made him chief
|
||
Of all his works: therefore the Omnipotent
|
||
Eternal Father (For where is not hee
|
||
Present) thus to his Son audibly spake.
|
||
Let us make now Man in our image, Man
|
||
In our similitude, and let them rule
|
||
Over the Fish and Fowle of Sea and Aire,
|
||
Beast of the Field, and over all the Earth,
|
||
And every creeping thing that creeps the ground.
|
||
This said, he formd thee, ADAM, thee O Man
|
||
Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breath'd
|
||
The breath of Life; in his own Image hee
|
||
Created thee, in the Image of God
|
||
Express, and thou becam'st a living Soul.
|
||
Male he created thee, but thy consort
|
||
Femal for Race; then bless'd Mankinde, and said,
|
||
Be fruitful, multiplie, and fill the Earth,
|
||
Subdue it, and throughout Dominion hold
|
||
Over Fish of the Sea, and Fowle of the Aire,
|
||
And every living thing that moves on the Earth.
|
||
Wherever thus created, for no place
|
||
Is yet distinct by name, thence, as thou know'st
|
||
He brought thee into this delicious Grove,
|
||
This Garden, planted with the Trees of God,
|
||
Delectable both to behold and taste;
|
||
And freely all thir pleasant fruit for food
|
||
Gave thee, all sorts are here that all th' Earth yeelds,
|
||
Varietie without end; but of the Tree
|
||
Which tasted works knowledge of Good and Evil,
|
||
Thou mai'st not; in the day thou eat'st, thou di'st;
|
||
Death is the penaltie impos'd, beware,
|
||
And govern well thy appetite, least sin
|
||
Surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.
|
||
Here finish'd hee, and all that he had made
|
||
View'd, and behold all was entirely good;
|
||
So Ev'n and Morn accomplish'd the Sixt day:
|
||
Yet not till the Creator from his work
|
||
Desisting, though unwearied, up returnd
|
||
Up to the Heav'n of Heav'ns his high abode,
|
||
Thence to behold this new created World
|
||
Th' addition of his Empire, how it shew'd
|
||
In prospect from his Throne, how good, how faire,
|
||
Answering his great Idea. Up he rode
|
||
Followd with acclamation and the sound
|
||
Symphonious of ten thousand Harpes that tun'd
|
||
Angelic harmonies: the Earth, the Aire
|
||
Resounded, (thou remember'st, for thou heardst)
|
||
The Heav'ns and all the Constellations rung,
|
||
The Planets in thir stations list'ning stood,
|
||
While the bright Pomp ascended jubilant.
|
||
Open, ye everlasting Gates, they sung,
|
||
Open, ye Heav'ns, your living dores; let in
|
||
The great Creator from his work returnd
|
||
Magnificent, his Six days work, a World;
|
||
Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deigne
|
||
To visit oft the dwellings of just Men
|
||
Delighted, and with frequent intercourse
|
||
Thither will send his winged Messengers
|
||
On errands of supernal Grace. So sung
|
||
The glorious Train ascending: He through Heav'n,
|
||
That open'd wide her blazing Portals, led
|
||
To Gods Eternal house direct the way,
|
||
A broad and ample rode, whose dust is Gold
|
||
And pavement Starrs, as Starrs to thee appeer,
|
||
Seen in the Galaxie, that Milkie way
|
||
Which nightly as a circling Zone thou seest
|
||
Pouderd with Starrs. And now on Earth the Seaventh
|
||
Eev'ning arose in EDEN, for the Sun
|
||
Was set, and twilight from the East came on,
|
||
Forerunning Night; when at the holy mount
|
||
Of Heav'ns high-seated top, th' Impereal Throne
|
||
Of Godhead, fixt for ever firm and sure,
|
||
The Filial Power arriv'd, and sate him down
|
||
With his great Father (for he also went
|
||
Invisible, yet staid (such priviledge
|
||
Hath Omnipresence) and the work ordain'd,
|
||
Author and end of all things, and from work
|
||
Now resting, bless'd and hallowd the Seav'nth day,
|
||
As resting on that day from all his work,
|
||
But not in silence holy kept; the Harp
|
||
Had work and rested not, the solemn Pipe,
|
||
And Dulcimer, all Organs of sweet stop,
|
||
All sounds on Fret by String or Golden Wire
|
||
Temper'd soft Tunings, intermixt with Voice
|
||
Choral or Unison: of incense Clouds
|
||
Fuming from Golden Censers hid the Mount.
|
||
Creation and the Six dayes acts they sung,
|
||
Great are thy works, JEHOVAH, infinite
|
||
Thy power; what thought can measure thee or tongue
|
||
Relate thee; greater now in thy return
|
||
Then from the Giant Angels; thee that day
|
||
Thy Thunders magnifi'd; but to create
|
||
Is greater then created to destroy.
|
||
Who can impair thee, mighty King, or bound
|
||
Thy Empire? easily the proud attempt
|
||
Of Spirits apostat and thir Counsels vaine
|
||
Thou hast repeld, while impiously they thought
|
||
Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw
|
||
The number of thy worshippers. Who seekes
|
||
To lessen thee, against his purpose serves
|
||
To manifest the more thy might: his evil
|
||
Thou usest, and from thence creat'st more good.
|
||
Witness this new-made World, another Heav'n
|
||
From Heaven Gate not farr, founded in view
|
||
On the cleer HYALINE, the Glassie Sea;
|
||
Of amplitude almost immense, with Starr's
|
||
Numerous, and every Starr perhaps a World
|
||
Of destind habitation; but thou know'st
|
||
Thir seasons: among these the seat of men,
|
||
Earth with her nether Ocean circumfus'd,
|
||
Thir pleasant dwelling place. Thrice happie men,
|
||
And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanc't,
|
||
Created in his Image, there to dwell
|
||
And worship him, and in reward to rule
|
||
Over his Works, on Earth, in Sea, or Air,
|
||
And multiply a Race of Worshippers
|
||
Holy and just: thrice happie if they know
|
||
Thir happiness, and persevere upright.
|
||
So sung they, and the Empyrean rung,
|
||
With HALLELUIAHS: Thus was Sabbath kept.
|
||
And thy request think now fulfill'd, that ask'd
|
||
How first this World and face of things began,
|
||
And what before thy memorie was don
|
||
From the beginning, that posteritie
|
||
Informd by thee might know; if else thou seekst
|
||
Aught, not surpassing human measure, say.
|
||
To whom thus ADAM gratefully repli'd.
|
||
What thanks sufficient, or what recompence
|
||
Equal have I to render thee, Divine
|
||
Hystorian, who thus largely hast allayd
|
||
The thirst I had of knowledge, and voutsaf't
|
||
This friendly condescention to relate
|
||
Things else by me unsearchable, now heard
|
||
VVith wonder, but delight, and, as is due,
|
||
With glorie attributed to the high
|
||
Creator; some thing yet of doubt remaines,
|
||
VVhich onely thy solution can resolve.
|
||
VVhen I behold this goodly Frame, this VVorld
|
||
Of Heav'n and Earth consisting, and compute,
|
||
Thir magnitudes, this Earth a spot, a graine,
|
||
An Atom, with the Firmament compar'd
|
||
And all her numberd Starrs, that seem to rowle
|
||
Spaces incomprehensible (for such
|
||
Thir distance argues and thir swift return
|
||
Diurnal) meerly to officiate light
|
||
Round this opacous Earth, this punctual spot,
|
||
One day and night; in all thir vast survey
|
||
Useless besides, reasoning I oft admire,
|
||
How Nature wise and frugal could commit
|
||
Such disproportions, with superfluous hand
|
||
So many nobler Bodies to create,
|
||
Greater so manifold to this one use,
|
||
For aught appeers, and on thir Orbs impose
|
||
Such restless revolution day by day
|
||
Repeated, while the sedentarie Earth,
|
||
That better might with farr less compass move,
|
||
Serv'd by more noble then her self, attaines
|
||
Her end without least motion, and receaves,
|
||
As Tribute such a sumless journey brought
|
||
Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light;
|
||
Speed, to describe whose swiftness Number failes.
|
||
So spake our Sire, and by his count'nance seemd
|
||
Entring on studious thoughts abstruse, which EVE
|
||
Perceaving where she sat retir'd in sight,
|
||
With lowliness Majestic from her seat,
|
||
And Grace that won who saw to wish her stay,
|
||
Rose, and went forth among her Fruits and Flours,
|
||
To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom,
|
||
Her Nurserie; they at her coming sprung
|
||
And toucht by her fair tendance gladlier grew.
|
||
Yet went she not, as not with such discourse
|
||
Delighted, or not capable her eare
|
||
Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd,
|
||
ADAM relating, she sole Auditress;
|
||
Her Husband the Relater she preferr'd
|
||
Before the Angel, and of him to ask
|
||
Chose rather; hee, she knew would intermix
|
||
Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute
|
||
With conjugal Caresses, from his Lip
|
||
Not Words alone pleas'd her. O when meet now
|
||
Such pairs, in Love and mutual Honour joyn'd?
|
||
With Goddess-like demeanour forth she went;
|
||
Not unattended, for on her as Queen
|
||
A pomp of winning Graces waited still,
|
||
And from about her shot Darts of desire
|
||
Into all Eyes to wish her still in sight.
|
||
And RAPHAEL now to ADAM's doubt propos'd
|
||
Benevolent and facil thus repli'd.
|
||
To ask or search I blame thee not, for Heav'n
|
||
Is as the Book of God before thee set,
|
||
Wherein to read his wondrous Works, and learne
|
||
His Seasons, Hours, or Days, or Months, or Yeares:
|
||
This to attain, whether Heav'n move or Earth,
|
||
Imports not, if thou reck'n right, the rest
|
||
From Man or Angel the great Architect
|
||
Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge
|
||
His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought
|
||
Rather admire; or if they list to try
|
||
Conjecture, he his Fabric of the Heav'ns
|
||
Hath left to thir disputes, perhaps to move
|
||
His laughter at thir quaint Opinions wide
|
||
Hereafter, when they come to model Heav'n
|
||
And calculate the Starrs, how they will weild
|
||
The mightie frame, how build, unbuild, contrive
|
||
To save appeerances, how gird the Sphear
|
||
With Centric and Eccentric scribl'd o're,
|
||
Cycle and Epicycle, Orb in Orb:
|
||
Alreadie by thy reasoning this I guess,
|
||
Who art to lead thy ofspring, and supposest
|
||
That Bodies bright and greater should not serve
|
||
The less not bright, nor Heav'n such journies run,
|
||
Earth sitting still, when she alone receaves
|
||
The benefit: consider first, that Great
|
||
Or Bright inferrs not Excellence: the Earth
|
||
Though, in comparison of Heav'n, so small,
|
||
Nor glistering, may of solid good containe
|
||
More plenty then the Sun that barren shines,
|
||
Whose vertue on it self workes no effect,
|
||
But in the fruitful Earth; there first receavd
|
||
His beams, unactive else, thir vigor find.
|
||
Yet not to Earth are those bright Luminaries
|
||
Officious, but to thee Earths habitant.
|
||
And for the Heav'ns wide Circuit, let it speak
|
||
The Makers high magnificence, who built
|
||
So spacious, and his Line stretcht out so farr;
|
||
That Man may know he dwells not in his own;
|
||
An Edifice too large for him to fill,
|
||
Lodg'd in a small partition, and the rest
|
||
Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known.
|
||
The swiftness of those Circles attribute,
|
||
Though numberless, to his Omnipotence,
|
||
That to corporeal substances could adde
|
||
Speed almost Spiritual; mee thou thinkst not slow,
|
||
Who since the Morning hour set out from Heav'n
|
||
Where God resides, and ere mid-day arriv'd
|
||
In EDEN, distance inexpressible
|
||
By Numbers that have name. But this I urge,
|
||
Admitting Motion in the Heav'ns, to shew
|
||
Invalid that which thee to doubt it mov'd;
|
||
Not that I so affirm, though so it seem
|
||
To thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth.
|
||
God to remove his wayes from human sense,
|
||
Plac'd Heav'n from Earth so farr, that earthly sight,
|
||
If it presume, might erre in things too high,
|
||
And no advantage gaine. What if the Sun
|
||
Be Center to the World, and other Starrs
|
||
By his attractive vertue and thir own
|
||
Incited, dance about him various rounds?
|
||
Thir wandring course now high, now low, then hid,
|
||
Progressive, retrograde, or standing still,
|
||
In six thou seest, and what if sev'nth to these
|
||
The Planet Earth, so stedfast though she seem,
|
||
Insensibly three different Motions move?
|
||
Which else to several Sphears thou must ascribe,
|
||
Mov'd contrarie with thwart obliquities,
|
||
Or save the Sun his labour, and that swift
|
||
Nocturnal and Diurnal rhomb suppos'd,
|
||
Invisible else above all Starrs, the Wheele
|
||
Of Day and Night; which needs not thy beleefe,
|
||
If Earth industrious of her self fetch Day
|
||
Travelling East, and with her part averse
|
||
From the Suns beam meet Night, her other part
|
||
Still luminous by his ray. What if that light
|
||
Sent from her through the wide transpicuous aire,
|
||
To the terrestrial Moon be as a Starr
|
||
Enlightning her by Day, as she by Night
|
||
This Earth? reciprocal, if Land be there,
|
||
Feilds and Inhabitants: Her spots thou seest
|
||
As Clouds, and Clouds may rain, and Rain produce
|
||
Fruits in her soft'nd Soile, for some to eate
|
||
Allotted there; and other Suns perhaps
|
||
With thir attendant Moons thou wilt descrie
|
||
Communicating Male and Femal Light,
|
||
Which two great Sexes animate the World,
|
||
Stor'd in each Orb perhaps with some that live.
|
||
For such vast room in Nature unpossest
|
||
By living Soule, desert and desolate,
|
||
Onely to shine, yet scarce to contribute
|
||
Each Orb a glimps of Light, conveyd so farr
|
||
Down to this habitable, which returnes
|
||
Light back to them, is obvious to dispute.
|
||
But whether thus these things, or whether not,
|
||
Whether the Sun predominant in Heav'n
|
||
Rise on the Earth, or Earth rise on the Sun,
|
||
Hee from the East his flaming rode begin,
|
||
Or Shee from West her silent course advance
|
||
With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps
|
||
On her soft Axle, while she paces Eev'n,
|
||
And bears thee soft with the smooth Air along,
|
||
Sollicit not thy thoughts with matters hid,
|
||
Leave them to God above, him serve and feare;
|
||
Of other Creatures, as him pleases best,
|
||
Wherever plac't, let him dispose: joy thou
|
||
In what he gives to thee, this Paradise
|
||
And thy faire EVE; Heav'n is for thee too high
|
||
To know what passes there; be lowlie wise:
|
||
Think onely what concernes thee and thy being;
|
||
Dream not of other Worlds, what Creatures there
|
||
Live, in what state, condition or degree,
|
||
Contented that thus farr hath been reveal'd
|
||
Not of Earth onely but of highest Heav'n.
|
||
To whom thus ADAM cleerd of doubt, repli'd.
|
||
How fully hast thou satisfi'd mee, pure
|
||
Intelligence of Heav'n, Angel serene,
|
||
And freed from intricacies, taught to live,
|
||
The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts
|
||
To interrupt the sweet of Life, from which
|
||
God hath bid dwell farr off all anxious cares,
|
||
And not molest us, unless we our selves
|
||
Seek them with wandring thoughts, and notions vaine.
|
||
But apt the Mind or Fancie is to roave
|
||
Uncheckt, and of her roaving is no end;
|
||
Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learne,
|
||
That not to know at large of things remote
|
||
From use, obscure and suttle, but to know
|
||
That which before us lies in daily life,
|
||
Is the prime Wisdom, what is more, is fume,
|
||
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,
|
||
And renders us in things that most concerne
|
||
Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek.
|
||
Therefore from this high pitch let us descend
|
||
A lower flight, and speak of things at hand
|
||
Useful, whence haply mention may arise
|
||
Of somthing not unseasonable to ask
|
||
By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd.
|
||
Thee I have heard relating what was don
|
||
Ere my remembrance: now hear mee relate
|
||
My Storie, which perhaps thou hast not heard;
|
||
And Day is yet not spent; till then thou seest
|
||
How suttly to detaine thee I devise,
|
||
Inviting thee to hear while I relate,
|
||
Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply:
|
||
For while I sit with thee, I seem in Heav'n,
|
||
And sweeter thy discourse is to my eare
|
||
Then Fruits of Palm-tree pleasantest to thirst
|
||
And hunger both, from labour, at the houre
|
||
Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill,
|
||
Though pleasant, but thy words with Grace Divine
|
||
Imbu'd, bring to thir sweetness no satietie.
|
||
To whom thus RAPHAEL answer'd heav'nly meek.
|
||
Nor are thy lips ungraceful, Sire of men,
|
||
Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee
|
||
Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd,
|
||
Inward and outward both, his image faire:
|
||
Speaking or mute all comliness and grace
|
||
Attends thee, and each word, each motion formes.
|
||
Nor less think wee in Heav'n of thee on Earth
|
||
Then of our fellow servant, and inquire
|
||
Gladly into the wayes of God with Man:
|
||
For God we see hath honour'd thee, and set
|
||
On Man his equal Love: say therefore on;
|
||
For I that Day was absent, as befell,
|
||
Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure,
|
||
Farr on excursion toward the Gates of Hell;
|
||
Squar'd in full Legion (such command we had)
|
||
To see that none thence issu'd forth a spie,
|
||
Or enemie, while God was in his work,
|
||
Least hee incenst at such eruption bold,
|
||
Destruction with Creation might have mixt.
|
||
Not that they durst without his leave attempt,
|
||
But us he sends upon his high behests
|
||
For state, as Sovran King, and to enure
|
||
Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut
|
||
The dismal Gates, and barricado'd strong;
|
||
But long ere our approaching heard within
|
||
Noise, other then the sound of Dance or Song,
|
||
Torment, and lowd lament, and furious rage.
|
||
Glad we return'd up to the coasts of Light
|
||
Ere Sabbath Eev'ning: so we had in charge.
|
||
But thy relation now; for I attend,
|
||
Pleas'd with thy words no less then thou with mine.
|
||
So spake the Godlike Power, and thus our Sire.
|
||
For Man to tell how human Life began
|
||
Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?
|
||
Desire with thee still longer to converse
|
||
Induc'd me. As new wak't from soundest sleep
|
||
Soft on the flourie herb I found me laid
|
||
In Balmie Sweat, which with his Beames the Sun
|
||
Soon dri'd, and on the reaking moisture fed.
|
||
Strait toward Heav'n my wondring Eyes I turnd,
|
||
And gaz'd a while the ample Skie, till rais'd
|
||
By quick instinctive motion up I sprung,
|
||
As thitherward endevoring, and upright
|
||
Stood on my feet; about me round I saw
|
||
Hill, Dale, and shadie Woods, and sunnie Plaines,
|
||
And liquid Lapse of murmuring Streams; by these,
|
||
Creatures that livd, and movd, and walk'd, or flew,
|
||
Birds on the branches warbling; all things smil'd,
|
||
With fragrance and with joy my heart oreflow'd.
|
||
My self I then perus'd, and Limb by Limb
|
||
Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran
|
||
With supple joints, as lively vigour led:
|
||
But who I was, or where, or from what cause,
|
||
Knew not; to speak I tri'd, and forthwith spake,
|
||
My Tongue obey'd and readily could name
|
||
What e're I saw. Thou Sun, said I, faire Light,
|
||
And thou enlight'nd Earth, so fresh and gay,
|
||
Ye Hills and Dales, ye Rivers, Woods, and Plaines,
|
||
And ye that live and move, fair Creatures, tell,
|
||
Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?
|
||
Not of my self; by some great Maker then,
|
||
In goodness and in power praeeminent;
|
||
Tell me, how may I know him, how adore,
|
||
From whom I have that thus I move and live,
|
||
And feel that I am happier then I know.
|
||
While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither,
|
||
From where I first drew Aire, and first beheld
|
||
This happie Light, when answer none return'd,
|
||
On a green shadie Bank profuse of Flours
|
||
Pensive I sate me down; there gentle sleep
|
||
First found me, and with soft oppression seis'd
|
||
My droused sense, untroubl'd, though I thought
|
||
I then was passing to my former state
|
||
Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve:
|
||
When suddenly stood at my Head a dream,
|
||
Whose inward apparition gently mov'd
|
||
My Fancy to believe I yet had being,
|
||
And livd: One came, methought, of shape Divine,
|
||
And said, thy Mansion wants thee, ADAM, rise,
|
||
First Man, of Men innumerable ordain'd
|
||
First Father, call'd by thee I come thy Guide
|
||
To the Garden of bliss, thy seat prepar'd.
|
||
So saying, by the hand he took me rais'd,
|
||
And over Fields and Waters, as in Aire
|
||
Smooth sliding without step, last led me up
|
||
A woodie Mountain; whose high top was plaine,
|
||
A Circuit wide, enclos'd, with goodliest Trees
|
||
Planted, with Walks, and Bowers, that what I saw
|
||
Of Earth before scarse pleasant seemd. Each Tree
|
||
Load'n with fairest Fruit, that hung to the Eye
|
||
Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite
|
||
To pluck and eate; whereat I wak'd, and found
|
||
Before mine Eyes all real, as the dream
|
||
Had lively shadowd: Here had new begun
|
||
My wandring, had not hee who was my Guide
|
||
Up hither, from among the Trees appeer'd,
|
||
Presence Divine. Rejoycing, but with aw
|
||
In adoration at his feet I fell
|
||
Submiss: he rear'd me, & Whom thou soughtst I am,
|
||
Said mildely, Author of all this thou seest
|
||
Above, or round about thee or beneath.
|
||
This Paradise I give thee, count it thine
|
||
To Till and keep, and of the Fruit to eate:
|
||
Of every Tree that in the Garden growes
|
||
Eate freely with glad heart; fear here no dearth:
|
||
But of the Tree whose operation brings
|
||
Knowledg of good and ill, which I have set
|
||
The Pledge of thy Obedience and thy Faith,
|
||
Amid the Garden by the Tree of Life,
|
||
Remember what I warne thee, shun to taste,
|
||
And shun the bitter consequence: for know,
|
||
The day thou eat'st thereof, my sole command
|
||
Transgrest, inevitably thou shalt dye;
|
||
From that day mortal, and this happie State
|
||
Shalt loose, expell'd from hence into a World
|
||
Of woe and sorrow. Sternly he pronounc'd
|
||
The rigid interdiction, which resounds
|
||
Yet dreadful in mine eare, though in my choice
|
||
Not to incur; but soon his cleer aspect
|
||
Return'd and gratious purpose thus renew'd.
|
||
Not onely these fair bounds, but all the Earth
|
||
To thee and to thy Race I give; as Lords
|
||
Possess it, and all things that therein live,
|
||
Or live in Sea, or Aire, Beast, Fish, and Fowle.
|
||
In signe whereof each Bird and Beast behold
|
||
After thir kindes; I bring them to receave
|
||
From thee thir Names, and pay thee fealtie
|
||
With low subjection; understand the same
|
||
Of Fish within thir watry residence,
|
||
Not hither summond, since they cannot change
|
||
Thir Element to draw the thinner Aire.
|
||
As thus he spake, each Bird and Beast behold
|
||
Approaching two and two, These cowring low
|
||
With blandishment, each Bird stoop'd on his wing.
|
||
I nam'd them, as they pass'd, and understood
|
||
Thir Nature, with such knowledg God endu'd
|
||
My sudden apprehension: but in these
|
||
I found not what me thought I wanted still;
|
||
And to the Heav'nly vision thus presum'd.
|
||
O by what Name, for thou above all these,
|
||
Above mankinde, or aught then mankinde higher,
|
||
Surpassest farr my naming, how may I
|
||
Adore thee, Author of this Universe,
|
||
And all this good to man, for whose well being
|
||
So amply, and with hands so liberal
|
||
Thou hast provided all things: but with mee
|
||
I see not who partakes. In solitude
|
||
What happiness, who can enjoy alone,
|
||
Or all enjoying, what contentment find?
|
||
Thus I presumptuous; and the vision bright,
|
||
As with a smile more bright'nd, thus repli'd.
|
||
What call'st thou solitude, is not the Earth
|
||
With various living creatures, and the Aire
|
||
Replenisht, and all these at thy command
|
||
To come and play before thee, know'st thou not
|
||
Thir language and thir wayes, they also know,
|
||
And reason not contemptibly; with these
|
||
Find pastime, and beare rule; thy Realm is large.
|
||
So spake the Universal Lord, and seem'd
|
||
So ordering. I with leave of speech implor'd,
|
||
And humble deprecation thus repli'd.
|
||
Let not my words offend thee, Heav'nly Power,
|
||
My Maker, be propitious while I speak.
|
||
Hast thou not made me here thy substitute,
|
||
And these inferiour farr beneath me set?
|
||
Among unequals what societie
|
||
Can sort, what harmonie or true delight?
|
||
Which must be mutual, in proportion due
|
||
Giv'n and receiv'd; but in disparitie
|
||
The one intense, the other still remiss
|
||
Cannot well suite with either, but soon prove
|
||
Tedious alike: Of fellowship I speak
|
||
Such as I seek, fit to participate
|
||
All rational delight, wherein the brute
|
||
Cannot be human consort; they rejoyce
|
||
Each with thir kinde, Lion with Lioness;
|
||
So fitly them in pairs thou hast combin'd;
|
||
Much less can Bird with Beast, or Fish with Fowle
|
||
So well converse, nor with the Ox the Ape;
|
||
Wors then can Man with Beast, and least of all.
|
||
Whereto th' Almighty answer'd, not displeas'd.
|
||
A nice and suttle happiness I see
|
||
Thou to thy self proposest, in the choice
|
||
Of thy Associates, ADAM, and wilt taste
|
||
No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitarie.
|
||
What thinkst thou then of mee, and this my State,
|
||
Seem I to thee sufficiently possest
|
||
Of happiness, or not? who am alone
|
||
From all Eternitie, for none I know
|
||
Second to mee or like, equal much less.
|
||
How have I then with whom to hold converse
|
||
Save with the Creatures which I made, and those
|
||
To me inferiour, infinite descents
|
||
Beneath what other Creatures are to thee?
|
||
He ceas'd, I lowly answer'd. To attaine
|
||
The highth and depth of thy Eternal wayes
|
||
All human thoughts come short, Supream of things;
|
||
Thou in thy self art perfet, and in thee
|
||
Is no deficience found; not so is Man,
|
||
But in degree, the cause of his desire
|
||
By conversation with his like to help,
|
||
Or solace his defects. No need that thou
|
||
Shouldst propagat, already infinite;
|
||
And through all numbers absolute, though One;
|
||
But Man by number is to manifest
|
||
His single imperfection, and beget
|
||
Like of his like, his Image multipli'd,
|
||
In unitie defective, which requires
|
||
Collateral love, and deerest amitie.
|
||
Thou in thy secresie although alone,
|
||
Best with thy self accompanied, seek'st not
|
||
Social communication, yet so pleas'd,
|
||
Canst raise thy Creature to what highth thou wilt
|
||
Of Union or Communion, deifi'd;
|
||
I by conversing cannot these erect
|
||
From prone, nor in thir wayes complacence find.
|
||
Thus I embold'nd spake, and freedom us'd
|
||
Permissive, and acceptance found, which gain'd
|
||
This answer from the gratious voice Divine.
|
||
Thus farr to try thee, ADAM, I was pleas'd,
|
||
And finde thee knowing not of Beasts alone,
|
||
Which thou hast rightly nam'd, but of thy self,
|
||
Expressing well the spirit within thee free,
|
||
My Image, not imparted to the Brute,
|
||
Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for thee
|
||
Good reason was thou freely shouldst dislike,
|
||
And be so minded still; I, ere thou spak'st,
|
||
Knew it not good for Man to be alone,
|
||
And no such companie as then thou saw'st
|
||
Intended thee, for trial onely brought,
|
||
To see how thou could'st judge of fit and meet:
|
||
What next I bring shall please thee, be assur'd,
|
||
Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,
|
||
Thy wish, exactly to thy hearts desire.
|
||
Hee ended, or I heard no more, for now
|
||
My earthly by his Heav'nly overpowerd,
|
||
Which it had long stood under, streind to the highth
|
||
In that celestial Colloquie sublime,
|
||
As with an object that excels the sense,
|
||
Dazl'd and spent, sunk down, and sought repair
|
||
Of sleep, which instantly fell on me, call'd
|
||
By Nature as in aide, and clos'd mine eyes.
