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Keats's Paradise Lost: a Digital EditionTranscription, editing, encoding, and XSLT transformations by Daniel JohnsonTranscription, introduction, and scholarly apparatus by Beth LauTranscription by Anna BrownScholars' GrottoNotre Dame, IN2018
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John MiltonMilton's Paradise Lost.A New Edition. Adorned with Beautiful Plates.EdinburghW&J. Deas, Booksellers High Street1807Daniel J. Johnson
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Daniel J. Johnson
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[Cover]
[Bookplate of Charles Wentworth Dilke]
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[Handwriting]
[Identifying marks]
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Milton's
PARADISE LOST:
A NEW EDITION.
Adorned with Beautiful Plates
Volume 1.
Edinburgh
Printed for W&J. Deas
Booksellers High Street
1807.
[Blank]
PARADISE LOST:
POEM.
Printed by
Abernethy & Walker.
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Prefatory Material: The Life of MR John Milton.]
[Blank]
[Prefatory Material: Postscript.]
[Prefatory Material: Postscript.]
[Prefatory Material: Postscript.]
[Blank]
[Prefatory Material: In Paradisum Amissam]
[Prefatory Material: In Paradisum Amissam]
[Prefatory Material: On Paradise Lost.]
[Prefatory Material: On Paradise Lost.]
[Prefatory Material: On the Verse.]
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Paradise Lost:
A
Poem.
[Title page misprint / mistaken binding for vol. 2?]
Printed by
Abernethy & Walker.
Paradise Lost.
Book I.
ARGUMENT
The first Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject, Man's disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise wherein he was placed: Then touches the prime cause of his fall, the Serpent, or rather Satan in the serpent; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of Angels, was, by the command of God, driven out of Heaven with all his crew into the great deep. Which action passed over, the poem hastens into the midst of things, presenting Satan with his Angels now falling into Hell described here, not in the centre (for Heaven and Earth may be supposed not as yet made, certainly not yet accursed), but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos: Here Satan with his Angels lying on the burning lake, thunder-struck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from confusion, calls up him who next in order and dignity lay by him: they confer of their miserable fall; Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded. They rise, their numbers, array of battle, their chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech, comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven, but tells them lastly of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy or report in Heaven; for that Angels were long before this visible creation, was the opinion of many Fathers. To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the deep: The infernal peers there sit in council.
OF Man's first disobedience, and the fruitOf that forbidden tree, whose mortal tasteBrought death into the world, and all our woe,With loss of Eden, till one greater ManRestore us, and regain the blissful seat,Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret topOf Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspireThat Shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,In the beginning how the heavens and earthRose out of chaos: Or if Sion hillDelight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flow'dFast by the oracle of God; I thenceInvoke thy aid to my adventurous song,That with no middle flight intends to soarAbove the Aonian mount, while it pursuesThings unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost preferBefore all temples the upright heart and pure,Instruct me, for Thou knowest; Thou from the firstWast present, and with mighty wings outspreadDove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss,And madest it pregnant: What in me is darkIllumine, what is low raise and support;That to the height of this great argumentI may assert eternal Providence,And justify the ways of God to Men. Say first, for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,Nor the deep tract of Hell, say first what causeMoved our grand parents, in that happy state,Favour'd of Heaven so highly, to fall offFrom their Creator, and transgress his willFor one restraint, lords of the world besides?Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?The infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile,Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceiv'dThe mother of mankind, what time his prideHad cast him out from Heaven with all his hostOf rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiringTo set himself in glory above his peers,He trusted to have equall'd the most High,If he opposed; and with ambitious aimAgainst the throne and monarchy of God,Raised impious war in Heaven, and battle proudWith vain attempt. Him the Almighty PowerHurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky,With hideous ruin and combustion, downTo bottomless perdition, there to dwellIn adamantine chains and penal fire,Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms.Nine times the space that measures day and nightTo mortal men, he with his horrid crewLay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulf,Confounded though immortal: But his doomReserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thoughtBoth of lost happiness and lasting painTorments him; round he throws his baleful eyes,That witness'd huge affliction and dismayMix'd with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:At once, as far as Angels' ken, he viewsThe dismal situation waste and wild;A dungeon horrible on all sides roundAs one great furnace flamed, yet from those flamesNo light, but rather darkness visibleServ'd only to discover sights of woe,Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peaceAnd rest can never dwell; hope never comesThat comes to all; but torture without endStill urges, and a fiery deluge, fedWith ever-burning sulphur unconsumed:Such place eternal Justice had preparedFor those rebellious, here their prison ordain'dIn utter darkness, and their portion setAs far removed from God and light of Heaven,As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole.O how unlike the place from whence they fell!There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'dWith floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,He soon discerns; and weltering by his side,One next himself in power, and next in crime,Long after known in Palestine, and namedBeelzebub. To whom the Arch-Enemy,And thence in Heaven call'd Satan, with bold wordsBreaking the horrid silence, thus began. If thou beest he; but O how fallen! how changedFrom him, who in the happy realms of light,Cloth'd with transcendent brightness, didst outshineMyriads though bright! If he whom mutual league,United thoughts and counsels, equal hopeAnd hazard in the glorious enterpriseJoin'd with me once, now misery hath join'dIn equal ruin: into what pit thou seestFrom what height fallen; so much the stronger provedHe with his thunder: and till then who knewThe force of those dire arms? yet not for those,Nor what the potent victor in his rageCan else inflict, do I repent or change,Tho' changed in outward lustre, that fix'd mind,And high disdain from sense of injured merit,That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,And to the fierce contention brought alongInnumerable force of Spirits arm'd,That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,His utmost power with adverse power opposedIn dubious battle on the plans of Heaven,And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?All is not lost; the unconquerable will,And study of revenge, immortal hate,And courage never to submit or yield,And what is else not to be overcome;That glory never shalt his wrath or mightExtort from me. To bow and sue for graceWith suppliant knee, and deify his power,Who from the terror of this arm so lateDoubted his empire; that were low indeed,That were an ignominy and shame beneathThis downfall; since by fate the strength of GodsAnd this empyreal substance cannot fail,Since through experience of this great eventIn arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,We may with more successful hope resolveTo wage by force or guile eternal war,Irreconcileable to our grand foe,Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joySole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven. So spake the apostate angel, though in pain,Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair:And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer. O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers,That led the embattled Seraphim to warUnder thy conduct, and in dreadful deedsFearless, endanger'd Heaven's perpetual King,And put to proof his high supremacy,Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate;Too well I see and rue the dire event,That with sad overthrow and foul defeatHath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty hostIn horrible destruction laid thus low,As far as Gods and heavenly essencesCan perish: for the mind and spirit remainInvincible, and vigour soon returns,Though all our glory's extinct, and happy stateHere swallow'd up in endless misery.But what if he our conqueror (whom I nowOf force believe almighty, since no lessThan such could have o'erpower'd such force as ours)Have left us this our spirit and strength entireStrongly to suffer and support our pains,That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,Or do him mightier service as his thrallsBy right of war, whate'er his business beHere in the heart of Hell to work in fire,Or do his errands in the gloomy deep;What can it then avail, though yet we feelStrength undiminish'd, or eternal beingTo undergo eternal punishment?Whereto with speedy words the Arch-Fiend replied.Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,Doing or suffering: but of this be sure,To do ought good never will be our task,But ever to do ill our sole delight,As being the contrary to his high willWhom we resist. If then his providenceOut of our evil seek to bring forth good,Our labour must be to pervert that end,And out of good still to find means of evil;Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhapsShall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturbHis inmost counsels from their destin'd aim.But see the angry victor hath recall'dHis ministers of vengeance and pursuitBack to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hailShot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laidThe fiery surge, that from the precipiceOf Heaven receiv'd us falling; and the thunder,Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage,Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases nowTo bellow through the vast and boundless deep.Let us not slip the occasion, whether scorn,Or satiate fury yield it from our foe.Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,The seat of desolation, void of light,Save what the glimmering of these livid flamesCasts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tendFrom off the tossing of these fiery waves;There rest, if any rest can harbour there;And re-assembling our afflicted Powers,Consult how we may henceforth most offendOur enemy, our own loss how repair,How overcome this dire calamity,What reinforcement we may gain from hope,If not what resolution from despair.Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate,With head uplift above the wave, and eyesThat sparkling blaz'd, his other parts besidesProne on the flood, extended long and large,Lay floating many a rood, in build as hugeAs whom the fables name of monstrous size,Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove,Briareos or Typhon, whom the denBy ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beastLeviathan, which God of all his worksCreated hugest that swim the ocean streamHim haply slumbering on the Norway foam,The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiffDeeming some island, oft, as seamen tell,With fixed anchor in his scaly rindMoors by his side under the lee, while nightInvests the sea, and wished morn delays:So stretch'd out huge in length the Arch-Fiend layChain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thenceHad risen or heav'd his head, but that the will And high permission of all-ruling HeavenLeft him at large to his own dark designs,That with reiterated crimes he mightHeap on himself damnation, while he soughtEvil to others, and enraged might seeHow all his malice serv'd but to bring forthInfinite goodness, grace and mercy shownOn man by him seduced, but on himselfTreble confusion, wrath and vengeance pour'd.Forthwith upright he rears from off the poolHis mighty stature; on each hand the flamesDriven backward slope their pointed spires, and roll'dIn billows, leave in the midst a horrid vale.Then with expanded wings he steers his flightAloft, incumbent on the dusky airThat felt unusual weight; till on dry landHe 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 forceOf subterranean wind transports a hillTorn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd sideOf thundering AEtna, whose combustibleAnd fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire,Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds,And leave a singed bottom all involv'dWith stench and smoke: such resting found the soleOf unblest feet. Him follow'd his next mate,Both glorying to have 'scap'd the Stygian floodAs 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 Archangel, this the seatThat we must change for Heaven, this mournful gloomFor that celestial light? Be it so, since heWho now is Sovereign can dispose and bidWhat shall be right: farthest from him is best,Whom reason hath equall'd, force hath made supremeAbove his equals. Farewell happy fields,Where joy for ever dwells: Hail horrors, hailInfernal world, and thou profoundest HellReceive thy new possessor; one who bringsA mind not to be changed by place or time.The mind is its own place, and in itselfCan make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.What matter where, if I be still the same,And what I should be, all but less than heWhom thunder hath made greater? Here at leastWe shall be free; the Almighty hath not builtHere for his envy, will not drive us hence:To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven.But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,The associates and copartners of our loss,Lie thus astonish'd on the oblivious pool,And call them not to share with us their partIn this unhappy mansion; or once moreWith rallied arms to try what may be yetRegain'd in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell? So Satan spake, and him BeelzebubThus answer'd. Leader of those armies bright,Which but the Omnipotent none could have foil'd,If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledgeOf hopes in fears and dangers, heard so oftIn worst extremes, and on the perilous edgeOf battle when it raged, in all assaultsTheir surest signal, they will soon resumeNew courage, and revive, though now they lieGroveling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,As we ere while, astounded and amaz'd,No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height. He scarce had ceased, when the superior FiendWas moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,Behind him cast; the broad circumferenceHung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orbThrough optic glass the Tuscan artist viewsAt evening 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 pineHewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mastOf some great admiral, were but a wand,He walk'd with to support uneasy stepsOver the burning marle; not like those stepsOn Heaven's azure, and the torrid climeSmote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire:Nathless he so endured, till on the beachOf that inflamed sea he stood, and call'd His legions, angel forms, who lay entrancedThick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooksIn Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shadesHigh over-arch'd embower; or scatter'd sedge,Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'dHath vex'd the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrewBusiris and his Memphian chivalry,While with perfidious hatred they pursuedThe sojourners of Goshen, who beheldFrom the safe shore their floating carcassesAnd broken chariot-wheels: so thick bestrownAbject and lost lay these, covering the flood,Under amazement of their hideous change.He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deepOf Hell resounded. Princes, Potentates,Warriors, the flower of Heaven, once yours, now lost,If such astonishment as this can seizeEternal Spirits; or have ye chosen this placeAfter the toil of battle to reposeYour wearied virtue, for the ease you findTo slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?Or in this abject posture have ye swornTo adore the conqueror? who now beholdsCherub and Seraph rolling in the flood With scatter'd arms and ensigns; till anonHis swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discernThe advantage, and descending tread us downThus drooping, or with linked thunderboltsTransfix us to the bottom of this gulf.Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen. They heard, and were abash'd, and up they sprungUpon 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 perceive the evil plightIn which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;Yet to their general's voice they soon obey'dInnumerable. As when the potent rodOf Amram's son, in Egypt's evil day,Wav'd round the coast, up call'd a pitchy cloudOf locusts, warping on the eastern wind,That o'er the realm of impious Pharoah hungLike night, and darken'd all the land of Nile:So numberless were those bad Angels seenHovering on wing under the cope of HellTwixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;Till, as a signal given, the uplifted spearOf their great Sultan waving to directTheir course, in even balance down they lightOn the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain;A multitude, like which the populous NorthPour'd never from her frozen loins, to passRhine or the Danaw, when her barbarous sonsCame like a deluge on the South, and spreadBeneath Gibraltar to the Lybian sands.Forthwith from every squadron and each bandThe heads and leaders thither haste, where stoodTheir great commander; godlike shapes and formsExcelling human, princely dignities,And powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones;Though of their names in heavenly records nowBe no memorial, blotted out and rasedBy their rebellion from the books of life.Nor had they yet among the sons of EveGot them new names, till wandering o'er the earth,Through God's high sufferance for the trial of man,By falsities and lies the greatest partOf mankind they corrupted to forsakeGod their Creator, and the invisibleGlory of him that made them to transformOft to the image of a brute, adorn'dWith 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 lastRoused from the slumber, on that fiery couch,At their great emperor's call, as next in worthCame singly where he stood on the bare strand,While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof.The chief were those who from the pit of HellRoaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fixTheir seats long after next the seat of GodTheir altars by his altar, Gods adoredAmong the nations round, and durst abideJehovah thundering out of Sion, thronedBetween the Cherubim; yea, often placedWithin his sanctuary itself their shrines,Abominations; and with cursed thingsHis holy rites and solemn feasts profaned,And with their darkness durst affront his light.First Moloch, horrid king, besmear'd with bloodOf human sacrifice, and parents' tears,Though for the noise of drums and timbrels loudTheir children's cries unheard, that pass'd through fireTo his grim idol. Him the AmmoniteWorshipp'd in Rabba, and her watery plain,In Argob and in Basan, to the streamOf utmost Arnon. Not content with suchAudacious neighbourhood, the wisest heartOf Solomon he led by fraud to buildHis temple right against the temple of GodOn that opprobrious hill, and made his groveThe pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thenceAnd black Gehenna call'd, the type of Hell.Next Chemos, the obscene dread of Moab's sons,From Aroar to Nebo, and the wildOf southmost Abarim; in HesebonAnd Horoniam, Seon's realm, beyondThe flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines,And Eleale to the Asphaltic pool.Peor his other name, when he enticedIsrael in Sittim on their march from NileTo do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlargedEven to that hill of scandal, by the groveOf Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate;Till good Josiah drove them thence to Hell.With these came they, who from the bordering floodOf old Euphrates to the brook that partsEgypt from Syrian ground, had general names Of Baalim and Ashtaroth, those male,These feminine. For Spirits when they pleaseCan either sex assume, or both; so softAnd uncompounded is their essence pure,Not tied or manacled with joint or limb,Nor founded on the brittle strength of bone,Like cumbrous flesh; but in what shape they choose,Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure,Can execute their airy purposes,And works of love or enmity fulfil.For those the race of Israel oft forsookTheir living strength, and unfrequented leftHis righteous altar, bowing lowly downTo bestial Gods; for which their heads as lowBow'd down in battle, sunk before the spearOf despicable foes. With these in troopCame Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians call'dAstarte, queen of Heaven, with crescent horns;To whose bright image nightly by the moonSidonian virgins paid their vows and songs;In Sion also not unsung, where stoodHer temple on the offensive mountain, builtBy that uxorious king, whose heart, though large,Beguil'd by fair idolatresses, fellTo idols foul. Thammuz came next behind,Whose annual wound in Lebanon alluredThe Syrian damsels to lament his fateIn amorous ditties all a summer's day;While smooth Adonis from his native rockRan purple to the sea, supposed with bloodOf Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-taleInfected Sion's daughters with like heat,Whose wanton passions in the sacred porchEzekiel saw, when by the vision ledHis eye survey'd the dark idolatriesOf alienated Judah. Next came oneWho mourn'd in earnest, when the captive arkMaim'd his brute image, head and hands lopt offIn his own temple, on the grunsel edge,Where he fell flat, and shamed his worshippers;Dagon his name, sea-monster, upward manAnd downward fish; yet had his temple highRear'd in Azotus, dreaded through the coastOf Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon,And Accaron and Gaza's frontier bounds.Him follow'd Rimmon, whose delightful seatWas fair Damascus, on the fertile banksOf 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 conqueror, whom he drewGod's altar to disparage and displaceFor one of Syrian mode, whereon to burnHis odious offerings, and adore the GodsWhom he had vanquish'd. After these appear'dA crew, who under names of old renown,Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train,With monstrous shapes and sorceries abusedFanatic Egypt and her priests to seekTheir wandering Gods disguised in brutish formsRather than human. Nor did Israel 'scapeThe infection, when their borrow'd gold composedThe calf in Oreb; and the rebel kingDoubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,Likening his Maker to the grazed ox.Jehovah, who in one night when he pass'dFrom Egypt marching, equall'd with one strokeBoth her first-born and all her bleating Gods.Belial came last, than whom a Spirit more lewdFell not from Heaven, or more gross to loveVice for itself: to him no temple stoodOr altar smok'd; yet who more oft than heIn temples and at altars, when the priestTurns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who fill'dWith lust and violence the house of God?In courts and palaces he also reigns,And in luxurious cities, where the noiseOf riot ascends above their loftiest towers,And injury and outrage: and when nightDarkens the streets, then wander forth the sonsOf Belial, flown with insolence and wine.Witness the streets of Sodom, and that nightIn Gibeah, when the hospitable doorExposed a matron to avoid worse rape.These were the prime in order and in might;The rest were long to tell, though far renown'd,The Ionian Gods, of Javan's issue heldGods, yet confess'd later than Heaven and Earth,Their boasted parents: Titan Heaven's first-born,With his enormous brood, and birth-right seizedBy younger Saturn; he from mightier JoveHis own and Rhea's son like measure found;So Jove usurping reign'd: these first in CreteAnd Ida known, thence on the snowy topOf cold Olympus ruled the middle air,Their highest Heaven; or on the Delphian cliff,Or in Dodona, and through all the boundsOf Doric land; or who with Saturn oldFled over Adria to the Hesperian fields,And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles. All these and more came flocking; but with looksDowncast and damp, yet such wherein appear'dObscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chiefNot in despair, to have found themselves not lostIn loss itself; which on his countenance castLike doubtful hue: but he his wonted prideSoon recollecting, with high words, that boreSemblance of worth not substance, gently raisedTheir fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears.Then straight commands that at the warlike soundHis trumpets loud and clarions be uprear'dHis mighty standard: that proud honour claim'dAzazel as his right, a Cherub tall;Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'dThe imperial ensign, which full high advancedShone like a meteor streaming to the wind,With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,Seraphic arms and trophies; all the whileSonorous metal blowing martial sounds:At which the universal host up-sentA shout, that tore Hell's concave, and beyondFrighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.All in a moment through the gloom were seenTen thousand banners rise into the airWith orient colours waving: with them roseA forest huge of spears, and thronging helmsAppear'd, and serried shields in thick arrayOf depth immeasurable: anon they moveIn perfect phalanx to the Dorian moodOf flutes and soft recorders; such as raisedTo height of noblest temper heroes oldArming to battle, and instead of rageDeliberate valour breath'd, firm and unmovedWith dread of death to flight or foul retreat;Nor wanting power to mitigate and swageWith solemn touches, troubled thoughts, and chaseAnguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain,From mortal or immortal minds. Thus theyBreathing united force with fixed thoughtMoved on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'dTheir painful steps o'er the burnt soil; and nowAdvanced in view they stand, a horrid frontOf dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guiseOf warriors old with order'd spear and shield,Awaiting what command their mighty chiefHad to impose: He through the armed filesDarts his experienced eye, and soon traverseThe whole battalion views, their order due,Their visages and stature as of Gods;Their number last he sums. And now his heartDistends with pride, and hardening in his strengthGlories; for never since created manMet such embodied force, as named with theseCould merit more than that small infantryWarr'd on by cranes; though all the giant broodOf Phlegra with the heroic race were join'dThat fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each sideMix'd with auxiliar Gods; and what resoundsIn fable or romance of Uther's son,Begirt with British and Armoric knights;And all who since, baptized or infidel,Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond,Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shoreWhen Charlemain with all his peerage fellBy Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyondCompare of mortal prowess, yet observ'dTheir dread commander: he above the restIn shape and gesture proudly eminentStood like a tower; his form had not yet lostAll her original brightness, nor appear'dLess than Arch-Angel ruin'd, and the excessOf glory obscured; as when the sun new risenLooks through the horizontal misty airShorn of his beams; or from behind the moonIn dim eclipse disastrous twilight shedsOn half the nations, and with fear of changePerplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shoneAbove them all the Arch-Angel: but his faceDeep scars of thunder had intrench'd, and careSat on his faded cheek, but under browsOf dauntless courage, and considerate prideWaiting revenge: cruel his eye, but castSigns of remorse and passion to beholdThe fellows of his crime, the followers rather(Far other once beheld in bliss) condemn'dFor ever now to have their lot in pain;Millions of Spirits for his fault amercedOf Heaven, and from eternal splendours flungFor his revolt, yet faithful how they stood,Their glory wither'd: as when Heaven's fireHath scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain pines,With singed top their stately growth though bareStands on the blasted heath. He now preparedTo speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bendFrom wing to wing, and half inclose him roundWith all his peers: attention held them mute.Thrice he essay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn,Tears such as angels weep, burst forth: at lastWords interwove with sighs found out their way. O MYRIADS of immortal Spirits, O powersMatchless, but with the Almighty, and that strifeWas not inglorious, though the event was dire,As this place testifies, and this dire changeHateful to utter: but what power of mind,Foreseeing or presaging, from the depthOf knowledge past or present, could have fear'd,How such united force of Gods, how suchAs stood like these, could ever know repulse;For who can yet believe, though after loss,That all these puissant legions, whose exileHath emptied Heaven, shall fail to re-ascendSelf-raised, and repossess their native seat?For me be witness all the host of Heaven,If counsels different, or danger shunn'dBy me, have lost our hopes. But he who reignsMonarch in Heaven, till then as one secureSat on his throne, upheld by old repute,Consent or custom; and his regal statePut 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 ownSo as not either to provoke, or dreadNew war, provok'd; our better part remainsTo work in close design, by fraud or guile,What force effected not; that he no lessAt length from us may find, who overcomesBy force, hath overcome but half his foe.Space may produce new worlds; whereof so rifeThere went a fame in Heaven that he ere longIntended to create, and therein plantA generation whom his choice regardShould favour equal to the sons of Heaven:Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhapsOur first eruption, thither or elsewhere:For this infernal pit shall never holdCelestial Spirits in bondage, nor the abyssLong under darkness cover. But these thoughtsFull counsel must mature: peace is despair'd,For who can think submission? War then, warOpen or understood must be resolv'd.He spake: and to confirm his words out-flewMillions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighsOf mighty Cherubim; the sudden blazeFar round illumin'd Hell: highly they ragedAgainst the Highest, and fierce with grasped armsClash'd on their sounding shields the din of war,Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.There stood a hill not far, whose grisly topBelch'd fire and rolling smoke; the rest entireShone with a glossy scurf, undoubted signThat in his womb was hid metallic ore,The work of sulphur. Thither wing'd with speedA numerous brigade hastened: as when bandsOf pioneers with spade and pickaxe arm'dForerun the royal camp, to trench a field,Or cast a rampart. Mammom led them on;Mammom, the least erected Spirit that fellFrom Heaven; for e'en in Heaven his looks and thoughtsWere always downward bent, admiring moreThe riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold,That ought divine or holy else enjoy'dIn vision beatific: by him firstMen also, and by his suggestion taught,Ransack'd the centre, and with impious handsRifled the bowels of their mother earthFor treasures better hid. Soon had his crewOpen'd into the hill a spacious wound,And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admireThat riches grow in Hell; that soil may bestDeserve the precious bane. And here let thoseWho boast in mortal things, and wondering tellOf Babel, and the works of Memphian kings,Learn how their greatest monuments of fame,And strength and art, are easily outdoneBy Spirits reprobate, and in an hourWhat in an age they with incessant toilAnd hands innumerable scarce perform.Nigh on the plain in many cells prepared,That underneath had veins of liquid fireSluiced from the lake, a second multitudeWith wonderous art founded the massy ore,Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross:A third as soon had form'd within the groundA various mould, and from the boiling cellsBy strange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook,As in an organ from one blast of windTo many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes.Anon out of the earth a fabric hugeRose like an exhalation, with the soundOf dulcet symphonies and voices sweet,Built like a temple, where pilasters roundWere set, and Doric pillars overlaidWith golden architrave; nor did there wantCornice or freeze, with bossy sculptures graven;The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon,Nor great Alcairo such magnificenceEquall'd in all their glories, to inshrineBelus or Serapis their Gods, or seatTheir kings, when Egypt with Assyria stroveIn wealth and luxury. The ascending pileStood fix'd her stately height; and straight the doorsOpening their brazen folds, discover, wideWithin, her ample spaces, o'er the smoothAnd level pavement: from the arched roofPendent by subtle magic many a rowOf starry lamps and blazing cressets, fedWith Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded lightAs from a sky. The hasty multitudeAdmiring enter'd, and the work some praiseAnd some the architect: his hand was knownIn Heaven by many a towered structure high,Where scepter'd Angels held their residence,And sat as princes, whom the supreme KingExalted to such power, and gave to rule,Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright.Nor was his name unheard or unador'dIn ancient Greece: and in Ausonian landMen called him Mulciber; and how he fellFrom Heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry JoveSheer o'er the crystal battlements; from mornTo noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,A summer's day; and with the setting sunDropt from the zenith like a falling star,On Lemnos the AEgean isle: thus they relate,Erring; for he with this rebellious routFell long before; nor ought avail'd him nowTo have built in Heaven high towers; nor did he 'scapeBy all his engines, but was headlong sentWith his industrious crew to build in Hell. Meanwhile the winged heralds by commandOf sovereign power, with awful ceremonyAnd trumpets sound throughout the host proclaimA solemn council forthwith to be heldAt Pandemonium, the high capitalOf Satan and his peers: their summons call'dFrom every band and squared regimentBy place or choice the worthiest; they anonWith hundreds and with thousands trooping cameAttended: all access was throng'd, the gatesAnd porches wide, but chief the spacious hall(Though like a cover'd field, where champions boldWont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldan's chairDefied the best of Panim chivalryTo mortal combat, or career with lance)Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in the air,Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As beesIn spring-time, when the sun with Taurus rides,Pour forth their populous youth about the hiveIn clusters; they among fresh dews and flowersFly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank,The suburb of their straw-built citadel,New rubb'd with baum, expatiate and conferTheir state affairs. So thick the airy crowdSwarm'd and were straiten'd; till the signal given,Behold a wonder! they but now who seem'dIn bigness to surpass earth's giant sonsNow less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow roomThrong numberless, like that pigmean raceBeyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves,Whose midnight revels, by a forest sideOr fountain some belated peasant sees,Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moonSits arbitress, and nearer to the earthWheels her pale course, they on their mirth and danceIntent, with jocund music charm his ear;At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest formsReduced their shapes immense, and were at large,Though without number still amidst the hallOf that infernal court. But far within,And in their own dimensions like themselves,The great Seraphic Lords and CherubimIn close recess, and secret conclave sat;A thousand Demi-gods on golden seats,Frequent and full. After short silence thenAnd summons read, the great consult began.