|
||
Mine eyes he clos'd, but op'n left the Cell
|
||
Of Fancie my internal sight, by which
|
||
Abstract as in a transe methought I saw,
|
||
Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape
|
||
Still glorious before whom awake I stood;
|
||
Who stooping op'nd my left side, and took
|
||
From thence a Rib, with cordial spirits warme,
|
||
And Life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the wound,
|
||
But suddenly with flesh fill'd up & heal'd:
|
||
The Rib he formd and fashond with his hands;
|
||
Under his forming hands a Creature grew,
|
||
Manlike, but different sex, so lovly faire,
|
||
That what seemd fair in all the World, seemd now
|
||
Mean, or in her summd up, in her containd
|
||
And in her looks, which from that time infus'd
|
||
Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before,
|
||
And into all things from her Aire inspir'd
|
||
The spirit of love and amorous delight.
|
||
She disappeerd, and left me dark, I wak'd
|
||
To find her, or for ever to deplore
|
||
Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure:
|
||
When out of hope, behold her, not farr off,
|
||
Such as I saw her in my dream, adornd
|
||
With what all Earth or Heaven could bestow
|
||
To make her amiable: On she came,
|
||
Led by her Heav'nly Maker, though unseen,
|
||
And guided by his voice, nor uninformd
|
||
Of nuptial Sanctitie and marriage Rites:
|
||
Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her Eye,
|
||
In every gesture dignitie and love.
|
||
I overjoyd could not forbear aloud.
|
||
This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfill'd
|
||
Thy words, Creator bounteous and benigne,
|
||
Giver of all things faire, but fairest this
|
||
Of all thy gifts, nor enviest. I now see
|
||
Bone of my Bone, Flesh of my Flesh, my Self
|
||
Before me; Woman is her Name, of Man
|
||
Extracted; for this cause he shall forgoe
|
||
Father and Mother, and to his Wife adhere;
|
||
And they shall be one Flesh, one Heart, one Soule.
|
||
She heard me thus, and though divinely brought,
|
||
Yet Innocence and Virgin Modestie,
|
||
Her vertue and the conscience of her worth,
|
||
That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won,
|
||
Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retir'd,
|
||
The more desirable, or to say all,
|
||
Nature her self, though pure of sinful thought,
|
||
Wrought in her so, that seeing me, she turn'd;
|
||
I follow'd her, she what was Honour knew,
|
||
And with obsequious Majestie approv'd
|
||
My pleaded reason. To the Nuptial Bowre
|
||
I led her blushing like the Morn: all Heav'n,
|
||
And happie Constellations on that houre
|
||
Shed thir selectest influence; the Earth
|
||
Gave sign of gratulation, and each Hill;
|
||
Joyous the Birds; fresh Gales and gentle Aires
|
||
Whisper'd it to the Woods, and from thir wings
|
||
Flung Rose, flung Odours from the spicie Shrub,
|
||
Disporting, till the amorous Bird of Night
|
||
Sung Spousal, and bid haste the Eevning Starr
|
||
On his Hill top, to light the bridal Lamp.
|
||
Thus I have told thee all my State, and brought
|
||
My Storie to the sum of earthly bliss
|
||
Which I enjoy, and must confess to find
|
||
In all things else delight indeed, but such
|
||
As us'd or not, works in the mind no change,
|
||
Nor vehement desire, these delicacies
|
||
I mean of Taste, Sight, Smell, Herbs, Fruits, & Flours,
|
||
Walks, and the melodie of Birds; but here
|
||
Farr otherwise, transported I behold,
|
||
Transported touch; here passion first I felt,
|
||
Commotion strange, in all enjoyments else
|
||
Superiour and unmov'd, here onely weake
|
||
Against the charm of Beauties powerful glance.
|
||
Or Nature faild in mee, and left some part
|
||
Not proof enough such Object to sustain,
|
||
Or from my side subducting, took perhaps
|
||
More then enough; at least on her bestow'd
|
||
Too much of Ornament, in outward shew
|
||
Elaborate, of inward less exact.
|
||
For well I understand in the prime end
|
||
Of Nature her th' inferiour, in the mind
|
||
And inward Faculties, which most excell,
|
||
In outward also her resembling less
|
||
His Image who made both, and less expressing
|
||
The character of that Dominion giv'n
|
||
O're other Creatures; yet when I approach
|
||
Her loveliness, so absolute she seems
|
||
And in her self compleat, so well to know
|
||
Her own, that what she wills to do or say,
|
||
Seems wisest, vertuousest, discreetest, best;
|
||
All higher knowledge in her presence falls
|
||
Degraded, Wisdom in discourse with her
|
||
Looses discount'nanc't, and like folly shewes;
|
||
Authoritie and Reason on her waite,
|
||
As one intended first, not after made
|
||
Occasionally; and to consummate all,
|
||
Greatness of mind and nobleness thir seat
|
||
Build in her loveliest, and create an awe
|
||
About her, as a guard Angelic plac't.
|
||
To whom the Angel with contracted brow.
|
||
Accuse not Nature, she hath don her part;
|
||
Do thou but thine, and be not diffident
|
||
Of Wisdom, she deserts thee not, if thou
|
||
Dismiss not her, when most thou needst her nigh,
|
||
By attributing overmuch to things
|
||
Less excellent, as thou thy self perceav'st.
|
||
For what admir'st thou, what transports thee so,
|
||
An outside? fair no doubt, and worthy well
|
||
Thy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love,
|
||
Not thy subjection: weigh with her thy self;
|
||
Then value: Oft times nothing profits more
|
||
Then self-esteem, grounded on just and right
|
||
Well manag'd; of that skill the more thou know'st,
|
||
The more she will acknowledge thee her Head,
|
||
And to realities yeild all her shows;
|
||
Made so adorn for thy delight the more,
|
||
So awful, that with honour thou maist love
|
||
Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise.
|
||
But if the sense of touch whereby mankind
|
||
Is propagated seem such dear delight
|
||
Beyond all other, think the same voutsaf't
|
||
To Cattel and each Beast; which would not be
|
||
To them made common & divulg'd, if aught
|
||
Therein enjoy'd were worthy to subdue
|
||
The Soule of Man, or passion in him move.
|
||
What higher in her societie thou findst
|
||
Attractive, human, rational, love still;
|
||
In loving thou dost well, in passion not,
|
||
Wherein true Love consists not; love refines
|
||
The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath his seat
|
||
In Reason, and is judicious, is the scale
|
||
By which to heav'nly Love thou maist ascend,
|
||
Not sunk in carnal pleasure, for which cause
|
||
Among the Beasts no Mate for thee was found.
|
||
To whom thus half abash't ADAM repli'd.
|
||
Neither her out-side formd so fair, nor aught
|
||
In procreation common to all kindes
|
||
(Though higher of the genial Bed by far,
|
||
And with mysterious reverence I deem)
|
||
So much delights me, as those graceful acts,
|
||
Those thousand decencies that daily flow
|
||
From all her words and actions, mixt with Love
|
||
And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd
|
||
Union of Mind, or in us both one Soule;
|
||
Harmonie to behold in wedded pair
|
||
More grateful then harmonious sound to the eare.
|
||
Yet these subject not; I to thee disclose
|
||
What inward thence I feel, not therefore foild,
|
||
Who meet with various objects, from the sense
|
||
Variously representing; yet still free
|
||
Approve the best, and follow what I approve.
|
||
To love thou blam'st me not, for love thou saist
|
||
Leads up to Heav'n, is both the way and guide;
|
||
Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask;
|
||
Love not the heav'nly Spirits, and how thir Love
|
||
Express they, by looks onely, or do they mix
|
||
Irradiance, virtual or immediate touch?
|
||
To whom the Angel with a smile that glow'd
|
||
Celestial rosie red, Loves proper hue,
|
||
Answer'd. Let it suffice thee that thou know'st
|
||
Us happie, and without Love no happiness.
|
||
Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy'st
|
||
(And pure thou wert created) we enjoy
|
||
In eminence, and obstacle find none
|
||
Of membrane, joynt, or limb, exclusive barrs:
|
||
Easier then Air with Air, if Spirits embrace,
|
||
Total they mix, Union of Pure with Pure
|
||
Desiring; nor restrain'd conveyance need
|
||
As Flesh to mix with Flesh, or Soul with Soul.
|
||
But I can now no more; the parting Sun
|
||
Beyond the Earths green Cape and verdant Isles
|
||
HESPEREAN sets, my Signal to depart.
|
||
Be strong, live happie, and love, but first of all
|
||
Him whom to love is to obey, and keep
|
||
His great command; take heed least Passion sway
|
||
Thy Judgement to do aught, which else free Will
|
||
Would not admit; thine and of all thy Sons
|
||
The weal or woe in thee is plac't; beware.
|
||
I in thy persevering shall rejoyce,
|
||
And all the Blest: stand fast; to stand or fall
|
||
Free in thine own Arbitrement it lies.
|
||
Perfet within, no outward aid require;
|
||
And all temptation to transgress repel.
|
||
So saying, he arose; whom ADAM thus
|
||
Follow'd with benediction. Since to part,
|
||
Go heavenly Guest, Ethereal Messenger,
|
||
Sent from whose sovran goodness I adore.
|
||
Gentle to me and affable hath been
|
||
Thy condescension, and shall be honour'd ever
|
||
With grateful Memorie: thou to mankind
|
||
Be good and friendly still, and oft return.
|
||
So parted they, the Angel up to Heav'n
|
||
From the thick shade, and ADAM to his Bowre.
|
||
THE END OF THE SEVENTH BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST
|
||
BOOK VIII.
|
||
|
||
No more of talk where God or Angel Guest
|
||
With Man, as with his Friend, familiar us'd
|
||
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
|
||
Rural repast, permitting him the while
|
||
Venial discourse unblam'd: I now must change
|
||
Those Notes to Tragic; foul distrust, and breach
|
||
Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt
|
||
And disobedience: On the part of Heav'n
|
||
Now alienated, distance and distaste,
|
||
Anger and just rebuke, and judgement giv'n,
|
||
That brought into this World a world of woe,
|
||
Sinne and her shadow Death, and Miserie
|
||
Deaths Harbinger: Sad task, yet argument
|
||
Not less but more Heroic then the wrauth
|
||
Of stern ACHILLES on his Foe pursu'd
|
||
Thrice Fugitive about TROY Wall; or rage
|
||
Of TURNUS for LAVINIA disespous'd,
|
||
Or NEPTUN'S ire or JUNO'S, that so long
|
||
Perplex'd the GREEK and CYTHEREA'S Son;
|
||
If answerable style I can obtaine
|
||
Of my Celestial Patroness, who deignes
|
||
Her nightly visitation unimplor'd,
|
||
And dictates to me slumbring, or inspires
|
||
Easie my unpremeditated Verse:
|
||
Since first this subject for Heroic Song
|
||
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
|
||
Not sedulous by Nature to indite
|
||
Warrs, hitherto the onely Argument
|
||
Heroic deem'd, chief maistrie to dissect
|
||
With long and tedious havoc fabl'd Knights
|
||
In Battels feign'd; the better fortitude
|
||
Of Patience and Heroic Martyrdom
|
||
Unsung; or to describe Races and Games,
|
||
Or tilting Furniture, emblazon'd Shields,
|
||
Impreses quaint, Caparisons and Steeds;
|
||
Bases and tinsel Trappings, gorgious Knights
|
||
At Joust and Torneament; then marshal'd Feast
|
||
Serv'd up in Hall with Sewers, and Seneshals;
|
||
The skill of Artifice or Office mean,
|
||
Not that which justly gives Heroic name
|
||
To Person or to Poem. Mee of these
|
||
Nor skilld nor studious, higher Argument
|
||
Remaines, sufficient of it self to raise
|
||
That name, unless an age too late, or cold
|
||
Climat, or Years damp my intended wing
|
||
Deprest, and much they may, if all be mine,
|
||
Not Hers who brings it nightly to my Ear.
|
||
The Sun was sunk, and after him the Starr
|
||
Of HESPERUS, whose Office is to bring
|
||
Twilight upon the Earth, short Arbiter
|
||
Twixt Day and Night, and now from end to end
|
||
Nights Hemisphere had veild the Horizon round:
|
||
When SATAN who late fled before the threats
|
||
Of GABRIEL out of EDEN, now improv'd
|
||
In meditated fraud and malice, bent
|
||
On mans destruction, maugre what might hap
|
||
Of heavier on himself, fearless return'd.
|
||
By Night he fled, and at Midnight return'd
|
||
From compassing the Earth, cautious of day,
|
||
Since URIEL Regent of the Sun descri'd
|
||
His entrance, and forewarnd the Cherubim
|
||
That kept thir watch; thence full of anguish driv'n,
|
||
The space of seven continu'd Nights he rode
|
||
With darkness, thrice the Equinoctial Line
|
||
He circl'd, four times cross'd the Carr of Night
|
||
From Pole to Pole, traversing each Colure;
|
||
On the eighth return'd, and on the Coast averse
|
||
From entrance or Cherubic Watch, by stealth
|
||
Found unsuspected way. There was a place,
|
||
Now not, though Sin, not Time, first wraught the change,
|
||
Where TIGRIS at the foot of Paradise
|
||
Into a Gulf shot under ground, till part
|
||
Rose up a Fountain by the Tree of Life;
|
||
In with the River sunk, and with it rose
|
||
Satan involv'd in rising Mist, then sought
|
||
Where to lie hid; Sea he had searcht and Land
|
||
From EDEN over PONTUS, and the Poole
|
||
MAEOTIS, up beyond the River OB;
|
||
Downward as farr Antartic; and in length
|
||
West from ORANTES to the Ocean barr'd
|
||
At DARIEN, thence to the Land where flowes
|
||
GANGES and INDUS: thus the Orb he roam'd
|
||
With narrow search; and with inspection deep
|
||
Consider'd every Creature, which of all
|
||
Most opportune might serve his Wiles, and found
|
||
The Serpent suttlest Beast of all the Field.
|
||
Him after long debate, irresolute
|
||
Of thoughts revolv'd, his final sentence chose
|
||
Fit Vessel, fittest Imp of fraud, in whom
|
||
To enter, and his dark suggestions hide
|
||
From sharpest sight: for in the wilie Snake,
|
||
Whatever sleights none would suspicious mark,
|
||
As from his wit and native suttletie
|
||
Proceeding, which in other Beasts observ'd
|
||
Doubt might beget of Diabolic pow'r
|
||
Active within beyond the sense of brute.
|
||
Thus he resolv'd, but first from inward griefe
|
||
His bursting passion into plaints thus pour'd:
|
||
O Earth, how like to Heav'n, if not preferrd
|
||
More justly, Seat worthier of Gods, as built
|
||
With second thoughts, reforming what was old!
|
||
For what God after better worse would build?
|
||
Terrestrial Heav'n, danc't round by other Heav'ns
|
||
That shine, yet bear thir bright officious Lamps,
|
||
Light above Light, for thee alone, as seems,
|
||
In thee concentring all thir precious beams
|
||
Of sacred influence: As God in Heav'n
|
||
Is Center, yet extends to all, so thou
|
||
Centring receav'st from all those Orbs; in thee,
|
||
Not in themselves, all thir known vertue appeers
|
||
Productive in Herb, Plant, and nobler birth
|
||
Of Creatures animate with gradual life
|
||
Of Growth, Sense, Reason, all summ'd up in Man.
|
||
With what delight could I have walkt thee round
|
||
If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange
|
||
Of Hill and Vallie, Rivers, Woods and Plaines,
|
||
Now Land, now Sea, & Shores with Forrest crownd,
|
||
Rocks, Dens, and Caves; but I in none of these
|
||
Find place or refuge; and the more I see
|
||
Pleasures about me, so much more I feel
|
||
Torment within me, as from the hateful siege
|
||
Of contraries; all good to me becomes
|
||
Bane, and in Heav'n much worse would be my state.
|
||
But neither here seek I, no nor in Heav'n
|
||
To dwell, unless by maistring Heav'ns Supreame;
|
||
Nor hope to be my self less miserable
|
||
By what I seek, but others to make such
|
||
As I though thereby worse to me redound:
|
||
For onely in destroying I finde ease
|
||
To my relentless thoughts; and him destroyd,
|
||
Or won to what may work his utter loss,
|
||
For whom all this was made, all this will soon
|
||
Follow, as to him linkt in weal or woe,
|
||
In wo then; that destruction wide may range:
|
||
To mee shall be the glorie sole among
|
||
The infernal Powers, in one day to have marr'd
|
||
What he ALMIGHTIE styl'd, six Nights and Days
|
||
Continu'd making, and who knows how long
|
||
Before had bin contriving, though perhaps
|
||
Not longer then since I in one Night freed
|
||
From servitude inglorious welnigh half
|
||
Th' Angelic Name, and thinner left the throng
|
||
Of his adorers: hee to be aveng'd,
|
||
And to repaire his numbers thus impair'd,
|
||
Whether such vertue spent of old now faild
|
||
More Angels to Create, if they at least
|
||
Are his Created or to spite us more,
|
||
Determin'd to advance into our room
|
||
A Creature form'd of Earth, and him endow,
|
||
Exalted from so base original,
|
||
With Heav'nly spoils, our spoils: What he decreed
|
||
He effected; Man he made, and for him built
|
||
Magnificent this World, and Earth his seat,
|
||
Him Lord pronounc'd, and, O indignitie!
|
||
Subjected to his service Angel wings,
|
||
And flaming Ministers to watch and tend
|
||
Thir earthlie Charge: Of these the vigilance
|
||
I dread, and to elude, thus wrapt in mist
|
||
Of midnight vapor glide obscure, and prie
|
||
In every Bush and Brake, where hap may finde
|
||
The Serpent sleeping, in whose mazie foulds
|
||
To hide me, and the dark intent I bring.
|
||
O foul descent! that I who erst contended
|
||
With Gods to sit the highest, am now constraind
|
||
Into a Beast, and mixt with bestial slime,
|
||
This essence to incarnate and imbrute,
|
||
That to the hight of Deitie aspir'd;
|
||
But what will not Ambition and Revenge
|
||
Descend to? who aspires must down as low
|
||
As high he soard, obnoxious first or last
|
||
To basest things. Revenge, at first though sweet,
|
||
Bitter ere long back on it self recoiles;
|
||
Let it; I reck not, so it light well aim'd,
|
||
Since higher I fall short, on him who next
|
||
Provokes my envie, this new Favorite
|
||
Of Heav'n, this Man of Clay, Son of despite,
|
||
Whom us the more to spite his Maker rais'd
|
||
From dust: spite then with spite is best repaid.
|
||
So saying, through each Thicket Danck or Drie,
|
||
Like a black mist low creeping, he held on
|
||
His midnight search, where soonest he might finde
|
||
The Serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found
|
||
In Labyrinth of many a round self-rowl'd,
|
||
His head the midst, well stor'd with suttle wiles:
|
||
Not yet in horrid Shade or dismal Den,
|
||
Not nocent yet, but on the grassie Herbe
|
||
Fearless unfeard he slept: in at his Mouth
|
||
The Devil enterd, and his brutal sense,
|
||
In heart or head, possessing soon inspir'd
|
||
With act intelligential; but his sleep
|
||
Disturbd not, waiting close th' approach of Morn.
|
||
Now whenas sacred Light began to dawne
|
||
In EDEN on the humid Flours, that breathd
|
||
Thir morning Incense, when all things that breath,
|
||
From th' Earths great Altar send up silent praise
|
||
To the Creator, and his Nostrils fill
|
||
With gratefull Smell, forth came the human pair
|
||
And joynd thir vocal Worship to the Quire
|
||
Of Creatures wanting voice, that done, partake
|
||
The season, prime for sweetest Sents and Aires:
|
||
Then commune how that day they best may ply
|
||
Thir growing work: for much thir work outgrew
|
||
The hands dispatch of two Gardning so wide.
|
||
And EVE first to her Husband thus began.
|
||
ADAM, well may we labour still to dress
|
||
This Garden, still to tend Plant, Herb and Flour.
|
||
Our pleasant task enjoyn'd, but till more hands
|
||
Aid us, the work under our labour grows,
|
||
Luxurious by restraint; what we by day
|
||
Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind,
|
||
One night or two with wanton growth derides
|
||
Tending to wilde. Thou therefore now advise
|
||
Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present,
|
||
Let us divide our labours, thou where choice
|
||
Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind
|
||
The Woodbine round this Arbour, or direct
|
||
The clasping Ivie where to climb, while I
|
||
In yonder Spring of Roses intermixt
|
||
With Myrtle, find what to redress till Noon:
|
||
For while so near each other thus all day
|
||
Our task we choose, what wonder if no near
|
||
Looks intervene and smiles, or object new
|
||
Casual discourse draw on, which intermits
|
||
Our dayes work brought to little, though begun
|
||
Early, and th' hour of Supper comes unearn'd.
|
||
To whom mild answer ADAM thus return'd.
|
||
Sole EVE, Associate sole, to me beyond
|
||
Compare above all living Creatures deare,
|
||
Well hast thou motion'd, wel thy thoughts imployd
|
||
How we might best fulfill the work which here
|
||
God hath assign'd us, nor of me shalt pass
|
||
Unprais'd: for nothing lovelier can be found
|
||
In woman, then to studie houshold good,
|
||
And good workes in her Husband to promote.
|
||
Yet not so strictly hath our Lord impos'd
|
||
Labour, as to debarr us when we need
|
||
Refreshment, whether food, or talk between,
|
||
Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse
|
||
Of looks and smiles, for smiles from Reason flow,
|
||
To brute deni'd, and are of Love the food,
|
||
Love not the lowest end of human life.
|
||
For not to irksom toile, but to delight
|
||
He made us, and delight to Reason joyn'd.
|
||
These paths and Bowers doubt not but our joynt
|
||
Will keep from Wilderness with ease, as wide
|
||
As we need walk, till younger hands ere long
|
||
Assist us: But if much converse perhaps
|
||
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yeild.
|
||
For solitude somtimes is best societie,
|
||
And short retirement urges sweet returne.
|
||
But other doubt possesses me, least harm
|
||
Befall thee sever'd from me; for thou knowst
|
||
What hath bin warn'd us, what malicious Foe
|
||
Envying our happiness, and of his own
|
||
Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame
|
||
By sly assault; and somwhere nigh at hand
|
||
Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find
|
||
His wish and best advantage, us asunder,
|
||
Hopeless to circumvent us joynd, where each
|
||
To other speedie aide might lend at need;
|
||
Whether his first design be to withdraw
|
||
Our fealtie from God, or to disturb
|
||
Conjugal Love, then which perhaps no bliss
|
||
Enjoy'd by us excites his envie more;
|
||
Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side
|
||
That gave thee being, stil shades thee and protects.
|
||
The Wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
|
||
Safest and seemliest by her Husband staies,
|
||
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
|
||
To whom the Virgin Majestie of EVE,
|
||
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets,
|
||
With sweet austeer composure thus reply'd.
|
||
Ofspring of Heav'n and Earth, and all Earths Lord,
|
||
That such an enemie we have, who seeks
|
||
Our ruin, both by thee informd I learne,
|
||
And from the parting Angel over-heard
|
||
As in a shadie nook I stood behind,
|
||
Just then returnd at shut of Evening Flours.
|
||
But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt
|
||
To God or thee, because we have a foe
|
||
May tempt it, I expected not to hear.
|
||
His violence thou fearst not, being such,
|
||
As wee, not capable of death or paine,
|
||
Can either not receave, or can repell.
|
||
His fraud is then thy fear, which plain inferrs
|
||
Thy equal fear that my firm Faith and Love
|
||
Can by his fraud be shak'n or seduc't;
|
||
Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy Brest,
|
||
ADAM, misthought of her to thee so dear?
|
||
To whom with healing words ADAM reply'd.
|
||
Daughter of God and Man, immortal EVE,
|
||
For such thou art, from sin and blame entire:
|
||
Not diffident of thee do I dissuade
|
||
Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid
|
||
Th' attempt it self, intended by our Foe.
|
||
For hee who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses
|
||
The tempted with dishonour foul, suppos'd
|
||
Not incorruptible of Faith, not prooff
|
||
Against temptation: thou thy self with scorne
|
||
And anger wouldst resent the offer'd wrong,
|
||
Though ineffectual found: misdeem not then,
|
||
If such affront I labour to avert
|
||
From thee alone, which on us both at once
|
||
The Enemie, though bold, will hardly dare,
|
||
Or daring, first on mee th' assault shall light.
|
||
Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn;
|
||
Suttle he needs must be, who could seduce
|
||
Angels, nor think superfluous others aid.
|
||
I from the influence of thy looks receave
|
||
Access in every Vertue, in thy sight
|
||
More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were
|
||
Of outward strength; while shame, thou looking on,
|
||
Shame to be overcome or over-reacht
|
||
Would utmost vigor raise, and rais'd unite.
|
||
Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel
|
||
When I am present, and thy trial choose
|
||
With me, best witness of thy Vertue tri'd.
|
||
So spake domestick ADAM in his care
|
||
And Matrimonial Love, but EVE, who thought
|
||
Less attributed to her Faith sincere,
|
||
Thus her reply with accent sweet renewd.
|
||
If this be our condition, thus to dwell
|
||
In narrow circuit strait'nd by a Foe,
|
||
Suttle or violent, we not endu'd
|
||
Single with like defence, wherever met,
|
||
How are we happie, still in fear of harm?
|
||
But harm precedes not sin: onely our Foe
|
||
Tempting affronts us with his foul esteem
|
||
Of our integritie: his foul esteeme
|
||
Sticks no dishonor on our Front, but turns
|
||
Foul on himself; then wherfore shund or feard
|
||
By us? who rather double honour gaine
|
||
From his surmise prov'd false, finde peace within,
|
||
Favour from Heav'n, our witness from th' event.
|
||
And what is Faith, Love, Vertue unassaid
|
||
Alone, without exterior help sustaind?
|
||
Let us not then suspect our happie State
|
||
Left so imperfet by the Maker wise,
|
||
As not secure to single or combin'd.
|
||
Fraile is our happiness, if this be so,
|
||
And EDEN were no EDEN thus expos'd.
|
||
To whom thus ADAM fervently repli'd.
|
||
O Woman, best are all things as the will
|
||
Of God ordaind them, his creating hand
|
||
Nothing imperfet or deficient left
|
||
Of all that he Created, much less Man,
|
||
Or ought that might his happie State secure,
|
||
Secure from outward force; within himself
|
||
The danger lies, yet lies within his power:
|
||
Against his will he can receave no harme.
|
||
But God left free the Will, for what obeyes
|
||
Reason, is free, and Reason he made right,
|
||
But bid her well beware, and still erect,
|
||
Least by some faire appeering good surpris'd
|
||
She dictate false, and missinforme the Will
|
||
To do what God expresly hath forbid.
|
||
Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoynes,
|
||
That I should mind thee oft, and mind thou me.
|
||
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve,
|
||
Since Reason not impossibly may meet
|
||
Some specious object by the Foe subornd,
|
||
And fall into deception unaware,
|
||
Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warnd.
|
||
Seek not temptation then, which to avoide
|
||
Were better, and most likelie if from mee
|
||
Thou sever not; Trial will come unsought.
|
||
Wouldst thou approve thy constancie, approve
|
||
First thy obedience; th' other who can know,
|
||
Not seeing thee attempted, who attest?
|
||
But if thou think, trial unsought may finde
|
||
Us both securer then thus warnd thou seemst,
|
||
Go; for thy stay, not free, absents thee more;
|
||
Go in thy native innocence, relie
|
||
On what thou hast of vertue, summon all,
|
||
For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine.
|
||
So spake the Patriarch of Mankinde, but EVE
|
||
Persisted, yet submiss, though last, repli'd.
|
||
With thy permission then, and thus forewarnd
|
||
Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning words
|
||
Touchd onely, that our trial, when least sought,
|
||
May finde us both perhaps farr less prepar'd,
|
||
The willinger I goe, nor much expect
|
||
A Foe so proud will first the weaker seek;
|
||
So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse.
|
||
Thus saying, from her Husbands hand her hand
|
||
Soft she withdrew, and like a Wood-Nymph light
|
||
OREAD or DRYAD, or of DELIA's Traine,
|
||
Betook her to the Groves, but DELIA's self
|
||
In gate surpass'd and Goddess-like deport,
|
||
Though not as shee with Bow and Quiver armd,
|
||
But with such Gardning Tools as Are yet rude,
|
||
Guiltless of fire had formd, or Angels brought,
|
||
To PALES, or POMONA, thus adornd,
|
||
Likest she seemd, POMONA when she fled
|
||
VERTUMNUS, or to CERES in her Prime,
|
||
Yet Virgin of PROSERPINA from JOVE.
|
||
Her long with ardent look his EYE pursu'd
|
||
Delighted, but desiring more her stay.
|
||
Oft he to her his charge of quick returne,
|
||
Repeated, shee to him as oft engag'd
|
||
To be returnd by Noon amid the Bowre,
|
||
And all things in best order to invite
|
||
Noontide repast, or Afternoons repose.