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Paradise Lost.
Book II.
ARGUMENT.
The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of Heaven: Some advise it, others dissuade: A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in Heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature equal or not much inferior to themselves, about this time to be created. Their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search; Satan their chief undertakes alone the voyage, is honoured and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways, and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to Hell gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them, by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between Hell and Heaven; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought.
HIGH on a throne of royal state, which farOutshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,Or where the gorgeous East with richest handShowers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,Satan exalted sat, by merit raisedTo that bad eminence; and from despairThus high uplifted beyond hope, aspiresBeyond thus high, insatiate to pursueVain war with Heaven; and by success untaught,His proud imaginations thus display'd. Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven,For since no deep within her gulf can holdImmortal vigour, though oppress'd and fallen,I give not Heaven for lost. From this descentCelestial virtues rising, will appearMore glorious and more dread than from no fall,And trust themselves to fear no second fate.Me, though just right, and the fix'd laws of HeavenDid first create your leader; next free choice,With what besides, in council or in fight,Hath been atchiev'd of merit; yet this lossThus far at least recover'd hath much moreEstablish'd in a safe unenvied throne,Yielded with full consent. The happier stateIn Heaven, which follows dignity, might drawEnvy from each inferior: but who hereWill envy whom the highest place exposesForemost to stand against the Thunderer's aim,Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share,Of endless pain? where there is then no goodFor which to strive, no strife can grow up thereFrom faction; for none sure will claim in HellPrecedence; none, whose portion is so smallOf present pain, that with ambitious mindWill covet more. With this advantage thenTo union, and firm faith, and firm accord,More than can be in Heaven, we now return,To claim our just inheritance of old,Surer to prosper than prosperityCould have assured us; and by what best way,Whether of open war or covert guile,We now debate: who can advise, may speak. He ceased; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king,Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest SpiritThat fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair:His trust was with the Eternal to be deem'dEqual in strength, and rather than be lessCared not to be at all; with that care lostWent all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worseHe reck'd not; and these words thereafter spake. My sentence is for open war: of wiles,More unexpert, I boast not; them let thoseContrive who need, or when they need, not now.For while they sit contriving, shall the rest,Millions that stand in arms, and longing waitThe signal to ascend, sit lingering hereHeaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-placeAccept this dark opprobrious den of shame,The prison of his tyranny who reignsBy our delay? no, rather let us choose,Arm'd with Hell flames and fury, all at onceO'er Heaven's high Towers to force resistless way,Turning our Tortures into horrid armsAgainst the Torturer; when to meet the noiseOf his almighty engine he shall hearInfernal thunder; and for lightning seeBlack fire and horror shot with equal rageAmong his Angels; and his throne itselfMix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire,His own invented torments. But perhapsThe way seems difficult and steep, to scaleWith upright wing against a higher foe.Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drenchOf that forgetful lake benumb not still,That in our proper motion we ascendUp to our native seat: descent and fallTo us is adverse. Who but felt of late,When the fierce foe hung on our broken rearInsulting, and pursued us through the deep,With what compulsion and laborious flightWe sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then;The event is fear'd; should we again provokeOur stronger, some worse way his wrath may findTo our destruction; if there be in HellFear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worseThan to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemn'dIn this abhorred deep to utter woe;Where pain of unextinguishable fireMust exercise us without hope of end,The vassals of his anger, when the scourgeInexorably, and the torturing hourCalls us to penance? More destroy'd than thusWe should be quite abolish'd and expire.What fear we then? what doubt we to incenseHis utmost ire? which to the height enraged,Will either quite consume us, and reduceTo nothing this essential; happier farThan miserable to have eternal being:Or, if our substance be indeed divine,And cannot cease to be, we are at worstOn this side nothing; and by proof we feelOur power sufficient to disturb his Heaven,And with perpetual inroads to alarm,Though inaccessible, his fatal throne:Which, if not victory, is yet revenge. He ended frowning, and his look denouncedDesperate revenge, and battle dangerousTo less than Gods. On the other side uproseBelial, in act more graceful and humane;A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seem'dFor dignity composed and high exploit:But all was false and hollow; though his tongueDropt manna, and could make the worse appearThe better reason, to perplex and dashMaturest councils: for his thoughts were low;To vice industrious, but to nobler deedsTimorous and slothful: yet he pleased the ear,And with persuasive accent thus began. I should be much for open war, O Peers,As not behind in hate, if what was urgedMain reason to persuade immediate war,Did not dissuade me most, and seem to castOminous conjecture on the whole success:When he who most excels in fact of arms,In what he counsels and in what excelsMistrustful, grounds his courage on despairAnd utter dissolution, as the scopeOf all his aim, after some dire revenge.First, what revenge? the towers of Heaven are fill'dWith armed watch, that render all accessImpregnable; oft on the bordering deepEncamp their legions, or with obscure wingScout far and wide into the realm of night,Scorning surprise. Or could we break our wayBy force, and at our heels all Hell should riseWith blackest insurrection, to confoundHeaven's purest Light; yet our great enemyAll incorruptible would on his throneSit unpolluted; and the ethereal mould,Incapable of stain, would soon expelHer mischief, and purge off the baser fire,Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hopeIs flat despair: we must exasperateThe 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 lose,Though full of pain, this intellectual being,Those thoughts that wander through eternity,To perish rather, swallow'd up and lostIn the wide womb of uncreated night,Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows,Let this be good, whether our angry foeCan give it, or will ever? how he canIs 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 their wish, and endThem in his anger, whom his anger savesTo punish endless? Wherefore cease we then?Say they who counsel war, 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, pursued and struckWith Heaven's afflicting thunder, and besoughtThe deep to shelter us? this Hell then seem'dA refuge from those wounds: or when we layChain'd on the burning lake? that sure was worse.What if the breath that kindled those grim fires,Awaked should blow them into sevenfold rage,And plunge us in the flames? or, from aboveShould intermitted vengeance arm againHis red right hand to plague us? what if allHer stores were opened, and this firmamentOf Hell should spout her cataracts of fire,Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fallOne day upon our heads; while we perhaps,Designing or exhorting glorious war,Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurl'dEach on his rock transfix'd, the sport and preyOf wracking whirlwinds, or for ever sunkUnder yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;There to converse with everlasting groans,Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,Ages of hopeless end? this would be worse.War therefore, open or concealed, alikeMy voice dissuades; for what can force or guileWith him, or who deceive his mind, whose eyeViews all things at one view? he from Heaven's heightAll these our motions vain sees and derides;Not more almighty to resist our mightThan wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.Shall we then live thus vile, the race of HeavenThus trampled, thus expell'd, to suffer hereChains and these torments? better these than worseBy my advice; since fate inevitableSubdues us, and omnipotent decree,The victor's will. To suffer, as to do,Our strength is equal, nor the law unjustThat so ordains. This was at first resolv'd,If we were wise, against so great a foeContending, and so doubtful what might fall.I laugh, when those who at the spear are boldAnd venturous, if that fail them, shrink and fearWhat yet they know must follow, to endureExile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,The sentence of their conqueror: this is nowOur doom; which if we can sustain and bear,Our supreme foe in time may much remitHis anger; and perhaps, thus far removedNot mind us not offending, satisfiedWith what is punish'd; whence these raging firesWill slacken, if his breath stir not their flames.Our purer essence then will overcomeTheir noxious vapour, or, inur'd, not feel;Or, changed at length, and to the place conform'dIn temper and in nature, will receiveFamiliar the fierce heat, and void of pain;This horror will grow mild, this darkness light;Besides what hope the never-ending flightOf future days may bring, what chance, what changeWorth waiting; since our present lot appearsFor happy though but ill, for ill not worst,If we procure not to ourselves more woe. Thus Belial, with words cloth'd in reason's garbCounsell'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth,Not peace: and after him thus Mammon spake. Either to disenthrone the King of HeavenWe war, if war be best, or to regainOur own right lost: Him to unthrone we thenMay hope, when everlasting Fate shall yieldTo fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife.The former, vain to hope, argues as vainThe latter: For what place can be for usWithin Heaven's bound, unless Heaven's Lord supremeWe overpower? Suppose he should relent,And publish grace to all, on promise madeOf new subjection; with what eyes could weStand in his presence humble, and receiveStrict laws imposed, to celebrate his throneWith warbled hymns, and to his Godhead singForced Hallelujahs; while he lordly sitsOur envied Sovereign and his altar breathesAmbrosial odours and abrosial flowers,Our servile offerings? This must be our taskIn Heaven, this our delight; how wearisomeEternity so spent, in worship paidTo whom we hate! Let us not then pursueBy force impossible, by leave obtain'dUnacceptable, though in Heaven, our stateOf splendid vassalage; but rather seekOur own good from ourselves, and from our ownLive to ourselves, though in this vast recess,Free, and to none accountable, preferringHard liberty before the easy yokeOf servile pomp. Our greatness will appearThen most conspicuous, when great things of small,Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverseWe can create; and in what place soe'erThrive under evil, and work ease out of pain,Through labour and indurance. This deep worldOf darkness do we dread? How oft amidstThick clouds and dark doth Heaven's all-ruling SireChoose to reside, his glory unobscured,And with the majesty of darkness roundCovers his throne; from whence deep thunders roarMustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell?As he our darkness, cannot we his lightImitate when we please? This desert soilWants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold;Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raiseMagnificence: and what can Heaven shew more?Our torments also may in length of timeBecome our elements; these piercing firesAs soft as now severe, our temper changedInto their temper; which must needs removeThe sensible of pain. All things inviteTo peaceful counsels, and the settled stateOf order, how in safety best we mayCompose our present evils, with regardOf what we are, and where; dismissing quiteAll thought of war: Ye have what I advise. He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'dThe assembly, as when hollow rocks retainThe sound of blustering winds, which all night longHad roused the sea, now with horse cadence lullSeafaring men o'erwatch'd, whose bark by chanceOr pinnace anchors in a craggy bayAfter the tempest: Such applause was heardAs Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased,Advising peace: for such another fieldThey dreaded worse than Hell: So much the fearOf thunder and the sword of MichaelWrought still within them; and no less desireTo found this nether empire, which might riseBy policy, and long process of time,In emulation opposite to Heaven.Which when Beelzebub perceived, than whom,Satan except, none higher sat, with graveAspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd A pillar of state; deep on his front engravenDeliberation sat, and public care;And princely counsel in his face yet shone,Majestic, though in ruin: sage he stoodWith Atlantean shoulders fit to bearThe weight of mightiest monarchies; his lookDrew audience and attention still as nightOr summer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake. Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven,Ethereal Virtues; or these titles nowMust we renounce, and changing style, be call'dPrinces of hell? for so the popular voteInclines, here to continue, and build up hereA growing empire; doubtless; while we dream,And know not that the King of Heaven hath doom'dThis place our dungeon, not our safe retreatBeyond his potent arm, to live exemptFrom Heaven's high jurisdiction, in new leagueBanded against his throne, but to remainIn strictest bondage, though thus far removedUnder the inevitable curb, reservedHis captive multitude: for he, be sure,In heighth or depth, still first and last will reignSole king, and of his kingdom lose no partBy our revolt, but over Hell extendHis empire, and with iron sceptre ruleUs here, as with his golden those in Heaven.What sit we then projecting peace and war?War hath determined us, and foil'd with lossIrreparable; terms of peace yet noneVouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be givenTo us enslaved, but custody severe,And stripes, and arbitrary punishmentInflicted? and what peace can we return,But to our power hostility and hate,Untamed reluctance, and revenge though slow,Yet ever plotting how the conqueror leastMay reap his conquest, and may least rejoiceIn doing what we most in suffering feel?Nor will occasion want, nor shall we needWith dangerous expedition to invadeHeaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege,Or ambush from the deep. What if we findSome easier enterprise? There is a place,(If ancient and prophetic fame in HeavenErr not), another world, the happy seatOf some new race call'd Man, about this timeTo be created like to us, though lessIn power and excellence, but favour'd moreOf Him who rules above; so was his willPronounced among the Gods, and by an oath,That shook Heaven's whole circumference, confirm'd.Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learnWhat creatures there inhabit, of what mouldOr substance, how indued, and what their power,And where their weakness, how attempted best,By force or subtlety. Though Heaven be shut,And Heaven's High Arbitrator sit secureIn his own strength, this place may lie exposed,The utmost border of his kingdom, leftTo their defence who hold it: Here perhapsSome advantageous act may be atchievedBy sudden onset; either with Hell fireTo waste his whole creation, or possessAll as our own, and drive, as we were driven,The puny habitants, or, if not drive,Seduce them to our party, that their God,May prove their foe, and with repenting handAbolish his own works. This would surpassCommon revenge, and interrupt his joyIn our confusion, and our joy upraise In his disturbance; when his darling sons,Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curseTheir frail original, and faded bliss,Faded so soon. Advise, if this be worthAttempting, or to sit in darkness hereHatching vain empires. Thus BeelzebubPleaded his devilish counsel, first devisedBy Satan, and in part proposed: For whence,But from the author of all ill, could springSo deep a malice, to confound the raceOf mankind in one root, and Earth with HellTo mingle and involve, done all to spiteThe great Creator? But their spite still servesHis glory to augment. The bold designPleased highly those infernal States, and joySparkled in all their eyes; with full ascentThey vote: whereat his speech he thus renews. Well have ye judged, well ended long debate,Synod of Gods, and, like to what ye are,Great things resolved, which, from the lowest deepWill once more lift us up in spite of fate,Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in viewOf those bright confines, whence with neighbouring armsAnd opportune excursion, we may chanceRe-enter Heaven; or else in some mild zoneDwell, not unvisited of Heaven's fair light,Secure; and at the brightening orient beamPurge off this gloom; the soft delicious air,To heal the scar of these corrosive fires,Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we sendIn search of this new world? Whom shall we findSufficient? Who shall tempt with wandering feetThe dark unbottom'd infinite abyss,And through the palpable obscure find outHis uncouth way, or spread his airy flightUpborne with indefatigable wingsOver the vast abrupt, ere he arriveThe happy isle? What strength, what art can thenSuffice, or what evasion bear him safeThrough the strict sentries and stations thickOf Angels watching round? Here he had needAll circumspection, and we now no lessChoice in our suffrage; for on whom we send,The weight of all and our last hope relies. This said, he sat; and expectation heldHis look suspense, awaiting who appear'dTo second, or oppose, or undertakeThe perilous attempt: but all sat mute,Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and eachIn other's countenance read his own dismay,Astonish'd: None among the choice and primeOf those Heaven-warring champions could be foundSo hardy as to proffer or acceptAlone, the dreadful voyage; till at lastSatan, whom now transcendent glory raisedAbove his fellows, with monarchial pride,Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake. O Progeny of Heaven, empyreal Thrones,With reason hath deep silence and demurSeized us, though undismay'd: long is the wayAnd hard, that out of Hell leads up to light;Our prison strong; this huge convex of fire,Outrageous to devour, immures us roundNinefold; and gate of burning adamantBarr'd over us, prohibit all egress.These pass'd, if any pass, the void profoundOf unessential Night receives him nextWide gaping, and with utter loss of beingThreatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf.If thence he 'scape into whatever world,Or unknown region, what remains him lessThan unknown dangers, and as hard escape?But I should ill become this throne, O Peers,And this imperial sovereignty, adorn'dWith splendour, arm'd with power, if ought proposedAnd judge of public moment, in the shape Of difficulty or danger, could deterMe from attempting. Wherefore do I assumeThese royalties, and not refuse to reign,Refusing to accept as great a shareOf hazard as of honour, due alikeTo him who reigns, and so much to him dueOf hazard more, as he above the restHigh honour'd sits? Go therefore, mighty Powers,Terror of Heaven, though fallen; intend at homeWhile here shall be our home, what best may easeThe present misery, and render HellMore tolerable; if there be cure or charmTo respite, or relieve, or slack the painOf this ill mansion: intermit no watchAgainst a wakeful foe, while I abroadThrough all the coasts of dark destruction seekDeliverance for us all: this enterpriseNone shall partake with me. Thus saying, roseThe Monarch, and prevented all reply;Prudent, lest, from his resolution raised,Others among the chief might offer now(Certain to be refused) what erst they fear'd;And, so refused, might in opinion standHis rivals; winning cheap the high reputeWhich he through hazard huge must earn. But theyDreaded not more the adventure than his voiceForbidding; and at once with him they rose;Their rising all at once was as the soundOf thunder heard remote. Towards him they bendWith awful reverence prone; and as a GodExtol him equal to the highest in Heaven:Nor fail'd they to express how much they praisedThat for the general safety he despisedHis own: for neither do the Spirits damn'dLose all their virtue; lest bad men should boastTheir specious deeds on earth, which glory excites,Or close ambition varnish'd o'er with zeal.Thus they their doubtful consultations darkEnded rejoicing in their matchless chief:As when from mountain-tops the dusky cloudsAscending, while the north-wind sleeps, o'erspreadHeaven's cheerful face, the lowering elementScowls o'er the darkened landskip, snow or shower;If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweetExtend his evening beam, the fields revive,The birds their notes renew, and bleating herdsAttest their joy, that hill and valley rings.O shame to men! Devil with Devil damn'dFirm concord holds, men only disagreeOf creatures rational, though under hopeOf heavenly grace: and, God proclaiming peace,Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife,Among themselves, and levy cruel wars,Wasting the earth, each other to destroy:As if (which might induce us to accord)Man had not hellish foes enow besides,That, day and night, for his destruction wait. The Stygian council thus dissolved; and forthIn order came the grand infernal peers:Midst came their mighty paramount, and seem'dAlone the antagonist of Heaven, nor lessThan Hell's dread emperor with pomp supreme,And God-like imitated state; him roundA globe of fiery Seraphim inclosedWith bright emblazonry, and horrent arms.Then of their session ended they bid cryWith trumpets regal sound the great result:Towards the four winds four speedy CherubimPut to their mouths the sounding alchemyBy heralds voice explain'd; the hollow abyssHeard far and wide, and all the host of HellWith deafening shout return'd them loud acclaim,Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat raisedBy false presumptuous hope, the ranged PowersDisband, and wandering, each his several wayPursues, as inclination or sad choiceLeads him perplex'd, where he may likeliest findTruce to his restless thoughts, and entertainThe irksome hours, till his great chief return.Part on the plain, or in swift race contend,As at the Olympian games or Pythian fields;Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goalWith rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form.As when, to warn proud cities, war appearsWaged in the troubled sky, and armies rushTo battle in the clouds, before each vanPrick forth the airy knights, and couch their spearsTill thickest legions close; with feats of armsFrom either end of Heaven the welkin burns.Others, with vast Typhoean rage more fell,Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the airIn whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar.As when Alcides, from OEchalia crown'dWith conquest, felt the envenom'd robe, and toreThrough pain up by the roots Thessalian pines,And Lichas from the top of OEta threwInto the Euboic sea. Others more mild,Retreated in a silent