|
||
O much deceav'd, much failing, hapless EVE,
|
||
Of thy presum'd return! event perverse!
|
||
Thou never from that houre in Paradise
|
||
Foundst either sweet repast, or found repose;
|
||
Such ambush hid among sweet Flours and Shades
|
||
Waited with hellish rancor imminent
|
||
To intercept thy way, or send thee back
|
||
Despoild of Innocence, of Faith, of Bliss.
|
||
For now, and since first break of dawne the Fiend,
|
||
Meer Serpent in appearance, forth was come,
|
||
And on his Quest, where likeliest he might finde
|
||
The onely two of Mankinde, but in them
|
||
The whole included Race, his purposd prey.
|
||
In Bowre and Field he sought, where any tuft
|
||
Of Grove or Garden-Plot more pleasant lay,
|
||
Thir tendance or Plantation for delight,
|
||
By Fountain or by shadie Rivulet
|
||
He sought them both, but wish'd his hap might find
|
||
EVE separate, he wish'd, but not with hope
|
||
Of what so seldom chanc'd, when to his wish,
|
||
Beyond his hope, EVE separate he spies,
|
||
Veild in a Cloud of Fragrance, where she stood,
|
||
Half spi'd, so thick the Roses bushing round
|
||
About her glowd, oft stooping to support
|
||
Each Flour of slender stalk, whose head though gay
|
||
Carnation, Purple, Azure, or spect with Gold,
|
||
Hung drooping unsustaind, them she upstaies
|
||
Gently with Mirtle band, mindless the while,
|
||
Her self, though fairest unsupported Flour,
|
||
From her best prop so farr, and storn so nigh.
|
||
Neererhe drew, and many a walk travers'd
|
||
Of stateliest Covert, Cedar, Pine, or Palme,
|
||
Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen
|
||
Among thick-wov'n Arborets and Flours
|
||
Imborderd on each Bank, the hand of EVE:
|
||
Spot more delicious then those Gardens feign'd
|
||
Or of reviv'd ADONIS, or renownd
|
||
ALCINOUS, host of old LAERTES Son,
|
||
Or that, not Mystic, where the Sapient King
|
||
Held dalliance with his faire EGYPTIAN Spouse.
|
||
Much hee the Place admir'd, the Person more.
|
||
As one who long in populous City pent,
|
||
Where Houses thick and Sewers annoy the Aire,
|
||
Forth issuing on a Summers Morn, to breathe
|
||
Among the pleasant Villages and Farmes
|
||
Adjoynd, from each thing met conceaves delight,
|
||
The smell of Grain, or tedded Grass, or Kine,
|
||
Or Dairie, each rural sight, each rural sound;
|
||
If chance with Nymphlike step fair Virgin pass,
|
||
What pleasing seemd, for her now pleases more,
|
||
She most, and in her look summs all Delight.
|
||
Such Pleasure took the Serpent to behold
|
||
This Flourie Plat, the sweet recess of EVE
|
||
Thus earlie, thus alone; her Heav'nly forme
|
||
Angelic, but more soft, and Feminine,
|
||
Her graceful Innocence, her every Aire
|
||
Of gesture or lest action overawd
|
||
His Malice, and with rapine sweet bereav'd
|
||
His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought:
|
||
That space the Evil one abstracted stood
|
||
From his own evil, and for the time remaind
|
||
Stupidly good, of enmitie disarm'd,
|
||
Of guile, of hate, of envie, of revenge;
|
||
But the hot Hell that alwayes in him burnes,
|
||
Though in mid Heav'n, soon ended his delight,
|
||
And tortures him now more, the more he sees
|
||
Of pleasure not for him ordain'd: then soon
|
||
Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts
|
||
Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites.
|
||
Thoughts, whither have he led me, with what sweet
|
||
Compulsion thus transported to forget
|
||
What hither brought us, hate, not love, nor hope
|
||
Of Paradise for Hell, hope here to taste
|
||
Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy,
|
||
Save what is in destroying, other joy
|
||
To me is lost. Then let me not let pass
|
||
Occasion which now smiles, behold alone
|
||
The Woman, opportune to all attempts,
|
||
Her Husband, for I view far round, not nigh,
|
||
Whose higher intellectual more I shun,
|
||
And strength, of courage hautie, and of limb
|
||
Heroic built, though of terrestrial mould,
|
||
Foe not informidable, exempt from wound,
|
||
I not; so much hath Hell debas'd, and paine
|
||
Infeebl'd me, to what I was in Heav'n.
|
||
Shee fair, divinely fair, fit Love for Gods,
|
||
Not terrible, though terrour be in Love
|
||
And beautie, not approacht by stronger hate,
|
||
Hate stronger, under shew of Love well feign'd,
|
||
The way which to her ruin now I tend.
|
||
So spake the Enemie of Mankind, enclos'd
|
||
In Serpent, Inmate bad, and toward EVE
|
||
Address'd his way, not with indented wave,
|
||
Prone on the ground, as since, but on his reare,
|
||
Circular base of rising foulds, that tour'd
|
||
Fould above fould a surging Maze, his Head
|
||
Crested aloft, and Carbuncle his Eyes;
|
||
With burnisht Neck of verdant Gold, erect
|
||
Amidst his circling Spires, that on the grass
|
||
Floted redundant: pleasing was his shape,
|
||
And lovely, never since of Serpent kind
|
||
Lovelier, not those that in ILLYRIA chang'd
|
||
HERMIONE and CADMUS, or the God
|
||
In EPIDAURUS; nor to which transformd
|
||
AMMONIAN JOVE, or CAPITOLINE was seen,
|
||
Hee with OLYMPIAS, this with her who bore
|
||
SCIPIO the highth of ROME. With tract oblique
|
||
At first, as one who sought access, but feard
|
||
To interrupt, side-long he works his way.
|
||
As when a Ship by skilful Stearsman wrought
|
||
Nigh Rivers mouth or Foreland, where the Wind
|
||
Veres oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her Saile;
|
||
So varied hee, and of his tortuous Traine
|
||
Curld many a wanton wreath in sight of EVE,
|
||
To lure her Eye; shee busied heard the sound
|
||
Of rusling Leaves, but minded not, as us'd
|
||
To such disport before her through the Field,
|
||
From every Beast, more duteous at her call,
|
||
Then at CIRCEAN call the Herd disguis'd.
|
||
Hee boulder now, uncall'd before her stood;
|
||
But as in gaze admiring: Oft he bowd
|
||
His turret Crest, and sleek enamel'd Neck,
|
||
Fawning, and lick'd the ground whereon she trod.
|
||
His gentle dumb expression turnd at length
|
||
The Eye of EVE to mark his play; he glad
|
||
Of her attention gaind, with Serpent Tongue
|
||
Organic, or impulse of vocal Air,
|
||
His fraudulent temptation thus began.
|
||
Wonder not, sovran Mistress, if perhaps
|
||
Thou canst, who art sole Wonder, much less arm
|
||
Thy looks, the Heav'n of mildness, with disdain,
|
||
Displeas'd that I approach thee thus, and gaze
|
||
Insatiate, I thus single; nor have feard
|
||
Thy awful brow, more awful thus retir'd.
|
||
Fairest resemblance of thy Maker faire,
|
||
Thee all living things gaze on, all things thine
|
||
By gift, and thy Celestial Beautie adore
|
||
With ravishment beheld, there best beheld
|
||
Where universally admir'd; but here
|
||
In this enclosure wild, these Beasts among,
|
||
Beholders rude, and shallow to discerne
|
||
Half what in thee is fair, one man except,
|
||
Who sees thee? (and what is one?) who shouldst be seen
|
||
A Goddess among Gods, ador'd and serv'd
|
||
By Angels numberless, thy daily Train.
|
||
So gloz'd the Tempter, and his Proem tun'd;
|
||
Into the Heart of EVE his words made way,
|
||
Though at the voice much marveling; at length
|
||
Not unamaz'd she thus in answer spake.
|
||
What may this mean? Language of Man pronounc't
|
||
By Tongue of Brute, and human sense exprest?
|
||
The first at lest of these I thought deni'd
|
||
To Beasts, whom God on their Creation-Day
|
||
Created mute to all articulat sound;
|
||
The latter I demurre, for in thir looks
|
||
Much reason, and in thir actions oft appeers.
|
||
Thee, Serpent, suttlest beast of all the field
|
||
I knew, but not with human voice endu'd;
|
||
Redouble then this miracle, and say,
|
||
How cam'st thou speakable of mute, and how
|
||
To me so friendly grown above the rest
|
||
Of brutal kind, that daily are in sight?
|
||
Say, for such wonder claims attention due.
|
||
To whom the guileful Tempter thus reply'd.
|
||
Empress of this fair World, resplendent EVE,
|
||
Easie to mee it is to tell thee all
|
||
What thou commandst, and right thou shouldst be obeyd:
|
||
I was at first as other Beasts that graze
|
||
The trodden Herb, of abject thoughts and low,
|
||
As was my food, nor aught but food discern'd
|
||
Or Sex, and apprehended nothing high:
|
||
Till on a day roaving the field, I chanc'd
|
||
A goodly Tree farr distant to behold
|
||
Loaden with fruit of fairest colours mixt,
|
||
Ruddie and Gold: I nearer drew to gaze;
|
||
When from the boughes a savorie odour blow'n,
|
||
Grateful to appetite, more pleas'd my sense
|
||
Then smell of sweetest Fenel, or the Teats
|
||
Of Ewe or Goat dropping with Milk at Eevn,
|
||
Unsuckt of Lamb or Kid, that tend thir play.
|
||
To satisfie the sharp desire I had
|
||
Of tasting those fair Apples, I resolv'd
|
||
Not to deferr; hunger and thirst at once,
|
||
Powerful perswaders, quick'nd at the scent
|
||
Of that alluring fruit, urg'd me so keene.
|
||
About the Mossie Trunk I wound me soon,
|
||
For high from ground the branches would require
|
||
Thy utmost reach or ADAMS: Round the Tree
|
||
All other Beasts that saw, with like desire
|
||
Longing and envying stood, but could not reach.
|
||
Amid the Tree now got, where plentie hung
|
||
Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill
|
||
I spar'd not, for such pleasure till that hour
|
||
At Feed or Fountain never had I found.
|
||
Sated at length, ere long I might perceave
|
||
Strange alteration in me, to degree
|
||
Of Reason in my inward Powers, and Speech
|
||
Wanted not long, though to this shape retaind.
|
||
Thenceforth to Speculations high or deep
|
||
I turnd my thoughts, and with capacious mind
|
||
Considerd all things visible in Heav'n,
|
||
Or Earth, or Middle, all things fair and good;
|
||
But all that fair and good in thy Divine
|
||
Semblance, and in thy Beauties heav'nly Ray
|
||
United I beheld; no Fair to thine
|
||
Equivalent or second, which compel'd
|
||
Mee thus, though importune perhaps, to come
|
||
And gaze, and worship thee of right declar'd
|
||
Sovran of Creatures, universal Dame.
|
||
So talk'd the spirited sly Snake; and EVE
|
||
Yet more amaz'd unwarie thus reply'd.
|
||
Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in doubt
|
||
The vertue of that Fruit, in thee first prov'd:
|
||
But say, where grows the Tree, from hence how far?
|
||
For many are the Trees of God that grow
|
||
In Paradise, and various, yet unknown
|
||
To us, in such abundance lies our choice,
|
||
As leaves a greater store of Fruit untoucht,
|
||
Still hanging incorruptible, till men
|
||
Grow up to thir provision, and more hands
|
||
Help to disburden Nature of her Bearth.
|
||
To whom the wilie Adder, blithe and glad.
|
||
Empress, the way is readie, and not long,
|
||
Beyond a row of Myrtles, on a Flat,
|
||
Fast by a Fountain, one small Thicket past
|
||
Of blowing Myrrh and Balme; if thou accept
|
||
My conduct, I can bring thee thither soon.
|
||
Lead then, said EVE. Hee leading swiftly rowld
|
||
In tangles, and make intricate seem strait,
|
||
To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joy
|
||
Bright'ns his Crest, as when a wandring Fire
|
||
Compact of unctuous vapor, which the Night
|
||
Condenses, and the cold invirons round,
|
||
Kindl'd through agitation to a Flame,
|
||
Which oft, they say, some evil Spirit attends,
|
||
Hovering and blazing with delusive Light,
|
||
Misleads th' amaz'd Night-wanderer from his way
|
||
To Boggs and Mires, & oft through Pond or Poole,
|
||
There swallow'd up and lost, from succour farr.
|
||
So glister'd the dire Snake and into fraud
|
||
Led EVE our credulous Mother, to the Tree
|
||
Of prohibition, root of all our woe;
|
||
Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake.
|
||
Serpent, we might have spar'd our coming hither,
|
||
Fruitless to me, though Fruit be here to excess,
|
||
The credit of whose vertue rest with thee,
|
||
Wondrous indeed, if cause of such effects.
|
||
But of this Tree we may not taste nor touch;
|
||
God so commanded, and left that Command
|
||
Sole Daughter of his voice; the rest, we live
|
||
Law to our selves, our Reason is our Law.
|
||
To whom the Tempter guilefully repli'd.
|
||
Indeed? hath God then said that of the Fruit
|
||
Of all these Garden Trees ye shall not eate,
|
||
Yet Lords declar'd of all in Earth or Aire?
|
||
To whom thus EVE yet sinless. Of the Fruit
|
||
Of each Tree in the Garden we may eate,
|
||
But of the Fruit of this fair Tree amidst
|
||
The Garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eate
|
||
Thereof, nor shall ye touch it, least ye die.
|
||
She scarse had said, though brief, when now more bold
|
||
The Tempter, but with shew of Zeale and Love
|
||
To Man, and indignation at his wrong,
|
||
New part puts on, and as to passion mov'd,
|
||
Fluctuats disturbd, yet comely, and in act
|
||
Rais'd, as of som great matter to begin.
|
||
As when of old som Orator renound
|
||
In ATHENS or free ROME, where Eloquence
|
||
Flourishd, since mute, to som great cause addrest,
|
||
Stood in himself collected, while each part,
|
||
Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue,
|
||
Somtimes in highth began, as no delay
|
||
Of Preface brooking through his Zeal of Right.
|
||
So standing, moving, or to highth upgrown
|
||
The Tempter all impassiond thus began.
|
||
O Sacred, Wise, and Wisdom-giving Plant,
|
||
Mother of Science, Now I feel thy Power
|
||
Within me cleere, not onely to discerne
|
||
Things in thir Causes, but to trace the wayes
|
||
Of highest Agents, deemd however wise.
|
||
Queen of this Universe, doe not believe
|
||
Those rigid threats of Death; ye shall not Die:
|
||
How should ye? by the Fruit? it gives you Life
|
||
To Knowledge? By the Threatner, look on mee,
|
||
Mee who have touch'd and tasted, yet both live,
|
||
And life more perfet have attaind then Fate
|
||
Meant mee, by ventring higher then my Lot.
|
||
Shall that be shut to Man, which to the Beast
|
||
Is open? or will God incense his ire
|
||
For such a pretty Trespass, and not praise
|
||
Rather your dauntless vertue, whom the pain
|
||
Of Death denounc't, whatever thing Death be,
|
||
Deterrd not from atchieving what might leade
|
||
To happier life, knowledge of Good and Evil;
|
||
Of good, how just? of evil, if what is evil
|
||
Be real, why not known, since easier shunnd?
|
||
God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just;
|
||
Not just, not God; not feard then, nor obeid:
|
||
Your feare it self of Death removes the feare.
|
||
Why then was this forbid? Why but to awe,
|
||
Why but to keep ye low and ignorant,
|
||
His worshippers; he knows that in the day
|
||
Ye Eate thereof, your Eyes that seem so cleere,
|
||
Yet are but dim, shall perfetly be then
|
||
Op'nd and cleerd, and ye shall be as Gods,
|
||
Knowing both Good and Evil as they know.
|
||
That ye should be as Gods, since I as Man,
|
||
Internal Man, is but proportion meet,
|
||
I of brute human, yee of human Gods.
|
||
So ye shalt die perhaps, by putting off
|
||
Human, to put on Gods, death to be wisht,
|
||
Though threat'nd, which no worse then this can bring
|
||
And what are Gods that Man may not become
|
||
As they, participating God-like food?
|
||
The Gods are first, and that advantage use
|
||
On our belief, that all from them proceeds,
|
||
I question it, for this fair Earth I see,
|
||
Warm'd by the Sun, producing every kind,
|
||
Them nothing: If they all things, who enclos'd
|
||
Knowledge of Good and Evil in this Tree,
|
||
That whoso eats thereof, forthwith attains
|
||
Wisdom without their leave? and wherein lies
|
||
Th' offence, that Man should thus attain to know?
|
||
What can your knowledge hurt him, or this Tree
|
||
Impart against his will if all be his?
|
||
Or is it envie, and can envie dwell
|
||
In heav'nly brests? these, these and many more
|
||
Causes import your need of this fair Fruit.
|
||
Goddess humane, reach then, and freely taste.
|
||
He ended, and his words replete with guile
|
||
Into her heart too easie entrance won:
|
||
Fixt on the Fruit she gaz'd, which to behold
|
||
Might tempt alone, and in her ears the sound
|
||
Yet rung of his perswasive words, impregn'd
|
||
With Reason, to her seeming, and with Truth;
|
||
Meanwhile the hour of Noon drew on, and wak'd
|
||
An eager appetite, rais'd by the smell
|
||
So savorie of that Fruit, which with desire,
|
||
Inclinable now grown to touch or taste,
|
||
Sollicited her longing eye; yet first
|
||
Pausing a while, thus to her self she mus'd.
|
||
Great are thy Vertues, doubtless, best of Fruits,
|
||
Though kept from Man, & worthy to be admir'd,
|
||
Whose taste, too long forborn, at first assay
|
||
Gave elocution to the mute, and taught
|
||
The Tongue not made for Speech to speak thy praise:
|
||
Thy praise hee also who forbids thy use,
|
||
Conceales not from us, naming thee the Tree
|
||
Of Knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil;
|
||
Forbids us then to taste, but his forbidding
|
||
Commends thee more, while it inferrs the good
|
||
By thee communicated, and our want:
|
||
For good unknown, sure is not had, or had
|
||
And yet unknown, is as not had at all.
|
||
In plain then, what forbids he but to know,
|
||
Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise?
|
||
Such prohibitions binde not. But if Death
|
||
Bind us with after-bands, what profits then
|
||
Our inward freedom? In the day we eate
|
||
Of this fair Fruit, our doom is, we shall die.
|
||
How dies the Serpent? hee hath eat'n and lives,
|
||
And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discernes,
|
||
Irrational till then. For us alone
|
||
Was death invented? or to us deni'd
|
||
This intellectual food, for beasts reserv'd?
|
||
For Beasts it seems: yet that one Beast which first
|
||
Hath tasted, envies not, but brings with joy
|
||
The good befall'n him, Author unsuspect,
|
||
Friendly to man, farr from deceit or guile.
|
||
What fear I then, rather what know to feare
|
||
Under this ignorance of Good and Evil,
|
||
Of God or Death, of Law or Penaltie?
|
||
Here grows the Cure of all, this Fruit Divine,
|
||
Fair to the Eye, inviting to the Taste,
|
||
Of vertue to make wise: what hinders then
|
||
To reach, and feed at once both Bodie and Mind?
|
||
So saying, her rash hand in evil hour
|
||
Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluck'd, she eat:
|
||
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat
|
||
Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe,
|
||
That all was lost. Back to the Thicket slunk
|
||
The guiltie Serpent, and well might, for EVE
|
||
Intent now wholly on her taste, naught else
|
||
Regarded, such delight till then, as seemd,
|
||
In Fruit she never tasted, whether true
|
||
Or fansied so, through expectation high
|
||
Of knowledg, nor was God-head from her thought.
|
||
Greedily she ingorg'd without restraint,
|
||
And knew not eating Death: Satiate at length,
|
||
And hight'nd as with Wine, jocond and boon,
|
||
Thus to her self she pleasingly began.
|
||
O Sovran, vertuous, precious of all Trees
|
||
In Paradise, of operation blest
|
||
To Sapience, hitherto obscur'd, infam'd,
|
||
And thy fair Fruit let hang, as to no end
|
||
Created; but henceforth my early care,
|
||
Not without Song, each Morning, and due praise
|
||
Shall tend thee, and the fertil burden ease
|
||
Of thy full branches offer'd free to all;
|
||
Till dieted by thee I grow mature
|
||
In knowledge, as the Gods who all things know;
|
||
Though others envie what they cannot give;
|
||
For had the gift bin theirs, it had not here
|
||
Thus grown. Experience, next to thee I owe,
|
||
Best guide; not following thee, I had remaind
|
||
In ignorance, thou op'nst Wisdoms way,
|
||
And giv'st access, though secret she retire.
|
||
And I perhaps am secret; Heav'n is high,
|
||
High and remote to see from thence distinct
|
||
Each thing on Earth; and other care perhaps
|
||
May have diverted from continual watch
|
||
Our great Forbidder, safe with all his Spies
|
||
About him. But to ADAM in what sort
|
||
Shall I appeer? shall I to him make known
|
||
As yet my change, and give him to partake
|
||
Full happiness with mee, or rather not,
|
||
But keep the odds of Knowledge in my power
|
||
Without Copartner? so to add what wants
|
||
In Femal Sex, the more to draw his Love,
|
||
And render me more equal, and perhaps
|
||
A thing not undesireable, somtime
|
||
Superior; for inferior who is free?
|
||
This may be well: but what if God have seen,
|
||
And Death ensue? then I shall be no more,
|
||
And ADAM wedded to another EVE,
|
||
Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct;
|
||
A death to think. Confirm'd then I resolve,
|
||
ADAM shall share with me in bliss or woe:
|
||
So dear I love him, that with him all deaths
|
||
I could endure; without him live no life.
|
||
So saying, from the Tree her step she turnd,
|
||
But first low Reverence don, as to the power
|
||
That dwelt within, whose presence had infus'd
|
||
Into the plant sciential sap, deriv'd
|
||
From Nectar, drink of Gods. ADAM the while
|
||
Waiting desirous her return, had wove
|
||
Of choicest Flours a Garland to adorne
|
||
Her Tresses, and her rural labours crown
|
||
As Reapers oft are wont thir Harvest Queen.
|
||
Great joy he promis'd to his thoughts, and new
|
||
Solace in her return, so long delay'd;
|
||
Yet oft his heart, divine of somthing ill,
|
||
Misgave him; hee the faultring measure felt;
|
||
And forth to meet her went, the way she took
|
||
That Morn when first they parted; by the Tree
|
||
Of Knowledge he must pass, there he her met,
|
||
Scarse from the Tree returning; in her hand
|
||
A bough of fairest fruit that downie smil'd,
|
||
New gatherd, and ambrosial smell diffus'd.
|
||
To him she hasted, in her face excuse
|
||
Came Prologue, and Apologie to prompt,
|
||
Which with bland words at will she thus addrest.
|
||
Hast thou not wonderd, ADAM, at my stay?
|
||
Thee I have misst, and thought it long, depriv'd
|
||
Thy presence, agonie of love till now
|
||
Not felt, nor shall be twice, for never more
|
||
Mean I to trie, what rash untri'd I sought,
|
||
The paine of absence from thy sight. But strange
|
||
Hath bin the cause, and wonderful to heare:
|
||
This Tree is not as we are told, a Tree
|
||
Of danger tasted, nor to evil unknown
|
||
Op'ning the way, but of Divine effect
|
||
To open Eyes, and make them Gods who taste;
|
||
And hath bin tasted such; the Serpent wise,
|
||
Or not restraind as wee, or not obeying,
|
||
Hath eat'n of the fruit, and is become,
|
||
Not dead, as we are threatn'd, but thenceforth
|
||
Endu'd with human voice and human sense,
|
||
Reasoning to admiration, and with mee
|
||
Perswasively hath so prevaild, that I
|
||
Have also tasted, and have also found
|
||
Th' effects to correspond, opener mine Eyes,
|
||
Dimm erst, dilated Spirits, ampler Heart,
|
||
And growing up to Godhead; which for thee
|
||
Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise.
|
||
For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss,
|
||
Tedious, unshar'd with thee, and odious soon.
|
||
Thou therefore also taste, that equal Lot
|
||
May joyne us, equal Joy, as equal Love;
|
||
Least thou not tasting, different degree
|
||
Disjoyne us, and I then too late renounce
|
||
Deitie for thee, when Fate will not permit.
|
||
Thus EVE with Countnance blithe her storie told;
|
||
But in her Cheek distemper flushing glowd.
|
||
On th' other side, ADAM, soon as he heard
|
||
The fatal Trespass don by EVE, amaz'd,
|
||
Astonied stood and Blank, while horror chill
|
||
Ran through his veins, and all his joynts relax'd;
|
||
From his slack hand the Garland wreath'd for EVE
|
||
Down drop'd, and all the faded Roses shed:
|
||
Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length
|
||
First to himself he inward silence broke.
|
||
O fairest of Creation, last and best
|
||
Of all Gods Works, Creature in whom excell'd
|
||
Whatever can to fight or thought be found,
|
||
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
|
||
How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost,
|
||
Defac't, deflourd, and now to Death devote?
|
||
Rather how hast thou yeelded to transgress
|
||
The strict forbiddance, how to violate
|
||
The sacred Fruit forbidd'n! som cursed fraud
|
||
Of Enemie hath beguil'd thee, yet unknown,
|
||
And mee with thee hath ruind, for with thee
|
||
Certain my resolution is to Die;
|
||
How can I live without thee, how forgoe
|
||
Thy sweet Converse and Love so dearly joyn'd,
|
||
To live again in these wilde Woods forlorn?
|
||
Should God create another EVE, and I
|
||
Another Rib afford, yet loss of thee
|
||
Would never from my heart; no no, I feel
|
||
The Link of Nature draw me: Flesh of Flesh,
|
||
Bone of my Bone thou art, and from thy State
|
||
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.
|
||
So having said, as one from sad dismay
|
||
Recomforted, and after thoughts disturbd
|
||
Submitting to what seemd remediless,
|
||
Thus in calme mood his Words to EVE he turnd.
|
||
Bold deed thou hast presum'd, adventrous EVE,
|
||
And peril great provok't, who thus hast dar'd
|
||
Had it bin onely coveting to Eye
|
||
That sacred Fruit, sacred to abstinence,
|
||
Much more to taste it under banne to touch.
|
||
But past who can recall, or don undoe?
|
||
Not God omnipotent, for Fate, yet so
|
||
Perhaps thou shalt not Die, perhaps the Fact
|
||
Is not so hainous now, foretasted Fruit,
|
||
Profan'd first by the Serpent, by him first
|
||
Made common and unhallowd: ere one tastes;
|
||
Nor yet on him found deadly; he yet lives,
|
||
Lives, as thou saidst, and gaines to live as Man
|
||
Higher degree of Life, inducement strong
|
||
To us, as likely tasting to attaine
|
||
Proportional ascent, which cannot be
|
||
But to be Gods, or Angels Demi-gods.
|
||
Nor can I think that God, Creator wise,
|
||
Though threatning, will in earnest so destroy
|
||
Us his prime Creatures, dignifi'd so high,
|
||
Set over all his Works, which in our Fall,
|
||
For us created, needs with us must faile,
|
||
Dependent made; so God shall uncreate,
|
||
Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour loose,
|
||
Not well conceav'd of God, who though his Power
|
||
Creation could repeate, yet would be loath
|
||
Us to abolish, least the Adversary
|
||
Triumph and say; Fickle their State whom God
|
||
Most Favors, who can please him long? Mee first
|
||
He ruind, now Mankind; whom will he next?
|
||
Matter of scorne, not to be given the Foe.
|
||
However I with thee have fixt my Lot,
|
||
Certain to undergoe like doom, if Death
|
||
Consort with thee, Death is to mee as Life;
|
||
So forcible within my heart I feel
|
||
The Bond of Nature draw me to my owne,
|
||
My own in thee, for what thou art is mine;
|
||
Our State cannot be severd, we are one,
|
||
One Flesh; to loose thee were to loose my self.
|
||
So ADAM, and thus EVE to him repli'd.
|
||
O glorious trial of exceeding Love,
|
||
Illustrious evidence, example high!
|
||
Ingaging me to emulate, but short
|
||
Of thy perfection, how shall I attaine,
|
||
ADAM, from whose deare side I boast me sprung,
|
||
And gladly of our Union heare thee speak,
|
||
One Heart, one Soul in both; whereof good prooff
|
||
This day affords, declaring thee resolvd,
|
||
Rather then Death or aught then Death more dread
|
||
Shall separate us, linkt in Love so deare,
|
||
To undergoe with mee one Guilt, one Crime,
|
||
If any be, of tasting this fair Fruit,
|
||
Whose vertue, for of good still good proceeds,
|
||
Direct, or by occasion hath presented
|
||
This happie trial of thy Love, which else
|
||
So eminently never had bin known.