valley, singWith notes angelical to many a harpTheir own heroic deeds and hapless fallBy doom of battle; and complain that fateFree virtue should inthrall to force or chance.Their song was partial, but the harmony(What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?)Suspended Hell, and took with ravishmentThe thronging audience. In discourse more sweet(For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense,)Other apart sat on a hill retired,In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd highOf providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate,Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute,And found no end, in wandering mazes lost.Of good and evil much they argued then,Of happiness and final misery,Passion and apathy, and glory and shame,Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy;Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charmPain for a while or anguish, and exciteFallacious hope, or arm the obdurate breastWith stubborn patience as with triple steel.Another part, in squadrons and gross bands,On bold adventure to discover wideThat dismal world, if any clime perhapsMight yield them easier habitation, bendFour ways their flying march, along the banksOf four infernal rivers, that disgorgeInto the burning lake their baleful streams;Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate;Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;Cocytus, named of lamentation loudHeard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegethon,Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.Far off from these, a slow and silent stream,Lethe, the river of oblivion, rollsHer watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks,Forthwith his former state and being forgets,Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.Beyond this flood a frozen continentLies dark and wild, beat with perpetual stormsOf whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm landThaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seemsOf ancient pile; or else deep snow and ice,A gulf profound as that Serbonian bogBetwixt Damiata and mount Casius old,Where armies whole have sunk: the parching airBurns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire.Thither by harpy-footed furies haled,At certain revolutions, all the damn'dAre brought; and feel by turns the bitter changeOf fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce,From beds of raging fire to starve in iceTheir soft etherial warmth, and there to pineImmoveable, infix'd, and frozen round,Periods of time, thence hurried back to fire.They ferry over this Lethean soundBoth to and fro, their sorrow to augment,And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reachThe tempting stream, with one small drop to loseIn sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe,All in one moment, and so near the brink;But fate withstands, and to oppose the attemptMedusa with Gorgonian terror guardsThe ford, and of itself the water fliesAll taste of living wight, as once it fledThe lip of Tantalus. Thus roving onIn confused march forlorn, the adventurous bandsWith shuddering horror pale, and eyes aghast,View'd first their lamentable lot, and foundNo rest: through many a dark and dreary valeThey pass'd, and many a region dolorous,O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp,Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death,A universe of death; which God by curseCreated evil, for evil only good,Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds,Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,Abominable, inutterable, and worseThan fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceived,Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire. Meanwhile the Adversary of God and Man,Satan with thoughts inflamed of highest design,Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of HellExplores his solitary flight; sometimesHe scours the righthand coast, sometimes the left;Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soarsUp to the fiery concave towering high.As when far off at sea a fleet descriedHangs in the clouds, by equinoctial windsClose sailing from Bengala, or the islesOf Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bringTheir spicy drugs: they, on the trading floodThrough the wide Ethiopian to the Cape,Ply stemming nightly toward the pole: So seem'dFar off the flying Fiend. At last appearHell bounds high reaching to the horrid roof,And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were brass,Three iron, three of adamantine rockImpenetrable, impaled with circling fire,Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there satOn either side a formidable shape;The one seem'd woman to the waist, and fair,But ended foul in many a scaly foldVoluminous and vast, a serpent arm'dWith mortal sting: about her middle roundA cry of Hell-hounds never ceasing bark'dWith wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rungA hideous peal: yet, when they list, would creep,If ought disturb'd their noise, into her womb,And kennel there; yet there still bark'd and howl'd,Within unseen. Far less abhorr'd than theseVex'd Scylla, bathing in the sea that partsCalabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore:Nor uglier follow the night hag, when calledIn secret riding through the air she comes,Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance,With Lapland witches, while the labouring moonEclipses at their charms. The other shape,If shape it might be called that shape had noneDistinguishable in member, joint, 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 headThe likeness of a kingly crown had on.Satan was now at hand, and from his seatThe monster moving onward came as fastWith horrid strides; Hell trembled as he strode.The undaunted Fiend what this might be admired,Admired, not feared; God and his Son except,Created thing nought valued he nor shunn'd;And with disdainful look thus first began. Whence and what art thou, execrable shape,That darest, though grim and terrible, advanceThy miscreated front athwart my wayTo yonder gates? through them I mean to pass,That be assured, without leave ask'd of thee:Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof,Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heaven. To whom the goblin full of wrath replied,Art thou that Traitor-Angel, art thou He,Who first broke peace in Heaven and faith, till thenUnbroken; and in proud rebellious armsDrew after him the third part of Heaven's sonsConjured against the Highest; for which both thouAnd they, outcast from God, are here condemn'dTo waste eternal days in woe and pain?And reckonest thou thyself with Spirits of Heaven,Hell doom'd, and breathest defiance here and scornWhere I reign king, and, to enrage thee more,Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment,False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings,Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursueThy lingering, or with one stroke of this dartStrange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before.So spake the grisly Terror, and in shape,So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfoldMore dreadful and deform. On the other side,Incensed with indignation, Satan stoodUnterrified, and like a comet burn'd,That fires the length of Ophiuchus hugeIn the Arctic sky, and from his horrid hairShakes pestilence and war. Each at the headLevell'd his deadly aim: their fatal handsNo second stroke intend; and such a frownEach cast at the other, as when two black clouds,With Heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling onOver the Caspian, then stand front to front,Hovering a space, till winds the signal blowTo join their dark encounter in mid air:So frown'd the mighty combatants, that HellGrew darker at their frown, so match'd they stood;For never but once more was either likeTo meet so great a foe; And now great deedsHad been achieved, whereof all hell had rung,Had not the snaky sorceress that satFast by Hell gate, and kept the fatal key,Risen, and with hideous outcry rush'd between. O Father, what intends thy hand, she cried,Against thy only Son? What fury, O Son,Possesses thee to bend that mortal dartAgainst thy Father's head? and knowest for whom;For him who sites above and laughs the whileAt thee ordain'd his drudge, to executeWhate'er his wrath, which he calls justice, bids;His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both. She spake, and at her words the hellish pestForbore: then these to her Satan return'd. So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strangeThou interposest, that my sudden handPrevented, spares to tell thee yet by deedsWhat it intends; till first I know of thee,What thing thou art, thus double form'd, and whyIn this infernal vale first met, thou callstMe Father, and that phantasm callst my Son;I know thee not, nor ever saw till nowSight more detestable than him and thee. To whom thus the portress of Hell gate replied.Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seemNow in thine eyes so foul? Once deem'd so fairIn Heaven, when at the assembly, and in sightOf all the Seraphim with thee combinedIn bold conspiracy against Heaven's king.All on a sudden miserable painSurprised thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swumIn darkness, while thy head flames thick and fastThrew forth, till on the left side opening wide,Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright,Then shining heavenly fair, a Goddess arm'dOut of thy head I sprung: Amazement seizedAll the host of Heaven; back they recoil'd afraidAt first, and call'd me SIN, and for a signPortentous held me; but familiar grown,I pleased, and with attractive graces wonThe most adverse, thee chiefly, who full oftThyself in me thy perfect image viewingBecamest enamour'd, and such joy thou tookstWith me in secret, that my womb conceivedA growing burden. Meanwhile war arose,And fields were fought in Heaven: wherein remain'd(For what could else?) to our Almighty FoeClear victory, to our part loss and routThrough all the empyrean: down they fellDriven headlong from the pitch of Heaven, downInto this deep, and in the general fallI also; at which time this powerful keyInto my hand was given, with charge to keepThese gates for ever shut, which none can passWithout my opening. Pensive here I satAlone; but long I sat not, till my wombPregnant by thee, and now excessive grownProdigious motion felt and rueful throes.At last this odious offspring whom thou seestThine own begotten, breaking violent wayTore through my entrails, that with fear and painDistorted, all my nether shape thus grewTransform'd: but he my inbred enemyForth issued, brandishing his fatal dartMade to destroy: I fled, and cried out DEATH!Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighedFrom all her caves, and back resounded Death!I fled; but he pursued, (though more, it seems,Inflamed with lust than rage), and, swifter far,Me overtook, his mother, all dismayed,And in embraces forcible and foulIngendering with me, of that rape begotThese yelling monsters, that with ceaseless crySurround me, as thou sawst, hourly conceivedAnd hourly born, with sorrow infiniteTo me; for when they list, into the wombThat bred them, they return, and howl and gnawMy bowels, their repast; then bursting forthAfresh with conscious terrors vex me round,That rest or intermission none I find.Before my eyes in opposition sitsGrim Death my son and foe, who sets them on,And me his parent would full soon devourFor want of other prey, but that he knowsHis end with mine involved; and knows that IShould prove a bitter morsel, and his bane,Whenever that shall be; so fate pronounced.But thou, O Father, I forewarn thee, shunHis deadly arrow; neither vainly hopeTo be invulnerable in those bright arms,Though temper'd heavenly, for that mortal dint,Save he who reigns above, none can resist. She finish'd, and the subtle Fiend his loreSoon learn'd, now milder, and thus answer'd smooth.Dear Daughter, since thou claimest me for thy Sire,And my fair son here showest me, the dear pledgeOf dalliance had with thee in Heaven, and joys Then sweet, now sad to mention, thro' dire changeBefallen us unforeseen, unthought of, knowI come no enemy, but to set freeFrom out this dark and dismal house of pain,Both him and thee, and all the heavenly hostOf Spirits that in our just pretences arm'dFell with us from on high: from them I goThis uncouth errand sole, and one for allMyself expose, with lonely steps to treadThe unfounded deep, and thro' the void immenseTo search with wandering quest a place foretoldShould be, and, by concurring signs, ere nowCreated vast and round, a place of blissIn the purlieus of heaven, and therein placedA race of upstart creatures, to supplyPerhaps our vacant room, tho' more removed,Lest heaven surcharged with potent multitudeMight hap to move new broils: be this or oughtThan this more secret now design'd, I hasteTo know, and this once known, shall soon return,And bring ye to the place where thou and DeathShall dwell at ease, and up and down unseenWing silently the buxom air, embalm'dWith odours; there ye shall be fed and fill'dImmeasurably, all things shall be your prey.He ceased, for both seem'd highly pleased, and DeathGrinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hearHis famine should be fill'd, and bless'd his mawDestined to that good hour: no less rejoicedHis mother bad, and thus bespake her Sire. The key of this infernal pit by due,And by command of Heaven's all-powerful king,I keep, by him forbidden to unlockThese adamantine gates; against all forceDeath ready stands to interpose his dart,Fearless to be o'ermatch'd by living might.But what owe I to his commands aboveWho hates me, and hath hither thrust me downInto this gloom of Tartarus profound,To sit in hateful office here confined,Inhabitant of Heaven, and heavenly born,Here in perpetual agony and pain,With terrors and with clamours compass'd roundOf mine own brood, that on my bowels feed?Thou art my father, thou my author, thouMy being gavest me; whom should I obeyBut thee, whom follow? thou wilt bring me soonTo that new world of light and bliss, amongThe Gods who live at ease, where I shall reignAt thy right hand voluptuous, as beseemsThy 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 rolling her bestial train,Forthwith the huge portcullis high updrew,Which but herself not all the Stygian powersCould once have moved; then in the key-hole turnsThe intricate wards, and every bolt and barOf massy iron or solid rock with easeUnfastens: on a sudden open flyWith impetuous recoil and jarring soundThe infernal doors, and on their hinges grateHarsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shookOf Erebus. She open'd, but to shutExcell'd her power; the gates wide open stood,That with extended wings a banner'd hostUnder spread ensigns marching might pass throughWith horse and chariots rank'd in loose array;So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouthCast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame.Before their eyes in sudden view appearThe secrets of the hoary deep, a darkIllimitable Ocean without bound,Without dimension, where length, breadth, and heighthAnd time and place are lost; where eldest NightAnd Chaos, ancestors of nature, holdEternal Anarchy, amidst the noiseOf endless wars, and by confusion stand.For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierceStrive here for mastery, and to battle bringTheir embryon atoms; they around the flagOf each his faction, in their several clans,Light-arm'd, or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow,Swarm populous, unnumber'd as the sandsOf Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil,Levied to side with warring winds, and poiseTheir lighter wings. To whom these most adhere,He rules a moment; Chaos umpire sits,And by decision more embroils the frayBy which he reigns: next him high arbiterChance governs all. Into this wild abyss,The womb of nature and perhaps her grave,Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,But all these in their pregnant causes mix'dConfusedly, and which thus must ever fight,Unless the Almighty Maker them ordainHis dark materials to create more worlds.Into this wild abyss the wary FiendStood on the brink of Hell and look'd awhile,Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frithHe had to cross. Nor was his ear less peal'dWith noises loud and ruinous (to compareGreat things with small) than when Bellona storms,With all her battering engines bent to raseSome capital city; or less than if this frameOf Heaven were falling, and these elementsIn mutiny had from her axle tornThe stedfast earth. At last his sail-broad vanesHe spreads for flight, and in the surging smokeUplifted spurns the ground, thence many a leagueAs in a cloudy chair ascending ridesAudacious, but that seat soon failing, meetsA vast vacuity: all unawaresFluttering his pinions vain, plumb down he dropsTen thousand fathom deep, and to this hourDown had been falling, had not by ill chanceThe strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloudInstinct with fire and nitre hurried himAs many miles aloft: that fury staid,Quench'd in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea,Nor good dry land: nigh founder'd on he fares,Treading the crude consistence, half on foot,Half flying; behoves him now both oar and sail.As when a Gryphon through the wildernessWith winged course o'er hill or moory dale,Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealthHad from his wakeful custody purloin'dThe guarded gold: so eagerly the FiendO'er bog or steep, thro' strait, rough, dense, or rare,With head, hands, wings or feet pursues his way,And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies:At length a universal hubbub wildOf stunning sounds and voices all confusedBorne through the hollow dark assaults his earWith loudest vehemence: thither he plies,Undaunted to meet there whatever PowerOr Spirit of the nethermost abyssMight in that noise reside, of whom to askWhich way the nearest coast of darkness liesBordering on light; when strait behold the throneOf Chaos, and his dark pavilion spreadWide on the wasteful deep; with him enthronedSat sable-vested Night, eldest of things,The consort of his reign; and by them stoodOrcus and Ades, and the dreaded nameOf Demogorgon; Rumour next and Chance,And Tumult and Confusion all embroil'd,And Discord with a thousand various mouths.To whom Satan turning boldly, thus. Ye PowersAnd Spirits of this nethermost abyss,Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy,With purpose to explore or to disturbThe secrets of your realm, but by constraintWandering this darksome desert, as my wayLies through your spacious empire up to light,Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seekWhat readiest path leads where your gloomy boundsConfine with Heaven; or if some other placeFrom your dominion won, the etherial kingPossesses lately, thither to arriveI travel this profound, direct my course;Directed no mean recompence it bringsTo your behoof, if I that region lost,All usurpation thence expell'd, reduceTo her original darkness and your sway(Which is my present journey) and once moreErect the standard there of ancient Night;Yours be the advantage all, mine the revenge. Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch oldWith faultering speech and visage incomposedAnswer'd. I know thee, stranger, who thou art,That mighty leading Angel, who of lateMade head against Heaven's king, tho' overthrown.I saw and heard, for such a numerous hostFled not in silence through the frighted deepWith ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,Confusion worse confounded; and Heaven gatesPour'd out by millions her victorious bandsPursuing. I upon my frontiers hereKeep residence; if all I can will serve,That little which is left so to defend,Encroach'd on still through your intestine broilsWeakening the sceptre of old Night: first HellYour dungeon stretching far and wide beneath;Now lately Heaven and earth, another world,Hung o'er my realm, link'd in a golden chainTo that side Heaven from whence your legions fell:If that way be your walk, you have not far;So much the nearer danger; go and speed;Havock and spoil and ruin are my gain. He ceased; and Satan staid not to reply,But glad that now his sea should find a shore,With fresh alacrity and force renew'dSprings upward like a pyramid of fireInto the wild expanse, and through the shockOf fighting elements, on all sides roundEnviron'd wins his way; harder besetAnd more endanger'd, than when Argo pass'dThrough Bosphorus betwixt the justling rocks:Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunn'dCharybdis, and by the other whirlpool steer'd.So he with difficulty and labour hardMoved on, with difficulty and labour he;But he once past, soon after, when man fell,Strange alteration! Sin and Death amainFollowing his track, such was the will of Heaven,Paved after him a broad and beaten wayOver the dark abyss, whose boiling gulfTamely endured a bridge of wonderous lengthFrom Hell continued reaching the utmost orbOf this frail world; by which the spirits perverseWith easy intercourse pass to and froTo tempt or punish mortals, except whomGod and good angels guard by special grace.But now at last the sacred influenceOf light appears, and from the walls of HeavenShoots far into the bosom of dim NightA glimmering dawn; here nature first beginsHer farthest verge, and Chaos to retire,As from her outmost works a broken foeWith tumult less and with less hostile din,That Satan with less toil, and now with easeWafts on the calmer wave by dubious light,And like a weather-beaten vessel holdsGladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn;Or in the emptier waste, resembling air;Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to beholdFar off the empyreal Heaven, extended wideIn circuit, undetermined square or round,With opal towers and battlements adorn'dOf living sapphire, once his native seat;And fast by hanging in a golden chainThis pendant world, in bigness as a starOf smallest magnitude close by the moon,Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge,Accursed, and in a cursed hour he hies.
Paradise Lost.
Book III.
ARGUMENT.
God, sitting on his throne, sees Satan flying towards this world, then newly created; shews him to the Son who sat at his right hand; foretells the success of Satan in perverting mankind; clears his own justice and wisdom from all imputation, having created Man free, and able enough to have withstood his tempter; yet declares his purpose of grace towards him, in regard he fell not of his own malice, as did Satan, but by him seduced. The Son of God renders praises to his Father for the manifestation of his gracious purpose towards Man: but God again declares, that Grace cannot be extended towards Man without the satisfaction of divine justice: Man hath offended the majesty of God by aspiring to Godhead, and therefore, with all his progeny, devoted to death, must die, unless some one can be found sufficient to answer for his offence, and undergo his punishment. The Son of God freely offers himself a ransom for Man; the Father accepts him, ordains his incarnation, pronounces his exaltation above all names in Heaven and Earth; commands all the Angels to adore him; they obey, and hymning to their harps in full quire, celebrate the Father and the Son. Meanwhile Satan alights upon the bare convex of this world's outermost orb; where wandering he first finds a place, since called the Limbo of vanity; what persons and things fly up thither: thence comes to the gate of Heaven, described ascending by stairs, and the waters above the firmament that flow about it: His passage thence to the orb of the sun; he finds there Uriel the regent of that orb, but first changes himself into the shape of a meaner Angel: and pretending a zealous desire to behold the new creation, and Man whom God had placed here, inquires of him the place of his habitation, and is directed: alights first on mount Niphates.