|
||
Were it I thought Death menac't would ensue
|
||
This my attempt, I would sustain alone
|
||
The worst, and not perswade thee, rather die
|
||
Deserted, then oblige thee with a fact
|
||
Pernicious to thy Peace, chiefly assur'd
|
||
Remarkably so late of thy so true,
|
||
So faithful Love unequald; but I feel
|
||
Farr otherwise th' event, not Death, but Life
|
||
Augmented, op'nd Eyes, new Hopes, new Joyes,
|
||
Taste so Divine, that what of sweet before
|
||
Hath toucht my sense, flat seems to this, and harsh.
|
||
On my experience, ADAM, freely taste,
|
||
And fear of Death deliver to the Windes.
|
||
So saying, she embrac'd him, and for joy
|
||
Tenderly wept, much won that he his Love
|
||
Had so enobl'd, as of choice to incurr
|
||
Divine displeasure for her sake, or Death.
|
||
In recompence (for such compliance bad
|
||
Such recompence best merits) from the bough
|
||
She gave him of that fair enticing Fruit
|
||
With liberal hand: he scrupl'd not to eat
|
||
Against his better knowledge, not deceav'd,
|
||
But fondly overcome with Femal charm.
|
||
Earth trembl'd from her entrails, as again
|
||
In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan,
|
||
Skie lowr'd, and muttering Thunder, som sad drops
|
||
Wept at compleating of the mortal Sin
|
||
Original; while ADAM took no thought,
|
||
Eating his fill, nor EVE to iterate
|
||
Her former trespass fear'd, the more to soothe
|
||
Him with her lov'd societie, that now
|
||
As with new Wine intoxicated both
|
||
They swim in mirth, and fansie that they feel
|
||
Divinitie within them breeding wings
|
||
Wherewith to scorn the Earth: but that false Fruit
|
||
Farr other operation first displaid,
|
||
Carnal desire enflaming, hee on EVE
|
||
Began to cast lascivious Eyes, she him
|
||
As wantonly repaid; in Lust they burne:
|
||
Till ADAM thus 'gan EVE to dalliance move.
|
||
EVE, now I see thou art exact of taste,
|
||
And elegant, of Sapience no small part,
|
||
Since to each meaning savour we apply,
|
||
And Palate call judicious; I the praise
|
||
Yeild thee, so well this day thou hast purvey'd.
|
||
Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstain'd
|
||
From this delightful Fruit, nor known till now
|
||
True relish, tasting; if such pleasure be
|
||
In things to us forbidden, it might be wish'd,
|
||
For this one Tree had bin forbidden ten.
|
||
But come, so well refresh't, now let us play,
|
||
As meet is, after such delicious Fare;
|
||
For never did thy Beautie since the day
|
||
I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorn'd
|
||
With all perfections, so enflame my sense
|
||
With ardor to enjoy thee, fairer now
|
||
Then ever, bountie of this vertuous Tree.
|
||
So said he, and forbore not glance or toy
|
||
Of amorous intent, well understood
|
||
Of EVE, whose Eye darted contagious Fire.
|
||
Her hand he seis'd, and to a shadie bank,
|
||
Thick overhead with verdant roof imbowr'd
|
||
He led her nothing loath; Flours were the Couch,
|
||
Pansies, and Violets, and Asphodel,
|
||
And Hyacinth, Earths freshest softest lap.
|
||
There they thir fill of Love and Loves disport
|
||
Took largely, of thir mutual guilt the Seale,
|
||
The solace of thir sin, till dewie sleep
|
||
Oppress'd them, wearied with thir amorous play.
|
||
Soon as the force of that fallacious Fruit,
|
||
That with exhilerating vapour bland
|
||
About thir spirits had plaid, and inmost powers
|
||
Made erre, was now exhal'd, and grosser sleep
|
||
Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams
|
||
Encumberd, now had left them, up they rose
|
||
As from unrest, and each the other viewing,
|
||
Soon found thir Eyes how op'nd, and thir minds
|
||
How dark'nd; innocence, that as a veile
|
||
Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gon,
|
||
Just confidence, and native righteousness,
|
||
And honour from about them, naked left
|
||
To guiltie shame hee cover'd, but his Robe
|
||
Uncover'd more. So rose the DANITE strong
|
||
HERCULEAN SAMSON from the Harlot-lap
|
||
Of PHILISTEAN DALILAH, and wak'd
|
||
Shorn of his strength, They destitute and bare
|
||
Of all thir vertue: silent, and in face
|
||
Confounded long they sate, as struck'n mute,
|
||
Till ADAM, though not less then EVE abasht,
|
||
At length gave utterance to these words constraind.
|
||
O EVE, in evil hour thou didst give care
|
||
To that false Worm, of whomsoever taught
|
||
To counterfet Mans voice, true in our Fall,
|
||
False in our promis'd Rising; since our Eyes
|
||
Op'nd we find indeed, and find we know
|
||
Both Good and Evil, Good lost and Evil got,
|
||
Bad Fruit of Knowledge, if this be to know,
|
||
Which leaves us naked thus, of Honour void,
|
||
Of Innocence, of Faith, of Puritie,
|
||
Our wonted Ornaments now soild and staind,
|
||
And in our Faces evident the signes
|
||
Of foul concupiscence; whence evil store;
|
||
Even shame, the last of evils; of the first
|
||
Be sure then. How shall I behold the face
|
||
Henceforth of God or Angel, earst with joy
|
||
And rapture so oft beheld? those heav'nly shapes
|
||
Will dazle now this earthly, with thir blaze
|
||
Insufferably bright. O might I here
|
||
In solitude live savage, in some glad
|
||
Obscur'd, where highest Woods impenetrable
|
||
To Starr or Sun-light, spread thir umbrage broad,
|
||
And brown as Evening: Cover me ye Pines,
|
||
Ye Cedars, with innumerable boughs
|
||
Hide me, where I may never see them more.
|
||
But let us now, as in bad plight, devise
|
||
What best may for the present serve to hide
|
||
The Parts of each from other, that seem most
|
||
To shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen,
|
||
Some Tree whose broad smooth Leaves together sowd,
|
||
And girded on our loyns, may cover round
|
||
Those middle parts, that this new commer, Shame,
|
||
There sit not, and reproach us as unclean.
|
||
So counsel'd hee, and both together went
|
||
Into the thickest Wood, there soon they chose
|
||
The Figtree, not that kind for Fruit renown'd,
|
||
But such as at this day to INDIANS known
|
||
In MALABAR or DECAN spreds her Armes
|
||
Braunching so broad and long, that in the ground
|
||
The bended Twigs take root, and Daughters grow
|
||
About the Mother Tree, a Pillard shade
|
||
High overarch't, and echoing Walks between;
|
||
There oft the INDIAN Herdsman shunning heate
|
||
Shelters in coole, and tends his pasturing Herds
|
||
At Loopholes cut through thickest shade: Those Leaves
|
||
They gatherd, broad as AMAZONIAN Targe,
|
||
And with what skill they had, together sowd,
|
||
To gird thir waste, vain Covering if to hide
|
||
Thir guilt and dreaded shame; O how unlike
|
||
To that first naked Glorie. Such of late
|
||
COLUMBUS found th' AMERICAN to girt
|
||
With featherd Cincture, naked else and wilde
|
||
Among the Trees on Iles and woodie Shores.
|
||
Thus fenc't, and as they thought, thir shame in part
|
||
Coverd, but not at rest or ease of Mind,
|
||
They sate them down to weep, nor onely Teares
|
||
Raind at thir Eyes, but high Winds worse within
|
||
Began to rise, high Passions, Anger, Hate,
|
||
Mistrust, Suspicion, Discord, and shook sore
|
||
Thir inward State of Mind, calme Region once
|
||
And full of Peace, now tost and turbulent:
|
||
For Understanding rul'd not, and the Will
|
||
Heard not her lore, both in subjection now
|
||
To sensual Appetite, who from beneathe
|
||
Usurping over sovran Reason claimd
|
||
Superior sway: From thus distemperd brest,
|
||
ADAM, estrang'd in look and alterd stile,
|
||
Speech intermitted thus to EVE renewd.
|
||
Would thou hadst heark'nd to my words, & stai'd
|
||
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange
|
||
Desire of wandring this unhappie Morn,
|
||
I know not whence possessd thee; we had then
|
||
Remaind still happie, not as now, despoild
|
||
Of all our good, sham'd, naked, miserable.
|
||
Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve
|
||
The Faith they owe; when earnestly they seek
|
||
Such proof, conclude, they then begin to faile.
|
||
To whom soon mov'd with touch of blame thus EVE.
|
||
What words have past thy Lips, ADAM severe,
|
||
Imput'st thou that to my default, or will
|
||
Of wandering, as thou call'st it, which who knows
|
||
But might as ill have happ'nd thou being by,
|
||
Or to thy self perhaps: hadst thou bin there,
|
||
Or bere th' attempt, thou couldst not have discernd
|
||
Fraud in the Serpent, speaking as he spake;
|
||
No ground of enmitie between us known,
|
||
Why hee should mean me ill, or seek to harme.
|
||
Was I to have never parted from thy side?
|
||
As good have grown there still a liveless Rib.
|
||
Being as I am, why didst not thou the Head
|
||
Command me absolutely not to go,
|
||
Going into such danger as thou saidst?
|
||
Too facil then thou didst not much gainsay,
|
||
Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss.
|
||
Hadst thou bin firm and fixt in thy dissent,
|
||
Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with mee.
|
||
To whom then first incenst ADAM repli'd.
|
||
Is this the Love, is the recompence
|
||
Of mine to thee, ingrateful EVE, exprest
|
||
Immutable when thou wert lost, not I,
|
||
Who might have liv'd and joyd immortal bliss,
|
||
Yet willingly chose rather Death with thee:
|
||
And am I now upbraided, as the cause
|
||
Of thy transgressing? not enough severe,
|
||
It seems, in thy restraint: what could I more?
|
||
I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold
|
||
The danger, and the lurking Enemie
|
||
That lay in wait; beyond this had bin force,
|
||
And force upon free Will hath here no place.
|
||
But confidence then bore thee on, secure
|
||
Either to meet no danger, or to finde
|
||
Matter of glorious trial; and perhaps
|
||
I also err'd in overmuch admiring
|
||
What seemd in thee so perfet, that I thought
|
||
No evil durst attempt thee, but I rue
|
||
That errour now, which is become my crime,
|
||
And thou th' accuser. Thus it shall befall
|
||
Him who to worth in Women overtrusting
|
||
Lets her Will rule; restraint she will not brook,
|
||
And left to her self, if evil thence ensue,
|
||
Shee first his weak indulgence will accuse.
|
||
Thus they in mutual accusation spent
|
||
The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning
|
||
And of thir vain contest appeer'd no end.
|
||
THE END OF THE EIGHTH BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST
|
||
BOOK IX.
|
||
|
||
Meanwhile the hainous and despightfull act
|
||
Of SATAN done in Paradise, and how
|
||
Hee in the Serpent had perverted EVE,
|
||
Her Husband shee, to taste the fatall fruit,
|
||
Was known in Heav'n; for what can scape the Eye
|
||
Of God All-seeing, or deceave his Heart
|
||
Omniscient, who in all things wise and just,
|
||
Hinder'd not SATAN to attempt the minde
|
||
Of Man, with strength entire, and free Will arm'd,
|
||
Complete to have discover'd and repulst
|
||
Whatever wiles of Foe or seeming Friend.
|
||
For still they knew, and ought to have still remember'd
|
||
The high Injunction not to taste that Fruit,
|
||
Whoever tempted; which they not obeying,
|
||
Incurr'd, what could they less, the penaltie,
|
||
And manifold in sin, deserv'd to fall.
|
||
Up into Heav'n from Paradise in hast
|
||
Th' Angelic Guards ascended, mute and sad
|
||
For Man, for of his state by this they knew,
|
||
Much wondring how the suttle Fiend had stoln
|
||
Entrance unseen. Soon as th' unwelcome news
|
||
From Earth arriv'd at Heaven Gate, displeas'd
|
||
All were who heard, dim sadness did not spare
|
||
That time Celestial visages, yet mixt
|
||
With pitie, violated not thir bliss.
|
||
About the new-arriv'd, in multitudes
|
||
Th' ethereal People ran, to hear and know
|
||
How all befell: they towards the Throne Supream
|
||
Accountable made haste to make appear
|
||
With righteous plea, thir utmost vigilance,
|
||
And easily approv'd; when the most High
|
||
Eternal Father from his secret Cloud,
|
||
Amidst in Thunder utter'd thus his voice.
|
||
Assembl'd Angels, and ye Powers return'd
|
||
From unsuccessful charge, be not dismaid,
|
||
Nor troubl'd at these tidings from the Earth,
|
||
Which your sincerest care could not prevent,
|
||
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
|
||
When first this Tempter cross'd the Gulf from Hell.
|
||
I told ye then he should prevail and speed
|
||
On his bad Errand, Man should be seduc't
|
||
And flatter'd out of all, believing lies
|
||
Against his Maker; no Decree of mine
|
||
Concurring to necessitate his Fall,
|
||
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse
|
||
His free Will, to her own inclining left
|
||
In eevn scale. But fall'n he is, and now
|
||
What rests, but that the mortal Sentence pass
|
||
On his transgression, Death denounc't that day,
|
||
Which he presumes already vain and void,
|
||
Because not yet inflicted, as he fear'd,
|
||
By some immediate stroak; but soon shall find
|
||
Forbearance no acquittance ere day end.
|
||
Justice shall not return as bountie scorn'd.
|
||
But whom send I to judge them? whom but thee
|
||
Vicegerent Son, to thee I have transferr'd
|
||
All Judgement, whether in Heav'n, or Earth; or Hell.
|
||
Easie it may be seen that I intend
|
||
Mercie collegue with Justice, sending thee
|
||
Mans Friend, his Mediator, his design'd
|
||
Both Ransom and Redeemer voluntarie,
|
||
And destin'd Man himself to judge Man fall'n.
|
||
So spake the Father, and unfoulding bright
|
||
Toward the right hand his Glorie, on the Son
|
||
Blaz'd forth unclouded Deitie; he full
|
||
Resplendent all his Father manifest
|
||
Express'd, and thus divinely answer'd milde.
|
||
Father Eternal, thine is to decree,
|
||
Mine both in Heav'n and Earth to do thy will
|
||
Supream, that thou in mee thy Son belov'd
|
||
Mayst ever rest well pleas'd. I go to judge
|
||
On Earth these thy transgressors, but thou knowst,
|
||
Whoever judg'd, the worst on mee must light,
|
||
When time shall be, for so I undertook
|
||
Before thee; and not repenting, this obtaine
|
||
Of right, that I may mitigate thir doom
|
||
On me deriv'd, yet I shall temper so
|
||
Justice with Mercie, as may illustrate most
|
||
Them fully satisfied, and thee appease.
|
||
Attendance none shall need, nor Train, where none
|
||
Are to behold the Judgement, but the judg'd,
|
||
Those two; the third best absent is condemn'd,
|
||
Convict by flight, and Rebel to all Law
|
||
Conviction to the Serpent none belongs.
|
||
Thus saying, from his radiant Seat he rose
|
||
Of high collateral glorie: him Thrones and Powers,
|
||
Princedoms, and Dominations ministrant
|
||
Accompanied to Heaven Gate, from whence
|
||
EDEN and all the Coast in prospect lay.
|
||
Down he descended strait; the speed of Gods
|
||
Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes wing'd.
|
||
Now was the Sun in Western cadence low
|
||
From Noon, and gentle Aires due at thir hour
|
||
To fan the Earth now wak'd, and usher in
|
||
The Eevning coole when he from wrauth more coole
|
||
Came the mild Judge and Intercessor both
|
||
To sentence Man: the voice of God they heard
|
||
Now walking in the Garden, by soft windes
|
||
Brought to thir Ears, while day declin'd, they heard
|
||
And from his presence hid themselves among
|
||
The thickest Trees, both Man and Wife, till God
|
||
Approaching, thus to ADAM call'd aloud.
|
||
Where art thou ADAM, wont with joy to meet
|
||
My coming seen far off? I miss thee here,
|
||
Not pleas'd, thus entertaind with solitude,
|
||
Where obvious dutie erewhile appear'd unsaught:
|
||
Or come I less conspicuous, or what change
|
||
Absents thee, or what chance detains? Come forth.
|
||
He came, and with him EVE, more loth, though first
|
||
To offend, discount'nanc't both, and discompos'd;
|
||
Love was not in thir looks, either to God
|
||
Or to each other, but apparent guilt,
|
||
And shame, and perturbation, and despaire,
|
||
Anger, and obstinacie, and hate, and guile.
|
||
Whence ADAM faultring long, thus answer'd brief.
|
||
I heard thee in the Garden, and of thy voice
|
||
Affraid, being naked, hid my self. To whom
|
||
The gracious Judge without revile repli'd.
|
||
My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd,
|
||
But still rejoyc't, how is it now become
|
||
So dreadful to thee? that thou art naked, who
|
||
Hath told thee? hast thou eaten of the Tree
|
||
Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat?
|
||
To whom thus ADAM sore beset repli'd.
|
||
O Heav'n! in evil strait this day I stand
|
||
Before my Judge, either to undergoe
|
||
My self the total Crime, or to accuse
|
||
My other self, the partner of my life;
|
||
Whose failing, while her Faith to me remaines,
|
||
I should conceal, and not expose to blame
|
||
By my complaint; but strict necessitie
|
||
Subdues me, and calamitous constraint,
|
||
Least on my head both sin and punishment,
|
||
However insupportable, be all
|
||
Devolv'd; though should I hold my peace, yet thou
|
||
Wouldst easily detect what I conceale.
|
||
This Woman whom thou mad'st to be my help,
|
||
And gav'st me as thy perfet gift, so good,
|
||
So fit, so acceptable, so Divine,
|
||
That from her hand I could suspect no ill,
|
||
And what she did, whatever in it self,
|
||
Her doing seem'd to justifie the deed;
|
||
Shee gave me of the Tree, and I did eate.
|
||
To whom the sovran Presence thus repli'd.
|
||
Was shee thy God, that her thou didst obey
|
||
Before his voice, or was shee made thy guide,
|
||
Superior, or but equal, that to her
|
||
Thou did'st resigne thy Manhood, and the Place
|
||
Wherein God set thee above her made of thee,
|
||
And for thee, whose perfection farr excell'd
|
||
Hers in all real dignitie: Adornd
|
||
She was indeed, and lovely to attract
|
||
Thy Love, not thy Subjection, and her Gifts
|
||
Were such as under Government well seem'd,
|
||
Unseemly to beare rule, which was thy part
|
||
And person, had'st thou known thy self aright.
|
||
So having said, he thus to EVE in few:
|
||
Say Woman, what is this which thou hast done?
|
||
To whom sad EVE with shame nigh overwhelm'd,
|
||
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge
|
||
Bold or loquacious, thus abasht repli'd.
|
||
The Serpent me beguil'd and I did eate.
|
||
Which when the Lord God heard, without delay
|
||
To Judgement he proceeded on th' accus'd
|
||
Serpent though brute, unable to transferre
|
||
The Guilt on him who made him instrument
|
||
Of mischief, and polluted from the end
|
||
Of his Creation; justly then accurst,
|
||
As vitiated in Nature: more to know
|
||
Concern'd not Man (since he no further knew)
|
||
Nor alter'd his offence; yet God at last
|
||
To Satan first in sin his doom apply'd,
|
||
Though in mysterious terms, judg'd as then best:
|
||
And on the Serpent thus his curse let fall.
|
||
Because thou hast done this, thou art accurst
|
||
Above all Cattel, each Beast of the Field;
|
||
Upon thy Belly groveling thou shalt goe,
|
||
And dust shalt eat all the days of thy Life.
|
||
Between Thee and the Woman I will put
|
||
Enmitie, and between thine and her Seed;
|
||
Her Seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel.
|
||
So spake this Oracle, then verifi'd
|
||
When JESUS son of MARY second EVE,
|
||
Saw Satan fall like Lightning down from Heav'n,
|
||
Prince of the Aire; then rising from his Grave
|
||
Spoild Principalities and Powers, triumpht
|
||
In open shew, and with ascention bright
|
||
Captivity led captive through the Aire,
|
||
The Realme it self of Satan long usurpt,
|
||
Whom he shall tread at last under our feet;
|
||
Eevn hee who now foretold his fatal bruise,
|
||
And to the Woman thus his Sentence turn'd.
|
||
Thy sorrow I will greatly multiplie
|
||
By thy Conception; Children thou shalt bring
|
||
In sorrow forth, and to thy Husbands will
|
||
Thine shall submit, hee over thee shall rule.
|
||
On ADAM last thus judgement he pronounc'd.
|
||
Because thou hast heark'nd to the voice of thy Wife,
|
||
And eaten of the Tree concerning which
|
||
I charg'd thee, saying: Thou shalt not eate thereof,
|
||
Curs'd is the ground for thy sake, thou in sorrow
|
||
Shalt eate thereof all the days of thy Life;
|
||
Thornes also and Thistles it shall bring thee forth
|
||
Unbid, and thou shalt eate th' Herb of th' Field,
|
||
In the sweat of thy Face shalt thou eate Bread,
|
||
Till thou return unto the ground, for thou
|
||
Out of the ground wast taken, know thy Birth,
|
||
For dust thou art, and shalt to dust returne.
|
||
So judg'd he Man, both Judge and Saviour sent,
|
||
And th' instant stroke of Death denounc't that day
|
||
Remov'd farr off; then pittying how they stood
|
||
Before him naked to the aire, that now
|
||
Must suffer change, disdain'd not to begin
|
||
Thenceforth the forme of servant to assume,
|
||
As when he wash'd his servants feet, so now
|
||
As Father of his Familie he clad
|
||
Thir nakedness with Skins of Beasts, or slain,
|
||
Or as the Snake with youthful Coate repaid;
|
||
And thought not much to cloath his Enemies:
|
||
Nor hee thir outward onely with the Skins
|
||
Of Beasts, but inward nakedness, much more
|
||
Opprobrious, with his Robe of righteousness,
|
||
Araying cover'd from his Fathers sight.
|
||
To him with swift ascent he up returnd,
|
||
Into his blissful bosom reassum'd
|
||
In glory as of old, to him appeas'd
|
||
All, though all-knowing, what had past with Man
|
||
Recounted, mixing intercession sweet.
|
||
Meanwhile ere thus was sin'd and judg'd on Earth,
|
||
Within the Gates of Hell sate Sin and Death,
|
||
In counterview within the Gates, that now
|
||
Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame
|
||
Farr into CHAOS, since the Fiend pass'd through,
|
||
Sin opening, who thus now to Death began.
|
||
O Son, why sit we here each other viewing
|
||
Idlely, while Satan our great Author thrives
|
||
In other Worlds, and happier Seat provides
|
||
For us his ofspring deare? It cannot be
|
||
But that success attends him; if mishap,
|
||
Ere this he had return'd, with fury driv'n
|
||
By his Avenger, since no place like this
|
||
Can fit his punishment, or their revenge.
|
||
Methinks I feel new strength within me rise,
|
||
Wings growing, and Dominion giv'n me large
|
||
Beyond this Deep; whatever drawes me on,
|
||
Or sympathie, or som connatural force
|
||
Powerful at greatest distance to unite
|
||
With secret amity things of like kinde
|
||
By secretest conveyance. Thou my Shade
|
||
Inseparable must with mee along:
|
||
For Death from Sin no power can separate.
|
||
But least the difficultie of passing back
|
||
Stay his returne perhaps over this Gulfe
|
||
Impassable, impervious, let us try
|
||
Adventrous work, yet to thy power and mine
|
||
Not unagreeable, to found a path
|
||
Over this Maine from Hell to that new World
|
||
Where Satan now prevailes, a Monument
|
||
Of merit high to all th' infernal Host,
|
||
Easing thir passage hence, for intercourse,
|
||
Or transmigration, as thir lot shall lead.
|
||
Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn
|
||
By this new felt attraction and instinct.
|
||
Whom thus the meager Shadow answerd soon.
|
||
Goe whither Fate and inclination strong
|
||
Leads thee, I shall not lag behinde, nor erre
|
||
The way, thou leading, such a sent I draw
|
||
Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste
|
||
The savour of Death from all things there that live:
|
||
Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest
|
||
Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid.
|
||
So saying, with delight he snuff'd the smell
|
||
Of mortal change on Earth. As when a flock
|
||
Of ravenous Fowl, though many a League remote,
|
||
Against the day of Battel, to a Field,
|
||
Where Armies lie encampt, come flying, lur'd
|
||
With sent of living Carcasses design'd
|
||
For death, the following day, in bloodie fight.
|
||
So sented the grim Feature, and upturn'd
|
||
His Nostril wide into the murkie Air,
|
||
Sagacious of his Quarrey from so farr.
|
||
Then Both from out Hell Gates into the waste
|
||
Wide Anarchie of CHAOS damp and dark
|
||
Flew divers, & with Power (thir Power was great)
|
||
Hovering upon the Waters; what they met
|
||
Solid or slimie, as in raging Sea
|
||
Tost up and down, together crowded drove
|
||
From each side shoaling towards the mouth of Hell.
|
||
As when two Polar Winds blowing adverse
|
||
Upon the CRONIAN Sea, together drive
|
||
Mountains of Ice, that stop th' imagin'd way
|
||
Beyond PETSORA Eastward, to the rich
|
||
CATHAIAN Coast. The aggregated Soyle
|
||
Death with his Mace petrific, cold and dry,
|
||
As with a Trident smote, and fix't as firm
|
||
As DELOS floating once; the rest his look
|
||
Bound with GORGONIAN rigor not to move,
|
||
And with ASPHALTIC slime; broad as the Gate,
|
||
Deep to the Roots of Hell the gather'd beach
|
||
They fasten'd, and the Mole immense wraught on
|
||
Over the foaming deep high Archt, a Bridge
|
||
Of length prodigious joyning to the Wall
|
||
Immoveable of this now fenceless world
|
||
Forfeit to Death; from hence a passage broad,
|
||
Smooth, easie, inoffensive down to Hell.
|
||
So, if great things to small may be compar'd,
|
||
XERXES, the Libertie of GREECE to yoke,
|
||
From SUSA his MEMNONIAN Palace high
|
||
Came to the Sea, and over HELLESPONT
|
||
Bridging his way, EUROPE with ASIA joyn'd,
|
||
And scourg'd with many a stroak th' indignant waves.
|
||
Now had they brought the work by wondrous Art
|
||
Pontifical, a ridge of pendent Rock
|
||
Over the vext Abyss, following the track
|
||
Of SATAN, to the selfsame place where hee
|
||
First lighted from his Wing, and landed safe
|
||
From out of CHAOS to the outside bare
|
||
Of this round World: with Pinns of Adamant
|
||
And Chains they made all fast, too fast they made
|
||
And durable; and now in little space
|
||
The Confines met of Empyrean Heav'n
|
||
And of this World, and on the left hand Hell
|
||
With long reach interpos'd; three sev'ral wayes
|
||
In sight, to each of these three places led.
|
||
And now thir way to Earth they had descri'd,
|
||
To Paradise first tending, when behold
|
||
SATAN in likeness of an Angel bright
|
||
Betwixt the CENTAURE and the SCORPION stearing
|
||
His ZENITH, while the Sun in ARIES rose:
|
||
Disguis'd he came, but those his Children dear
|
||
Thir Parent soon discern'd, though in disguise.
|
||
Hee, after EVE seduc't, unminded slunk
|
||
Into the Wood fast by, and changing shape
|
||
To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act
|
||
By EVE, though all unweeting, seconded
|
||
Upon her Husband, saw thir shame that sought
|
||
Vain covertures; but when he saw descend
|
||
The Son of God to judge them, terrifi'd
|
||
Hee fled, not hoping to escape, but shun
|
||
The present, fearing guiltie what his wrauth
|
||
Might suddenly inflict; that past, return'd
|
||
By Night, and listning where the hapless Paire
|
||
Sate in thir sad discourse, and various plaint,
|
||
Thence gatherd his own doom, which understood
|
||
Not instant, but of future time. With joy
|
||
And tidings fraught, to Hell he now return'd,
|
||
And at the brink of CHAOS, neer the foot
|
||
Of this new wondrous Pontifice, unhop't
|
||
Met who to meet him came, his Ofspring dear.
|
||
Great joy was at thir meeting, and at sight
|
||
Of that stupendious Bridge his joy encreas'd.