HAIL, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born!Or of the Eternal co-eternal beamMay I express thee unblamed? since God is light,And never but in unapproached lightDwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee,Bright effluence of bright essence increate.Or hearest thou rather, pure etherial stream,Whose fountain who shall tell? before the sun,Before the Heavens thou wert, and, at the voiceOf God, as with a mantle didst investThe rising world of waters dark and deep,Won from the void and formless infinite.Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detain'dIn that obscure sojourn, while in my flightThrough utter and through middle darkness borne,With other notes than to the Orphean lyre,I sung of Chaos and eternal Night,Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture downThe dark descent, and up to re-ascend,Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,And feel thy sovereign vital lamp; but thouRevisit not these eyes, that roll in vainTo find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs,Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the moreCease I to wander, where the Muses hauntClear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,Smit with the love of sacred song; but chiefThee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath,That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow,Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forgetThose other two equall'd with me in fate,So were I equall'd with them in renown,Blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides,And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old:Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary moveHarmonious numbers; as the wakeful birdSings darkling, and in shadiest covert hidTunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the yearSeasons return, but not to me returnsDay, or the sweet approach of even or morn,Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,Or flocks or herds, or human face divine;But cloud instead, and ever-during darkSurrounds me, from the cheerful ways of menCut off, and for the book of knowledge fairPresented with an universal blankOf nature's works, to me expunged and rased,And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.So much the rather thou, celestial Light,Shine inward, and the mind through all her powersIrradiate; there plant eyes, all mist from thencePurge and disperse, that I may see and tellOf things invisible to mortal sight. Now had the Almighty Father from above,From the pure empyrean where he sitsHigh throned above all height, bent down his eye,His own works and their works at once to view.About him all the Sanctities of HeavenStood thick as stars, and from his sight receivedBeatitude past utterance; on his rightThe radiant image of his glory sat,His only Son: on earth he first beheldOur two first parents, yet the only twoOf mankind, in the happy garden placed,Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love,Uninterrupted joy, unrivall'd love,In blissful solitude; he then survey'dHell and the gulf between, and Satan thereCoasting the wall of Heaven on this sight NightIn the dim air sublime, and ready nowTo stoop, with wearied wings and willing feet,On the bare outside of this world, that seem'd Firm land embosom'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 only Son foreseeing spake. Only begotten Son, seest thou what rageTransports our Adversary, whom no boundsPrescribed, no bars of Hell, nor all the chainsHeap'd on him there, nor yet the main abyss,Wide interrupt, can hold? so bent he seemsOn desperate revenge, that shall redoundUpon his own rebellious head. And now,Through all restraint broke loose, he wings his wayNot far off Heaven, in the precincts of light,Directly towards the new created world,And Man there placed, with purpose to assayIf him by force he can destroy, or worse,By some false guile pervert; and shall pervert,For Man will hearken to his glozing lies,And easily transgress the sole command,Sole pledge of his obedience: so will fallHe and his faithless progeny. Whose fault?Whose but his own? Ingrate, he had of meAll he could have; I made him just and right,Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall.Such I created all the etherial Powers,And Spirits, both them who stood and them who fell.Not free, what proof could they have given sincereOf true allegiance, constant faith or love,Where only what they needs must do appear'd,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 despoil'd,Made passive both, had served necessity,Not me? They therefore, as to right belong'd,So were created, nor can justly accuseTheir maker, or their making, or their fate,As if predestination overruledTheir will, disposed by absolute decreeOr high foreknowledge; they themselves decreedTheir own revolt, not I: if I foreknew,Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault,Which had no less proved certain unforeknown.So without least impulse or shadow of fate,Or ought by me immutably foreseen,They trespass, authors to themselves in allBoth what they judge and what they choose; for soI form'd them free, and free they must remain,Till they inthrall themselves; I else must changeTheir nature, and revoke the high decreeUnchangeable, eternal, which ordain'dTheir freedom; they themselves ordain'd their fall.The first sort by their own suggestion fell,Self-tempted, self-depraved: Man falls, deceivedBy the other first; Man therefore shall find grace,The other none. In mercy and justice both,Through Heaven and Earth, so shall my glory excel,But mercy first and last shall brightest shine. Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fill'dAll Heaven, and in the blessed Spirits electSense of new joy ineffable diffused:Beyond compare the Son of God was seenMost glorious; in him all his Father shoneSubstantially express'd; and in his faceDivine compassion visibly appear'd,Love without end, and without measure grace,Which uttering thus, he to his Father spake. O Father, gracious was that word which closedThy sovereign sentence, that Man should find grace;For which both Heaven and Earth shall high extolThy praises, with the innumerable soundOf hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throneEncompass'd shall resound thee ever bless'd:For should Man finally be lost, should Man,Thy creature late so loved, thy youngest son,Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though join'dWith his own folly? that be from thee far,That far be from thee, Father, who art judgeOf all things made, and judgest only right.Or shall the Adversary thus obtainHis end, and frustrate thine? shall he fulfilHis malice, and thy goodness bring to nought;Or proud return, though to his heavier doom,Yet with revenge accomplish'd, and to HellDraw after him the whole race of mankind,By him corrupted? or wilt thou thyselfAbolish thy creation, and unmake,For him, what for thy glory thou hast made?So should thy goodness and thy greatness bothBe question'd and blasphemed without defence. To whom the great Creator thus replied.O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight,Son of my bosom, Son who art aloneMy word, my wisdom, and effectual might;All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, allAs my eternal purpose hath decreed.Man shall not quite be lost, but saved who will:Yet not of will in him, but grace in meFreely vouchsafed: once more I will renewHis lapsed powers, though forfeit, and inthrall'dBy sin to foul exorbitant desires:Upheld by me, yet once more he shall standOn even ground against his mortal foe,By me upheld, that he may know how frailHis fallen condition is, and to me oweAll his deliverance, and to none but me.Some I have chosen of peculiar graceElect above the rest, so is my will;The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warn'dTheir sinful state, and to appease betimesThe incensed Deity, while offer'd graceInvites; for I will clear their senses dark,What may suffice and soften stony heartsTo pray, repent, and bring obedience due.To prayer, repentance, and obedience due,(Though but endeavour'd with sincere intent),Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut.And I will place within them as a guideMy umpire Conscience, whom if they will hear,Light after light well used they shall attain,And to the end persisting, safe arrive.This my long sufferance, and my day of graceThey who neglect and scorn, shall never taste;But hard be harden'd, 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 done? Man disobeying,Disloyal breaks his fealty, and sinsAgainst the high supremacy of Heaven,Affecting Godhead, and so losing all,To expiate his treason hath nought left;But to destruction sacred, and devote,He with his whole posterity must die;Die he or Justice must; unless for himSome other able, and as willing payThe rigid satisfaction, death for death.Say, Heavenly Powers; where shall we find such love?Which of ye will be mortal to redeemMan's mortal crime; and just, the unjust to save?Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear? He ask'd, but all the heavenly quire stood mute,And silence was in Heaven; on Man's behalfPatron, or intercessor, none appear'd;Much less that durst upon his own head drawThe deadly forfeiture, and ransom set.And now, without redemption all mankindMust have been lost, adjudged to Death and HellBy doom severe, had not the Son of God,In whom the fulness dwells of love divine,His dearest mediation thus renew'd. 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 allComes unprevented, unimplored, unsought?Happy for Man, so coming; he her aidCan never seek, once dead in sins, and lost,Atonement for himself, or offering meet,(Indebted and undone;) hath none to bring.Behold me then, me for him life for lifeI offer, on me let thine anger fall;Account me Man, I for his sake will leaveThy bosom, and this glory next to theeFreely put off, and for him lastly dieWell pleased; on me let Death wreak all his rage.Under his gloomy power I shall not longLie vanquish'd; thou hast given me to possessLife in myself for ever; by thee I live,Though now to death I yield, and am his dueAll that of me can die, yet that debt paid,Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome graveHis prey, nor suffer my unspotted soulFor ever with corruption there to dwell;But I shall rise victorious, and subdueMy vanquisher, spoil'd of his vaunted spoil;Death his death's wound shall then receive, and stoopInglorious, of his mortal sting disarm'd.I through the ample air in triumph highShall lead Hell captive, maugre Hell; and showThe powers of darkness bound. Thou at the sightPleased, out of Heaven shalt look down, and smile;While by thee raised I ruin all my foes,Death last, and with his carcase glut the grave;Then, with the multitude of my redeem'dShall enter Heaven long absent, and return,Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloudOf anger shall remain; but peace assuredAnd reconcilement; wrath shall be no moreThenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire.His words here ended, but his meek aspectSilent yet spake, and breathed immortal loveTo mortal men, above which only shoneFilial obedience: as a sacrificeGlad to be offer'd, he attends the willOf his great Father. Admiration seizedAll Heaven, what this might mean, and whither tendWondering; but soon the Almighty thus replied. O thou in Heaven and Earth, the only peaceFound out for mankind under wrath; O thouMy sole complacence; well thou knowest how dearTo me are all my works, nor Man the leastThough last created; that for him I spareThese from my bosom, and right hand, to save,By losing thee awhile, the whole race lost.Thou therefore whom thou only canst redeem,Their nature also to thy nature join,And be thyself Man among men on earth,Made flesh, when time shall be, of virgin-seed,By wonderous birth; be thou in Adam's roomThe head of all mankind, though Adam's son.As in him perish all men, so in thee,As from a second root, shall be restoredAs many as are restored, without thee none.His crime makes guilty all his sons; thy meritImputed shall absolve them who renounceTheir own both righteous, and unrighteous deeds;And live in thee transplanted, and from theeReceive new life. So man, as is most just,Shall satisfy for man, but judged, and die;And dying rise, and rising with him raiseHis brethren, ransom'd with his own dear life.So heavenly love shall outdo hellish hate,Giving to death, and dying to redeem,So dearly to redeem what hellish hateSo easily destroy'd, and still destroysIn those who, when they may, accept not grace.Nor shalt thou, by descending to assumeMan's nature, lessen or degrade thine own.Because thou hast, tho' throned in highest blissEqual to God, and equally enjoyingGod-like fruition, quitted all, to saveA world from utter loss, and hast been foundBy merit more than birth-right Son of God;Found worthiest to be so by being good,Far more than great, or high; because in theeLove hath abounded more than glory abounds;Therefore thy humiliation shall exaltWith thee thy manhood also to this throne;Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt reignBoth God and Man, Son both of God and Man,Anointed universal king; all powerI give thee, reign for ever, and assumeThy merits; under thee, as head supremeThrones, Princedoms, Powers, Dominions I reduce:All knees to thee shall bow, of them that bideIn Heaven, or Earth, or under Earth in Hell,When thou, attended gloriously from Heaven,Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee sendThy summoning Archangels to proclaimThy dread tribunal; forthwith from all windsThe living, and forthwith the cited deadOf all past ages, to the general doomShall hasten, such a peal shall rouse their sleep;Then all thy saints assembled, thou shalt judgeBad men, and angels; they arraign'd shall sinkBeneath thy sentence; Hell, her numbers full,Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. MeanwhileThe world shall burn, and from her ashes springNew Heaven and earth, wherein the just shall dwell;And after all their tribulations longSee golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,With joy and love triumphing, and fair truth;Then thou thy regal sceptre shalt lay by,For regal sceptre 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 me. No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but allThe multitude of angels with a shout,Loud, as from numbers without number; sweet,As from blest voices, uttering joy, Heaven rungWith jubilee, and loud hosannahs fill'dThe eternal regions. Lowly reverentTowards either throne they bow, and to the groundWith solemn adoration down they castTheir crowns, inwove with amarant, and gold,Immortal amarant; a flower which onceIn Paradise fast by the Tree of LifeBegan to bloom; but soon for man's offenceTo Heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows,And flowers aloft shading the fount of life;And where the river of bliss through midst of HeavenRolls o'er the Elysian flowers her amber stream;With these, that never fade, the Spirits electBand their resplendent locks, inwreath'd with beams;Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the brightPavement, that like a sea of jasper shone,Impurpled with celestial roses smiled.Then crown'd again, their golden harps they took;Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their sideLike quivers hung, and with preamble sweetOf charming symphony they introduceTheir sacred song, and waken raptures high,No voice exempt; no voice but well could joinMelodious part, such concord is in Heaven. Thee Father first they sung, Omnipotent,Immutable, Immortal, Infinite,Eternal King; thee Author of all Being,Fountain of light, thyself invisibleAmidst the glorious brightness where thou sitstThroned inaccessible, but when thou shadestThe full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloudDrawn round about thee like a radiant shrine,Dark with excessive bright, thy skirts appear,Yet dazzle Heaven, that brightest SeraphimApproach not, but with both wings veil their eyes.Thee next they sung of all creation first,Begotten Son, Divine Similitude;In whose conspicuous countenance without cloudMade visible, the Almighty Father shines,Whom else no creature can behold; on theeImpress'd the effulgence of his glory abides,Tranfused on thee his ample Spirit rests.He Heaven of Heavens and all the powers thereinBy thee created, and by thee threw downThe aspiring Dominations: thou that dayThy Father's dreadful thunder didst not spare,Nor stop thy flaming chariot wheels, that shookHeaven's everlasting frame, while o'er the necksThou drovest of warring Angles disarray'd.Back from pursuit thy Powers with loud acclaimThee only extoll'd, Son of thy Father's might,To execute fierce vengeance on his foes,Not so on man; him through their malice fallen,Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doomSo strictly, but much more to pity incline:No sooner did thy dear and only SonPerceive thee purposed not to doom frail ManSo strictly, but much more to pity inclined,He to appease thy wrath, and end the strifeOf mercy and justice in thy face discern'd,Regardless of the bliss wherein he satSecond to thee, offer'd himself to dieFor Man's offence. O unexampled love,Love no where to be found less than divine!Hail Son of God, Saviour of Men! Thy nameShall be the copious matter of my songHenceforth, and never shall my harp thy praiseForget, nor from they Father's praise disjoin. Thus they in heaven, above the starry sphere,Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent.Meanwhile upon the firm opacous globeOf this round world, whose first convex dividesThe luminous inferior orbs, inclosedFrom Chaos and the inroad of darkness old,Satan alighted walks: a globe far offIt seem'd, now seems a boundless continent,Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of nightStarless exposed, and ever-threatening stormsOf Chaos blustering round, inclement sky;Save on that side which from the wall of HeavenThough distant far some small reflection gainsOf glimmering air less vex'd with tempest loud:Here walk'd the Fiend at large in spacious field.As when a vulture on Imaus bred,Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds,Dislodging from a region scarce of preyTo gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kidsOn hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springsOf Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams;But in his way lights on the barren plainsOf Sericana, where Chineses driveWith sails and wind their canny waggons light:So on this windy sea of land, the FiendWalk'd up and down alone bent on his prey,—Alone, for other creature in this placeLiving or lifeless to be found was none,None yet, but store hereafter from the earthUp hither like aerial vapours flewOf all things transitory and vain, when sinWith vanity had fill'd the works of men:Both all things vain, and all who in vain thingsBuilt their fond hopes of Glory or lasting fame,Or happiness in this or the other life;All who have their reward on earth, the fruitsOf painful superstition and blind zeal,Nought seeking but the praise of men, here findFit retribution, empty as their deeds;All the unaccomplish'd works of nature's hand,Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mix'd,Dissolved on Earth, fleet hither, and in vain,Till final dissolution, wander here,Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some have dream'd;Those argent fields more likely habitants,Translated Saints or middle Spirits holdBetwixt the Angelical and Human kind:Hither of ill-join'd Sons and Daughters bornFirst from the ancient world those Giants cameWith many a vain exploit, tho' then renown'd:The builders next of Babel on the plainOf Sennaar, and still with vain designNew Babels, had they wherewithal, would build:Others came single; he who to be deem'dA god, leap'd fondly into Etna flames,Empedocles; and he who to enjoyPlato's Elysium, leap'd into the sea,Cleombrotus, and many more too long,Embryos and Idiots, Eremites and FriarsWhite, black, and grey, with all their trumpery.Here pilgrims roam, that stray'd so far to seekIn Golgotha him dead, who lives in Heaven,And they who to be sure of ParadiseDying put on the weeds of Dominic,Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised;They pass the Planets seven, and pass the fix'd,And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighsThe trepidation talk'd, and that first moved;And now Saint Peter at Heaven's wicket seemsTo wait them with his keys, and now at footOf Heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when loA violent cross wind from either coastBlows them traverse ten thousand leagues awryInto the devious air; then might ye see Cowls, hoods and habits with their wearers tostAnd flutter'd into rags; then relics, beads,Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls,The sport of winds: all these upwhirl'd aloftFly o'er the backside of the world far offInto a Limbo large and broad, since call'dThe Paradise of fools, to few unknownLong after, now unpeopled, and untrod.All this dark globe the Fiend found as he pass'd,And long he wander'd, till at last a gleamOf dawning light turn'd thitherward in hasteHis travell'd steps; far distant he descries,Ascending by degrees magnificentUp to the wall of Heaven, a structure high,At top whereof, but far more rich, appear'dThe work as of a kingly palace gateWith frontispiece of diamond and goldEmbellish'd, thick with sparkling orient gemsThe portal shone, inimitable on earthBy model, or by shading pencil drawn.The stairs were such as whereon Jacob sawAngels ascending and descending, bandsOf guardians bright, when he from Esau fledTo Padanaram in the field of Luz,Dreaming by night under the open sky,And waking cried, This is the gate of Heaven.Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stoodThere always, but drawn up to Heaven sometimesViewless, and underneath a bright sea flow'dOf jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon Who after came from Earth, sailing arrived,Wafted by Angels, or flew o'er the LakeRapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds.The stairs were then let down, whether to dareThe Fiend by easy ascent, or aggravateHis sad exclusion from the doors of bliss;Direct against which open'd from beneath,Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise,A passage down to the Earth, a passage wide,Wider by far than that of after timesOver mount Sion, and, though that were large,Over the Promised Land to God so dear,By which, to visit oft those happy tribes,On high behests his Angels to and froPass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regardFrom Paneas the fount of Jordan's floodTo Beersaba, where the Holy LandBorders on Egypt and the Arabian shore;So wide the opening seem'd, where bounds were setTo darkness, such as bound the ocean wave.Satan from hence now on the lower stairThat scaled by steps of gold to Heaven gateLooks down with wonder at the sudden viewOf all this world at once. As when a scoutThrough dark and desert ways with peril goneAll night; at last by break of cheerful dawnObtains the brow of some high climbing hill,Which to his eye discovers unawareThe goodly prospect of some foreign landFirst seen, or some renown'd metropolisWith glistering spires and pinnacles adorn'd,Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams:Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen,The Spirit malign, but much more envy seizedAt sight of all this world beheld so fair.Round he surveys, and well might, where he stoodSo high above the circling canopyOf Night's extended shade; from eastern pointOf Libra to the fleecy star that bearsAndromeda far off Atlantic seasBeyond the horizon; then from pole to poleHe views in breadth, and without longer pauseDownright into the world's first region throwsHis flight precipitant, and winds with easeThrough the pure marble air his oblique wayAmongst innumerable stars, that shoneStars distant, but nigh hand seem'd other worlds;Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles,Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old,Fortunate fields, and groves and flowery vales,Thrice happy isles, but who dwelt happy thereHe said not to inquire; above them allThe golden Sun, in splendour likest heaven,Allured his eye: thither his course he bendsThrough the calm firmament; but up or down,By centre, or eccentric, hard to tell,Or longitude, where the great luminaryAloof the vulgar constellations thick,That from his lordly eye keep distance due,Dispenses light from far; they, as they moveTheir starry dance, in numbers that computeDays, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lampTurn swift their various motions, or are turn'dBy his magnetic beam, that gently warmsThe Universe, and to each inward partWith gentle penetration, though unseen,Shoots invisible virtue even to the deep:So wonderously was set his station bright.There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhapsAstronomer in the Sun's lucent orb,Through his glazed optic tube, yet never saw.The place he found beyond expression bright,Compared with ought on Earth, metal or stone;Not all parts like, but all alike inform'dWith radiant light, as glowing iron with fire;If metal, part seem'd gold, part silver clear;If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite,Ruby, or topaz, to the twelve that shoneIn Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besidesImagined rather oft than elsewhere seen,That stone, or like to that which here belowPhilosophers in vain so long have sought,In vain, though by their powerful art they bindVolatile Hermes, and call up unboundIn various shapes old Proteus from the sea,Drain'd through a limbec to his native form.What wonder then if fields and regions hereBreathe forth Elixir pure, and rivers runPortable gold, when with one virtuous touchThe arch-chemic Sun, so far from us remote,Produces with terrestrial humour mix'd,Here in the dark so many precious thingsOf colour glorious and effect so rare?Here matter new to gaze the Devil metUndazzled, far and wide his eye commands,For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade,But all sunshine, as when his beams at noonCulminate from the Equator, as they nowShot upward still direct, whence no way roundShadow from body opaque can fall; and the air,No where so clear, sharpen'd his visual rayTo objects distant far, whereby he soonSaw within ken a glorious Angel stand,The same whom John saw also in the Sun:His back was turn'd, but not his brightness hid;Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiarCircled his head, nor less his locks behindIllustrious on his shoulders fledged with wingsLay waving round; on some great charge employ'dHe seem'd, or fix'd in cogitation deep.Glad was the Spirit impure, as now in hopeTo find who might direct his wandering flightTo Paradise, the happy seat of Man,His journey's 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 Cherub he appears,Not of the prime, yet such as in his faceYouth smiled celestial, and to every limbSuitable grace diffused, so well he feign'd;Under a coronet his flowing hairIn curls on either cheek play'd; wings he woreOf many a colour'd plume sprinkled with gold;His habit fit for speed succinct, and heldBefore his decent steps a silver wand.He drew not nigh unheard; the Angel bright,Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd,Admonish'd by his ear, and straight was knownThe Archangel Uriel, one of the sevenWho in God's presence, nearest to his throne,Stand ready at command, and are his eyesThat run thro' all the Heavens, or down to the EarthBear his swift errands over moist and dry,O'er sea and land: him Satan thus accosts. Uriel, for thou of those seven Spirits that standIn sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright,The first art wont his great authentic willInterpreter through highest Heaven to bring,Where all his sons thy embassy attend;And here art likeliest by supreme decreeLike honour to obtain, and as his eyeTo visit oft this new creation round;Unspeakable desire to see, and knowAll these his wonderous works, but chiefly Man,His chief delight and favour: him for whomAll these his works so wonderous he ordain'd,Hath brought me from the quires of CherubimAlone thus wandering. Brightest Seraph tellIn which of all these shining orbs hath ManHis fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell;That I may find him, and with secret gaze,Or open admiration, him beholdOn whom the great Creator hath bestow'dWorlds, and on whom hath all these graces pour'd;That both in him and all things, as is meet,The universal Maker we may praise;Who justly hath driven out his rebel foesTo deepest Hell, and to repair that lossCreated this new happy race of MenTo serve him better: wise are all his ways. So spake the false dissembler unperceived;For neither Man nor Angel can discernHypocrisy, the only evil that walksInvisible, except to God alone,By his permissive will, thro' Heaven and Earth:And oft though Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleepsAt Wisdom's gate, and to SimplicityResigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no illWhere no ill seems: which now for once beguiledUriel, though regent of the Sun, and heldThe sharpest-sighted Spirit of all in Heaven;Who to the fraudulent Impostor foulIn his uprightness answer thus return'd. Fair Angel, thy desire which tends to knowThe works of God, thereby to glorifyThe great Work-master, leads to no excessThat reaches blame, but rather merits praiseThe more it seems excess, that led thee hitherFrom thy empyreal mansion thus alone,To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps,Contented with report, hear only in Heaven:For wonderful indeed are all his works,Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be allHad in remembrance always with delight;But what created mind can comprehendTheir number, or the wisdom infiniteThat brought them forth, but hid their causes deep.I saw when at his word the formless mass,This world's material mould, came to a heap:Confusion heard his voice, and wild UproarStood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined;Till at his second bidding Darkness fled,Light shone, and Order from Disorder sprung:Swift to their several quarters hasted thenThe cumberous elements, Earth, Flood, Air, Fire,And this etherial quintessence of HeavenFlew upward, spirited with various forms,That roll'd orbicular, and turn'd to starsNumberless, as thou seest, and how they move;Each had his place appointed, each his course,The rest in circuit walls this universe.Look downward on that globe, whose hither sideWith light from hence, tho' but reflected, shines;That place is Earth, the seat of Man, that lightHis day, which else as the other hemisphereNight would invade, but there the neighbouring moon(So call that opposite fair star) her aidTimely interposes, and her monthly roundStill ending, still renewing through mid Heaven,With borrow'd light her countenance triformHence fills and empties to enlighten the Earth,And in her pale dominion checks the night.That spot to which I point is Paradise,Adam's abode; those lofty shades his bower.Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires. Thus said, he turn'd, 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 the ecliptic, sped with hoped success,Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel,Nor staid, till on Niphates' top he lights.