|
||
Long hee admiring stood, till Sin, his faire
|
||
Inchanting Daughter, thus the silence broke.
|
||
O Parent, these are thy magnific deeds,
|
||
Thy Trophies, which thou view'st as not thine own,
|
||
Thou art thir Author and prime Architect:
|
||
For I no sooner in my Heart divin'd,
|
||
My Heart, which by a secret harmonie
|
||
Still moves with thine, joyn'd in connexion sweet,
|
||
That thou on Earth hadst prosper'd, which thy looks
|
||
Now also evidence, but straight I felt
|
||
Though distant from thee Worlds between, yet felt
|
||
That I must after thee with this thy Son;
|
||
Such fatal consequence unites us three:
|
||
Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds,
|
||
Nor this unvoyageable Gulf obscure
|
||
Detain from following thy illustrious track.
|
||
Thou hast atchiev'd our libertie, confin'd
|
||
Within Hell Gates till now, thou us impow'rd
|
||
To fortifie thus farr, and overlay
|
||
With this portentous Bridge the dark Abyss.
|
||
Thine now is all this World, thy vertue hath won
|
||
What thy hands builded not, thy Wisdom gain'd
|
||
With odds what Warr hath lost, and fully aveng'd
|
||
Our foile in Heav'n; here thou shalt Monarch reign,
|
||
There didst not; there let him still Victor sway,
|
||
As Battel hath adjudg'd, from this new World
|
||
Retiring, by his own doom alienated,
|
||
And henceforth Monarchie with thee divide
|
||
Of all things, parted by th' Empyreal bounds,
|
||
His Quadrature, from thy Orbicular World,
|
||
Or trie thee now more dang'rous to his Throne.
|
||
Whom thus the Prince of Darkness answerd glad.
|
||
Fair Daughter, and thou Son and Grandchild both,
|
||
High proof ye now have giv'n to be the Race
|
||
Of SATAN (for I glorie in the name,
|
||
Antagonist of Heav'ns Almightie King)
|
||
Amply have merited of me, of all
|
||
Th' Infernal Empire, that so neer Heav'ns dore
|
||
Triumphal with triumphal act have met,
|
||
Mine with this glorious Work, & made one Realm
|
||
Hell and this World, one Realm, one Continent
|
||
Of easie thorough-fare. Therefore while I
|
||
Descend through Darkness, on your Rode with ease
|
||
To my associate Powers, them to acquaint
|
||
With these successes, and with them rejoyce,
|
||
You two this way, among those numerous Orbs
|
||
All yours, right down to Paradise descend;
|
||
There dwell & Reign in bliss, thence on the Earth
|
||
Dominion exercise and in the Aire,
|
||
Chiefly on Man, sole Lord of all declar'd,
|
||
Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill.
|
||
My Substitutes I send ye, and Create
|
||
Plenipotent on Earth, of matchless might
|
||
Issuing from mee: on your joynt vigor now
|
||
My hold of this new Kingdom all depends,
|
||
Through Sin to Death expos'd by my exploit.
|
||
If your joynt power prevaile, th' affaires of Hell
|
||
No detriment need feare, goe and be strong.
|
||
So saying he dismiss'd them, they with speed
|
||
Thir course through thickest Constellations held
|
||
Spreading thir bane; the blasted Starrs lookt wan,
|
||
And Planets, Planet-strook, real Eclips
|
||
Then sufferd. Th' other way SATAN went down
|
||
The Causey to Hell Gate; on either side
|
||
Disparted CHAOS over built exclaimd,
|
||
And with rebounding surge the barrs assaild,
|
||
That scorn'd his indignation: through the Gate,
|
||
Wide open and unguarded, SATAN pass'd,
|
||
And all about found desolate; for those
|
||
Appointed to sit there, had left thir charge,
|
||
Flown to the upper World; the rest were all
|
||
Farr to the inland retir'd, about the walls
|
||
Of PANDEMONIUM, Citie and proud seate
|
||
Of LUCIFER, so by allusion calld,
|
||
Of that bright Starr to SATAN paragond.
|
||
There kept thir Watch the Legions, while the Grand
|
||
In Council sate, sollicitous what chance
|
||
Might intercept thir Emperour sent, so hee
|
||
Departing gave command, and they observ'd.
|
||
As when the TARTAR from his RUSSIAN Foe
|
||
By ASTRACAN over the Snowie Plaines
|
||
Retires, or BACTRIAN Sophi from the hornes
|
||
Of TURKISH Crescent, leaves all waste beyond
|
||
The Realme of ALADULE, in his retreate
|
||
To TAURIS or CASBEEN. So these the late
|
||
Heav'n-banisht Host, left desert utmost Hell
|
||
Many a dark League, reduc't in careful Watch
|
||
Round thir Metropolis, and now expecting
|
||
Each hour their great adventurer from the search
|
||
Of Forrein Worlds: he through the midst unmarkt,
|
||
In shew plebeian Angel militant
|
||
Of lowest order, past; and from the dore
|
||
Of that PLUTONIAN Hall, invisible
|
||
Ascended his high Throne, which under state
|
||
Of richest texture spred, at th' upper end
|
||
Was plac't in regal lustre. Down a while
|
||
He sate, and round about him saw unseen:
|
||
At last as from a Cloud his fulgent head
|
||
And shape Starr bright appeer'd, or brighter, clad
|
||
With what permissive glory since his fall
|
||
Was left him, or false glitter: All amaz'd
|
||
At that so sudden blaze the STYGIAN throng
|
||
Bent thir aspect, and whom they wish'd beheld,
|
||
Thir mighty Chief returnd: loud was th' acclaime:
|
||
Forth rush'd in haste the great consulting Peers,
|
||
Rais'd from thir dark DIVAN, and with like joy
|
||
Congratulant approach'd him, who with hand
|
||
Silence, and with these words attention won.
|
||
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Vertues, Powers,
|
||
For in possession such, not onely of right,
|
||
I call ye and declare ye now, returnd
|
||
Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth
|
||
Triumphant out of this infernal Pit
|
||
Abominable, accurst, the house of woe,
|
||
And Dungeon of our Tyrant: Now possess,
|
||
As Lords, a spacious World, to our native Heaven
|
||
Little inferiour, by my adventure hard
|
||
With peril great atchiev'd. Long were to tell
|
||
What I have don, what sufferd, with what paine
|
||
Voyag'd the unreal, vast, unbounded deep
|
||
Of horrible confusion, over which
|
||
By Sin and Death a broad way now is pav'd
|
||
To expedite your glorious march; but I
|
||
Toild out my uncouth passage, forc't to ride
|
||
Th' untractable Abysse, plung'd in the womb
|
||
Of unoriginal NIGHT and CHAOS wilde,
|
||
That jealous of thir secrets fiercely oppos'd
|
||
My journey strange, with clamorous uproare
|
||
Protesting Fate supreame; thence how I found
|
||
The new created World, which fame in Heav'n
|
||
Long had foretold, a Fabrick wonderful
|
||
Of absolute perfection, therein Man
|
||
Plac't in a Paradise, by our exile
|
||
Made happie: Him by fraud I have seduc'd
|
||
From his Creator, and the more to increase
|
||
Your wonder, with an Apple; he thereat
|
||
Offended, worth your laughter, hath giv'n up
|
||
Both his beloved Man and all his World,
|
||
To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us,
|
||
Without our hazard, labour or allarme,
|
||
To range in, and to dwell, and over Man
|
||
To rule, as over all he should have rul'd.
|
||
True is, mee also he hath judg'd, or rather
|
||
Mee not, but the brute Serpent in whose shape
|
||
Man I deceav'd: that which to mee belongs,
|
||
Is enmity, which he will put between
|
||
Mee and Mankinde; I am to bruise his heel;
|
||
His Seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head:
|
||
A World who would not purchase with a bruise,
|
||
Or much more grievous pain? Ye have th' account
|
||
Of my performance: What remaines, ye Gods,
|
||
But up and enter now into full bliss.
|
||
So having said, a while he stood, expecting
|
||
Thir universal shout and high applause
|
||
To fill his eare, when contrary he hears
|
||
On all sides, from innumerable tongues
|
||
A dismal universal hiss, the sound
|
||
Of public scorn; he wonderd, but not long
|
||
Had leasure, wondring at himself now more;
|
||
His Visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare,
|
||
His Armes clung to his Ribs, his Leggs entwining
|
||
Each other, till supplanted down he fell
|
||
A monstrous Serpent on his Belly prone,
|
||
Reluctant, but in vaine, a greater power
|
||
Now rul'd him, punisht in the shape he sin'd,
|
||
According to his doom: he would have spoke,
|
||
But hiss for hiss returnd with forked tongue
|
||
To forked tongue, for now were all transform'd
|
||
Alike, to Serpents all as accessories
|
||
To his bold Riot: dreadful was the din
|
||
Of hissing through the Hall, thick swarming now
|
||
With complicated monsters, head and taile,
|
||
Scorpion and Asp, and AMPHISBAENA dire,
|
||
CERASTES hornd, HYDRUS, and ELLOPS drear,
|
||
And DIPSAS (Not so thick swarm'd once the Soil
|
||
Bedropt with blood of Gorgon, or the Isle
|
||
OPHIUSA) but still greatest hee the midst,
|
||
Now Dragon grown, larger then whom the Sun
|
||
Ingenderd in the PYTHIAN Vale on slime,
|
||
Huge PYTHON, and his Power no less he seem'd
|
||
Above the rest still to retain; they all
|
||
Him follow'd issuing forth to th' open Field,
|
||
Where all yet left of that revolted Rout
|
||
Heav'n-fall'n, in station stood or just array,
|
||
Sublime with expectation when to see
|
||
In Triumph issuing forth thir glorious Chief;
|
||
They saw, but other sight instead, a crowd
|
||
Of ugly Serpents; horror on them fell,
|
||
And horrid sympathie; for what they saw,
|
||
They felt themselvs now changing; down thir arms,
|
||
Down fell both Spear and Shield, down they as fast,
|
||
And the dire hiss renew'd, and the dire form
|
||
Catcht by Contagion, like in punishment,
|
||
As in thir crime. Thus was th' applause they meant,
|
||
Turnd to exploding hiss, triumph to shame
|
||
Cast on themselves from thir own mouths. There stood
|
||
A Grove hard by, sprung up with this thir change,
|
||
His will who reigns above, to aggravate
|
||
Thir penance, laden with fair Fruit, like that
|
||
VVhich grew in Paradise, the bait of EVE
|
||
Us'd by the Tempter: on that prospect strange
|
||
Thir earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining
|
||
For one forbidden Tree a multitude
|
||
Now ris'n, to work them furder woe or shame;
|
||
Yet parcht with scalding thurst and hunger fierce,
|
||
Though to delude them sent, could not abstain,
|
||
But on they rould in heaps, and up the Trees
|
||
Climbing, sat thicker then the snakie locks
|
||
That curld MEGAERA: greedily they pluck'd
|
||
The Frutage fair to sight, like that which grew
|
||
Neer that bituminous Lake where SODOM flam'd;
|
||
This more delusive, not the touch, but taste
|
||
Deceav'd; they fondly thinking to allay
|
||
Thir appetite with gust, instead of Fruit
|
||
Chewd bitter Ashes, which th' offended taste
|
||
VVith spattering noise rejected: oft they assayd,
|
||
Hunger and thirst constraining, drugd as oft,
|
||
VVith hatefullest disrelish writh'd thir jaws
|
||
VVith foot and cinders fill'd; so oft they fell
|
||
Into the same illusion, not as Man
|
||
Whom they triumph'd once lapst. Thus were they plagu'd
|
||
And worn with Famin, long and ceasless hiss,
|
||
Till thir lost shape, permitted, they resum'd,
|
||
Yearly enjoynd, some say, to undergo
|
||
This annual humbling certain number'd days,
|
||
To dash thir pride, and joy for Man seduc't.
|
||
However some tradition they dispers'd
|
||
Among the Heathen of thir purchase got,
|
||
And Fabl'd how the Serpent, whom they calld
|
||
OPHION with EURYNOME, the wide-
|
||
Encroaching EVE perhaps, had first the rule
|
||
Of high OLYMPUS, thence by SATURN driv'n
|
||
And OPS, ere yet DICTAEAN JOVE was born.
|
||
Mean while in Paradise the hellish pair
|
||
Too soon arriv'd, SIN there in power before,
|
||
Once actual, now in body, and to dwell
|
||
Habitual habitant; behind her DEATH
|
||
Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet
|
||
On his pale Horse: to whom SIN thus began.
|
||
Second of SATAN sprung, all conquering Death,
|
||
What thinkst thou of our Empire now, though earnd
|
||
With travail difficult, not better farr
|
||
Then stil at Hels dark threshold to have sate watch,
|
||
Unnam'd, undreaded, and thy self half starv'd?
|
||
Whom thus the Sin-born Monster answerd soon.
|
||
To mee, who with eternal Famin pine,
|
||
Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven,
|
||
There best, where most with ravin I may meet;
|
||
Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems
|
||
To stuff this Maw, this vast unhide-bound Corps.
|
||
To whom th' incestuous Mother thus repli'd.
|
||
Thou therefore on these Herbs, and Fruits, & Flours
|
||
Feed first, on each Beast next, and Fish, and Fowle,
|
||
No homely morsels, and whatever thing
|
||
The Sithe of Time mowes down, devour unspar'd,
|
||
Till I in Man residing through the Race,
|
||
His thoughts, his looks, words, actions all infect,
|
||
And season him thy last and sweetest prey.
|
||
This said, they both betook them several wayes,
|
||
Both to destroy, or unimmortal make
|
||
All kinds, and for destruction to mature
|
||
Sooner or later; which th' Almightie seeing,
|
||
From his transcendent Seat the Saints among,
|
||
To those bright Orders utterd thus his voice.
|
||
See with what heat these Dogs of Hell advance
|
||
To waste and havoc yonder VVorld, which I
|
||
So fair and good created, and had still
|
||
Kept in that state, had not the folly of Man
|
||
Let in these wastful Furies, who impute
|
||
Folly to mee, so doth the Prince of Hell
|
||
And his Adherents, that with so much ease
|
||
I suffer them to enter and possess
|
||
A place so heav'nly, and conniving seem
|
||
To gratifie my scornful Enemies,
|
||
That laugh, as if transported with some fit
|
||
Of Passion, I to them had quitted all,
|
||
At random yeilded up to their misrule;
|
||
And know not that I call'd and drew them thither
|
||
My Hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth
|
||
Which mans polluting Sin with taint hath shed
|
||
On what was pure, till cramm'd and gorg'd, nigh burst
|
||
With suckt and glutted offal, at one fling
|
||
Of thy victorious Arm, well-pleasing Son,
|
||
Both SIN, and DEATH, and yawning GRAVE at last
|
||
Through CHAOS hurld, obstruct the mouth of Hell
|
||
For ever, and seal up his ravenous Jawes.
|
||
Then Heav'n and Earth renewd shall be made pure
|
||
To sanctitie that shall receive no staine:
|
||
Till then the Curse pronounc't on both precedes.
|
||
Hee ended, and the heav'nly Audience loud
|
||
Sung HALLELUIA, as the sound of Seas,
|
||
Through multitude that sung: Just are thy ways,
|
||
Righteous are thy Decrees on all thy Works;
|
||
Who can extenuate thee? Next, to the Son,
|
||
Destin'd restorer of Mankind, by whom
|
||
New Heav'n and Earth shall to the Ages rise,
|
||
Or down from Heav'n descend. Such was thir song,
|
||
While the Creator calling forth by name
|
||
His mightie Angels gave them several charge,
|
||
As sorted best with present things. The Sun
|
||
Had first his precept so to move, so shine,
|
||
As might affect the Earth with cold and heat
|
||
Scarce tollerable, and from the North to call
|
||
Decrepit Winter, from the South to bring
|
||
Solstitial summers heat. To the blanc Moone
|
||
Her office they prescrib'd, to th' other five
|
||
Thir planetarie motions and aspects
|
||
In SEXTILE, SQUARE, and TRINE, and OPPOSITE,
|
||
Of noxious efficacie, and when to joyne
|
||
In Synod unbenigne, and taught the fixt
|
||
Thir influence malignant when to showre,
|
||
Which of them rising with the Sun, or falling,
|
||
Should prove tempestuous: To the Winds they set
|
||
Thir corners, when with bluster to confound
|
||
Sea, Aire, and Shoar, the Thunder when to rowle
|
||
With terror through the dark Aereal Hall.
|
||
Some say he bid his Angels turne ascanse
|
||
The Poles of Earth twice ten degrees and more
|
||
From the Suns Axle; they with labour push'd
|
||
Oblique the Centric Globe: Som say the Sun
|
||
Was bid turn Reines from th' Equinoctial Rode
|
||
Like distant breadth to TAURUS with the Seav'n
|
||
ATLANTICK Sisters, and the SPARTAN Twins
|
||
Up to the TROPIC Crab; thence down amaine
|
||
By LEO and the VIRGIN and the SCALES,
|
||
As deep as CAPRICORNE, to bring in change
|
||
Of Seasons to each Clime; else had the Spring
|
||
Perpetual smil'd on Earth with vernant Flours,
|
||
Equal in Days and Nights, except to those
|
||
Beyond the Polar Circles; to them Day
|
||
Had unbenighted shon, while the low Sun
|
||
To recompence his distance, in thir sight
|
||
Had rounded still th' HORIZON, and not known
|
||
Or East or West, which had forbid the Snow
|
||
From cold ESTOTILAND, and South as farr
|
||
Beneath MAGELLAN. At that tasted Fruit
|
||
The Sun, as from THYESTEAN Banquet, turn'd
|
||
His course intended; else how had the World
|
||
Inhabited, though sinless, more then now,
|
||
Avoided pinching cold and scorching heate?
|
||
These changes in the Heav'ns, though slow, produc'd
|
||
Like change on Sea and Land, sideral blast,
|
||
Vapour, and Mist, and Exhalation hot,
|
||
Corrupt and Pestilent: Now from the North
|
||
Of NORUMBEGA, and the SAMOED shoar
|
||
Bursting thir brazen Dungeon, armd with ice
|
||
And snow and haile and stormie gust and flaw,
|
||
BOREAS and CAECIAS and ARGESTES loud
|
||
And THRASCIAS rend the Woods and Seas upturn;
|
||
With adverse blast up-turns them from the South
|
||
NOTUS and AFER black with thundrous Clouds
|
||
From SERRALIONA; thwart of these as fierce
|
||
Forth rush the LEVANT and the PONENT VVindes
|
||
EURUS and ZEPHIR with thir lateral noise,
|
||
SIROCCO, and LIBECCHIO. Thus began
|
||
Outrage from liveless things; but Discord first
|
||
Daughter of Sin, among th' irrational,
|
||
Death introduc'd through fierce antipathie:
|
||
Beast now with Beast gan war, & Fowle with Fowle,
|
||
And Fish with Fish; to graze the Herb all leaving,
|
||
Devourd each other; nor stood much in awe
|
||
Of Man, but fled him, or with count'nance grim
|
||
Glar'd on him passing: these were from without
|
||
The growing miseries, which ADAM saw
|
||
Alreadie in part, though hid in gloomiest shade,
|
||
To sorrow abandond, but worse felt within,
|
||
And in a troubl'd Sea of passion tost,
|
||
Thus to disburd'n sought with sad complaint.
|
||
O miserable of happie! is this the end
|
||
Of this new glorious World, and mee so late
|
||
The Glory of that Glory, who now becom
|
||
Accurst of blessed, hide me from the face
|
||
Of God, whom to behold was then my highth
|
||
Of happiness: yet well, if here would end
|
||
The miserie, I deserv'd it, and would beare
|
||
My own deservings; but this will not serve;
|
||
All that I eate or drink, or shall beget,
|
||
Is propagated curse. O voice once heard
|
||
Delightfully, ENCREASE AND MULTIPLY,
|
||
Now death to heare! for what can I encrease
|
||
Or multiplie, but curses on my head?
|
||
Who of all Ages to succeed, but feeling
|
||
The evil on him brought by me, will curse
|
||
My Head, Ill fare our Ancestor impure,
|
||
For this we may thank ADAM; but his thanks
|
||
Shall be the execration; so besides
|
||
Mine own that bide upon me, all from mee
|
||
Shall with a fierce reflux on mee redound,
|
||
On mee as on thir natural center light
|
||
Heavie, though in thir place. O fleeting joyes
|
||
Of Paradise, deare bought with lasting woes!
|
||
Did I request thee, Maker, from my Clay
|
||
To mould me Man, did I sollicite thee
|
||
From darkness to promote me, or here place
|
||
In this delicious Garden? as my Will
|
||
Concurd not to my being, it were but right
|
||
And equal to reduce me to my dust,
|
||
Desirous to resigne, and render back
|
||
All I receav'd, unable to performe
|
||
Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold
|
||
The good I sought not. To the loss of that,
|
||
Sufficient penaltie, why hast thou added
|
||
The sense of endless woes? inexplicable
|
||
Thy Justice seems; yet to say truth, too late,
|
||
I thus contest; then should have been refusd
|
||
Those terms whatever, when they were propos'd:
|
||
Thou didst accept them; wilt thou enjoy the good,
|
||
Then cavil the conditions? and though God
|
||
Made thee without thy leave, what if thy Son
|
||
Prove disobedient, and reprov'd, retort,
|
||
Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not:
|
||
Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee
|
||
That proud excuse? yet him not thy election,
|
||
But Natural necessity begot.
|
||
God made thee of choice his own, and of his own
|
||
To serve him, thy reward was of his grace,
|
||
Thy punishment then justly is at his Will.
|
||
Be it so, for I submit, his doom is fair,
|
||
That dust I am, and shall to dust returne:
|
||
O welcom hour whenever! why delayes
|
||
His hand to execute what his Decree
|
||
Fixd on this day? why do I overlive,
|
||
Why am I mockt with death, and length'nd out
|
||
To deathless pain? how gladly would I meet
|
||
Mortalitie my sentence, and be Earth
|
||
Insensible, how glad would lay me down
|
||
As in my Mothers lap? there I should rest
|
||
And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more
|
||
Would Thunder in my ears, no fear of worse
|
||
To mee and to my ofspring would torment me
|
||
With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt
|
||
Pursues me still, least all I cannot die,
|
||
Least that pure breath of Life, the Spirit of Man
|
||
Which God inspir'd, cannot together perish
|
||
With this corporeal Clod; then in the Grave,
|
||
Or in some other dismal place, who knows
|
||
But I shall die a living Death? O thought
|
||
Horrid, if true! yet why? it was but breath
|
||
Of Life that sinn'd; what dies but what had life
|
||
And sin? the Bodie properly hath neither.
|
||
All of me then shall die: let this appease
|
||
The doubt, since humane reach no further knows.
|
||
For though the Lord of all be infinite,
|
||
Is his wrauth also? be it, man is not so,
|
||
But mortal doom'd. How can he exercise
|
||
Wrath without end on Man whom Death must end?
|
||
Can he make deathless Death? that were to make
|
||
Strange contradiction, which to God himself
|
||
Impossible is held, as Argument
|
||
Of weakness, not of Power. Will he, draw out,
|
||
For angers sake, finite to infinite
|
||
In punisht man, to satisfie his rigour
|
||
Satisfi'd never; that were to extend
|
||
His Sentence beyond dust and Natures Law,
|
||
By which all Causes else according still
|
||
To the reception of thir matter act,
|
||
Not to th' extent of thir own Spheare. But say
|
||
That Death be not one stroak, as I suppos'd,
|
||
Bereaving sense, but endless miserie
|
||
From this day onward, which I feel begun
|
||
Both in me, and without me, and so last
|
||
To perpetuitie; Ay me, that fear
|
||
Comes thundring back with dreadful revolution
|
||
On my defensless head; both Death and I
|
||
Am found Eternal, and incorporate both,
|
||
Nor I on my part single, in mee all
|
||
Posteritie stands curst: Fair Patrimonie
|
||
That I must leave ye, Sons; O were I able
|
||
To waste it all my self, and leave ye none!
|
||
So disinherited how would ye bless
|
||
Me now your Curse! Ah, why should all mankind
|
||
For one mans fault thus guiltless be condemn'd,
|
||
If guiltless? But from mee what can proceed,
|
||
But all corrupt, both Mind and Will deprav'd,
|
||
Not to do onely, but to will the same
|
||
With me? how can they acquitted stand
|
||
In sight of God? Him after all Disputes
|
||
Forc't I absolve: all my evasions vain
|
||
And reasonings, though through Mazes, lead me still
|
||
But to my own conviction: first and last
|
||
On mee, mee onely, as the sourse and spring
|
||
Of all corruption, all the blame lights due;
|
||
So might the wrauth, Fond wish! couldst thou support
|
||
That burden heavier then the Earth to bear,
|
||
Then all the world much heavier, though divided
|
||
With that bad Woman? Thus what thou desir'st,
|
||
And what thou fearst, alike destroyes all hope
|
||
Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable
|
||
Beyond all past example and future,
|
||
To SATAN onely like both crime and doom.
|
||
O Conscience, into what Abyss of fears
|
||
And horrors hast thou driv'n me; out of which
|
||
I find no way, from deep to deeper plung'd!
|
||
Thus ADAM to himself lamented loud
|
||
Through the still Night, now now, as ere man fell,
|
||
Wholsom and cool, and mild, but with black Air
|
||
Accompanied, with damps and dreadful gloom,
|
||
Which to his evil Conscience represented
|
||
All things with double terror: On the ground
|
||
Outstretcht he lay, on the cold ground, and oft
|
||
Curs'd his Creation, Death as oft accus'd
|
||
Of tardie execution, since denounc't
|
||
The day of his offence. Why comes not Death,
|
||
Said hee, with one thrice acceptable stroke
|
||
To end me? Shall Truth fail to keep her word,
|
||
Justice Divine not hast'n to be just?
|
||
But Death comes not at call, Justice Divine
|
||
Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.
|
||
O Woods, O Fountains, Hillocks, Dales and Bowrs,
|
||
VVith other echo farr I taught your Shades
|
||
To answer, and resound farr other Song.
|
||
VVhom thus afflicted when sad EVE beheld,
|
||
Desolate where she sate, approaching nigh,
|
||
Soft words to his fierce passion she assay'd:
|
||
But her with stern regard he thus repell'd.
|
||
Out of my sight, thou Serpent, that name best
|
||
Befits thee with him leagu'd, thy self as false
|
||
And hateful; nothing wants, but that thy shape,
|
||
Like his, and colour Serpentine may shew
|
||
Thy inward fraud, to warn all Creatures from thee
|
||
Henceforth; least that too heav'nly form, pretended
|
||
To hellish falshood, snare them. But for thee
|
||
I had persisted happie, had not thy pride
|
||
And wandring vanitie, when lest was safe,
|
||
Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd
|
||
Not to be trusted, longing to be seen
|
||
Though by the Devil himself, him overweening
|
||
To over-reach, but with the Serpent meeting
|
||
Fool'd and beguil'd, by him thou, I by thee,
|
||
To trust thee from my side, imagin'd wise,
|
||
Constant, mature, proof against all assaults,
|
||
And understood not all was but a shew
|
||
Rather then solid vertu, all but a Rib
|
||
Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears,
|
||
More to the part sinister from me drawn,
|
||
Well if thrown out, as supernumerarie
|
||
To my just number found. O why did God,
|
||
Creator wise, that peopl'd highest Heav'n
|
||
With Spirits Masculine, create at last
|
||
This noveltie on Earth, this fair defect
|
||
Of Nature, and not fill the World at once
|
||
With Men as Angels without Feminine,
|
||
Or find some other way to generate
|
||
Mankind? this mischief had not then befall'n,
|
||
And more that shall befall, innumerable
|
||
Disturbances on Earth through Femal snares,
|
||
And straight conjunction with this Sex: for either
|
||
He never shall find out fit Mate, but such
|
||
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake,
|
||
Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain
|
||
Through her perverseness, but shall see her gaind
|
||
By a farr worse, or if she love, withheld
|
||
By Parents, or his happiest choice too late
|
||
Shall meet, alreadie linkt and Wedlock-bound
|
||
To a fell Adversarie, his hate or shame:
|
||
Which infinite calamitie shall cause
|
||
To humane life, and houshold peace confound.
|
||
He added not, and from her turn'd, but EVE
|
||
Not so repulst, with Tears that ceas'd not flowing,
|
||
And tresses all disorderd, at his feet
|
||
Fell humble, and imbracing them, besaught
|
||
His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint.
|
||
Forsake me not thus, ADAM, witness Heav'n
|
||
What love sincere, and reverence in my heart
|
||
I beare thee, and unweeting have offended,
|
||
Unhappilie deceav'd; thy suppliant
|
||
I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not,
|
||
Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid,
|
||
Thy counsel in this uttermost distress,
|
||
My onely strength and stay: forlorn of thee,
|
||
Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?