Paradise Lost.
Book IV.
ARGUMENT.
SATAN, now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against God and Man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions, fear, envy, and despair; but at length confirms himself in evil, journeys on to Paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described; overleaps the bounds; sits in the shape of a cormorant on the tree of life, as highest in the garden, to look about him. The garden described; Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall; overhears their discourse, thence gathers that the tree of knowledge was forbidden them to eat of, under penalty of death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing them to transgress: then leaves them awhile, to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel, descending on a sun-beam, warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped the deep, and passed at noon by his sphere, in the shape of a good Angel, down to Paradise, discovered after by his furious gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest: their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel, drawing forth his bands of night-watch to walk the round of Paradise, appoints two strong Angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil Spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping: there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers; prepares resistance; but, hindered by a sign from Heaven, flies out of Paradise.
O FOR that warning voice, which he who sawThe Apocalypse heard cry in Heaven aloud,Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,Came furious down to be revenged on men,"Woe to the inhabitants on earth!" that now,While time was, our first parents had been warn'dThe coming of their secret foe, and 'scaped,Haply so 'scaped his mortal snare: for nowSatan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,The tempter ere the accuser of mankind,To wreck on innocent frail man his lossOf that first battle, and his flight to Hell:Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though boldFar off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,Begins his dire attempt, which, nigh the birth,Now rolling boils in his tumultuous breast,And like a devilish engine back recoilsUpon himself; horror and doubt distractHis troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stirThe Hell within him; for within him HellHe brings, and round about him, nor from HellOne step no more than from himself can flyBy change of place: now conscience wakes despairThat slumber'd, wakes the bitter memoryOf what he was, what is, and what must beWorse; of worse deeds worse suffering must ensue.Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his viewLay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad;Sometimes towards Heaven, and the full blazing sun,Which now sat high in his meridian tower:Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began. O Thou, that with surpassing glory crown'dLookst from thy sole dominions like the GodOf this new world; at whose sight all the starsHide their diminish'd 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 stateI fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;Till pride and worse ambition threw me down,Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King:Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such returnFrom me, whom he created what I wasIn that bright eminence, and with his goodUpbraided none; nor was his service hard.What could be less than to afford him praise,The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,How due! yet all his good proved ill in me,And wrought but malice; lifted up so highI 'sdein'd subjection, and thought one step higherWould set me highest, and in a moment quitThe debt immense of endless gratitude,So burdensome still paying, still to owe;Forgetful what from him I still received,And understood not that a grateful mindBy owing owes not, but still pays, at onceIndebted and discharged: what burden then?O had his powerful destiny ordain'dMe some inferior Angel, I had stoodThen happy; no unbounded hope had raisedAmbition. Yet why not? some other PowerAs great might have aspired, and me, though mean,Drawn to his part; but other Powers as greatFell not, but stand unshaken, from withinOr 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 Heaven's free love dealt equally to all?Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,To me alike, it deals eternal woe.Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy willChose freely what it now so justly rues.Me miserable! which way shall I flyInfinite wrath, and infinite despair?Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;And in the lowest deep, a lower deepStill threatening to devour me opens wide,To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.O then at last relent: is there no placeLeft for repentance, none for pardon left?None left but by submission; and that wordDisdain forbids me, and my dread of shameAmong the Spirits beneath, whom I seducedWith other promises and other vauntsThan to submit, boasting I could subdueThe Omnipotent. Ay me, they little knowHow dearly I abide that boast so vain,Under what torments inwardly I groan,While they adore me on the throne of Hell.With diadem and sceptre high advanced,The lower still I fall, only supremeIn misery; such joy ambition finds.But say I could repent, and could obtainBy act of grace my former state; how soonWould height recall high thoughts, how soon unsayWhat feign'd submission swore! ease would recantVows made in pain, as violent and void.For never can true reconcilement grow,Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep;Which would but lead me to a worse relapseAnd heavier fall: so should I purchase dearShort intermission bought with double smart.This knows my punisher; therefore as farFrom granting he, as I from begging peace:All hope excluded thus, behold in steadOf us, outcast, exiled, his new delight,Mankind created, and for him this world.So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost;Evil be thou my good; by thee at leastDivided empire with Heaven's King I hold,By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign;As Man ere long, and this new world, shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face,Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy, and despair;Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'dHim counterfeit, if any eye beheld:For heavenly minds from such distempers foulAre ever clear. Whereof he soon aware,Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calm,Artificer of fraud; and was the firstThat practised falsehood under saintly show,Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge:Yet not enough had practised to deceiveUriel once warn'd; whose eye pursued him downThe way he went, and on the Assyrian mountSaw him disfigured more than could befallSpirit of happy sort: his gestures fierceHe mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone,As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen.So on he fares, and to the border comesOf Eden, where delicious Paradise,Now nearer, crowns with her inclosure green,As with a rural mound, the champaign headOf a steep wilderness, whose hairy sidesWith thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,Access denied, and over-head up-grewInsuperable height of loftiest shade,Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,A sylvan scene; and, as the ranks ascend,Shade above shade, a woody theatreOf stateliest view. Yet higher than their topsThe verdurous wall of Paradise up-sprung:Which to our general sire gave prospect largeInto his nether empire neighbouring round.And higher than that wall a circling rowOf goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit,Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,Appear'd, with gay enamell'd colours mix'd;On which the sun more glad impress'd his beamsThan in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,When God hath shower'd the earth; so lovely seem'dThat landscape: and of pure, now purer airMeets his approach, and to the heart inspiresVernal delight and joy, able to driveAll sadness but despair: Now gentle galesFanning their odoriferous wings, dispenseNative perfumes, and whisper whence they stoleThose balmy spoils. As when to them who sailBeyond the Cape of Hope, and now are pastMozambique, off at sea north-east winds blowSabean odours from the spicy shoreOf Araby the blest; with such delayWell pleased they slack their course, and many a leagueCheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles:So entertain'd those odorous sweets the Fiend,Who came their bane; though with them better pleasedThan Asmodeus with the fishy fumeThat drove him, though enamour'd, from the spouseOf Tobit's son, and with a vengeance sentFrom Media post to Egypt, there fast bound. Now to the ascent of that steep savage hillSatan had journeyed on, pensive and slow;But further way found none, so thick entwined,As one continued brake, the undergrowthOf shrubs and tangling bushes had perplex'dAll path of man or beast that pass'd that way:One gate there only was, and that look'd eastOn the other side; which when the arch-felon saw,Due entrance he disdain'd; and, in contempt,At one slight bound high overleap'd all boundOf hill or highest wall, and sheer withinLights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf,Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey,Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eveIn hurdled cotes amid the field secure,Leaps o'er the fence with ease into the fold;Or as a thief bent to unhoard the cashOf some rich burgher, whose substantial doors,Cross barr'd and bolted fast, fear no assault,In at the window climbs, or o'er the tiles;So clomb this first grand thief into God's fold;So since into his church lewd hirelings climb.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 lifeThereby regain'd, but sat devising deathTo them who lived; nor on the virtue thoughtOf that life-giving plant, but only usedFor prospect, what well used had been the pledgeOf immortality. So little knowsAny, but God alone, to value rightThe good before him, but perverts best thingsTo worst abuse, or to their meanest use.Beneath him with new wonder now he views,To all delight of human sense exposed,In narrow room, Nature's whole wealth, yea more,A Heaven on Earth: for blissful ParadiseOf God the garden was, by him in the eastOf Eden planted: Eden stretch'd her lineFrom Auran eastward to the royal towersOf great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings,Or where the sons of Eden long beforeDwelt in Telassar; in this pleasant soilHis far more pleasant garden God ordain'd;Out of the fertile ground he caused to growAll trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;And all amid them stood the tree of life,High, eminent, blooming ambrosial fruitOf 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 changed his course, but through the shaggy hillPass'd underneath ingulph'd; for God had thrownThat mountain as his garden-mould high raisedUpon the rapid current, which through veinsOf porous earth, with kindly thirst up-drawn,Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rillWater'd the garden; thence united fellDown the steep glade, and met the nether flood,Which from his darksome passage now appears,And now divided into four main streams,Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realmAnd country, whereof here needs no account;But rather to tell how, if Art could tell,How from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold,With mazy error under pendant shadesRan nectar, visiting each plant, and fedFlowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice ArtIn beds and curious knots, but Nature boonPour'd forth profuse on hill and dale, and plain,Both where the morning sun first warmly smoteThe open field, and where the unpierced shadeImbrown'd the noontide bowers: Thus was this placeA happy rural seat of various view;Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm,Others whose fruit, burnish'd with golden rind,Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true,If true, here only, and of delicious taste;Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocksGrazing the tender herb, were interposed,Or palmy hillock; or the flowery lapOf some irriguous valley spread her store,Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose:Another side, umbrageous grots and cavesOf cool recess, o'er which the mantling vineLays forth her purple grape, and gently creepsLuxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fallDown the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake,That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown'dHer crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.The birds their quire apply; airs, vernal airs,Breathing the smell of field and grove, attuneThe trembling leaves, while universal PanKnit with the Graces and the Hours in danceLed on the eternal spring. Not that fair fieldOf Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers,Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy DisWas gather'd, which cost Ceres all that painTo seek her through the world; nor that sweet groveOf Daphne by Orontes, and the inspiredCastalian spring, might with this ParadiseOf Eden strive; nor that Nyseian isle,Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Lybian Jove,Hid Amalthea and her florid sonYoung Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea's eye;Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard,Mount Amara, though this by some supposedTrue Paradise under the Ethiop lineBy Nilus' head, inclosed with shining rock,A whole day's journey high, but wide remoteFrom this Assyrian garden, where the fiendSaw undelighted all delight, all kindOf living creatures, new to sight and strange.Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,Godlike erect, with native honour clad,In naked majesty seem'd lords of all;And worthy seem'd; for in their looks divineThe image of their glorious Maker shone,Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure,(Severe, but in true filial freedom placed),Whence true authority in men; though bothNot equal, as their sex not equal seem'd;For contemplation he and valour form'd,For softness she, and sweet attractive grace;He for God only, she for God in him.His fair large front and eye sublime declaredAbsolute rule; and hyacinthine locksRound from his parted forelock manly hungClustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad:She, as a veil, down to the slender waistHer unadorned golden tresses woreDishevell'd, but in wanton ringlets wavedAs the vine curls her tendrils, which impliedSubjection, but required with gentle sway,And by her yielded, by him best received,Yielded with coy submission, modest pride,And sweet reluctant, amorous delay.Nor those mysterious parts were then conceal'd;Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shameOf Nature's works, honour dishonourable:Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankindWith shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure,And banish'd from man's life his happiest life,Simplicity and spotless innocence!So pass'd they naked on, nor shunn'd the sightOf God or Angel, for they thought no ill:So hand in hand they pass'd, the loveliest pairThat ever since in love's embraces met;Adam the goodliest man of men since bornHis sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve. Under a tuft of shade that on a greenStood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain sideThey sat them down: and, after no more toilOf their sweet gardening labour than sufficedTo recommend cool Zephyr, and made easeMore easy, wholesome thirst and appetiteMore grateful, to their supper-fruits they fell,Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughsYielded them, sidelong as they sat reclineOn the soft downy bank damask'd with flowers:The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind,Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream;Nor gentle purpose nor endearing smilesWanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseemsFair couple, link'd in happy nuptial league,Alone as they. About them frisking play'dAll beasts of the earth, since wild, and of all chase,In wood or wilderness, forest or den;Sporting the lion ramp'd, and in his pawDandled the kid; bear, tigers, ounces, pards,Gambol'd before them; the unwieldy elephant,To make them mirth, used all his might, and wreathed His lithe proboscis; close the serpent sly,Insinuating, wove with Gordian twineHis braided train, and of his fatal guileGave proof unheeded; others on the grassCouch'd, and, now fill'd with pasture, gazing sat,Or bedward ruminating; for the sunDeclined, was hasting now with prone careerTo the ocean isles, and in the ascending scaleOf Heaven the stars that usher evening rose:When Satan, still in gaze as first he stood,Scarce thus at length fail'd speech recover'd sad. O Hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold!Into our room of bliss thus high advancedCreatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps,Not Spirits, yet to heavenly Spirits brightLittle inferior; whom my thoughts pursueWith wonder, and could love, so lively shinesIn them divine resemblance, and such graceThe hand that form'd them on their shape hath pour'd.Ah, gentle pair, ye little think how nighYour change approaches, when all these delightsWill vanish and deliver ye to woe;More woe, the more your taste is now of joy;Happy, but for so happy ill securedLong to continue, and this high seat your HeavenIll fenced for Heaven to keep out such a foeAs now is enter'd; yet no purposed foeTo you, whom I could pity thus forlorn,Though I unpitied: League with you I seek,And mutual amity, so strait, so close,That I with you must dwell, or you with meHenceforth; my dwelling haply may not please,Like this fair Paradise, your sense; yet suchAccept your Maker's work; he gave it me,Which I as freely give; Hell shall unfold,To entertain you two, her widest gates,And send forth all her kings: there will be room,Not like these narrow limits, to receiveYour numerous offspring; if no better place,Thank him who puts me loath to this revenge,On you who wrong me not, for him who wrong'd.And should I at your harmless innocenceMelt, as I do, yet public reason just,Honour and empire with revenge enlarged,By conquering this new world, compels me nowTo do what else, though damn'd, I should abhor. So spake the Fiend, and with necessity,The tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds.Then from his lofty stand on that high treeDown he alights among the sportful herdOf those four-footed kinds, himself now one,Now other, as their shape served best his endNearer to view his prey, and unespiedTo mark what of their state he more might learnBy word or action mark'd: About them roundA lion now he stalks with fiery glare;Then as a tiger, who by chance hath spiedIn some purlieu two gentle fawns at play,Strait couches close, then, rising, changes oftHis couchant watch, as one who chose his ground,Whence rushing he might surest seize them both,Griped in each paw: when Adam, first of men,To first of women, Eve, thus moving speech,Turn'd him, all ear to hear new utterance flow. Sole partner, and sole part, of all these joys,Dearer thyself than all; needs must the PowerThat made us, and for us this ample world,Be infinitely good, and of his goodAs liberal and free as infinite;That raised us from the dust, and placed us hereIn all this happiness, who at his handHave nothing merited, nor can performOught whereof he hath need: He, who requiresFrom us no other service than to keepThis one, this easy charge, of all the treesIn Paradise, that bear delicious fruitSo various, not to taste that only TreeOf Knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life:So near grows death to life, whate'er death is;Some dreadful thing, no doubt; for well thou knowstGod hath pronounced it death to taste that tree,The only sign of our obedience left,Among so many signs of power, and rule,Conferr'd upon us; and dominion givenOver all other creatures that possessEarth, air, and sea. Then, let us not think hardOne easy prohibition, who enjoyFree leave so large to all things else, and choiceUnlimited of manifold delights:But let us ever praise him, and extolHis bounty, following our delightful task,To prune these growing plants, and tend these flowers;Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet. To whom thus Eve replied. O thou, for whom,And from whom I was form'd; flesh of thy flesh,And without whom am to no end; my guide,And head: what thou hast said is just, and right.For, we to him indeed all priases owe,And daily thanks; I chiefly, who enjoySo far the happier lot, enjoying theePre-eminent by so much odds; while thouLike consort to thyself canst no where find.That day I oft remember, when from sleepI first awaked, and found myself reposedUnder a shade, on flowers; much wondering where,And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.Not distant far from thence, a murmuring soundOf waters issued from a cave, and spreadInto a liquid plain, then stood unmoved,Pure as the expanse of Heaven: I thither went,With unexperienced thought, and laid me downOn the green bank, to look into the clearSmooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky.As I bent down to look, just oppositeA shape within the watery gleam appear'd,Bending to look on me; I started back:It started back: but pleased I soon return'd;Pleased it return'd as soon, with answering looksOf sympathy, and love: there I had fix'dMine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire,Had not a voice thus warn'd me, "What thou seest,"What there thou seest, fair Creature, is thyself;"With thee it came, and goes: but follow me,"And I will bring thee where no shadow stays"Thy coming, and thy soft embraces, he"Whose image thou art; him thou shalt enjoy"Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear"Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd"Mother of human race." What could I do, But follow strait, invisibly thus led,Till I espied thee? fair indeed, and tall,Under a platane; yet, methought, less fair,Less winning soft, less amiably mild,Than that smooth watery image; back I turn'd;Thou following criedst aloud, Return, fair Eve,Whom fliest thou? whom thou fliest, of him thou art,His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lentOut of my side to thee, nearest my heart,Substantial life, to have thee by my sideHenceforth an individual solace dear;Part of my soul, I seek thee; and thee claim,My other half!--With that, thy gentle handSeized mine; I yielded, and from that time seeHow beauty is excell'd by manly grace,And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general Mother; and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreproved,And meek surrender, half embracing lean'dOn our first Father; half her swelling breastNaked met his, under the flowing goldOf her loose tresses hid; he in delightBoth of her beauty, and submissive charms,Smiled with superior love; as JupiterOn Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds,That shed May flowers, and press'd her matron lipWith kisses pure:—aside the devil turn'dFor envy, yet with jealous leer malignEyed them askance; and to himself thus plain'd. Sight hateful, sight tormenting; thus these two,Imparadised in one another's arms,(The happier Eden), shall enjoy their fillOf bliss on bliss: while I to Hell am thrust,Where neither joy, nor love, but fierce desire,Amongst our other torments not the least,Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing, pines.Yet let me not forget what I have gain'dFrom their own mouths; all is not theirs, it seems:One fatal Tree there stands, of Knowledge call'd,Forbidden them to taste. Knowledge forbidden?Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their LordEnvy them that? can it be sin to know?Can it be death? and do they only standBy ignorance? Is that their happy state,The proof of their obedience, and their faith?O fair foundation laid whereon to buildTheir ruin; hence I will excite their mindsWith more desire to know, and to rejectEnvious commands, invented with designTo keep them low, whom knowledge might exaltEqual with Gods; aspiring to be such,They taste, and die; what likelier can ensue?But first, with narrow search I must walk roundThis garden, and no corner leave unspied;A chance, but chance may lead where I may meetSome wandering Spirit of Heaven, by fountain-side,Or in thick shade retired, from him to drawWhat further would be learn'd. Live while ye may,Yet happy 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,Thro' wood, thro' waste, o'er hill, o'er dale his roam.Meanwhile in utmost longitude, where HeavenWith Earth and Ocean meets, the setting sunSlowly descended; and with right aspectAgainst the eastern gate of ParadiseLevell'd his evening rays; it was a rockOf alabaster, piled up to the clouds,Conspicuous far; winding with one ascent,Accessible from Earth, one entrance high:The rest was craggy cliff, that overhungStill as it rose, impossible to climb.Betwixt these rocky pillars Gabriel sat,Chief of the Angelic guards, awaiting night:About him exercised heroic gamesThe unarmed youth of Heaven; but nigh at handCelestial armoury, shields, helms, and spears,Hung high, with diamond flaming, and with gold.Thither came Uriel gliding through the evenOn a sun-beam, swift as a shooting starIn autumn thwarts the night, when vapours firedImpress the air, and shew the marinerFrom what point of his Compass to bewareImpetuous winds; he thus began in haste. Gabriel! to thee thy course by lot hath givenCharge, and strict watch, that to this happy placeNo evil thing approach, or enter in;This day, at height of noon, came to my sphereA Spirit; zealous, as he seem'd, to knowMore of the Almighty's work; and chiefly Man,God's latest image: I described his way,Bent all on speed, and mark'd his airy gait:But, in the mount that lies from Eden north,Where he first lighted, soon discern'd his looksAlien from Heaven, with passions foul obscured;Mine eye pursued him still, but under shadeLost sight of him: one of the banish'd crew,I fear, hath ventured from the deep, to raiseNew troubles; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged warrior thus return'd.Uriel! no wonder if thy perfect sight,Amid the sun's bright circle, where thou sitst,See far, and wide: in at this gate none passThe vigilance here placed, but such as comeWell known from Heaven; and since meridian hourNo creature thence. If Spirit of other sortSo minded, have o'erleap'd these earthy boundsOn purpose, hard thou knowst it to excludeSpiritual substance with corporeal bar.But, if within the circuit of these walks,In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whomThou tellst, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promised he; and Uriel to his chargeReturn'd, on that bright beam, whose point now raisedBore him slope downward to the sun, now fallenBeneath the Azores; whether the prime orb,Incredible how swift, had thither rowledDiurnal; or this less voluble Earth,By shorter flight to the east, had left him there,Arraying with reflected purple, and gold,The clouds that on his western throne attend. Now came still evening on, and twilight greyHad in her sober livery all things clad:Silence accompanied; for beast, and bird,They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,Were slunk; all but the wakeful nightingale;She all night long her amorous descant sung;Silence was pleased: now glow'd the firmamentWith living Sapphires; Hesperus that ledThe starry host, rod brightest; till the moon,Rising in clouded majesty at length,Apparent Queen, unveil'd her peerless light,And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw;When Adam thus to Eve: Fair Consort! the hourOf night, and all things now retired to rest,Mind us of like repose; since God hath setLabour and rest, as day and night, to menSuccessive; and the timely dew of sleep,Now falling with soft slumbrous weight, inclinesOur eyelids. Other creatures all day longRove idle, unemploy'd, and less need rest:Man hath his daily work of body, or mind,Appointed, which declares his dignity,And the regard of Heaven on all his ways;While other animals unactive range,And of their doings God takes no account.To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the eastWith first approach of light, we must be risen,And at our pleasant labour, to reformYon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green,Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,That mock our scant manuring, and requireMore hands than ours to lop their wanton growth.Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums,That lie bestrown, unsightly, and unsmooth,Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease;Meanwhile, as nature wills, night bids us rest. To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorn'd.My Author, and Disposer! what thou bidstUnargued I obey; so God ordains:God is thy law, thou mine; to know no moreIs woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise.With thee conversing I forget all time;All seasons, and their 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 spreadsHis orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile EarthAfter soft showers; and sweet the coming onOf grateful evening mild: then, silent Night,With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train.But neither breath of morn, when she ascendsWith charm of earliest birds: nor rising sunOn this delightful land: nor herb, fruit, flower,Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers;Nor grateful evening mild: nor silent Night,With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon,Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.But wherefore all night long shine these? For whomThis glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general Ancestor replied.Daughter of God and Man, accomplish'd Eve!These have their course to finish, round the earth,By morrow evening; and from land to landIn order, though to nations yet unborn,Ministering light prepared, they set, and rise:Lest total darkness should by night regainHer old possession, and extinguish lifeIn nature, and all things; which these soft firesNot only enlighten, but with kindly heat,Of various influence, foment, and warm,Temper, or nourish; or in part shed downTheir stellar virtue, on all kinds that growOn Earth, made hereby apter to receivePerfection from the sun's more potent ray.These then, though unbeheld in deep of night,Shine not in vain; nor think, though men were none,That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise:Millions of Spiritual Creatures walk the EarthUnseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep;All these, with ceaseless praise, his works beholdBoth day and night: How often, from the steepOf echoing hill, or thicket, have we heardCelestial voices, to the midnight airSole, or responsive each to other's note,Singing their great Creator? oft in bandsWhile they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk,With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds,In full harmonic number join'd, their songsDivide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven. Thus talking, hand in hand, along they pass'dOn to their blissful bower; it was a placeChosen by the Sovereign Planter, when he framedAll things to Man's delightful use; the roof,Of thickest covert, was inwoven shade,Laurel, and myrtle, and what higher grew,Of firm, and fragrant leaf: on either sideAcanthus, and each odorous bushy shrub,Fenced up the verdant wall, each beauteous flower,Iris all hues, roses, and jessaminRear'd high their flourish'd heads between, and wroughtMosaic: under foot the violet,Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlayBroider'd the ground, more colour'd, than with stoneOf costliest emblem: Other creature here,Bird, beast, insect, or worm, durst enter none;Such was their awe of man! In shadier bowerMore sacred, and sequester'd, though but feign'd,Pan, or Sylvanus, never slept; nor nymph,Nor Faunus, haunted. Here, in close recess,With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs,Espoused Eve deck'd first her nuptial bed:And heavenly quires the hymenaean sung,What day the genial angel to our sireBrought her, in naked beauty more adorn'd,More lovely, than Pandora; whom the GodsEndow'd with all their gifts, and O, too likeIn sad event! when to the unwiser sonOf Japhet brought by Hermes, she insnaredMankind with her fair looks, to be avengedOn him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. Thus at their shady lodge arrived, both stood,Both turn'd, and under open sky adoredThe God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven,Which they beheld; the moon's resplendent globe,And starry pole: Thou also madest the night,Maker Omnipotent! and thou the day,Which we, in our appointed work employ'd,Have finish'd, happy in our mutual help,And mutual love, the crown of all our blissOrdain'd by thee; and this delicious place,For us too large; where thy abundance wantsPartakers, and uncropp'd falls to the ground.But thou hast promised from us two a raceTo fill the Earth, who shall with us extolThy goodness infinite, both when we wake,And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep. This said unanimous, and other ritesObserving none, but adoration pure,Which God likes best, into their inmost bowerHanded they went; and, eased the putting offThese troublesome disguises which we wear,Strait side by side were laid: nor turn'd, I ween,Adam from his fair spouse; nor Eve the ritesMysterious of connubial love refused;Whatever hypocrites austerely talkOf purity, and place, and innocence;Defaming as impure what God declaresPure; and commands to some, leaves free to all.Our Maker bids increase; who bids abstain,But our destroyer, foe to God, and Man?Hail wedded love! mysterious law, true sourceOf human offspring, sole proprietyIn Paradise! of all things common else.By thee adulterous lust was driven from men,Among the bestial herds to range; by thee,Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure,Relations dear, and all the charitiesOf Father, Son, and Brother, first were known.Far be it, that I should write thee sin, or blame!Or think thee unbefitting holiest place;Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets!Whose bed is undefiled and chaste pronounced,Present, or past; as saints, and patriarchs used.Here, love his golden shafts employs; here lightsHis constant lamp; and waves his purple wings;Reigns here, and revels: not in the bought smileOf harlots, loveless, joyless, unendear'd;Casual fruition! nor in court amours,Mix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball,Or serenate, which the starved lover singsTo his proud fair; best quitted with disdain.These lull'd by nightingale, embracing slept;And on their naked limbs the flowery roofShower'd roses, which the morn repair'd. Sleep on.Blest pair! and O! yet happiest, if ye seekNo happier state, and know to know no more.Now had night measured, with her shadowy cone,Half way up hill this vast sublunar vault:And from their ivory port the CherubimForth issuing at the accustom'd hour, stood arm'dTo their night watches in warlike parade,When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake. Uzziel! half these draw off, and coast the southWith 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 subtle Spirits he call'd,That near him stood, and gave them thus in charge. Ithuriel, and Zephon; with wing'd speedSearch thro' this garden, leave unsearch'd no nook;But chiefly where those two fair creatures lodge,Now laid perhaps asleep, secure of harm.This evening from the sun's decline arrived,Who tells of some infernal Spirit seenHitherward bent, who could have thought? escapedThe bars of Hell; on errand bad, no doubt:Such, where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring.So saying, on he led his radiant files,Dazzling the moon; these to the bower direct,In search of whom they sought: him there they found,Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve;Assaying, by his devilish art, to reachThe organs of her fancy, and with them forgeIllusions, as he list, phantasms, and dreams:Or if, inspiring venom, he might taintThe animal Spirits, that from pure blood arise,Like gentle breaths from rivers pure; thence raiseAt least distemper'd, discontented thoughts;Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires,Blown up with high conceits ingendering pride.Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spearTouch'd lightly; for no falsehood can endureTouch of celestial temper, but returnsOf force to its own likeness: up he starts,Discover'd, and surprised. As when a sparkLights on a heap of nitrous powder, laidFit for the tun, some magazine to storeAgainst a rumour'd war, the smutty grainWith sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air:So started up, in his own shape, the Fiend.Back stepp'd those two fair angels, half amazed,So sudden to behold the grisly king;Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon. Which of those rebel Spirits, adjudged to Hell,Comest thou, escaped thy prison? and transform'dWhy satst thou, like an enemy in wait,Here watching at the head of these that sleep? Know ye not then, said Satan, fill'd with scorn,Know ye not me? ye knew me once no mateFor you; there sitting where ye durst not soar:Not to know me argues yourselves unknown,The lowest of your throng; or if ye know,Why ask ye, and superfluous beginYour 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 undiminish'd brightness, to be knownAs when thou stoodst in Heaven, upright, and pure;That glory then, when thou no more wast good,Departed from thee; and thou resemblest nowThy sin and place of doom, obscure and foul.But come; for thou, be sure, shalt give accountTo him who sent us, whose charge is to keepThis place inviolable, and these from harm. So spake the Cherub, and his grave rebuke,Severe in youthful beauty, added graceInvincible: abash'd the Devil stood,And felt how awful goodness is, and sawVirtue in her shape how lovely; saw and pinedHis loss; but chiefly to find here observedHis lustre visibly impair'd: yet seem'dUndaunted. If I must contend, said he,Best with the best, the sender, not the sent,Or all at once; more glory will be won,Or less be lost. Thy fear, said Zephon bold,Will save us trial what the least can doSingle against thee wicked, and thence weak. The Fiend replied not, overcome with rage;But like a proud steed rein'd, went haughty on,Champing his iron curb: To strive or flyHe held it vain; awe from above had quell'dHis heart, not else dismay'd. Now drew they nighThe western point, where those half-rounding guardsJust met, and closing stood in squadron join'd,Awaiting next command. To whom their chiefGabriel from the front thus call'd aloud.O Friends, I hear the tread of nimble feetHasting this way, and now by glimpse discernIthuriel and Zephon through the shade,And with them comes a third of regal port,But faded splendour wan; who, by his gaitAnd fierce demeanour, seems the prince of Hell,Not likely to part hence without contest;Stand firm, for in his look defiance lowers. He scarce had ended, when those two approach'd,And brief related whom they brought, where found,How busied, in what form and posture couch'd. To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake.Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescribedTo thy transgressions, and disturb'd the chargeOf others, who approve not to transgressBy thy example, but have power and rightTo question thy bold entrance on this place;Employ'd, it seems, to violate sleep, and thoseWhose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss? To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow.Gabriel, thou hadst in Heaven the esteem of wise,And such I held thee; but this question ask'dPuts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain?Who would not, finding way, break loose from Hell,Though thither doom'd? Thou wouldst thyself, no doubt,And boldly venture to whatever placeFarthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to changeTorment with ease, and soonest recompenseDole with delight, which in this place I sought;To thee no reason, who knowst only good,But evil hast not tried: and wilt objectHis will who bounds us? Let him surer barHis iron gates, if he intends our stayIn that dark durance: Thus much what was ask'd.The rest is true, they found me where they say;But that implies not violence or harm. Thus he in scorn. The warlike Angel moved,Disdainfully half smiling, thus replied.O loss of one in Heaven to judge of wise,Since Satan fell, whom folly overthrew,And now returns him from his prison 'scaped,Gravely in doubt whether to hold them wiseOr not, who ask what boldness brought him hitherUnlicensed, from his bounds in Hell prescribed;So wise he judges it to fly from painHowever, and to 'scape his punishment!So judge thou still, presumptuous! till the wrath,Which thou incurrst by flying, meet thy flightSevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell,Which taught thee yet no better, that no painCan equal anger infinite provoked.But wherefore thou alone? Wherefore with theeCame not all Hell broke loose? Is pain to themLess pain, less to be fled? or thou than theyLess hardy to endure? Courageous Chief!The first in flight from pain! hadst thou allegedTo thy deserted host this cause of flightThou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. To which the Fiend thus answer'd, frowning stern.Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain,Insulting Angel! well thou knowst I stoodThy fiercest, when in battle to thy aidThe blasting vollied thunder made all speed,And seconded thy else not dreaded spear.But still thy words at random, as before,Argue thy inexperience what behovesFrom hard assays and ill successes pastA faithful leader, not to hazard allThrough ways of danger by himself untried?I therefore, I alone, first undertookTo wing the desolate abyss, and spyThis new-created world, whereof in HellFame is not silent, here in hope to findBetter abode, and my afflicted PowersTo settle here on Earth, or in mid air;Though for possession put to try once moreWhat thou and thy gay legions dare against;Whose easier business were to serve their LordHigh up in Heaven, with songs to hymn his throne,And practised distances to cringe, not fight. To whom the warrior Angel soon replied.To say, and straight unsay, pretending firstWise to fly pain, professing next the spy,Argues no leader but a liar traced,Satan, and couldst thou faithful add? O name,O sacred name of faithfulness profaned!Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew?Army of Fiends, fit body to fit head.Was this your discipline and faith engaged,Your military obedience, to dissolveAllegiance to the acknowledged Power Supreme?And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seemPatron of liberty, who more than thouOnce fawn'd, and cringed, and servilely adoredHeaven's awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hopeTo dispossess him, and thyself to reign?But mark what I arreed thee now—Avaunt;Fly thither whence thou fledst: if from this hourWithin these hallowed limits thou appear,Back to the infernal pit I drag thee chain'dAnd seal thee so, as henceforth not to scornThe facile gates of Hell too slightly barr'd. So threaten'd he; but Satan to no threatsGave heed, but waxing more in rage, replied. Then when I am thy captive talk of chains,Proud limitary Cherub! but ere thenFar heavier load thyself expect to feelFrom my prevailing arm, though Heaven's KingRide on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers,Used to the yoke, drawst his triumphant wheelsIn progress through the road of Heaven star-paved.While thus he spake, the angelic squadron brightTurn'd fiery red, sharpening in mooned hornsTheir phalanx, and began to hem him roundWith ported spears, as thick as when a fieldOf Ceres ripe for harvest waving bendsHer bearded grove of ears, which way the windSways them; the careful ploughman doubting stands,Lest on the threshing-floor his hopeful sheavesProve chaff. On the other side, Satan alarm'd,Collecting all his might, dilated stood,Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved:His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crestSat horror plumed: nor wanted in his graspWhat seem'd both spear and shield. Now dreadful deedsMight have ensued, nor only ParadiseIn this commotion, but the starry copeOf Heaven perhaps, or all the elementsAt least, had gone to wrack, disturb'd and tornWith violence of this conflict, had not soonThe Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray,Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seenBetwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign,Wherein all things created first he weigh'd,The pendulous round earth with balanced airIn counterpoise, now ponders all events,Battles and realms: In these he put two weights,The sequel each of parting and of fight:The latter quick up-flew, and kick'd the beam;Which Gabriel spying thus bespake the Fiend. Satan, I know thy strength, and thou knowst mine;Neither our own but given; what folly thenTo boast what arms can do? since thine no moreThan Heaven permits, nor mine, tho' doubled nowTo trample thee as mire: For proof look up,And read thy lot in yon celestial sign,Where thou art weigh'd, and shewn how light, how weak,If thou resist. The Fiend look'd up, and knewHis mounted scale aloft: nor more, but fledMurmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.
Paradise Lost.
Book V.
ARGUMENT.
SATAN, now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against God and Man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions, fear, envy, and despair; but at length confirms himself in evil, journeys on to Paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described; overleaps the bounds; sits in the shape of a cormorant on the tree of life, as highest in the garden, to look about him. The garden described; Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall; overhears their discourse, thence gathers that the tree of knowledge was forbidden them to eat of, under penalty of death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing them to transgress: then leaves them awhile, to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel, descending on a sun-beam, warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped the deep, and passed at noon by his sphere, in the shape of a good Angel, down to Paradise, discovered after by his furious gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest: their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel, drawing forth his bands of night-watch to walk the round of Paradise, appoints two strong Angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil Spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping: there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers; prepares resistance; but, hindered by a sign from Heaven, flies out of Paradise.
Now morn her rosy steps in the eastern climeAdvancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,When Adam waked, so custom'd; for his sleepWas airy light, from pure digestion bred,And temperate vapours bland, which the only soundOf leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin songOf birds on every bough; so much the moreHis wonder was to find unwaken'd EveWith tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek,As through unquiet rest: He, on his sideLeaning half raised, with looks of cordial love,Hung over her enamour'd, and beheldBeauty, which whether waking or asleep,Shot forth peculiar graces; then, with voiceMild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus. Awake,My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight!Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh fieldCalls us; we lose the prime, to mark how springOur tender plants, how blows the citron grove,What drops the myrrh, and what the balmly reed,How nature paints her colours, how the beeSits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet. Such whispering waked her, but with startled eyeOn Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake. O sole, in whom my thoughts find all repose,My glory, my perfection! glad I seeThy 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 theeWorks of day past, or morrow's next design,But of offence and trouble, which my mindKnew never till this irksome night. Methought,Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walkWith 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-labour'd song; now reigns"Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light"Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,"If none regard: Heaven wakes with all his eyes,"Whom to behold but thee, Nature's 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 waysThat brought me on a sudden to the treeOf interdicted knowledge: fair it seem'd,Much fairer to my fancy than by day;And, as I wondering look'd, beside it stoodOne shaped and wing'd like one of those from heavenBy us oft seen; his dewy locks distill'dAmbrosia; on that tree he also gazed;And, "O fair plant," said he, "with fruit surcharged,"Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet,"Nor God, nor Man? Is knowledge so despised?"Or envy, or what reserve, forbids to taste?"Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold"Longer thy offer'd good? why else set here?"This said, he paused not, but with venturous armHe pluck'd, he tasted; me damp horror chill'dAt such bold words, vouch'd with a deed so bold:But he thus overjoy'd, "O fruit divine,"Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropt,"Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit"For Gods, yet able to make Gods of Men:"And why not Gods of Men, since good, the more"Communicated, more abundant grows,"The Author not impair'd, but honour'd more?"Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve,"Partake thou also; happy though thou art,"Happier thou mayst be, worthier canst not be."Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods"Thyself a Goddess, not to Earth confined,"But sometimes in the air, as we, sometimes"Ascend to Heaven, 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 partWhich he had pluck'd; the pleasant savoury smellSo quicken'd appetite, that I, methought,Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the cloudsWith him I flew, and underneath beheldThe earth outstretch'd immense, a prospect wideAnd various: Wondering at my flight and changeTo this high exaltation; suddenlyMy guide was gone, and I methought, sunk down,And fell asleep; but O, how glad I wakedTo find this but a dream!—Thus Eve her nightRelated, and thus Adam answer'd sad. Best image of myself and dearer half,The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleepAffects me equally; nor can I likeThis uncouth dream, of evil sprung, I fear;Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,Created pure. But know, that in the soulAre many lesser faculties, that serveReason as chief; among these Fancy nextHer office holds; of all external things,Which the five watchful senses represent,She forms imaginations, airy shapes,Which Reason, joining, or disjoining, framesAll what we affirm or what deny, and callOur knowledge or opinion; then retiresInto her private cell when nature rests.Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakesTo imitate her; but misjoining shapes,Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams;Ill matching words and deeds long past or late.Some such resemblances, methinks, I findOf our last evening's talk in this thy dream,But with addition strange; yet be not sad.Evil into the mind of God or ManMay come and go, so unapproved, and leaveNo spot or blame behind: Which gives me hope,That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream,Waking thou never wilt consent to do.Be not dishearten'd then, nor cloud those looks,That wont to be more cheerful and sereneThan when fair morning first smiles on the world;And let us to our fresh employments riseAmong the groves, the fountains, and the flowers,That open now their choicest bosom'd smells,Reserved from night, and kept for thee in store. So cheer'd he his fair spouse, and she was cheer'd;But silently a gentle tear let fallFrom either eye, and wiped them with her hair;Two other precious drops that ready stood,Each in their crystal sluice, he ere they fellKiss'd, as the gracious signs of sweet remorseAnd pious awe, that fear'd to have offended. So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste.But first, from under shady arborous roofSoon as they forth were come to open sightOf day-spring, and the sun, who, scarce up-risen,With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean brim,Shot parallel to the Earth his dewy ray,Discovering in wide landscape all the eastOf Paradise and Eden's happy plains,Lowly they bow'd adoring, and beganTheir orisons, each morning duly paidIn various style; for neither various styleNor holy rapture wanted they to praiseTheir Maker, in fit strains pronounced, or sungUnmeditated; such prompt eloquenceFlow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse,More tuneable than needed lute or harpTo add more sweetness; and they thus began. These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,Almighty, thine this universal frame,Thus wonderous fair; Thyself how wonderous then!Unspeakable, who sitst above these HeavensTo us invisible or dimly seenIn these thy lowest works; yet these declareThy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,Angels; for ye behold him, and with songsAnd choral symphonies, day without night,Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven;On Earth, join all ye Creatures to extolHim first, him last, him midst, and without end.Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,If better thou belong not to the dawn,Sure pledge of day, that crownst the smiling mornWith thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul,Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praiseIn the eternal course, both when thou climbst,And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fallst.Moon, that now meetst the orient sun, now fliest,With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;And ye five other wandering fires that moveIn mystic dance, not without song, resoundHis praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.Air, and ye elements, the eldest birthOf Nature's womb, that in quaternion runPerpetual circle, multiform, and mix,And nourish all things; let your ceaseless changeVary to our great Maker still new praise.Ye Mists and Exhalations, that now riseFrom hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,In honour to the world's great Author rise,Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky,Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,Rising or falling, still advance his praise.His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines,With every plant, in sign of worship wave.Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow,Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.Join voices all ye living Souls; ye Birds,Then singing up to Heaven gate ascend,Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walkThe earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep,Witness if I be silent, morn or even,To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade,Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.Hail, universal Lord, be bounteous stillTo give us only good; and, if the nightHave gather'd ought of evil or conceal'd,Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughtsFirm peace recover'd soon and wonted calm.On to their morning's rural work they hasteAmong sweet dews and flowers; where any rowOf fruit-trees over-woody reach'd too farTheir pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to checkFruitless embraces; or they led the vineTo wed her elm; she, spoused, about him twinesHer marriageable arms, and with her bringsHer dower, the adopted clusters, to adornHis barren leaves. Them thus employ'd beheldWith pity Heaven's high King, and to him call'dRaphael, the sociable Spirit, that deign'dTo travel with Tobias, and securedHis marriage with the seventimes wedded maid. Raphael, said he, thou hearst what stir on EarthSatan from Hell, 'scaped through the darksome gulf,Hath raised in Paradise, and how disturb'dThis night the human pair; how he designsIn them at once to ruin all mankind.Go, therefore, half this day as friend with friendConverse with Adam, in what bower or shadeThou findst him from the heat of noon retired,To respite his day-labour with repast,Or with repose; and such discourse bring on,As may advise him of his happy state,Happiness in his power left free to will,Left to his own free will, his will though free,Yet mutable; whence warn him to bewareHe swerve not, to secure: Tell him withalHis danger, and from whom; what enemy,Late fallen himself from Heaven, is plotting nowThe fall of others from like state of bliss;By violence? no, for that shall be withstood;But by deceit and lies: this let him knowLest wilfully transgressing he pretendSurprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd. So spake the eternal Father, and fulfill'dAll justice: nor delay'd the winged SaintAfter his charge received; but from amongThousand celestial Ardours, where he stoodVeil'd with his gorgeous wings, up-springing light,Flew through the midst of Heaven: the angelic quires,On each hand parting to his speed gave wayThrough all the empyreal road; till at the gateOf Heaven arrived, the gate self-open'd wide,On golden hinges turning, as by workDivine the Sovereign Architect had framed.From hence no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight,Star interposed, however small he sees,Not unconform to other shining globes,Earth and the garden of God, with cedars crown'dAbove all hills. As when by night the glassOf Galileo, less assured, observesImagined lands and regions in the moon;Or pilot, from amidst the Cyclades,Delos or Samos first appearing, kensA cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flightHe speeds, and through the vast etherial skySails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing,Now on the polar winds, then with quick fanWinnows the buxom air; till within soarOf towering eagles, to all the fowls he seemsA Phoenix, gazed by all, as that sole bird,When to inshrine his relics in the Sun'sBright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies.At once on the eastern cliff of ParadiseHe lights, and to his proper shape returnsA Seraph wing'd; six wings he wore, to shadeHis lineaments divine; the pair that cladEach shoulder broad, came mantling o'er his breastWith regal ornament: the middle pairGirt like a starry zone his waist, and roundSkirted his loins and thighs with downy goldAnd colours dipt in Heaven; the third his feetShadowed from either heel with feather'd mail,Sky-tinctured grain. Like Maia's son he stoodAnd shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'dThe circuit wide. Strait knew him all the bandsOf angels under watch; and to his state,And to his message high, in honour rise;For on some message high they guess'd him bound.Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is comeInto the blissful field, through groves of myrrh,And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and balm;A wilderness of sweets; for Nature hereWanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at willHer virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweetWild above rule or art; enormous bliss.Him through the spicy forest onward comeAdam discern'd, as in the door he satOf his cool bower, while now the mounted sunShot down direct his fervid rays to warmEarth's inmost womb, more warmth than Adam needs:And Eve within, due at her hour preparedFor dinner savoury fruits, of taste to pleaseTrue appetite, and not disrelish thirstOf nectarous draughts between, from milky stream,Berry or grape; to whom thus Adam call'd. Haste hither, Eve, and worth thy sight behold,Eastward among those trees, what glorious shapeComes this way moving; seems another mornRisen on mid-noon; some great behest from HeavenTo us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafeThis day to be our guest. But go with speed,And what thy stores contain bring forth, and pourAbundance, fit to honour and receiveOur heavenly stranger: Well we may affordOur givers their own gifts, and large bestowFrom large bestow'd, where Nature multipliesHer fertile growth, and by disburdening growsMore fruitful, which instructs us not to spare. To whom thus Eve. Adam, earth's hallow'd mould,Of God inspired! small store will serve, where store,All season, ripe for use hangs on the stalk;Save what by frugal storing firmness gainsTo nourish, and superfluous moist consumes:But I will haste, and from each bough and brake,Each plant and juiciest gourd, will pluck such choiceTo entertain our Angel-guest, as he Beholding shall confess, that here on EarthGod hath dispensed his bounties as in Heaven. So saying, with dispatchful looks in hasteShe turns, on hospitable thoughts intentWhat choice to choose for delicacy best,What order, so contrived as not to mixTastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bringTaste after taste upheld with kindliest change;Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalkWhatever Earth, all-bearing mother, yieldsIn India East or West, or middle shoreIn Pontus or the Punic coast, or whereAlcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coatRough or smooth rind, or bearded husk, or shell,She gathers, tribute large, and on the boardHeaps with unsparing hand; for drink the grapeShe crushes, inoffensive must, and meathsFrom many a berry; and from sweet kernels press'dShe tempers dulcet creams; nor these to holdWants her fit vessels pure; then strews the groundWith rose and odours from the shrub unfumed. Meanwhile our primitive great Sire, to meetHis god-like guest, walks forth, without more trainAccompanied than with his own completePerfections: in himself was all his state,More solemn than the tedious pomp that waitsOn princes, when their rich retinue longOf horses led, and grooms besmear'd with gold,Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape.Nearer his presence Adam, though not awed,Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek,As to a superior nature, bowing low,Thus said. Native of Heaven, for other placeNone can than Heaven such glorious shape contain;Since by descending from the thrones above,Those happy places thou hast deign'd awhileTo want, and honour these, vouchsafe with usTwo only, who yet by sovereign gift possessThis spacious ground, in yonder shady bowerTo rest, and what the garden choicest bearsTo sit and taste, till this meridian heatBe over, and the sun more cool decline. Whom thus the angelic Virtue answer'd mild.Adam, I therefore came; nor art thou suchCreated, or such place hast here to dwell,As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heaven,To visit thee; lead on then where thy bowerO'ershades; for these mid-hours, till evening rise,I have at will. So to the sylvan lodgeThey came, that like Pomona's arbour smiledWith flowerets deck'd and fragrant smells; but Eve,Undeck'd, save with herself, more lovely fairThan wood-nymph, or the fairest goddess feign'dOf three that in mount Ida naked strove,Stood to entertain her guest from heaven; no vailShe needed, virtue proof, no thought infirmAlter'd her cheek, on whom the Angel hailBestow'd, the holy salutation usedLong after to blest Mary, second Eve. Hail, Mother of Mankind, whose fruitful wombShall fill the world more numerous with thy sonsThan with these various fruits the trees of GodHave heap'd this table. Raised of grassy turfTheir table was, and mossy seats had round,And on her ample square from side to sideAll Autumn piled, though Spring and Autumn hereDanced hand in hand. A while discourse they hold;No fear lest dinner cool; when thus beganOur Author. Heavenly stranger, please to tasteThese bounties which our Nourisher, from whomAll perfect good, unmeasured out, descends,To us for food and for delight hath causedThe Earth to yield; unsavoury food perhapsTo 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 partSpiritual, may of purest Spirits be foundNo ungrateful food: and food alike those pureIntelligential substances requireAs doth your rational; and both containWithin them every lower facultyOf sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste:Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate,And corporeal to incorporeal turn.For know, whatever was created, needsTo be sustain'd and fed; of elementsThe grosser feeds the purer, Earth the Sea,Earth and the Sea feed Air, the Air those FiresEtherial, and as lowest first the Moon;Whence in her visage round those spots, unpurgedVapours not yet into her substance turn'd.Nor doth the Moon no nourishment exhaleFrom her moist continent to higher orbs.The Sun that light imparts to all, receivesFrom all his alimental recompenceIn humid exhalations, and at evenSups with the Ocean. Though in Heaven the treesOf life ambrosial fruitage bear, and vinesYield nectar; though from off the boughs each mornWe brush mellifluous dews, and find the groundCover'd with pearly grain: yet God hath hereVaried his bounty so with new delights,As may compare with Heaven; and to tasteThink not I shall be nice. So down they sat,And to their viands fell, nor seeminglyThe Angel, nor in mist, the common glossOf theologians, but with keen dispatchOf real hunger, and concoctive heatTo transubstantiate; what redounds, transpiresThrough Spirits with ease; nor wonder; if by fireOf sooty coal the empiric alchemistCan turn, or holds it possible to turnMetals of drossiest ore to perfect goldAs from the mine. Meanwhile at table EveMinister'd naked, and their flowing cupsWith pleasant liquors crown'd: O innocenceDeserving Paradise! if ever, then,Then had the Sons of God excuse to have beenEnamour'd at that sight; but in those heartsLove unlibidinous reign'd, nor jealousyWas understood, the injured lover's Hell. Thus, when with meats and drinks they had sufficed,Not burden'd Nature, sudden mind aroseIn Adam, not to let the occasion pass,Given him by this great conference, to knowOf things above his world, and of their beingWho dwell in Heaven, whose excellence he sawTranscend his own so far; whose radiant forms,Divine effulgence, whose high power so farExceeded human, and his wary speechThus to the empyreal minister he framed. Inhabitant with God, now know I wellThy favour, in this honour done to Man,Under whose lowly roof thou hast vouchsafedTo enter, and these earthly fruits to taste,Food not of Angels, yet accepted so,As that more willingly thou couldst not seemAt Heaven's high feasts to have fed: yet what compare? To whom the winged Hierarch replied.O Adam, one Almighty is, from whomAll things proceed, and up to him return,If not depraved from good, created allSuch to perfection, one first matter all,Endued with various forms, various degreesOf substance, and in things that live, of life;But more refined, more spirituous, and pure,As nearer to him placed, or nearer tending,Each in their several active spheres assign'd,Till body up to spirit work, in boundsProportion'd to each kind. So from the rootSprings lighter the green stalk, from thence the leavesMore airy, last the bright consummate flowerSpirits odorous breathes: flowers and their fruits,Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublimed,To vital spirits aspire, to animal,To intellectual, give both life and sense,Fancy and understanding; whence the soulReason receives, and Reason is her being,Discursive or intuitive; discourseIs oftest yours, the latter most is ours,Differing but in degree, of kind the same.Wonder not then, what God for you saw goodIf I refuse not, but convert, as you,To proper substance: Time may come, when MenWith Angels may participate, and findNo inconvenient diet, nor too light fare:And from these corporal nutriments perhapsYour bodies may at last turn all to spirit,Improved by track of time, and wing'd ascendEtherial, as we; or may at choiceHere or in heavenly Paradises dwell;If ye be found obedient, and retainUnalterably firm his love entireWhose progeny you are. Meanwhile enjoyYour fill what happiness this happy stateCan comprehend, incapable of more. To whom the Patriarch of Mankind replied.O favourable Spirit, propitious guest,Well hast thou taught the way that might directOur knowledge, and the scale of Nature setFrom centre to circumference, whereonIn contemplation of created thingsBy steps we may ascend to God. But sayWhat meant that caution join'd, If ye be foundObedient? Can we want obedience thenTo him, or possibly his love desertWho form'd us from the dust, and placed us hereFull to the utmost measure of what blissHuman desires can seek or apprehend? To whom the Angel. Son of Heaven and Earth,Attend: That thou art happy, owe to God;That thou continuest such, owe to thyself,That is, to thy obedience; therein stand.This was that caution given thee; be advisedGod made thee perfect, not immutable;And good he made thee, but to persevereHe left it in thy power; ordain'd thy willBy Nature free, not overruled by FateInextricable, or strict necessity;Our voluntary service he requires,Not our necessitated, such with himFinds no acceptance, nor can find: for howCan hearts, not free, be tried whether they serveWilling or no, who will but what they mustBy destiny, and can no other choose?Myself and all the angelic host that standIn sight of God enthroned, our happy stateHold, as you yours, while our obedience holds;On other surety none; freely we serve,Because we freely love, as in our willTo love or not; in this we stand or fall:And some are fallen, to disobedience fallen,And so from Heaven to deepest Hell; O fallFrom what high state of bliss into what woe! To whom our great Progenitor. Thy wordsAttentive, and with more delighted ear,Divine Instructor, I have heard, than whenCherubic songs by night from neighbouring hillsAerial music send: nor knew I notTo be both will and deed created free;Yet that we never shall forget to loveOur Maker, and obey him, whose commandSingle, is yet so just, my constant thoughtsAssured me, and still assure: Though what thou tellstHath past in Heaven, some 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 SunHath finish'd half his journey, and scarce beginsHis other half in the great zone of Heaven. Thus Adam made request, and Raphael,After short pause assenting, thus began. High matter thou enjoinst me, O prime of Men,Sad task and hard: For how shall I relateTo human sense the invisible exploitsOf warring Spirits? How, without remorseThe ruin of so many glorious once,And perfect while they stood? how, last, unfoldThe secrets of another world, perhapsNot lawful to reveal? yet for thy goodThis is dispensed, and what surmounts the reachOf human sense, I shall delineate so,By likening spiritual to corporal forms,As may express them best; though what if EarthBe but the shadow of Heaven, and things thereinEach to other like, more than on Earth is thought? As yet this world was not, and Chaos wildReign'd where these Heavens now roll, where earth now restsUpon her centre poised; when on a day,(For time, though in eternity, appliedTo motion, measures all things durableBy present, past, and future), on such dayAs Heaven's great year brings forth, the empyreal hostOf Angels by imperial summons call'd,Innumerable before the Almighty's throne,Forthwith from all the ends of Heaven appear'dUnder their Hierarchs in orders bright:Ten thousand thousand ensigns high advanced,Standards, and gonfalons 'twixt van and rearStream in the air, and for distinction serveOf hierarchies, of orders, and degrees;Or in their glittering tissues bear emblazedHoly memorials, acts of zeal and loveRecorded eminent. Thus, when in orbsOf circuit inexpressible they stood,Orb within orb, the Father infinite,By whom in bliss embosom'd sat the SonAmidst, as from a flaming mount, whose topBrightness had made invisible, thus spake. Hear all ye Angels, progeny of light,Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers,Hear my decree, which unrevoked shall stand.This day I have begot whom I declareMy only Son, and on this holy hillHim have anointed, whom ye now beholdAt my right hand; your head I him appoint;And by myself have sworn to him shall bowAll knees in Heaven, and shall confess him Lord:Under his great vicegerent reign abideUnited as one individual soulFor ever happy: Him who disobeysMe disobeys, breaks union, and that day,Cast out from God and blessed vision, fallsInto utter darkness, deep engulf'd, his placeOrdain'd without redemption, without end. So spake the Omnipotent, and with his wordsAll seem'd well-pleased; all seem'd, but were not all.That day, as other solemn days, they spentIn song and dance about the sacred hill;Mystical dance, which yonder starry sphereOf planets, and of fix'd, in all her wheelsResembles nearest, mazes intricate,Eccentric, intervolved, yet regularThen most, when most irregular they seem:And in their motions harmony divineSo smooths her charming tones, that God's own earListens delighted. Evening now approach'd,(For we have also our evening and our morn,We ours for change delectable, not need):Forthwith from dance to sweet repast they turnDesirous; all in circles as they stood,Tables are set, and on a sudden piledWith Angels' food, and rubied nectar flowsIn pearl, in diamond, and massy gold,Fruit of delicious vines, the growth of Heaven.On flowers reposed, and with fresh flowerets crown'd,They eat, they drink, and in communion sweetQuaff immortality and joy, secureOf surfeit, where full measure only boundsExcess, before the all-bounteous King, who shower'dWith copious hand, rejoicing in their joy.Now, when ambrosial night with clouds exhaledFrom that high mount of God, whence light and shadeSpring both, the face of brightest heaven had changedTo grateful twilight, (for night comes not thereIn darker veil), and roseate dews disposedAll but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest;Wide over all the plain, and wider farThan all this globous earth in plain outspread,(Such are the courts of God), the angelic throng,Dispersed in bands and files, their camp extendBy living streams among the trees of life.Pavilions numberless, and sudden rear'd,Celestial tabernacles, where they sleptFann'd with cool winds; save those who in their courseMelodious hymns about the sovereign throneAlternate all night long: but not so wakedSatan, (so call him now, his former nameIs heard no more in Heaven); he of the first,If not the first Archangel, great in power,In favour and pre-eminence, yet fraughtWith envy against the Son of God, that dayHonour'd by his great Father, and proclaim'dMessiah King anointed, could not bearThrough pride that sight, and thought himself impair'd.Deep malice thence conceiving, and disdain,Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hourFriendliest to sleep and silence, he resolvedWith all his legions to dislodge, and leaveUnworshipp'd, unobey'd the throne supreme,Contemptuous; and his next subordinateAwakening, thus to him in secret spake. Sleepst thou, Companion dear; what sleep can closeThy eyelids? and rememberest what decreeOf yesterday, so late hath pass'd the lipsOf Heaven's Almighty. Thou to me thy thoughtsWast wont, I mine to thee was wont to impart;Both waking we ere one; how then can nowThy sleep dissent? New laws thou seest imposed;New laws from him who reigns, new minds may raiseIn us who serve, new counsels, to debateWhat doubtful may ensue: more in this placeTo utter is not safe. Assemble thouOf all those myriads which we lead the chief;Tell them, that by command, ere yet dim nightHer shadowy cloud withdraws, I am to haste,And all who under me their banners wave,Homeward with flying march, where we possessThe quarters of the north; there to prepareFit entertainment to receive our KingThe great Messiah, and his new commands,Who speedily through all the hierarchiesIntends to pass triumphant, and give laws. So spake the false Archangel, and infusedBad influence into the unwary breastOf his associate: He 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 disencumber'd Heaven,The great hierarchal standard was to move;Tells the suggested cause, and casts between Ambiguous words and jealousies, to soundOr taint integrity. But all obey'dThe wonted signal, and superior voiceOf their great potentate; for great indeedHis name, and high was his degree in Heaven:His countenance as the morning star that guidesThe starry flock, allured them, and with liesDrew after him the third part of Heaven's host.Meanwhile the Eternal Eye, whose sight discernsAbstrusest thoughts, from forth his holy mount,And from within the golden lamps that burnNightly before him, saw without their lightRebellion rising; saw in whom, how spreadAmong the sons of morn, what multitudesWere banded to oppose his high decree;And smiling to his only Son thus said. Son, thou in whom my glory I beholdIn full resplendence, Heir of all my might,Nearly it now concerns us to be sureOf our omnipotence, and with what armsWe mean to hold what anciently we claimOf deity or empire; such a foeIs rising, who intends to erect his throneEqual to ours, throughout the spacious north;Nor so content, hath in his thought to tryIn battle what our power is, or our right.Let us advise, and to this hazard drawWith speed what force is left, and all employIn our defence, lest unawares we loseThis our high place, our sanctuary, our hill. To whom the Son, with calm aspect and clear,Lightning divine, ineffable, serene,Made answer. Mighty Father, thou thy foesJustly hast in derision, and secureLaughst at their vain designs and tumults vain,Matter to me of glory, whom their hateIllustrates, when they see all regal powerGiven me to quell their pride, and in eventKnow whether I be dexterous to subdueThy rebels, or be found the worst in Heaven. So spake the Son; but Satan with his PowersFar was advanced on winged speed, an hostInnumerable as the stars of night,Or stars of morning, dew-drops, which the sunImpearls on every leaf and every flower.Regions they pass'd, the mighty regenciesOf Seraphim, and Potentates, and Thrones,In their triple degrees; regions to whichAll thy dominion, Adam, is no moreThan what this garden is to all the earth,And all the sea, from one entire globoseStretch'd into longitude; which having pass'd,At length into the limits of the northThey came, and Satan to his royal seatHigh on a hill, far blazing, as a mountRaised on a mount, with pyramids and towersFrom diamond quarries hewn, and rocks of gold;The palace of great Lucifer, (so callThat structure in the dialect of menInterpreted), which not long after, heAffecting all equality with God,In imitation of that mount whereonMessiah was declared in sight of Heaven,The Mountain of the Congregation call'd;For thither he assembled all his train,Pretending so commanded, to consultAbout the great reception of their kingThither to come, and with calumnious artOf counterfeited truth thus held their ears. Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers,If these magnific titles yet remainNot merely titular, since by decreeAnother now hath to himself engross'dAll power, and us eclipsed, under the nameOf King anointed, for whom all this hasteOf midnight march, and hurried meeting here,This only to consult how we may best,With what may be devised of honours new,Receive him coming to receive from usKnee-tribute yet unpaid, prostration vile!Too much to one; but double how indured,To one, and to his image now proclaim'd?But what if better counsels might erectOur minds, and teach us to cast off this yoke?Will ye submit your necks, and choose to bendThe supple knee? Ye will not, if I trustTo know ye right, or if ye know yourselvesNatives and sons of Heaven possess'd beforeBy none; and if not equal all, yet free,Equally free; for orders and degreesJar not with liberty, but well consist.Who can in reason then, or right, assumeMonarchy over such as live by rightHis equals, if in power and splendour less,In freedom equal? Or can introduceLaw and edict on us, who without lawErr not? much less for this to be our Lord,And look for adoration to the abuseOf those imperial titles, which assertOur being ordain'd to govern, not to serve. Thus far his bold discourse without controlHad audience; when among the SeraphimAbdiel, than whom none with more zeal adoredThe Deity, and divine commands obey'd,Stood up, and in a flame of zeal severeThe current of his fury thus opposed. O argument blasphemous, false and proud!Words which no ear ever to hear in HeavenExpected, least of all from thee, Ingrate,In place thyself so high above thy peers.Canst thou with impious obloquy condemnThe just decree of God, pronounced and sworn,That to his only Son by right enduedWith regal scepter, every soul in HeavenShall bend the knee, and in that honour dueConfess him rightful King? Unjust, thou sayst,Flatly unjust, to bind with laws the free,And equal over equals to let reign,One over all with unsucceeded power.Shalt thou give law to God? shalt thou disputeWith him the points of liberty, who madeThee what thou art, and form'd the Powers of HeavenSuch as he pleased, and circumscribed their being?Yet, by experience taught, we know how good,And of our good and of our dignityHow provident he is; how far from thoughtTo make us less, bent rather to exaltOur happy state under one head more nearUnited. But to grant it thee unjust,That equal over equals monarch reign;Thyself, though great and glorious, dost thou count,Or all angelic nature join'd in one,Equal to him begotten Son? by whom,As by his Word, the Mighty Father madeAll things, even thee; and all the Spirits of HeavenBy him created in their bright degrees,Crown'd them with glory, and to their glory namedThrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers,Essential Powers: nor by his reign obscured,But more illustrious made; since he the headOne of our number thus reduced becomes;His laws our laws; all honour to him doneReturns our own. Cease then this impious rage,And tempt not these; but hasten to appeaseThe incensed Father, and the incensed Son,While pardon may be found in time besought. So spake the fervent Angel; but his zealNone seconded, as out of season judged,Or singular, and rash: whereat rejoicedThe Apostate, and more haughty thus replied.That we were formed then sayst thou? and the workOf secondary hands, by task transferr'dFrom Father to his Son? Strange point, and new!Doctrine which we would know whence learn'd: who sawWhen this creation was? Rememberest thouThy making, while the Maker gave thee being?We know no time when we were not as now;Know none before us; self-begot, self-raisedBy our own quickening power, when fatal courseHad circled his full orb, the birth matureOf this our native Heaven, etherial sons.Our puissance is our own, our own right handShall teach us highest deeds, by proof to tryWho is our equal: Then thou shalt beholdWhether by supplication we intend Address, and to begirt the almighty throneBeseeching or besieging. This report,These tidings, carry to the anointed King;And fly, ere evil intercept thy flight. He said; and as the sound of waters deepHoarse murmur echoed to his words applauseThrough the infinite host; nor less for thatThe flaming Seraph fearless, though aloneImcompass'd round with foes, thus answer'd bold. O alienate from God, O Spirit accursed,Forsaken of all good, I see thy fallDetermined, and thy hapless crew involvedIn this perfidious fraud, contagion spreadBoth of thy crime and punishment; henceforthNo more to be troubled how to quit the yokeOf God's Messiah: those indulgent lawsWill not be now vouchsafed; other decreesAgainst thee are gone forth, without recall:That golden sceptre which thou didst reject,Is now an iron rod to bruise and breakThy disobedience. Well thou didst advise;Yet not for thy advice or threats I flyThese wicked tents devoted, lest the wrathImpendent, raging into sudden flameDistinguish not: For soon expect to feelHis thunder on thy head, devouring fire.Then who created thee lamenting learn,When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know. So spake the Seraph Abdiel, faithful foundAmong the faithless, faithful only he;Among innumerable false, unmoved,Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified,His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal;Nor number, nor example, with him wroughtTo swerve from truth, or change his constant mind,Though single. From amidst them forth he pass'd,Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustain'dSuperior, nor of violence feared aught;And with retorted scorn his back he turn'dOn those proud towers to swift destruction doom'd.