|
||
While yet we live, scarse one short hour perhaps,
|
||
Between us two let there be peace, both joyning,
|
||
As joyn'd in injuries, one enmitie
|
||
Against a Foe by doom express assign'd us,
|
||
That cruel Serpent: On me exercise not
|
||
Thy hatred for this miserie befall'n,
|
||
On me already lost, mee then thy self
|
||
More miserable; both have sin'd, but thou
|
||
Against God onely, I against God and thee,
|
||
And to the place of judgement will return,
|
||
There with my cries importune Heaven, that all
|
||
The sentence from thy head remov'd may light
|
||
On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe,
|
||
Mee mee onely just object of his ire.
|
||
She ended weeping, and her lowlie plight,
|
||
Immoveable till peace obtain'd from fault
|
||
Acknowledg'd and deplor'd, in ADAM wraught
|
||
Commiseration; soon his heart relented
|
||
Towards her, his life so late and sole delight,
|
||
Now at his feet submissive in distress,
|
||
Creature so faire his reconcilement seeking,
|
||
His counsel whom she had displeas'd, his aide;
|
||
As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost,
|
||
And thus with peaceful words uprais'd her soon.
|
||
Unwarie, and too desirous, as before,
|
||
So now of what thou knowst not, who desir'st
|
||
The punishment all on thy self; alas,
|
||
Beare thine own first, ill able to sustaine
|
||
His full wrauth whose thou feelst as yet lest part,
|
||
And my displeasure bearst so ill. If Prayers
|
||
Could alter high Decrees, I to that place
|
||
Would speed before thee, and be louder heard,
|
||
That on my head all might be visited,
|
||
Thy frailtie and infirmer Sex forgiv'n,
|
||
To me committed and by me expos'd.
|
||
But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame
|
||
Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere, but strive
|
||
In offices of Love, how we may light'n
|
||
Each others burden in our share of woe;
|
||
Since this days Death denounc't, if ought I see,
|
||
Will prove no sudden, but a slow-pac't evill,
|
||
A long days dying to augment our paine,
|
||
And to our Seed (O hapless Seed!) deriv'd.
|
||
To whom thus EVE, recovering heart, repli'd.
|
||
ADAM, by sad experiment I know
|
||
How little weight my words with thee can finde,
|
||
Found so erroneous, thence by just event
|
||
Found so unfortunate; nevertheless,
|
||
Restor'd by thee, vile as I am, to place
|
||
Of new acceptance, hopeful to regaine
|
||
Thy Love, the sole contentment of my heart,
|
||
Living or dying from thee I will not hide
|
||
What thoughts in my unquiet brest are ris'n,
|
||
Tending to som relief of our extremes,
|
||
Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable,
|
||
As in our evils, and of easier choice.
|
||
If care of our descent perplex us most,
|
||
Which must be born to certain woe, devourd
|
||
By Death at last, and miserable it is
|
||
To be to others cause of misery,
|
||
Our own begotten, and of our Loines to bring
|
||
Into this cursed World a woful Race,
|
||
That after wretched Life must be at last
|
||
Food for so foule a Monster, in thy power
|
||
It lies, yet ere Conception to prevent
|
||
The Race unblest, to being yet unbegot.
|
||
Childless thou art, Childless remaine:
|
||
So Death shall be deceav'd his glut, and with us two
|
||
Be forc'd to satisfie his Rav'nous Maw.
|
||
But if thou judge it hard and difficult,
|
||
Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain
|
||
From Loves due Rites, Nuptial embraces sweet,
|
||
And with desire to languish without hope,
|
||
Before the present object languishing
|
||
With like desire, which would be miserie
|
||
And torment less then none of what we dread,
|
||
Then both our selves and Seed at once to free
|
||
From what we fear for both, let us make short,
|
||
Let us seek Death, or hee not found, supply
|
||
With our own hands his Office on our selves;
|
||
Why stand we longer shivering under feares,
|
||
That shew no end but Death, and have the power,
|
||
Of many wayes to die the shortest choosing,
|
||
Destruction with destruction to destroy.
|
||
She ended heer, or vehement despaire
|
||
Broke off the rest; so much of Death her thoughts
|
||
Had entertaind, as di'd her Cheeks with pale.
|
||
But ADAM with such counsel nothing sway'd,
|
||
To better hopes his more attentive minde
|
||
Labouring had rais'd, and thus to EVE repli'd.
|
||
EVE, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems
|
||
To argue in thee somthing more sublime
|
||
And excellent then what thy minde contemnes;
|
||
But self-destruction therefore saught, refutes
|
||
That excellence thought in thee, and implies,
|
||
Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret
|
||
For loss of life and pleasure overlov'd.
|
||
Or if thou covet death, as utmost end
|
||
Of miserie, so thinking to evade
|
||
The penaltie pronounc't, doubt not but God
|
||
Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire then so
|
||
To be forestall'd; much more I fear least Death
|
||
So snatcht will not exempt us from the paine
|
||
We are by doom to pay; rather such acts
|
||
Of contumacie will provoke the highest
|
||
To make death in us live: Then let us seek
|
||
Som safer resolution, which methinks
|
||
I have in view, calling to minde with heed
|
||
Part of our Sentence, that thy Seed shall bruise
|
||
The Serpents head; piteous amends, unless
|
||
Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand Foe
|
||
SATAN, who in the Serpent hath contriv'd
|
||
Against us this deceit: to crush his head
|
||
Would be revenge indeed; which will be lost
|
||
By death brought on our selves, or childless days
|
||
Resolv'd, as thou proposest; so our Foe
|
||
Shall scape his punishment ordain'd, and wee
|
||
Instead shall double ours upon our heads.
|
||
No more be mention'd then of violence
|
||
Against our selves, and wilful barrenness,
|
||
That cuts us off from hope, and savours onely
|
||
Rancor and pride, impatience and despite,
|
||
Reluctance against God and his just yoke
|
||
Laid on our Necks. Remember with what mild
|
||
And gracious temper he both heard and judg'd
|
||
Without wrauth or reviling; wee expected
|
||
Immediate dissolution, which we thought
|
||
Was meant by Death that day, when lo, to thee
|
||
Pains onely in Child-bearing were foretold,
|
||
And bringing forth, soon recompenc't with joy,
|
||
Fruit of thy Womb: On mee the Curse aslope
|
||
Glanc'd on the ground, with labour I must earne
|
||
My bread; what harm? Idleness had bin worse;
|
||
My labour will sustain me; and least Cold
|
||
Or Heat should injure us, his timely care
|
||
Hath unbesaught provided, and his hands
|
||
Cloath'd us unworthie, pitying while he judg'd;
|
||
How much more, if we pray him, will his ear
|
||
Be open, and his heart to pitie incline,
|
||
And teach us further by what means to shun
|
||
Th' inclement Seasons, Rain, Ice, Hail and Snow,
|
||
Which now the Skie with various Face begins
|
||
To shew us in this Mountain, while the Winds
|
||
Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks
|
||
Of these fair spreading Trees; which bids us seek
|
||
Som better shroud, som better warmth to cherish
|
||
Our Limbs benumm'd, ere this diurnal Starr
|
||
Leave cold the Night, how we his gather'd beams
|
||
Reflected, may with matter sere foment,
|
||
Or by collision of two bodies grinde
|
||
The Air attrite to Fire, as late the Clouds
|
||
Justling or pusht with Winds rude in thir shock
|
||
Tine the slant Lightning, whose thwart flame driv'n down
|
||
Kindles the gummie bark of Firr or Pine,
|
||
And sends a comfortable heat from farr,
|
||
Which might supplie the Sun: such Fire to use,
|
||
And what may else be remedie or cure
|
||
To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought,
|
||
Hee will instruct us praying, and of Grace
|
||
Beseeching him, so as we need not fear
|
||
To pass commodiously this life, sustain'd
|
||
By him with many comforts, till we end
|
||
In dust, our final rest and native home.
|
||
What better can we do, then to the place
|
||
Repairing where he judg'd us, prostrate fall
|
||
Before him reverent, and there confess
|
||
Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears
|
||
VVatering the ground, and with our sighs the Air
|
||
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
|
||
Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.
|
||
Undoubtedly he will relent and turn
|
||
From his displeasure; in whose look serene,
|
||
VVhen angry most he seem'd and most severe,
|
||
VVhat else but favor, grace, and mercie shon?
|
||
So spake our Father penitent, nor EVE
|
||
Felt less remorse: they forthwith to the place
|
||
Repairing where he judg'd them prostrate fell
|
||
Before him reverent, and both confess'd
|
||
Humbly thir faults, and pardon beg'd, with tears
|
||
VVatering the ground, and with thir sighs the Air
|
||
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
|
||
Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.
|
||
THE END OF THE NINTH BOOK.
|
||
|
||
|
||
PARADISE LOST.
|
||
BOOK X.
|
||
|
||
Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood
|
||
Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above
|
||
Prevenient Grace descending had remov'd
|
||
The stonie from thir hearts, and made new flesh
|
||
Regenerat grow instead, that sighs now breath'd
|
||
Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer
|
||
Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight
|
||
Then loudest Oratorie: yet thir port
|
||
Not of mean suiters, nor important less
|
||
Seem'd thir Petition, then when th' ancient Pair
|
||
In Fables old, less ancient yet then these,
|
||
DEUCALION and chaste PYRRHA to restore
|
||
The Race of Mankind drownd, before the Shrine
|
||
Of THEMIS stood devout. To Heav'n thir prayers
|
||
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious windes
|
||
Blow'n vagabond or frustrate: in they passd
|
||
Dimentionless through Heav'nly dores; then clad
|
||
With incense, where the Golden Altar fum'd,
|
||
By thir great Intercessor, came in sight
|
||
Before the Fathers Throne: Them the glad Son
|
||
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
|
||
See Father, what first fruits on Earth are sprung
|
||
From thy implanted Grace in Man, these Sighs
|
||
And Prayers, which in this Golden Censer, mixt
|
||
With Incense, I thy Priest before thee bring,
|
||
Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed
|
||
Sow'n with contrition in his heart, then those
|
||
Which his own hand manuring all the Trees
|
||
Of Paradise could have produc't, ere fall'n
|
||
From innocence. Now therefore bend thine eare
|
||
To supplication, heare his sighs though mute;
|
||
Unskilful with what words to pray, let mee
|
||
Interpret for him, mee his Advocate
|
||
And propitiation, all his works on mee
|
||
Good or not good ingraft, my Merit those
|
||
Shall perfet, and for these my Death shall pay.
|
||
Accept me, and in mee from these receave
|
||
The smell of peace toward Mankinde, let him live
|
||
Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days
|
||
Numberd, though sad, till Death, his doom (which I
|
||
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse)
|
||
To better life shall yeeld him, where with mee
|
||
All my redeemd may dwell in joy and bliss,
|
||
Made one with me as I with thee am one.
|
||
To whom the Father, without Cloud, serene.
|
||
All thy request for Man, accepted Son,
|
||
Obtain, all thy request was my Decree:
|
||
But longer in that Paradise to dwell,
|
||
The Law I gave to Nature him forbids:
|
||
Those pure immortal Elements that know
|
||
No gross, no unharmoneous mixture foule,
|
||
Eject him tainted now, and purge him off
|
||
As a distemper, gross to aire as gross,
|
||
And mortal food, as may dispose him best
|
||
For dissolution wrought by Sin, that first
|
||
Distemperd all things, and of incorrupt
|
||
Corrupted. I at first with two fair gifts
|
||
Created him endowd, with Happiness
|
||
And Immortalitie: that fondly lost,
|
||
This other serv'd but to eternize woe;
|
||
Till I provided Death; so Death becomes
|
||
His final remedie, and after Life
|
||
Tri'd in sharp tribulation, and refin'd
|
||
By Faith and faithful works, to second Life,
|
||
Wak't in the renovation of the just,
|
||
Resignes him up with Heav'n and Earth renewd.
|
||
But let us call to Synod all the Blest
|
||
Through Heav'ns wide bounds; from them I will not hide
|
||
My judgments, how with Mankind I proceed,
|
||
As how with peccant Angels late they saw;
|
||
And in thir state, though firm, stood more confirmd.
|
||
He ended, and the Son gave signal high
|
||
To the bright Minister that watchd, hee blew
|
||
His Trumpet, heard in OREB since perhaps
|
||
When God descended, and perhaps once more
|
||
To sound at general Doom. Th' Angelic blast
|
||
Filld all the Regions: from thir blissful Bowrs
|
||
Of AMARANTIN Shade, Fountain or Spring,
|
||
By the waters of Life, where ere they sate
|
||
In fellowships of joy: the Sons of Light
|
||
Hasted, resorting to the Summons high,
|
||
And took thir Seats; till from his Throne supream
|
||
Th' Almighty thus pronounced his sovran Will.
|
||
O Sons, like one of us Man is become
|
||
To know both Good and Evil, since his taste
|
||
Of that defended Fruit; but let him boast
|
||
His knowledge of Good lost, and Evil got,
|
||
Happier, had it suffic'd him to have known
|
||
Good by it self, and Evil not at all.
|
||
He sorrows now, repents, and prayes contrite,
|
||
My motions in him, longer then they move,
|
||
His heart I know, how variable and vain
|
||
Self-left. Least therefore his now bolder hand
|
||
Reach also of the Tree of Life, and eat,
|
||
And live for ever, dream at least to live
|
||
Forever, to remove him I decree,
|
||
And send him from the Garden forth to Till
|
||
The Ground whence he was taken, fitter soile.
|
||
MICHAEL, this my behest have thou in charge,
|
||
Take to thee from among the Cherubim
|
||
Thy choice of flaming Warriours, least the Fiend
|
||
Or in behalf of Man, or to invade
|
||
Vacant possession som new trouble raise:
|
||
Hast thee, and from the Paradise of God
|
||
Without remorse drive out the sinful Pair,
|
||
From hallowd ground th' unholie, and denounce
|
||
To them and to thir Progenie from thence
|
||
Perpetual banishment. Yet least they faint
|
||
At the sad Sentence rigorously urg'd,
|
||
For I behold them soft'nd and with tears
|
||
Bewailing thir excess, all terror hide.
|
||
If patiently thy bidding they obey,
|
||
Dismiss them not disconsolate; reveale
|
||
To ADAM what shall come in future dayes,
|
||
As I shall thee enlighten, intermix
|
||
My Cov'nant in the Womans seed renewd;
|
||
So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace:
|
||
And on the East side of the Garden place,
|
||
Where entrance up from EDEN easiest climbes,
|
||
Cherubic watch, and of a Sword the flame
|
||
Wide waving, all approach farr off to fright,
|
||
And guard all passage to the Tree of Life:
|
||
Least Paradise a receptacle prove
|
||
To Spirits foule, and all my Trees thir prey,
|
||
With whose stol'n Fruit Man once more to delude.
|
||
He ceas'd; and th' Archangelic Power prepar'd
|
||
For swift descent, with him the Cohort bright
|
||
Of watchful Cherubim; four faces each
|
||
Had, like a double JANUS, all thir shape
|
||
Spangl'd with eyes more numerous then those
|
||
Of ARGUS, and more wakeful then to drouze,
|
||
Charm'd with ARCADIAN Pipe, the Pastoral Reed
|
||
Of HERMES, or his opiate Rod. Meanwhile
|
||
To resalute the World with sacred Light
|
||
LEUCOTHEA wak'd, and with fresh dews imbalmd
|
||
The Earth, when ADAM and first Matron EVE
|
||
Had ended now thir Orisons, and found,
|
||
Strength added from above, new hope to spring
|
||
Out of despaire, joy, but with fear yet linkt;
|
||
Which thus to EVE his welcome words renewd.
|
||
EVE, easily may Faith admit, that all
|
||
The good which we enjoy, from Heav'n descends
|
||
But that from us ought should ascend to Heav'n
|
||
So prevalent as to concerne the mind
|
||
Of God high blest, or to incline his will,
|
||
Hard to belief may seem; yet this will Prayer,
|
||
Or one short sigh of humane breath, up-borne
|
||
Ev'n to the Seat of God. For since I saught
|
||
By Prayer th' offended Deitie to appease,
|
||
Kneel'd and before him humbl'd all my heart,
|
||
Methought I saw him placable and mild,
|
||
Bending his eare; perswasion in me grew
|
||
That I was heard with favour; peace returnd
|
||
Home to my brest, and to my memorie
|
||
His promise, that thy Seed shall bruise our Foe;
|
||
Which then not minded in dismay, yet now
|
||
Assures me that the bitterness of death
|
||
Is past, and we shall live. Whence Haile to thee,
|
||
EVE rightly call'd, Mother of all Mankind,
|
||
Mother of all things living, since by thee
|
||
Man is to live, and all things live for Man.
|
||
To whom thus EVE with sad demeanour meek.
|
||
Ill worthie I such title should belong
|
||
To me transgressour, who for thee ordaind
|
||
A help, became thy snare; to mee reproach
|
||
Rather belongs, distrust and all dispraise:
|
||
But infinite in pardon was my Judge,
|
||
That I who first brought Death on all, am grac't
|
||
The sourse of life; next favourable thou,
|
||
Who highly thus to entitle me voutsaf't,
|
||
Farr other name deserving. But the Field
|
||
To labour calls us now with sweat impos'd,
|
||
Though after sleepless Night; for see the Morn,
|
||
All unconcern'd with our unrest, begins
|
||
Her rosie progress smiling; let us forth,
|
||
I never from thy side henceforth to stray,
|
||
Wherere our days work lies, though now enjoind
|
||
Laborious, till day droop; while here we dwell,
|
||
What can be toilsom in these pleasant Walkes?
|
||
Here let us live, though in fall'n state, content.
|
||
So spake, so wish'd much-humbl'd EVE, but Fate
|
||
Subscrib'd not; Nature first gave Signs, imprest
|
||
On Bird, Beast, Aire, Aire suddenly eclips'd
|
||
After short blush of Morn; nigh in her sight
|
||
The Bird of JOVE, stoopt from his aerie tour,
|
||
Two Birds of gayest plume before him drove:
|
||
Down from a Hill the Beast that reigns in Woods,
|
||
First Hunter then, pursu'd a gentle brace,
|
||
Goodliest of all the Forrest, Hart and Hinde;
|
||
Direct to th' Eastern Gate was bent thir flight.
|
||
ADAM observ'd, and with his Eye the chase
|
||
Pursuing, not unmov'd to EVE thus spake.
|
||
O EVE, some furder change awaits us nigh,
|
||
Which Heav'n by these mute signs in Nature shews
|
||
Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn
|
||
Us haply too secure of our discharge
|
||
From penaltie, because from death releast
|
||
Some days; how long, and what till then our life,
|
||
Who knows, or more then this, that we are dust,
|
||
And thither must return and be no more.
|
||
VVhy else this double object in our sight
|
||
Of flight pursu'd in th' Air and ore the ground
|
||
One way the self-same hour? why in the East
|
||
Darkness ere Dayes mid-course, and Morning light
|
||
More orient in yon VVestern Cloud that draws
|
||
O're the blew Firmament a radiant white,
|
||
And slow descends, with somthing heav'nly fraught.
|
||
He err'd not, for by this the heav'nly Bands
|
||
Down from a Skie of Jasper lighted now
|
||
In Paradise, and on a Hill made alt,
|
||
A glorious Apparition, had not doubt
|
||
And carnal fear that day dimm'd ADAMS eye.
|
||
Not that more glorious, when the Angels met
|
||
JACOB in MAHANAIM, where he saw
|
||
The field Pavilion'd with his Guardians bright;
|
||
Nor that which on the flaming Mount appeerd
|
||
In DOTHAN, cover'd with a Camp of Fire,
|
||
Against the SYRIAN King, who to surprize
|
||
One man, Assassin-like had levied Warr,
|
||
Warr unproclam'd. The Princely Hierarch
|
||
In thir bright stand, there left his Powers to seise
|
||
Possession of the Garden; hee alone,
|
||
To finde where ADAM shelterd, took his way,
|
||
Not unperceav'd of ADAM, who to EVE,
|
||
While the great Visitant approachd, thus spake.
|
||
EVE, now expect great tidings, which perhaps
|
||
Of us will soon determin, or impose
|
||
New Laws to be observ'd; for I descrie
|
||
From yonder blazing Cloud that veils the Hill
|
||
One of the heav'nly Host, and by his Gate
|
||
None of the meanest, some great Potentate
|
||
Or of the Thrones above, such Majestie
|
||
Invests him coming; yet not terrible,
|
||
That I should fear, nor sociably mild,
|
||
As RAPHAEL, that I should much confide,
|
||
But solemn and sublime, whom not to offend,
|
||
With reverence I must meet, and thou retire.
|
||
He ended; and th' Arch-Angel soon drew nigh,
|
||
Not in his shape Celestial, but as Man
|
||
Clad to meet Man; over his lucid Armes
|
||
A militarie Vest of purple flowd
|
||
Livelier then MELIBOEAN, or the graine
|
||
Of SARRA, worn by Kings and Hero's old
|
||
In time of Truce; IRIS had dipt the wooff;
|
||
His starrie Helme unbuckl'd shew'd him prime
|
||
In Manhood where Youth ended; by his side
|
||
As in a glistering ZODIAC hung the Sword,
|
||
Satans dire dread, and in his hand the Spear.
|
||
ADAM bowd low, hee Kingly from his State
|
||
Inclin'd not, but his coming thus declar'd.
|
||
ADAM, Heav'ns high behest no Preface needs:
|
||
Sufficient that thy Prayers are heard, and Death,
|
||
Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress,
|
||
Defeated of his seisure many dayes
|
||
Giv'n thee of Grace, wherein thou may'st repent,
|
||
And one bad act with many deeds well done
|
||
Mayst cover: well may then thy Lord appeas'd
|
||
Redeem thee quite from Deaths rapacious claimes;
|
||
But longer in this Paradise to dwell
|
||
Permits not; to remove thee I am come,
|
||
And send thee from the Garden forth to till
|
||
The ground whence thou wast tak'n, fitter Soile.
|
||
He added not, for ADAM at the newes
|
||
Heart-strook with chilling gripe of sorrow stood,
|
||
That all his senses bound; EVE, who unseen
|
||
Yet all had heard, with audible lament
|
||
Discover'd soon the place of her retire.
|
||
O unexpected stroke, worse then of Death!
|
||
Must I thus leave thee Paradise? thus leave
|
||
Thee Native Soile, these happie Walks and Shades,
|
||
Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend,
|
||
Quiet though sad, the respit of that day
|
||
That must be mortal to us both. O flours,
|
||
That never will in other Climate grow,
|
||
My early visitation, and my last
|
||
At Eev'n, which I bred up with tender hand
|
||
From the first op'ning bud, and gave ye Names,
|
||
Who now shall reare ye to the Sun, or ranke
|
||
Your Tribes, and water from th' ambrosial Fount?
|
||
Thee lastly nuptial Bowre, by mee adornd
|
||
With what to sight or smell was sweet; from thee
|
||
How shall I part, and whither wander down
|
||
Into a lower World, to this obscure
|
||
And wilde, how shall we breath in other Aire
|
||
Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?
|
||
Whom thus the Angel interrupted milde.
|
||
Lament not EVE, but patiently resigne
|
||
What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart,
|
||
Thus over fond, on that which is not thine;
|
||
Thy going is not lonely, with thee goes
|
||
Thy Husband, him to follow thou art bound;
|
||
Where he abides, think there thy native soile.
|
||
ADAM by this from the cold sudden damp
|
||
Recovering, and his scatterd spirits returnd,
|
||
To MICHAEL thus his humble words addressd.
|
||
Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or nam'd
|
||
Of them the Highest, for such of shape may seem
|
||
Prince above Princes, gently hast thou tould
|
||
Thy message, which might else in telling wound,
|
||
And in performing end us; what besides
|
||
Of sorrow and dejection and despair
|
||
Our frailtie can sustain, thy tidings bring,
|
||
Departure from this happy place, our sweet
|
||
Recess, and onely consolation left
|
||
Familiar to our eyes, all places else
|
||
Inhospitable appeer and desolate,
|
||
Nor knowing us nor known: and if by prayer
|
||
Incessant I could hope to change the will
|
||
Of him who all things can, I would not cease
|
||
To wearie him with my assiduous cries:
|
||
But prayer against his absolute Decree
|
||
No more availes then breath against the winde,
|
||
Blown stifling back on him that breaths it forth:
|
||
Therefore to his great bidding I submit.
|
||
This most afflicts me, that departing hence,
|
||
As from his face I shall be hid, deprivd
|
||
His blessed count'nance; here I could frequent,
|
||
With worship, place by place where he voutsaf'd
|
||
Presence Divine, and to my Sons relate;
|
||
On this Mount he appeerd, under this Tree
|
||
Stood visible, among these Pines his voice
|
||
I heard, here with him at this Fountain talk'd:
|
||
So many grateful Altars I would reare
|
||
Of grassie Terfe, and pile up every Stone
|
||
Of lustre from the brook, in memorie,
|
||
Or monument to Ages, and thereon
|
||
Offer sweet smelling Gumms & Fruits and Flours:
|
||
In yonder nether World where shall I seek
|
||
His bright appearances, or footstep trace?
|
||
For though I fled him angrie, yet recall'd
|
||
To life prolongd and promisd Race, I now
|
||
Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts
|
||
Of glory, and farr off his steps adore.
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL with regard benigne.
|
||
ADAM, thou know'st Heav'n his, and all the Earth
|
||
Not this Rock onely; his Omnipresence fills
|
||
Land, Sea, and Aire, and every kinde that lives,
|
||
Fomented by his virtual power and warmd:
|
||
All th' Earth he gave thee to possess and rule,
|
||
No despicable gift; surmise not then
|
||
His presence to these narrow bounds confin'd
|
||
Of Paradise or EDEN: this had been
|
||
Perhaps thy Capital Seate, from whence had spred
|
||
All generations, and had hither come
|
||
From all the ends of th' Earth, to celebrate
|
||
And reverence thee thir great Progenitor.
|
||
But this praeeminence thou hast lost, brought down
|
||
To dwell on eeven ground now with thy Sons:
|
||
Yet doubt not but in Vallie and in Plaine
|
||
God is as here, and will be found alike
|
||
Present, and of his presence many a signe
|
||
Still following thee, still compassing thee round
|
||
With goodness and paternal Love, his Face
|
||
Express, and of his steps the track Divine.
|
||
Which that thou mayst beleeve, and be confirmd,
|
||
Ere thou from hence depart, know I am sent
|
||
To shew thee what shall come in future dayes
|
||
To thee and to thy Ofspring; good with bad
|
||
Expect to hear, supernal Grace contending
|
||
With sinfulness of Men; thereby to learn
|
||
True patience, and to temper joy with fear
|
||
And pious sorrow, equally enur'd
|
||
By moderation either state to beare,
|
||
Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead
|
||
Safest thy life, and best prepar'd endure
|
||
Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend
|
||
This Hill; let EVE (for I have drencht her eyes)
|
||
Here sleep below while thou to foresight wak'st,
|
||
As once thou slepst, while Shee to life was formd.
|
||
To whom thus ADAM gratefully repli'd.
|
||
Ascend, I follow thee, safe Guide, the path
|
||
Thou lead'st me, and to the hand of Heav'n submit,
|
||
However chast'ning, to the evil turne
|
||
My obvious breast, arming to overcom
|
||
By suffering, and earne rest from labour won,
|
||
If so I may attain. So both ascend
|
||
In the Visions of God: It was a Hill
|
||
Of Paradise the highest, from whose top
|
||
The Hemisphere of Earth in cleerest Ken
|
||
Stretcht out to amplest reach of prospect lay.
|
||
Not higher that Hill nor wider looking round,
|
||
Whereon for different cause the Tempter set
|
||
Our second ADAM in the Wilderness,
|
||
To shew him all Earths Kingdomes and thir Glory.
|
||
His Eye might there command wherever stood
|
||
City of old or modern Fame, the Seat
|
||
Of mightiest Empire, from the destind Walls
|
||
Of CAMBALU, seat of CATHAIAN CAN
|
||
And SAMARCHAND by OXUS, TEMIRS Throne,
|
||
To PAQUIN of SINAEAN Kings, and thence
|
||
To AGRA and LAHOR of great MOGUL
|
||
Down to the golden CHERSONESE, or where
|
||
The PERSIAN in ECBATAN sate, or since
|
||
In HISPAHAN, or where the RUSSIAN KSAR
|
||
In MOSCO, or the Sultan in BIZANCE,
|
||
TURCHESTAN-born; nor could his eye not ken
|
||
Th' Empire of NEGUS to his utmost Port
|
||
ERCOCO and the less Maritine Kings
|
||
MOMBAZA, and QUILOA, and MELIND,
|
||
And SOFALA thought OPHIR, to the Realme
|
||
Of CONGO, and ANGOLA fardest South;
|
||
Or thence from NIGER Flood to ATLAS Mount
|
||
The Kingdoms of ALMANSOR, FEZ, and SUS,
|
||
MAROCCO and ALGIERS, and TREMISEN;
|
||
On EUROPE thence, and where ROME was to sway
|
||
The VVorld: in Spirit perhaps he also saw
|
||
Rich MEXICO the seat of MOTEZUME,
|
||
And CUSCO in PERU, the richer seat
|
||
Of ATABALIPA, and yet unspoil'd
|
||
GUIANA, whose great Citie GERYONS Sons
|
||
Call EL DORADO: but to nobler sights
|
||
MICHAEL from ADAMS eyes the Filme remov'd
|
||
VVhich that false Fruit that promis'd clearer sight
|
||
Had bred; then purg'd with Euphrasie and Rue
|
||
The visual Nerve, for he had much to see;
|
||
And from the VVell of Life three drops instill'd.
|
||
So deep the power of these Ingredients pierc'd,
|
||
Eevn to the inmost seat of mental sight,
|
||
That ADAM now enforc't to close his eyes,
|
||
Sunk down and all his Spirits became intranst:
|
||
But him the gentle Angel by the hand
|
||
Soon rais'd, and his attention thus recall'd.
|
||
ADAM, now ope thine eyes, and first behold
|
||
Th' effects which thy original crime hath wrought
|
||
In some to spring from thee, who never touch'd
|
||
Th' excepted Tree, nor with the Snake conspir'd,
|
||
Nor sinn'd thy sin, yet from that sin derive
|
||
Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds.
|
||
His eyes he op'nd, and beheld a field,
|
||
Part arable and tilth, whereon were Sheaves
|
||
New reapt, the other part sheep-walks and foulds;
|
||
Ith' midst an Altar as the Land-mark stood
|
||
Rustic, of grassie sord; thither anon
|
||
A sweatie Reaper from his Tillage brought
|
||
First Fruits, the green Eare, and the yellow Sheaf,
|
||
Uncull'd, as came to hand; a Shepherd next
|
||
More meek came with the Firstlings of his Flock
|
||
Choicest and best; then sacrificing, laid
|
||
The Inwards and thir Fat, with Incense strew'd,
|
||
On the cleft Wood, and all due Rites perform'd.
|
||
His Offring soon propitious Fire from Heav'n
|
||
Consum'd with nimble glance, and grateful steame;
|
||
The others not, for his was not sincere;
|
||
Whereat hee inlie rag'd, and as they talk'd,
|
||
Smote him into the Midriff with a stone
|
||
That beat out life; he fell, and deadly pale
|
||
Groand out his Soul with gushing bloud effus'd.
|
||
Much at that sight was ADAM in his heart
|
||
Dismai'd, and thus in haste to th' Angel cri'd.
|
||
O Teacher, some great mischief hath befall'n
|
||
To that meek man, who well had sacrific'd;
|
||
Is Pietie thus and pure Devotion paid?
|
||
T' whom MICHAEL thus, hee also mov'd, repli'd.
|
||
These two are Brethren, ADAM, and to come
|
||
Out of thy loyns; th' unjust the just hath slain,
|
||
For envie that his Brothers Offering found
|
||
From Heav'n acceptance; but the bloodie Fact
|
||
Will be aveng'd, and th' others Faith approv'd
|
||
Loose no reward, though here thou see him die,
|
||
Rowling in dust and gore. To which our Sire.
|
||
Alas, both for the deed and for the cause!
|
||
But have I now seen Death? Is this the way
|
||
I must return to native dust? O sight
|
||
Of terrour, foul and ugly to behold,
|
||
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL. Death thou hast seen
|
||
In his first shape on man; but many shapes
|
||
Of Death, and many are the wayes that lead
|
||
To his grim Cave, all dismal; yet to sense
|
||
More terrible at th' entrance then within.
|
||
Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die,
|
||
By Fire, Flood, Famin, by Intemperance more
|
||
In Meats and Drinks, which on the Earth shal bring
|
||
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew
|
||
Before thee shall appear; that thou mayst know
|
||
What miserie th' inabstinence of EVE
|
||
Shall bring on men. Immediately a place
|
||
Before his eyes appeard, sad, noysom, dark,
|
||
A Lazar-house it seemd, wherein were laid
|
||
Numbers of all diseas'd, all maladies
|
||
Of gastly Spasm, or racking torture, qualmes
|
||
Of heart-sick Agonie, all feavorous kinds,
|
||
Convulsions, Epilepsies, fierce Catarrhs,
|
||
Intestin Stone and Ulcer, Colic pangs,
|
||
Dropsies, and Asthma's, and Joint-racking Rheums.
|
||
Dire was the tossing, deep the groans, despair
|
||
Tended the sick busiest from Couch to Couch;
|
||
And over them triumphant Death his Dart
|
||
Shook, but delaid to strike, though oft invok't
|
||
With vows, as thir chief good, and final hope.
|
||
Sight so deform what heart of Rock could long
|
||
Drie-ey'd behold? ADAM could not, but wept,
|
||
Though not of Woman born; compassion quell'd
|
||
His best of Man, and gave him up to tears
|
||
A space, till firmer thoughts restraind excess,
|
||
And scarce recovering words his plaint renew'd.
|
||
O miserable Mankind, to what fall
|
||
Degraded, to what wretched state reserv'd?
|
||
Better end heer unborn. Why is life giv'n
|
||
To be thus wrested from us? rather why
|
||
Obtruded on us thus? who if we knew
|
||
What we receive, would either not accept
|
||
Life offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down,
|
||
Glad to be so dismist in peace. Can thus
|
||
Th' Image of God in man created once
|
||
So goodly and erect, though faultie since,
|
||
To such unsightly sufferings be debas't
|
||
Under inhuman pains? Why should not Man,
|
||
Retaining still Divine similitude
|
||
In part, from such deformities be free,
|
||
And for his Makers Image sake exempt?
|
||
Thir Makers Image, answerd MICHAEL, then
|
||
Forsook them, when themselves they villifi'd
|
||
To serve ungovern'd appetite, and took
|
||
His Image whom they serv'd, a brutish vice,
|
||
Inductive mainly to the sin of EVE.
|
||
Therefore so abject is thir punishment,
|
||
Disfiguring not Gods likeness, but thir own,
|
||
Or if his likeness, by themselves defac't
|
||
While they pervert pure Natures healthful rules
|
||
To loathsom sickness, worthily, since they
|
||
Gods Image did not reverence in themselves.
|
||
I yeild it just, said ADAM, and submit.
|
||
But is there yet no other way, besides
|
||
These painful passages, how we may come
|
||
To Death, and mix with our connatural dust?
|
||
There is, said MICHAEL, if thou well observe
|
||
The rule of not too much, by temperance taught
|
||
In what thou eatst and drinkst, seeking from thence
|
||
Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight,
|
||
Till many years over thy head return:
|
||
So maist thou live, till like ripe Fruit thou drop
|
||
Into thy Mothers lap, or be with ease
|
||
Gatherd, not harshly pluckt, for death mature:
|
||
This is old age; but then thou must outlive
|
||
Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change
|
||
To witherd weak & gray; thy Senses then
|
||
Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgoe,
|
||
To what thou hast, and for the Aire of youth
|
||
Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reigne
|
||
A melancholly damp of cold and dry
|
||
To waigh thy spirits down, and last consume
|
||
The Balme of Life. To whom our Ancestor.
|
||
Henceforth I flie not Death, nor would prolong
|
||
Life much, bent rather how I may be quit
|
||
Fairest and easiest of this combrous charge,
|
||
Which I must keep till my appointed day
|
||
Of rendring up. MICHAEL to him repli'd.
|
||
Nor love thy Life, nor hate; but what thou livst
|
||
Live well, how long or short permit to Heav'n:
|
||
And now prepare thee for another sight.
|
||
He lookd and saw a spacious Plaine, whereon
|
||
Were Tents of various hue; by some were herds
|
||
Of Cattel grazing: others, whence the sound
|
||
Of Instruments that made melodious chime
|
||
Was heard, of Harp and Organ; and who moovd
|
||
Thir stops and chords was seen: his volant touch
|
||
Instinct through all proportions low and high
|
||
Fled and pursu'd transverse the resonant fugue.
|
||
In other part stood one who at the Forge
|
||
Labouring, two massie clods of Iron and Brass
|
||
Had melted (whether found where casual fire
|
||
Had wasted woods on Mountain or in Vale,
|
||
Down to the veins of Earth, thence gliding hot
|
||
To som Caves mouth, or whether washt by stream
|
||
From underground) the liquid Ore he dreind
|
||
Into fit moulds prepar'd; from which he formd
|
||
First his own Tooles; then, what might else be wrought
|
||
Fulfil or grav'n in mettle. After these,
|
||
But on the hether side a different sort
|
||
From the high neighbouring Hills, which was thir Seat,
|
||
Down to the Plain descended: by thir guise
|
||
Just men they seemd, and all thir study bent
|
||
To worship God aright, and know his works
|
||
Not hid, nor those things lost which might preserve
|
||
Freedom and Peace to men: they on the Plain
|
||
Long had not walkt, when from the Tents behold
|
||
A Beavie of fair Women, richly gay
|
||
In Gems and wanton dress; to the Harp they sung
|
||
Soft amorous Ditties, and in dance came on:
|
||
The Men though grave, ey'd them, and let thir eyes
|
||
Rove without rein, till in the amorous Net
|
||
Fast caught, they lik'd, and each his liking chose;
|
||
And now of love they treat till th' Eevning Star
|
||
Loves Harbinger appeerd; then all in heat
|
||
They light the Nuptial Torch, and bid invoke
|
||
Hymen, then first to marriage Rites invok't;
|
||
With Feast and Musick all the Tents resound.
|
||
Such happy interview and fair event
|
||
Of love & youth not lost, Songs, Garlands, Flours,
|
||
And charming Symphonies attach'd the heart
|
||
Of ADAM, soon enclin'd to admit delight,
|
||
The bent of Nature; which he thus express'd.
|
||
True opener of mine eyes, prime Angel blest,
|
||
Much better seems this Vision, and more hope
|
||
Of peaceful dayes portends, then those two past;
|
||
Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse,
|
||
Here Nature seems fulfilld in all her ends.
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL. Judg not what is best
|
||
By pleasure, though to Nature seeming meet,
|
||
Created, as thou art, to nobler end
|
||
Holie and pure, conformitie divine.
|
||
Those Tents thou sawst so pleasant, were the Tents
|
||
Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his Race
|
||
Who slew his Brother; studious they appere
|
||
Of Arts that polish Life, Inventers rare,
|
||
Unmindful of thir Maker, though his Spirit
|
||
Taught them, but they his gifts acknowledg'd none.
|
||
Yet they a beauteous ofspring shall beget;
|
||
For that fair femal Troop thou sawst, that seemd
|
||
Of Goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay,
|
||
Yet empty of all good wherein consists
|
||
Womans domestic honour and chief praise;
|
||
Bred onely and completed to the taste
|
||
Of lustful apperence, to sing, to dance,
|
||
To dress, and troule the Tongue, and roule the Eye.
|
||
To these that sober Race of Men, whose lives
|
||
Religious titl'd them the Sons of God,
|
||
Shall yeild up all thir vertue, all thir fame
|
||
Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles
|
||
Of these fair Atheists, and now swim in joy,
|
||
(Erelong to swim at larg) and laugh; for which
|
||
The world erelong a world of tears must weepe.
|
||
To whom thus ADAM of short joy bereft.
|
||
O pittie and shame, that they who to live well
|
||
Enterd so faire, should turn aside to tread
|
||
Paths indirect, or in the mid way faint!
|
||
But still I see the tenor of Mans woe
|
||
Holds on the same, from Woman to begin.
|
||
From Mans effeminate slackness it begins,
|
||
Said th' Angel, who should better hold his place
|
||
By wisdome, and superiour gifts receavd.
|
||
But now prepare thee for another Scene.
|
||
He lookd and saw wide Territorie spred
|
||
Before him, Towns, and rural works between,
|
||
Cities of Men with lofty Gates and Towrs,
|
||
Concours in Arms, fierce Faces threatning Warr,
|
||
Giants of mightie Bone, and bould emprise;
|
||
Part wield thir Arms, part courb the foaming Steed,
|
||
Single or in Array of Battel rang'd
|
||
Both Horse and Foot, nor idely mustring stood;
|
||
One way a Band select from forage drives
|
||
A herd of Beeves, faire Oxen and faire Kine
|
||
From a fat Meddow ground; or fleecy Flock,
|
||
Ewes and thir bleating Lambs over the Plaine,
|
||
Thir Bootie; scarce with Life the Shepherds flye,
|
||
But call in aide, which tacks a bloody Fray;
|
||
With cruel Tournament the Squadrons joine;
|
||
Where Cattel pastur'd late, now scatterd lies
|
||
With Carcasses and Arms th' ensanguind Field
|
||
Deserted: Others to a Citie strong
|
||
Lay Siege, encampt; by Batterie, Scale, and Mine,
|
||
Assaulting; others from the Wall defend
|
||
With Dart and Jav'lin, Stones and sulfurous Fire;
|
||
On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds.
|
||
In other part the scepter'd Haralds call
|
||
To Council in the Citie Gates: anon
|
||
Grey-headed men and grave, with Warriours mixt,
|
||
Assemble, and Harangues are heard, but soon
|
||
In factious opposition, till at last
|
||
Of middle Age one rising, eminent
|
||
In wise deport, spake much of Right and Wrong,
|
||
Of Justice, of Religion, Truth and Peace,
|
||
And Judgement from above: him old and young
|
||
Exploded, and had seiz'd with violent hands,
|
||
Had not a Cloud descending snatch'd him thence
|
||
Unseen amid the throng: so violence
|
||
Proceeded, and Oppression, and Sword-Law
|
||
Through all the Plain, and refuge none was found.
|
||
ADAM was all in tears, and to his guide
|
||
Lamenting turnd full sad; O what are these,
|
||
Deaths Ministers, not Men, who thus deal Death
|
||
Inhumanly to men, and multiply
|
||
Ten thousand fould the sin of him who slew
|
||
His Brother; for of whom such massacher
|
||
Make they but of thir Brethren, men of men?
|
||
But who was that Just Man, whom had not Heav'n
|
||
Rescu'd, had in his Righteousness bin lost?
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL; These are the product
|
||
Of those ill-mated Marriages thou saw'st;
|
||
Where good with bad were matcht, who of themselves
|
||
Abhor to joyn; and by imprudence mixt,
|
||
Produce prodigious Births of bodie or mind.
|
||
Such were these Giants, men of high renown;
|
||
For in those dayes Might onely shall be admir'd,
|
||
And Valour and Heroic Vertu call'd;
|
||
To overcome in Battel, and subdue
|
||
Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite
|
||
Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch
|
||
Of human Glorie, and for Glorie done
|
||
Of triumph, to be styl'd great Conquerours,
|
||
Patrons of Mankind, Gods, and Sons of Gods,
|
||
Destroyers rightlier call'd and Plagues of men.
|
||
Thus Fame shall be achiev'd, renown on Earth,
|
||
And what most merits fame in silence hid.
|
||
But hee the seventh from thee, whom thou beheldst
|
||
The onely righteous in a World perverse,
|
||
And therefore hated, therefore so beset
|
||
With Foes for daring single to be just,
|
||
And utter odious Truth, that God would come
|
||
To judge them with his Saints: Him the most High
|
||
Rapt in a balmie Cloud with winged Steeds
|
||
Did, as thou sawst, receave, to walk with God
|
||
High in Salvation and the Climes of bliss,
|
||
Exempt from Death; to shew thee what reward
|
||
Awaits the good, the rest what punishment;
|
||
Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold.
|
||
He look'd, & saw the face of things quite chang'd;
|
||
The brazen Throat of Warr had ceast to roar,
|
||
All now was turn'd to jollitie and game,
|
||
To luxurie and riot, feast and dance,
|
||
Marrying or prostituting, as befell,
|
||
Rape or Adulterie, where passing faire
|
||
Allurd them; thence from Cups to civil Broiles.
|
||
At length a Reverend Sire among them came,
|
||
And of thir doings great dislike declar'd,
|
||
And testifi'd against thir wayes; hee oft
|
||
Frequented thir Assemblies, whereso met,
|
||
Triumphs or Festivals, and to them preachd
|
||
Conversion and Repentance, as to Souls
|
||
In prison under Judgements imminent:
|
||
But all in vain: which when he saw, he ceas'd
|
||
Contending, and remov'd his Tents farr off;
|
||
Then from the Mountain hewing Timber tall,
|
||
Began to build a Vessel of huge bulk,
|
||
Measur'd by Cubit, length, & breadth, and highth,
|
||
Smeard round with Pitch, and in the side a dore
|
||
Contriv'd, and of provisions laid in large
|
||
For Man and Beast: when loe a wonder strange!
|
||
Of everie Beast, and Bird, and Insect small
|
||
Came seavens, and pairs, and enterd in, as taught
|
||
Thir order; last the Sire, and his three Sons
|
||
With thir four Wives, and God made fast the dore.
|
||
Meanwhile the Southwind rose, & with black wings
|
||
Wide hovering, all the Clouds together drove
|
||
From under Heav'n; the Hills to their supplie
|
||
Vapour, and Exhalation dusk and moist,
|
||
Sent up amain; and now the thick'nd Skie
|
||
Like a dark Ceeling stood; down rush'd the Rain
|
||
Impetuous, and continu'd till the Earth
|
||
No more was seen; the floating Vessel swum
|
||
Uplifted; and secure with beaked prow
|
||
Rode tilting o're the Waves, all dwellings else
|
||
Flood overwhelmd, and them with all thir pomp
|
||
Deep under water rould; Sea cover'd Sea,
|
||
Sea without shoar; and in thir Palaces
|
||
Where luxurie late reign'd, Sea-monsters whelp'd
|
||
And stabl'd; of Mankind, so numerous late,
|
||
All left, in one small bottom swum imbark't.
|
||
How didst thou grieve then, ADAM, to behold
|
||
The end of all thy Ofspring, end so sad,
|
||
Depopulation; thee another Floud,
|
||
Of tears and sorrow a Floud thee also drown'd,
|
||
And sunk thee as thy Sons; till gently reard
|
||
By th' Angel, on thy feet thou stoodst at last,
|
||
Though comfortless, as when a Father mourns
|
||
His Childern, all in view destroyd at once;
|
||
And scarce to th' Angel utterdst thus thy plaint.
|
||
O Visions ill foreseen! better had I
|
||
Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne
|
||
My part of evil onely, each dayes lot
|
||
Anough to bear; those now, that were dispenst
|
||
The burd'n of many Ages, on me light
|
||
At once, by my foreknowledge gaining Birth
|
||
Abortive, to torment me ere thir being,
|
||
With thought that they must be. Let no man seek
|
||
Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall
|
||
Him or his Childern, evil he may be sure,
|
||
Which neither his foreknowing can prevent,
|
||
And hee the future evil shall no less
|
||
In apprehension then in substance feel
|
||
Grievous to bear: but that care now is past,
|
||
Man is not whom to warne: those few escap't
|
||
Famin and anguish will at last consume
|
||
Wandring that watrie Desert: I had hope
|
||
When violence was ceas't, and Warr on Earth,
|
||
All would have then gon well, peace would have crownd
|
||
With length of happy days the race of man;
|
||
But I was farr deceav'd; for now I see
|
||
Peace to corrupt no less then Warr to waste.
|
||
How comes it thus? unfould, Celestial Guide,
|
||
And whether here the Race of man will end.
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL. Those whom last thou sawst
|
||
In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they
|
||
First seen in acts of prowess eminent
|
||
And great exploits, but of true vertu void;
|
||
Who having spilt much blood, and don much waste
|
||
Subduing Nations, and achievd thereby
|
||
Fame in the World, high titles, and rich prey,
|
||
Shall change thir course to pleasure, ease, and sloth,
|
||
Surfet, and lust, till wantonness and pride
|
||
Raise out of friendship hostil deeds in Peace.
|
||
The conquerd also, and enslav'd by Warr
|
||
Shall with thir freedom lost all vertu loose
|
||
And feare of God, from whom thir pietie feign'd
|
||
In sharp contest of Battel found no aide
|
||
Against invaders; therefore coold in zeale
|
||
Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure,
|
||
Worldlie or dissolute, on what thir Lords
|
||
Shall leave them to enjoy; for th' Earth shall bear
|
||
More then anough, that temperance may be tri'd:
|
||
So all shall turn degenerate, all deprav'd,
|
||
Justice and Temperance, Truth and Faith forgot;
|
||
One Man except, the onely Son of light
|
||
In a dark Age, against example good,
|
||
Against allurement, custom, and a World
|
||
Offended; fearless of reproach and scorn,
|
||
Or violence, hee of thir wicked wayes
|
||
Shall them admonish, and before them set
|
||
The paths of righteousness, how much more safe,
|
||
And full of peace, denouncing wrauth to come
|
||
On thir impenitence; and shall returne
|
||
Of them derided, but of God observd
|
||
The one just Man alive; by his command
|
||
Shall build a wondrous Ark, as thou beheldst,
|
||
To save himself and houshold from amidst
|
||
A World devote to universal rack.
|
||
No sooner hee with them of Man and Beast
|
||
Select for life shall in the Ark be lodg'd,
|
||
And shelterd round, but all the Cataracts
|
||
Of Heav'n set open on the Earth shall powre
|
||
Raine day and night, all fountaines of the Deep
|
||
Broke up, shall heave the Ocean to usurp
|
||
Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise
|
||
Above the highest Hills: then shall this Mount
|
||
Of Paradise by might of Waves be moovd
|
||
Out of his place, pushd by the horned floud,
|
||
With all his verdure spoil'd, and Trees adrift
|
||
Down the great River to the op'ning Gulf,
|
||
And there take root an Iland salt and bare,
|
||
The haunt of Seales and Orcs, and Sea-mews clang.
|
||
To teach thee that God attributes to place
|
||
No sanctitie, if none be thither brought
|
||
By Men who there frequent, or therein dwell.
|
||
And now what further shall ensue, behold.
|
||
He lookd, and saw the Ark hull on the floud,
|
||
Which now abated, for the Clouds were fled,
|
||
Drivn by a keen North-winde, that blowing drie
|
||
Wrinkl'd the face of Deluge, as decai'd;
|
||
And the cleer Sun on his wide watrie Glass
|
||
Gaz'd hot, and of the fresh Wave largely drew,
|
||
As after thirst, which made thir flowing shrink
|
||
From standing lake to tripping ebbe, that stole
|
||
With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopt
|
||
His Sluces, as the Heav'n his windows shut.
|
||
The Ark no more now flotes, but seems on ground
|
||
Fast on the top of som high mountain fixt.
|
||
And now the tops of Hills as Rocks appeer;
|
||
With clamor thence the rapid Currents drive
|
||
Towards the retreating Sea thir furious tyde.
|
||
Forthwith from out the Arke a Raven flies,
|
||
And after him, the surer messenger,
|
||
A Dove sent forth once and agen to spie
|
||
Green Tree or ground whereon his foot may light;
|
||
The second time returning, in his Bill
|
||
An Olive leafe he brings, pacific signe:
|
||
Anon drie ground appeers, and from his Arke
|
||
The ancient Sire descends with all his Train;
|
||
Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout,
|
||
Grateful to Heav'n, over his head beholds
|
||
A dewie Cloud, and in the Cloud a Bow
|
||
Conspicuous with three lifted colours gay,
|
||
Betok'ning peace from God, and Cov'nant new.
|
||
Whereat the heart of ADAM erst so sad
|
||
Greatly rejoyc'd, and thus his joy broke forth.
|
||
O thou that future things canst represent
|
||
As present, Heav'nly instructer, I revive
|
||
At this last sight, assur'd that Man shall live
|
||
With all the Creatures, and thir seed preserve.
|
||
Farr less I now lament for one whole World
|
||
Of wicked Sons destroyd, then I rejoyce
|
||
For one Man found so perfet and so just,
|
||
That God voutsafes to raise another World
|
||
From him, and all his anger to forget.
|
||
But say, what mean those colourd streaks in Heavn,
|
||
Distended as the Brow of God appeas'd,
|
||
Or serve they as a flourie verge to binde
|
||
The fluid skirts of that same watrie Cloud,
|
||
Least it again dissolve and showr the Earth?
|
||
To whom th' Archangel. Dextrously thou aim'st;
|
||
So willingly doth God remit his Ire,
|
||
Though late repenting him of Man deprav'd,
|
||
Griev'd at his heart, when looking down he saw
|
||
The whole Earth fill'd with violence, and all flesh
|
||
Corrupting each thir way; yet those remoov'd,
|
||
Such grace shall one just Man find in his sight,
|
||
That he relents, not to blot out mankind,
|
||
And makes a Covenant never to destroy
|
||
The Earth again by flood, nor let the Sea
|
||
Surpass his bounds, nor Rain to drown the World
|
||
With Man therein or Beast; but when he brings
|
||
Over the Earth a Cloud, will therein set
|
||
His triple-colour'd Bow, whereon to look
|
||
And call to mind his Cov'nant: Day and Night,
|
||
Seed time and Harvest, Heat and hoary Frost
|
||
Shall hold thir course, till fire purge all things new,
|
||
Both Heav'n and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell.
|
||
Thus thou hast seen one World begin and end;
|
||
And Man as from a second stock proceed.
|
||
Much thou hast yet to see, but I perceave
|
||
Thy mortal sight to faile; objects divine
|
||
Must needs impaire and wearie human sense:
|
||
Henceforth what is to com I will relate,
|
||
Thou therefore give due audience, and attend.
|
||
This second sours of Men, while yet but few,
|
||
And while the dread of judgement past remains
|
||
Fresh in thir mindes, fearing the Deitie,
|
||
With some regard to what is just and right
|
||
Shall lead thir lives, and multiplie apace,
|
||
Labouring the soile, and reaping plenteous crop,
|
||
Corn wine and oyle; and from the herd or flock,
|
||
Oft sacrificing Bullock, Lamb, or Kid,
|
||
With large Wine-offerings pour'd, and sacred Feast
|
||
Shal spend thir dayes in joy unblam'd, and dwell
|
||
Long time in peace by Families and Tribes
|
||
Under paternal rule; till one shall rise
|
||
Of proud ambitious heart, who not content
|
||
With fair equalitie, fraternal state,
|
||
Will arrogate Dominion undeserv'd
|
||
Over his brethren, and quite dispossess
|
||
Concord and law of Nature from the Earth;
|
||
Hunting (and Men not Beasts shall be his game)
|
||
With Warr and hostile snare such as refuse
|
||
Subjection to his Empire tyrannous:
|
||
A mightie Hunter thence he shall be styl'd
|
||
Before the Lord, as in despite of Heav'n,
|
||
Or from Heav'n claming second Sovrantie;
|
||
And from Rebellion shall derive his name,
|
||
Though of Rebellion others he accuse.
|
||
Hee with a crew, whom like Ambition joyns
|
||
With him or under him to tyrannize,
|
||
Marching from EDEN towards the West, shall finde
|
||
The Plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge
|
||
Boiles out from under ground, the mouth of Hell;
|
||
Of Brick, and of that stuff they cast to build
|
||
A Citie & Towre, whose top may reach to Heav'n;
|
||
And get themselves a name, least far disperst
|
||
In foraign Lands thir memorie be lost,
|
||
Regardless whether good or evil fame.
|
||
But God who oft descends to visit men
|
||
Unseen, and through thir habitations walks
|
||
To mark thir doings, them beholding soon,
|
||
Comes down to see thir Citie, ere the Tower
|
||
Obstruct Heav'n Towrs, and in derision sets
|
||
Upon thir Tongues a various Spirit to rase
|
||
Quite out thir Native Language, and instead
|
||
To sow a jangling noise of words unknown:
|
||
Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud
|
||
Among the Builders; each to other calls
|
||
Not understood, till hoarse, and all in rage,
|
||
As mockt they storm; great laughter was in Heav'n
|
||
And looking down, to see the hubbub strange
|
||
And hear the din; thus was the building left
|
||
Ridiculous, and the work Confusion nam'd.
|
||
Whereto thus ADAM fatherly displeas'd.
|
||
O execrable Son so to aspire
|
||
Above his Brethren, to himself affirming
|
||
Authoritie usurpt, from God not giv'n:
|
||
He gave us onely over Beast, Fish, Fowl
|
||
Dominion absolute; that right we hold
|
||
By his donation; but Man over men
|
||
He made not Lord; such title to himself
|
||
Reserving, human left from human free.
|
||
But this Usurper his encroachment proud
|
||
Stayes not on Man; to God his Tower intends
|
||
Siege and defiance: Wretched man! what food
|
||
Will he convey up thither to sustain
|
||
Himself and his rash Armie, where thin Aire
|
||
Above the Clouds will pine his entrails gross,
|
||
And famish him of Breath, if not of Bread?
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL. Justly thou abhorr'st
|
||
That Son, who on the quiet state of men
|
||
Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue
|
||
Rational Libertie; yet know withall,
|
||
Since thy original lapse, true Libertie
|
||
Is lost, which alwayes with right Reason dwells
|
||
Twinn'd, and from her hath no dividual being:
|
||
Reason in man obscur'd, or not obeyd,
|
||
Immediately inordinate desires
|
||
And upstart Passions catch the Government
|
||
From Reason, and to servitude reduce
|
||
Man till then free. Therefore since hee permits
|
||
Within himself unworthie Powers to reign
|
||
Over free Reason, God in Judgement just
|
||
Subjects him from without to violent Lords;
|
||
Who oft as undeservedly enthrall
|
||
His outward freedom: Tyrannie must be,
|
||
Though to the Tyrant thereby no excuse.
|
||
Yet somtimes Nations will decline so low
|
||
From vertue, which is reason, that no wrong,
|
||
But Justice, and some fatal curse annext
|
||
Deprives them of thir outward libertie,
|
||
Thir inward lost: Witness th' irreverent Son
|
||
Of him who built the Ark, who for the shame
|
||
Don to his Father, heard this heavie curse,
|
||
SERVANT OF SERVANTS, on his vitious Race.
|
||
Thus will this latter, as the former World,
|
||
Still tend from bad to worse, till God at last
|
||
Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw
|
||
His presence from among them, and avert
|
||
His holy Eyes; resolving from thenceforth
|
||
To leave them to thir own polluted wayes;
|
||
And one peculiar Nation to select
|
||
From all the rest, of whom to be invok'd,
|
||
A Nation from one faithful man to spring:
|
||
Him on this side EUPHRATES yet residing,
|
||
Bred up in Idol-worship; O that men
|
||
(Canst thou believe?) should be so stupid grown,
|
||
While yet the Patriark liv'd, who scap'd the Flood,
|
||
As to forsake the living God, and fall
|
||
To-worship thir own work in Wood and Stone
|
||
For Gods! yet him God the most High voutsafes
|
||
To call by Vision from his Fathers house,
|
||
His kindred and false Gods, into a Land
|
||
Which he will shew him, and from him will raise
|
||
A mightie Nation, and upon him showre
|
||
His benediction so, that in his Seed
|
||
All Nations shall be blest; hee straight obeys,
|
||
Not knowing to what Land, yet firm believes:
|
||
I see him, but thou canst not, with what Faith
|
||
He leaves his Gods, his Friends, and native Soile
|
||
UR of CHALDAEA, passing now the Ford
|
||
To HARAN, after him a cumbrous Train
|
||
Of Herds and Flocks, and numerous servitude;
|
||
Not wandring poor, but trusting all his wealth
|
||
With God, who call'd him, in a land unknown.
|
||
CANAAN he now attains, I see his Tents
|
||
Pitcht about SECHEM, and the neighbouring Plaine
|
||
Of MOREB; there by promise he receaves
|
||
Gift to his Progenie of all that Land;
|
||
From HAMATH Northward to the Desert South
|
||
(Things by thir names I call, though yet unnam'd)
|
||
From HERMON East to the great Western Sea,
|
||
Mount HERMON, yonder Sea, each place behold
|
||
In prospect, as I point them; on the shoare
|
||
Mount CARMEL; here the double-founted stream
|
||
JORDAN, true limit Eastward; but his Sons
|
||
Shall dwell to SENIR, that long ridge of Hills.
|
||
This ponder, that all Nations of the Earth
|
||
Shall in his Seed be blessed; by that Seed
|
||
Is meant thy great deliverer, who shall bruise
|
||
The Serpents head; whereof to thee anon
|
||
Plainlier shall be reveald. This Patriarch blest,
|
||
Whom FAITHFUL ABRAHAM due time shall call,
|
||
A Son, and of his Son a Grand-childe leaves,
|
||
Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown;
|
||
The Grandchilde with twelve Sons increast, departs
|
||
From CANAAN, to a Land hereafter call'd
|
||
EGYPT, divided by the River NILE;
|
||
See where it flows, disgorging at seaven mouthes
|
||
Into the Sea: to sojourn in that Land
|
||
He comes invited by a yonger Son
|
||
In time of dearth, a Son whose worthy deeds
|
||
Raise him to be the second in that Realme
|
||
Of PHARAO: there he dies, and leaves his Race
|
||
Growing into a Nation, and now grown
|
||
Suspected to a sequent King, who seeks
|
||
To stop thir overgrowth, as inmate guests
|
||
Too numerous; whence of guests he makes them slaves
|
||
Inhospitably, and kills thir infant Males:
|
||
Till by two brethren (those two brethren call
|
||
MOSES and AARON) sent from God to claime
|
||
His people from enthralment, they return
|
||
With glory and spoile back to thir promis'd Land.
|
||
But first the lawless Tyrant, who denies
|
||
To know thir God, or message to regard,
|
||
Must be compelld by Signes and Judgements dire;
|
||
To blood unshed the Rivers must be turnd,
|
||
Frogs, Lice and Flies must all his Palace fill
|
||
With loath'd intrusion, and fill all the land;
|
||
His Cattel must of Rot and Murren die,
|
||
Botches and blaines must all his flesh imboss,
|
||
And all his people; Thunder mixt with Haile,
|
||
Haile mixt with fire must rend th' EGYPTIAN Skie
|
||
And wheel on th' Earth, devouring where it rouls;
|
||
What it devours not, Herb, or Fruit, or Graine,
|
||
A darksom Cloud of Locusts swarming down
|
||
Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green:
|
||
Darkness must overshadow all his bounds,
|
||
Palpable darkness, and blot out three dayes;
|
||
Last with one midnight stroke all the first-born
|
||
Of EGYPT must lie dead. Thus with ten wounds
|
||
This River-dragon tam'd at length submits
|
||
To let his sojourners depart, and oft
|
||
Humbles his stubborn heart, but still as Ice
|
||
More hard'nd after thaw, till in his rage
|
||
Pursuing whom he late dismissd, the Sea
|
||
Swallows him with his Host, but them lets pass
|
||
As on drie land between two christal walls,
|
||
Aw'd by the rod of MOSES so to stand
|
||
Divided, till his rescu'd gain thir shoar:
|
||
Such wondrous power God to his Saint will lend,
|
||
Though present in his Angel, who shall goe
|
||
Before them in a Cloud, and Pillar of Fire,
|
||
To guide them in thir journey, and remove
|
||
Behinde them, while th' obdurat King pursues:
|
||
All night he will pursue, but his approach
|
||
Darkness defends between till morning Watch;
|
||
Then through the Firey Pillar and the Cloud
|
||
God looking forth will trouble all his Host
|
||
And craze thir Chariot wheels: when by command
|
||
MOSES once more his potent Rod extends
|
||
Over the Sea; the Sea his Rod obeys;
|
||
On thir imbattelld ranks the Waves return,
|
||
And overwhelm thir Warr: the Race elect
|
||
Safe towards CANAAN from the shoar advance
|
||
Through the wilde Desert, not the readiest way,
|
||
Least entring on the CANAANITE allarmd
|
||
Warr terrifie them inexpert, and feare
|
||
Return them back to EGYPT, choosing rather
|
||
Inglorious life with servitude; for life
|
||
To noble and ignoble is more sweet
|
||
Untraind in Armes, where rashness leads not on.
|
||
This also shall they gain by thir delay
|
||
In the wide Wilderness, there they shall found
|
||
Thir government, and thir great Senate choose
|
||
Through the twelve Tribes, to rule by Laws ordaind:
|
||
God from the Mount of SINAI, whose gray top
|
||
Shall tremble, he descending, will himself
|
||
In Thunder Lightning and loud Trumpets sound
|
||
Ordaine them Lawes; part such as appertaine
|
||
To civil Justice, part religious Rites
|
||
Of sacrifice, informing them, by types
|
||
And shadowes, of that destind Seed to bruise
|
||
The Serpent, by what meanes he shall achieve
|
||
Mankinds deliverance. But the voice of God
|
||
To mortal eare is dreadful; they beseech
|
||
That MOSES might report to them his will,
|
||
And terror cease; he grants them thir desire,
|
||
Instructed that to God is no access
|
||
Without Mediator, whose high Office now
|
||
MOSES in figure beares, to introduce
|
||
One greater, of whose day he shall foretell,
|
||
And all the Prophets in thir Age the times
|
||
Of great MESSIAH shall sing. Thus Laws and Rites
|
||
Establisht, such delight hath God in Men
|
||
Obedient to his will, that he voutsafes
|
||
Among them to set up his Tabernacle,
|
||
The holy One with mortal Men to dwell:
|
||
By his prescript a Sanctuary is fram'd
|
||
Of Cedar, overlaid with Gold, therein
|
||
An Ark, and in the Ark his Testimony,
|
||
The Records of his Cov'nant, over these
|
||
A Mercie-seat of Gold between the wings
|
||
Of two bright Cherubim, before him burn
|
||
Seaven Lamps as in a Zodiac representing
|
||
The Heav'nly fires; over the Tent a Cloud
|
||
Shall rest by Day, a fierie gleame by Night,
|
||
Save when they journie, and at length they come,
|
||
Conducted by his Angel to the Land
|
||
Promisd to ABRAHAM and his Seed: the rest
|
||
Were long to tell, how many Battels fought,
|
||
How many Kings destroyd, and Kingdoms won,
|
||
Or how the Sun shall in mid Heav'n stand still
|
||
A day entire, and Nights due course adjourne,
|
||
Mans voice commanding, Sun in GIBEON stand,
|
||
And thou Moon in the vale of AIALON,
|
||
Till ISRAEL overcome; so call the third
|
||
From ABRAHAM, Son of ISAAC, and from him
|
||
His whole descent, who thus shall CANAAN win.
|
||
Here ADAM interpos'd. O sent from Heav'n,
|
||
Enlightner of my darkness, gracious things
|
||
Thou hast reveald, those chiefly which concerne
|
||
Just ABRAHAM and his Seed: now first I finde
|
||
Mine eyes true op'ning, and my heart much eas'd,
|
||
Erwhile perplext with thoughts what would becom
|
||
Of mee and all Mankind; but now I see
|
||
His day, in whom all Nations shall be blest,
|
||
Favour unmerited by me, who sought
|
||
Forbidd'n knowledge by forbidd'n means.
|
||
This yet I apprehend not, why to those
|
||
Among whom God will deigne to dwell on Earth
|
||
So many and so various Laws are giv'n;
|
||
So many Laws argue so many sins
|
||
Among them; how can God with such reside?
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL. Doubt not but that sin
|
||
Will reign among them, as of thee begot;
|
||
And therefore was Law given them to evince
|
||
Thir natural pravitie, by stirring up
|
||
Sin against Law to fight; that when they see
|
||
Law can discover sin, but not remove,
|
||
Save by those shadowie expiations weak,
|
||
The bloud of Bulls and Goats, they may conclude
|
||
Some bloud more precious must be paid for Man,
|
||
Just for unjust, that in such righteousness
|
||
To them by Faith imputed, they may finde
|
||
Justification towards God, and peace
|
||
Of Conscience, which the Law by Ceremonies
|
||
Cannot appease, nor Man the moral part
|
||
Perform, and not performing cannot live.
|
||
So Law appears imperfet, and but giv'n
|
||
With purpose to resign them in full time
|
||
Up to a better Cov'nant, disciplin'd
|
||
From shadowie Types to Truth, from Flesh to Spirit,
|
||
From imposition of strict Laws, to free
|
||
Acceptance of large Grace, from servil fear
|
||
To filial, works of Law to works of Faith.
|
||
And therefore shall not MOSES, though of God
|
||
Highly belov'd, being but the Minister
|
||
Of Law, his people into CANAAN lead;
|
||
But JOSHUA whom the Gentiles JESUS call,
|
||
His Name and Office bearing, who shall quell
|
||
The adversarie Serpent, and bring back
|
||
Through the worlds wilderness long wanderd man
|
||
Safe to eternal Paradise of rest.
|
||
Meanwhile they in thir earthly CANAAN plac't
|
||
Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins
|
||
National interrupt thir public peace,
|
||
Provoking God to raise them enemies:
|
||
From whom as oft he saves them penitent
|
||
By Judges first, then under Kings; of whom
|
||
The second, both for pietie renownd
|
||
And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive
|
||
Irrevocable, that his Regal Throne
|
||
For ever shall endure; the like shall sing
|
||
All Prophecie, That of the Royal Stock
|
||
Of DAVID (so I name this King) shall rise
|
||
A Son, the Womans Seed to thee foretold,
|
||
Foretold to ABRAHAM, as in whom shall trust
|
||
All Nations, and to Kings foretold, of Kings
|
||
The last, for of his Reign shall be no end.
|
||
But first a long succession must ensue,
|
||
And his next Son for Wealth and Wisdom fam'd,
|
||
The clouded Ark of God till then in Tents
|
||
Wandring, shall in a glorious Temple enshrine.
|
||
Such follow him, as shall be registerd
|
||
Part good, part bad, of bad the longer scrowle,
|
||
Whose foul Idolatries, and other faults
|
||
Heapt to the popular summe, will so incense
|
||
God, as to leave them, and expose thir Land,
|
||
Thir Citie, his Temple, and his holy Ark
|
||
With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey
|
||
To that proud Citie, whose high Walls thou saw'st
|
||
Left in confusion, BABYLON thence call'd.
|
||
There in captivitie he lets them dwell
|
||
The space of seventie years, then brings them back,
|
||
Remembring mercie, and his Cov'nant sworn
|
||
To DAVID, stablisht as the dayes of Heav'n.
|
||
Returnd from BABYLON by leave of Kings
|
||
Thir Lords, whom God dispos'd, the house of God
|
||
They first re-edifie, and for a while
|
||
In mean estate live moderate, till grown
|
||
In wealth and multitude, factious they grow;
|
||
But first among the Priests dissension springs,
|
||
Men who attend the Altar, and should most
|
||
Endeavour Peace: thir strife pollution brings
|
||
Upon the Temple it self: at last they seise
|
||
The Scepter, and regard not DAVIDS Sons,
|
||
Then loose it to a stranger, that the true
|
||
Anointed King MESSIAH might be born
|
||
Barr'd of his right; yet at his Birth a Starr
|
||
Unseen before in Heav'n proclaims him com,
|
||
And guides the Eastern Sages, who enquire
|
||
His place, to offer Incense, Myrrh, and Gold;
|
||
His place of birth a solemn Angel tells
|
||
To simple Shepherds, keeping watch by night;
|
||
They gladly thither haste, and by a Quire
|
||
Of squadrond Angels hear his Carol sung.
|
||
A Virgin is his Mother, but his Sire
|
||
The Power of the most High; he shall ascend
|
||
The Throne hereditarie, and bound his Reign
|
||
With earths wide bounds, his glory with the Heav'ns.
|
||
He ceas'd, discerning ADAM with such joy
|
||
Surcharg'd, as had like grief bin dew'd in tears,
|
||
Without the vent of words, which these he breathd.
|
||
O Prophet of glad tidings, finisher
|
||
Of utmost hope! now clear I understand
|
||
What oft my steddiest thoughts have searcht in vain,
|
||
Why our great expectation should be call'd
|
||
The seed of Woman: Virgin Mother, Haile,
|
||
High in the love of Heav'n, yet from my Loynes
|
||
Thou shalt proceed, and from thy Womb the Son
|
||
Of God most High; So God with man unites.
|
||
Needs must the Serpent now his capital bruise
|
||
Expect with mortal paine: say where and when
|
||
Thir fight, what stroke shall bruise the Victors heel.
|
||
To whom thus MICHAEL. Dream not of thir fight,
|
||
As of a Duel, or the local wounds
|
||
Of head or heel: not therefore joynes the Son
|
||
Manhood to God-head, with more strength to foil
|
||
Thy enemie; nor so is overcome
|
||
SATAN, whose fall from Heav'n, a deadlier bruise,
|
||
Disabl'd not to give thee thy deaths wound:
|
||
Which hee, who comes thy Saviour, shall recure,
|
||
Not by destroying SATAN, but his works
|
||
In thee and in thy Seed: nor can this be,
|
||
But by fulfilling that which thou didst want,
|
||
Obedience to the Law of God, impos'd
|
||
On penaltie of death, and suffering death,
|
||
The penaltie to thy transgression due,
|
||
And due to theirs which out of thine will grow:
|
||
So onely can high Justice rest appaid.
|
||
The Law of God exact he shall fulfill
|
||
Both by obedience and by love, though love
|
||
Alone fulfill the Law; thy punishment
|
||
He shall endure by coming in the Flesh
|
||
To a reproachful life and cursed death,
|
||
Proclaiming Life to all who shall believe
|
||
In his redemption, and that his obedience
|
||
Imputed becomes theirs by Faith, his merits
|
||
To save them, not thir own, though legal works.
|
||
For this he shall live hated, be blasphem'd,
|
||
Seis'd on by force, judg'd, and to death condemnd
|
||
A shameful and accurst, naild to the Cross
|
||
By his own Nation, slaine for bringing Life;
|
||
But to the Cross he nailes thy Enemies,
|
||
The Law that is against thee, and the sins
|
||
Of all mankinde, with him there crucifi'd,
|
||
Never to hurt them more who rightly trust
|
||
In this his satisfaction; so he dies,
|
||
But soon revives, Death over him no power
|
||
Shall long usurp; ere the third dawning light
|
||
Returne, the Starres of Morn shall see him rise
|
||
Out of his grave, fresh as the dawning light,
|
||
Thy ransom paid, which Man from death redeems,
|
||
His death for Man, as many as offerd Life
|
||
Neglect not, and the benefit imbrace
|
||
By Faith not void of works: this God-like act
|
||
Annuls thy doom, the death thou shouldst have dy'd,
|
||
In sin for ever lost from life; this act
|
||
Shall bruise the head of SATAN, crush his strength
|
||
Defeating Sin and Death, his two maine armes,
|
||
And fix farr deeper in his head thir stings
|
||
Then temporal death shall bruise the Victors heel,
|
||
Or theirs whom he redeems, a death like sleep,
|
||
A gentle wafting to immortal Life.
|
||
Nor after resurrection shall he stay
|
||
Longer on Earth then certaine times to appeer
|
||
To his Disciples, Men who in his Life
|
||
Still follow'd him; to them shall leave in charge
|
||
To teach all nations what of him they learn'd
|
||
And his Salvation, them who shall beleeve
|
||
Baptizing in the profluent streame, the signe
|
||
Of washing them from guilt of sin to Life
|
||
Pure, and in mind prepar'd, if so befall,
|
||
For death, like that which the redeemer dy'd.
|
||
All Nations they shall teach; for from that day
|
||
Not onely to the Sons of ABRAHAMS Loines
|
||
Salvation shall be Preacht, but to the Sons
|
||
Of ABRAHAMS Faith wherever through the world;
|
||
So in his seed all Nations shall be blest.
|
||
Then to the Heav'n of Heav'ns he shall ascend
|
||
With victory, triumphing through the aire
|
||
Over his foes and thine; there shall surprise
|
||
The Serpent, Prince of aire, and drag in Chaines
|
||
Through all his realme, & there confounded leave;
|
||
Then enter into glory, and resume
|
||
His Seat at Gods right hand, exalted high
|
||
Above all names in Heav'n; and thence shall come,
|
||
When this worlds dissolution shall be ripe,
|
||
With glory and power to judge both quick & dead,
|
||
To judge th' unfaithful dead, but to reward
|
||
His faithful, and receave them into bliss,
|
||
Whether in Heav'n or Earth, for then the Earth
|
||
Shall all be Paradise, far happier place
|
||
Then this of EDEN, and far happier daies.
|
||
So spake th' Archangel MICHAEL, then paus'd,
|
||
As at the Worlds great period; and our Sire
|
||
Replete with joy and wonder thus repli'd.
|
||
O goodness infinite, goodness immense!
|
||
That all this good of evil shall produce,
|
||
And evil turn to good; more wonderful
|
||
Then that which by creation first brought forth
|
||
Light out of darkness! full of doubt I stand,
|
||
Whether I should repent me now of sin
|
||
By mee done and occasiond, or rejoyce
|
||
Much more, that much more good thereof shall spring,
|
||
To God more glory, more good will to Men
|
||
From God, and over wrauth grace shall abound.
|
||
But say, if our deliverer up to Heav'n
|
||
Must reascend, what will betide the few
|
||
His faithful, left among th' unfaithful herd,
|
||
The enemies of truth; who then shall guide
|
||
His people, who defend? will they not deale
|
||
Wors with his followers then with him they dealt?
|
||
Be sure they will, said th' Angel; but from Heav'n
|
||
Hee to his own a Comforter will send,
|
||
The promise of the Father, who shall dwell
|
||
His Spirit within them, and the Law of Faith
|
||
Working through love, upon thir hearts shall write,
|
||
To guide them in all truth, and also arme
|
||
With spiritual Armour, able to resist
|
||
SATANS assaults, and quench his fierie darts
|
||
What Man can do against them, not affraid,
|
||
Though to the death, against such cruelties
|
||
With inward consolations recompenc't,
|
||
And oft supported so as shall amaze
|
||
Thir proudest persecuters: for the Spirit
|
||
Powrd first on his Apostles, whom he sends
|
||
To evangelize the Nations, then on all
|
||
Baptiz'd, shall them with wondrous gifts endue
|
||
To speak all Tongues, and do all Miracles,
|
||
As did thir Lord before them. Thus they win
|
||
Great numbers of each Nation to receave
|
||
With joy the tidings brought from Heav'n: at length
|
||
Thir Ministry perform'd, and race well run,
|
||
Thir doctrine and thir story written left,
|
||
They die; but in thir room, as they forewarne,
|
||
Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous Wolves,
|
||
Who all the sacred mysteries of Heav'n
|
||
To thir own vile advantages shall turne
|
||
Of lucre and ambition, and the truth
|
||
With superstitions and traditions taint,
|
||
Left onely in those written Records pure,
|
||
Though not but by the Spirit understood.
|
||
Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names,
|
||
Places and titles, and with these to joine
|
||
Secular power, though feigning still to act
|
||
By spiritual, to themselves appropriating
|
||
The Spirit of God, promisd alike and giv'n
|
||
To all Beleevers; and from that pretense,
|
||
Spiritual Lawes by carnal power shall force
|
||
On every conscience; Laws which none shall finde
|
||
Left them inrould, or what the Spirit within
|
||
Shall on the heart engrave. What will they then
|
||
But force the Spirit of Grace it self, and binde
|
||
His consort Libertie; what, but unbuild
|
||
His living Temples, built by Faith to stand,
|
||
Thir own Faith not anothers: for on Earth
|
||
Who against Faith and Conscience can be heard
|
||
Infallible? yet many will presume:
|
||
Whence heavie persecution shall arise
|
||
On all who in the worship persevere
|
||
Of Spirit and Truth; the rest, farr greater part,
|
||
Will deem in outward Rites and specious formes
|
||
Religion satisfi'd; Truth shall retire
|
||
Bestuck with slandrous darts, and works of Faith
|
||
Rarely be found: so shall the World goe on,
|
||
To good malignant, to bad men benigne,
|
||
Under her own waight groaning, till the day
|
||
Appeer of respiration to the just,
|
||
And vengeance to the wicked, at return
|
||
Of him so lately promis'd to thy aid,
|
||
The Womans seed, obscurely then foretold,
|
||
Now amplier known thy Saviour and thy Lord,
|
||
Last in the Clouds from Heav'n to be reveald
|
||
In glory of the Father, to dissolve
|
||
SATAN with his perverted World, then raise
|
||
From the conflagrant mass, purg'd and refin'd,
|
||
New Heav'ns, new Earth, Ages of endless date
|
||
Founded in righteousness and peace and love,
|
||
To bring forth fruits Joy and eternal Bliss.
|
||
He ended; and thus ADAM last reply'd.
|
||
How soon hath thy prediction, Seer blest,
|
||
Measur'd this transient World, the Race of time,
|
||
Till time stand fixt: beyond is all abyss,
|
||
Eternitie, whose end no eye can reach.
|
||
Greatly instructed I shall hence depart,
|
||
Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill
|
||
Of knowledge, what this vessel can containe;
|
||
Beyond which was my folly to aspire.
|
||
Henceforth I learne, that to obey is best,
|
||
And love with feare the onely God, to walk
|
||
As in his presence, ever to observe
|
||
His providence, and on him sole depend,
|
||
Merciful over all his works, with good
|
||
Still overcoming evil, and by small
|
||
Accomplishing great things, by things deemd weak
|
||
Subverting worldly strong, and worldly wise
|
||
By simply meek; that suffering for Truths sake
|
||
Is fortitude to highest victorie,
|
||
And to the faithful Death the Gate of Life;
|
||
Taught this by his example whom I now
|
||
Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest.
|
||
To whom thus also th' Angel last repli'd:
|
||
This having learnt, thou hast attaind the summe
|
||
Of wisdom; hope no higher, though all the Starrs
|
||
Thou knewst by name, and all th' ethereal Powers,
|
||
All secrets of the deep, all Natures works,
|
||
Or works of God in Heav'n, Air, Earth, or Sea,
|
||
And all the riches of this World enjoydst,
|
||
And all the rule, one Empire; onely add
|
||
Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add Faith,
|
||
Add Vertue, Patience, Temperance, add Love,
|
||
By name to come call'd Charitie, the soul
|
||
Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath
|
||
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess
|
||
A Paradise within thee, happier farr.
|
||
Let us descend now therefore from this top
|
||
Of Speculation; for the hour precise
|
||
Exacts our parting hence; and see the Guards,
|
||
By mee encampt on yonder Hill, expect
|
||
Thir motion, at whose Front a flaming Sword,
|
||
In signal of remove, waves fiercely round;
|
||
We may no longer stay: go, waken Eve;
|
||
Her also I with gentle Dreams have calm'd
|
||
Portending good, and all her spirits compos'd
|
||
To meek submission: thou at season fit
|
||
Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard,
|
||
Chiefly what may concern her Faith to know,
|
||
The great deliverance by her Seed to come
|
||
(For by the Womans Seed) on all Mankind.
|
||
That ye may live, which will be many dayes,
|
||
Both in one Faith unanimous though sad,
|
||
With cause for evils past, yet much more cheer'd
|
||
With meditation on the happie end.
|
||
He ended, and they both descend the Hill;
|
||
Descended, ADAM to the Bowre where EVE
|
||
Lay sleeping ran before, but found her wak't;
|
||
And thus with words not sad she him receav'd.
|
||
Whence thou returnst, & whither wentst, I know;
|
||
For God is also in sleep, and Dreams advise,
|
||
Which he hath sent propitious, some great good
|
||
Presaging, since with sorrow and hearts distress
|
||
VVearied I fell asleep: but now lead on;
|
||
In mee is no delay; with thee to goe,
|
||
Is to stay here; without thee here to stay,
|
||
Is to go hence unwilling; thou to mee
|
||
Art all things under Heav'n, all places thou,
|
||
VVho for my wilful crime art banisht hence.
|
||
This further consolation yet secure
|
||
I carry hence; though all by mee is lost,
|
||
Such favour I unworthie am voutsaft,
|
||
By mee the Promis'd Seed shall all restore.
|
||
So spake our Mother EVE, and ADAM heard
|
||
VVell pleas'd, but answer'd not; for now too nigh
|
||
Th' Archangel stood, and from the other Hill
|
||
To thir fixt Station, all in bright array
|
||
The Cherubim descended; on the ground
|
||
Gliding meteorous, as Ev'ning Mist
|
||
Ris'n from a River o're the marish glides,
|
||
And gathers ground fast at the Labourers heel
|
||
Homeward returning. High in Front advanc't,
|
||
The brandisht Sword of God before them blaz'd
|
||
Fierce as a Comet; which with torrid heat,
|
||
And vapour as the LIBYAN Air adust,
|
||
Began to parch that temperate Clime; whereat
|
||
In either hand the hastning Angel caught
|
||
Our lingring Parents, and to th' Eastern Gate
|
||
Let them direct, and down the Cliff as fast
|
||
To the subjected Plaine; then disappeer'd.
|
||
They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld
|
||
Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,
|
||
Wav'd over by that flaming Brand, the Gate
|
||
With dreadful Faces throng'd and fierie Armes:
|
||
Som natural tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon;
|
||
The World was all before them, where to choose
|
||
Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:
|
||
They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
|
||
Through EDEN took thir solitarie way.
|
||
THE END.
|
||
|