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[Back cover]
[Cover]
[Bookplate of Charles Wentworth Dilke]
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[Contains draft of Keats's poem, "To Sleep"]
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Milton's
PARADISE LOST:
A NEW EDITION.
Adorned with Beautiful Plates
Volume II.
Edinburgh
Printed for W&J. Deas
Booksellers High Street
1807.
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PARADISE LOST:
BOOK VI.
VOL. II.
ARGUMENT.
RAPHAEL continues to relate how Michael and Gabriel were sent forth to battle against Satan and his Angels. The first fight described; Satan and his powers retire under night: He calls a council, invents devilish engines, which, in the second day's fight put Michael and his Angels to some disorder; but they at length, pulling up mountains, overwhelmed both the force and machines of Satan: yet the tumult not so ending, God on the third day sends Messiah, his Son, for whom he had reserved the glory of that victory: He, in the power of his Father, coming to the place, and causing all his legions to stand still on either side, with his chariot and thunder driving into the midst of his enemies, pursues them unable to resist towards the wall of Heaven; which opening, they leap down with horror and confusion into the place of punishment prepared for them in the deep: Messiah returns with triumph to his Father.
ALL night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heaven's wide champain held his way; till morn,
Waked by the circling hours, with rosy handUnbarr'd the gates of light. There is a caveWithin the mount of God, fast by his throne,Where light and darkness in perpetual roundLodge and dislodge by turns, which makes thro' HeavenGrateful vicissitude, like day and night;Light issues forth, and at the other doorObsequious darkness enters, till her hourTo veil the Heaven, tho' darkness there might wellSeem twilight here: And now went forth the mornSuch as in highest Heaven, array'd in goldEmpyreal: from before her vanish'd night,Shot through with orient beams; when all the plainCover'd with thick embattled squadrons bright,Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view:War he perceived, war in procinct, and foundAlready known what he for news had thoughtTo have reported; Gladly then he mix'dAmong those friendly Powers, who him receivedWith joy and acclamations loud, that one,That of so many myriads fallen, yet oneReturn'd not lost: On to the sacred hillThey led him high applauded, and presentBefore the seat supreme: from whence a voiceFrom midst a golden cloud, thus mild was heard. Servant of God, well done; well hast thou foughtThe better fight, who single hast maintain'dAgainst revolted multitudes the causeOf truth, in word mightier than they in arms;And for the testimony of truth hast borneUniversal reproach, far worse to bearThan violence; for this was all thy careTo stand approved in sight of God, though worldsJudged thee perverse: The easier conquest nowRemains thee, aided by this host of friends,Back on thy foes more glorious to returnThan scorn'd thou didst depart; and to subdueBy force, who reason for their law refuse,Right reason for their law, and for their KingMessiah, who by right of merit reigns.Go, Michael, of celestial armies prince,And thou in military prowess next,Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sonsInvincible; lead forth my armed SaintsBy thousands and by millions ranged for fight,Equal in number to that godless crewRebellious; them with fire and hostile armsFearless assault; and to the brow of HeavenPursuing, drive them out from God and bliss,Into their place of punishment, the gulfOf Tartarus, which ready opens wideHis fiery Chaos to receive their fall.So spake the Sovereign Voice, and clouds beganTo darken all the hill, and smoke to rollIn dusky wreaths, reluctant flames, the signOf wrath awaked; nor with less dread the loudEtherial trumpet from on high 'gan blow;At which command the Powers militant,That stood for heaven, in mighty quadrate join'dOf union irresistible, moved onIn silence their bright legions, to the soundOf instrumental harmony, that breathedHeroic ardour to adventurous deedsUnder their god-like leaders, in the causeOf God and his Messiah. On they moveIndissolubly firm; nor obvious hill,Nor straitening vale, nor wood, nor stream, dividesTheir perfect ranks; for high above the groundTheir march was, and the passive air upboreTheir nimble tread; as when the total kindOf birds, in orderly array on wingCame summon'd over Eden to receiveTheir names of thee; so over many a tractOf Heaven they march'd, and many a province wide,Tenfold the length of this terrene: At last,Far in the horizon to the north appear'dFrom skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretch'dIn battailous aspect, and nearer viewBristled with upright beams innumerableOf rigid spears, and helmets throng'd, and shieldsVarious, with boastful argument pourtray'd,The banded Powers of Satan hasting onWith furious expedition; for they ween'dThat self-same day by fight, or by surprise,To win the mount of God, and on his throneTo set the Envier of his state, the proudAspirer; but their thoughts proved fond and vainIn the mid-way: Though strange to us it seem'dAt first, that Angel should with Angel war,And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meetSo oft in festivals of joy and loveUnanimous, as sons of one great Sire,Hymning the Eternal Father: But the shoutOf battle now began, and rushing soundOf onset ended soon each milder thought.High in the midst, exalted as a God,The Apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat,Idol of majesty divine, inclosedWith 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 frontPresented stood in terrible arrayOf hideous length: Before the cloudy van,On the rough edge of battle ere it join'd,Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced,Came towering, arm'd in adamant and gold:Abdiel that sight indured not, where he stoodAmong the mightiest, bent on highest deeds,And thus his own undaunted heart explores. O Heaven! that such resemblance of the HighestShould yet remain, where faith and realty Remain not: Wherefore should not strength and mightThere fail where virtue fails, or weakest proveWhere boldest, though to sight unconquerable?His puissance, trusting in the Almighty's aid,I mean to try, whose reason I have triedUnsound and false; nor is it ought but just,That he who in debate of truth hath won,Should win in arms, in both disputes alikeVictor; though brutish that contest and foul,When reason hath to deal with force, yet soMost reason is that reason overcome. So pondering, and from his armed peersForth stepping opposite, half way he metHis daring foe, at this prevention moreIncensed, and thus securely him defied. Proud, art thou met? thy hope was to have reach'dThe height of thy aspiring unopposed,The throne of God unguarded, and his sideAbandon'd at the terror of thy powerOr potent tongue: Fool, not to think how vainAgainst the Omnipotent to rise in arms;Who out of smallest things could, without end,Have raised incessant armies to defeatThy folly; or with solitary hand,Reaching beyond all limit, at one blowUnaided, could have finish'd thee, and whelm'dThy legions under darkness: But thou seestAll are not of thy train; there be who faithPrefer, and piety to God, though thenTo thee not visible, when I aloneSeem'd in thy world erroneous to dissentFrom all: My sect thou seest; now learn too lateHow few sometimes may know, when thousands err. Whom the grand Foe, with scornful eye askance,Thus answer'd. Ill for thee, but in wish'd hourOf my revenge, first sought for, thou returnst,From flight, seditious Angel, to receiveThy merited reward, the first assayOf this right hand provoked, since first that tongue,Inspired with contradiction, durst opposeA third part of the Gods, in synod metTheir deities to assert, who, while they feelVigour divine within them, can allowOmnipotence to none. But well thou comestBefore thy fellows, ambitious to winFrom me some plume, that thy success may showDestruction to the rest: This pause between(Unaswer'd lest thou boast) to let thee know,At first I thought that Liberty and HeavenTo heavenly souls had been all one; but nowI see that most through sloth had rather serve,Ministering Spirits, train'd up in feast and song;Such hast thou arm'd, the minstrelsy of Heaven,Servility with freedom to contend,As both their deeds compared this day shall prove. To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern replied.Apostate! still thou errst, nor end will findOf erring, from the path of truth remote:Unjustly thou depravest it with the nameOf servitude to serve whom God ordains,Or Nature; God and Nature bid the same,When he who rules is worthiest, and excelsThem whom he governs. This is servitudeTo serve the unwise, or him who hath rebell'dAgainst his worthier, as thine now serve thee,Thyself not free, but to thyself enthrall'd;Yet lewdly darest our ministering upbraid.Reign thou in Hell thy kingdom; let me serveIn Heaven God ever blest, and his divineBehests obey, worthiest to be obey'd;Yet chains in Hell, not realms, expect: MeanwhileFrom me return'd, 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 fellOn the proud crest of Satan, that no sight,Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shieldSuch ruin intercept: Ten paces hugeHe back recoil'd; the tenth on bended kneeHis massy spear upstay'd; as if on earthWinds under ground, or waters forcing way,Sidelong had push'd a mountain from his seat,Half sunk with all his pines. Amazement seizedThe rebel thrones, but greater rage, to seeThus foil'd their mightiest; our joy fill'd, and shout,Presage of victory, and fierce desireOf battle: Whereat Michael bid soundThe archangel trumpet: through the vast of HeavenIt sounded, and the faithful armies rungHosanna to the Highest: Nor stood at gazeThe adverse legions, nor less hideous join'dThe horrid shock. Now storming fury rose,And clamour such as heard in Heaven till nowWas never; arms on armour clashing bray'dHorrible discord, and the madding wheelsOf brazen chariots raged; dire was the noiseOf conflict; overhead the dismal hissOf fiery darts in flaming volleys flew,So under fiery cope together rush'dBoth battles main, with ruinous assaultAnd inextinguishable rage: All HeavenResounded; and had Earth been then, all EarthHad to her centre shook. What wonder? whenMillions of fierce encountering Angels foughtOn either side, the least of whom could wieldThese elements, and arm him with the forceOf all their regions: How much more of powerArmy against army numberless to raiseDreadful combustion warring, and disturb,Though not destroy, their happy native seat;Had not the Eternal King OmnipotentFrom his strong hold of Heaven, high overruledAnd limited their might; though number'd suchAs each divided legion might have seem'dA numerous host; in strength each armed handA legion; led in fight, yet leader seem'dEach warrior single as in chief, expertWhen to advance, or stand, or turn the swayOf battle, open when, and when to closeThe ridges of grim war: No thought of flight,None of retreat, no unbecoming deedThat argued fear; each on himself relied,As only in his arm the moment layOf victory: Deeds of eternal fameWere done, but infinite; for wide was spreadThat war, and various; sometimes on firm groundA standing fight, then, soaring on main wing,Tormented all the air; all air seem'd thenConflicting fire. Long time in even scaleThe battle hung; till Satan, who that dayProdigious Power had shown, and met in armsNo equal, ranging through the dire attackOf fighting Seraphim confused, at lengthSaw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'dSquadrons at once; with huge two-handed swayBrandish'd aloft, the horrid edge came downWide wasting; such destruction to withstandHe hasted, and opposed the rocky orbOf tenfold adamant, his ample shield,A vast circumference: At his approachThe great Archangel from his warlike toilSurceased, and glad, as hoping here to endIntestine war in Heaven, the Arch-foe subdued,Or captive dragg'd in chains, with hostile frownAnd visage all inflamed first thus began. Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,Unnamed in Heaven, now plenteous, as thou seestThese acts of hateful strife, hateful to all,Though heaviest by just measure on thyself,And thy adherents: How hast thou disturb'dHeaven's blessed peace, and into nature broughtMisery, uncreated till the crimeOf thy rebellion! How hast thou instill'dThy malice into thousands, once uprightAnd faithful, now proved false! But think not hereTo trouble holy rest; Heaven casts thee outFrom all her confines. Heaven, the seat of bliss,Brooks not the works of violence and war.Hence then, and evil go with thee along,Thy offspring, to the place of evil, Hell,Thou and thy wicked crew; there mingle broils,Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom,Or some more sudden vengeance, wing'd from God,Precipitate thee with augmented pain. So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thusThe Adversary. Nor think thou with windOf airy threats to awe whom yet with deedsThou canst not. Hast thou turn'd the least of theseTo flight, or if to fall, but that they riseUnvanquish'd, easier to transact with meThat thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threatsTo chase me hence? Err not, that so shall endThe strife which thou callst evil, but we styleThe strife of glory; which we mean to win,Or turn this Heaven itself into the HellThou fablest; here however to dwell free,If not to reign: Meanwhile thy utmost force,And join him named Almighty to thy aid,I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh. They ended parle, and both address'd for fightUnspeakable; for who, though with the tongueOf Angels, can relate, or to what thingsLiken on earth conspicuous, that may liftHuman imagination to such heightOf godlike power? for likest Gods they seem'd,Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms,Fit to decide the empire of great Heaven.Now waved their fiery swords, and in the airMade horrid circles; two broad suns their shieldsBlazed opposite, while Expectation stoodIn horror; from each hand with speed retired,Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng,And left large field, unsafe within the windOf such commotion; such as, to set forthGreat things by small, if nature's concord broke,Among the constellations war were sprung,Two planets rushing from aspect malignOf fiercest opposition in mid-skyShould combat, and their jarring spheres confound.Together both with next to almighty armUplifted imminent, one stroke they aim'dThat might determine, and not need repeat,As not of power at once; nor odds appear'dIn might or swift prevention: but the swordOf Michael, from the armoury of God,Was given him temper'd so, that neither keenNor solid might resist that edge: it metThe sword of Satan with steep force to smiteDescending, and in half cut sheer; nor stay'd,But with swift wheel reverse, deep entering, sharedAll his right side: then Satan first knew pain,And writhed him to and fro convolved; so soreThe griding sword with discontinuous woundPass'd thro' him; but the etherial substance closed,Not long divisible; and from the gashA stream of nectarous humour issuing flow'dSanguine, such as celestial Spirits may bleed,And all his armour stain'd, ere while so bright.Forthwith on all sides to his aid was runBy Angels many and strong, who interposedDefence, while others bore him on their shieldsBack to his chariot, where it stood retiredFrom off the files of war; there they him laidGnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame,To find himself not matchless, and his prideHumbled by such rebuke, so far beneathHis confidence to equal God in power.Yet soon he heal'd; for Spirits that live throughoutVital in every part, not as frail manIn entrails, heart or head, liver or reins,Cannot but by annihilating die;Nor in their liquid texture mortal woundReceive, no more than can the fluid air:All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,All intellect, all sense; and, as they please,They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size,Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare. Meanwhile in other parts like deeds deservedMemorial, where the might of Gabriel fought,And with fierce ensigns pierced the deep arrayOf Moloch, furious king; who him defied,And at his chariot wheels to drag him boundThreaten'd, nor from the Holy One of HeavenRefrain'd his tongue blasphemous; but anon,Down cloven to the waist, with shatter'd armsAnd uncouth pain fled bellowing. On each wingUriel and Raphael his vaunting foe,Though huge, and in a rock of diamond arm'd,Vanquish'd Adramelech and Asmaidi,Two potent thrones, that to be less than GodsDisdain'd, but meaner thoughts learn'd in their flight,Mangled with ghastly wounds through plate and mail.Nor stood unmindful Abdiel to annoyThe atheist crew, but with redoubled blowAriel and Arioch, and the violenceOf Ramiel, scorch'd and blasted, overthrew.I might relate of thousands, and their namesEternize here on earth; but those electAngels, contented with their fame in Heaven,Seek not the praise of men: the other sort,In might though wonderous, and in acts of war,Nor of renown less eager, yet by doomCancell'd from heaven and sacred memory,Nameless in dark oblivion let them dwell.For strength from truth divided and from just,Illaudable, nought merits but dispraiseAnd ignominy, yet to glory aspiresVain-glorious, and through infamy seeks fame:Therefore eternal silence be their doom. And now their mightiest quell'd, the battle swerved,With many an inroad goar'd; deformed routEnter'd, and foul disorder; all the groundWith shiver'd armour strewn, and on a heapChariot and charioteer lay overturn'd,And fiery foaming steeds; what stood, recoil'dO'erwearied, through the faint Satanic hostDefensive scarce, or with pale fear surprised,Then first with fear surprised and sense of pain,Fled ignominious, to such evil broughtBy sin of disobedience, till that hourNot liable to fear, or flight or pain.Far otherwise, the inviolable SaintsIn cubic phalanx firm advanced entire,Invulnerable, impenetrably arm'd;Such high advantages their innocenceGave them above their foes, not to have sinn'd,Not to have disobey'd; in fight they stoodUnwearied, unobnoxious to be pain'dBy wound, though from their place by violence moved. Now night her course began, and over HeavenInducing darkness, grateful truce imposed,And silence on the odious din of war:Under her cloudy covert both retired,Victor and vanquish'd. On the foughten fieldMichael and his angels prevalentIncamping, placed in guard their watches round,Cherubic waving fires: on the other partSatan with his rebellious disappear'd,Far in the dark dislodged; and, void of rest,His potentates to council call'd by night;And in the midst thus undismay'd began. O now in danger tried, now known in armsNot to be overpower'd, companions dear,Found worthy not of liberty alone,Too mean pretence, but, what we more affect,Honour, dominion, glory, and renown;Who have sustain'd one day in doubtful fight(And if one day, why not eternal days?)What Heaven's Lord had powerfullest to sendAgainst us from about his throne, and judgedSufficient to subdue us to his will,But proves not so: then fallible, it seems,Of future we may deem him, though till nowOmniscient thought. True is, less firmly arm'd,Some disadvantage we endured and pain,Till now not known; but known, as soon contemn'd;Since now we find this our empyreal formIncapable of mortal injury,Imperishable, and, though pierced with wound,Soon closing, and by native vigour heal'd.Of evil then so small, as easy thinkThe remedy; perhaps more valid arms,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 causeLeft them superior, while we can preserveUnhurt our minds and understanding sound,Due search and consultation will disclose. He sat; and in the assembly next upstoodNisroch, of Principalities the prime;As one he stood escaped from cruel fight,Sore toil'd, his riven arms to havoc hewn,And cloudy in aspect thus answering spake. Deliverer from new Lords, leader to freeEnjoyment of our right as Gods! yet hardFor Gods, and too unequal work we find,Against unequal arms to fight in pain,Against unpain'd, impassive; from which evilRuin must needs ensue; for what availsValour or strength, though matchless, quell'd with painWhich all subdues, and makes remiss the handsOf mightiest? Sense of pleasure we may wellSpare out of life perhaps, and not repine,But live content, which is the calmest life:But pain is perfect misery, the worstOf evils, and excessive, overturnsAll patience. He who therefore can inventWith what more forcible we may offendOur yet unwounded enemies, or armOurselves with like defence, to me deservesNo less than for deliverance what we owe. Whereto, with look composed, Satan replied.Not uninvented that, which thou arightBelievest so main to our success, I bring;Which of us who beholds the bright surfaceOf this ethereous mould whereon we stand,This continent of spacious Heaven adorn'dWith plant, fruit, flower ambrosial, gems and gold;Whose eye so superficially surveysThese things, as not to mind from whence they growDeep under ground, materials dark and crude,Of spiritous and fiery spume, till, touch'dWith Heaven's ray, and temper'd, they shoot forthSo beauteous, opening to the ambient light.These in their dark nativity the deepShall yield to us, pregnant with infernal flame,Which, into hollow engines, long and round,Thick ramm'd, at the other bore with touch of fireDilated and infuriate, shall send forthFrom far, with thundering noise, among our foesSuch implements of mischief, as shall dashTo pieces, and overwhelm whatever standsAdverse, that they shall fear we have disarm'dThe Thunderer of his only dreaded bolt.Nor long shall be our labour; yet ere dawn,Effect shall end our wish. Meanwhile revive;Abandon fear; to strength and counsel join'dThink nothing hard, much less to be despair'd. He ended, and his words their drooping cheerEnlighten'd, and their languish'd hope revived.The invention all admired, and each, how heTo be the inventor miss'd, so easy it seem'dOnce found, which yet unfound most would have thoughtImpossible: Yet, haply, of thy raceIn future days, if malice should abound,Some one intent on mischief, or inspiredWith devilish machination, might deviseLike instrument to plague the sons of menFor sin, on war and mutual slaughter bent.Forthwith from council to the work they flew;None arguing stood; innumerable handsWere ready; in a moment up they turn'dWide the celestial soil, and saw beneathThe originals of nature in their crudeConception; sulphurous and nitrous foamThey found, they mingled, and, with subtle art,Concocted and adusted they reducedTo blackest grain, and into store convey'd:Part hidden veins digg'd up (nor hath this earthEntrails unlike) of mineral and stone.Whereof to found their engines and their ballsOf missive ruin; part incentive reedProvide, 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 unespy'd. Now when fair morn orient in Heaven appear'd,Up-rose the victor Angels, and to arms The matin trumpet sung: in arms they stoodOf golden panoply, refulgent host,Soon banded; others from the dawning hillsLook'd round, and scouts each coast light-arm'd scour,Each quarter to descry the distant foe,Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight,In motion or in halt: Him soon they metUnder spread ensigns moving nigh, in slowBut firm battalion; back with speediest sailZophiel, of Cherubim the swiftest wing,Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried. Arm, warriors, arm for fight, the foe at hand,Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuitThis day; fear not this flight; so thick a cloudHe comes, and settled in his face I seeSad resolution, and secure. Let eachHis adamantine coat gird well, and eachFit well his helm, gripe fast his orbed shieldBorne even or high; for this day will pour down,If I conjecture aught, no drizzling shower,But rattling storm of arrows barb'd with fire. So warn'd he them, aware themselves, and soonIn order, quit of all impediment;Instant without disturb they took alarm,And onward move embattled: When behold!Not distant far with heavy pace the foeApproaching gross and huge, in hollow cubeTraining his devilish enginery, impaledOn every side with shadowing squadrons deep,To hide the fraud. At interview both stoodAwhile; but suddenly at head appear'dSatan, and thus was heard commanding loud. Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold;That all may see who hate us, how we seekPeace and composure, and with open breastStand ready to receive them, if they likeOur overture, and turn not back perverse;But that I doubt; however witness Heaven!Heaven, witness thou anon! while we dischargeFreely our part; ye who appointed stand,Do as you have in charge, and briefly touchWhat we propound, and loud that all may hear. So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarceHad ended; when to right and left the frontDivided, and to either flank retired:Which to our eyes discover'd, new and strange,A triple mounted row of pillars laidOn wheels (for like to pillars most they seem'd,Or hollow'd bodies made of oak or fir,With branches lopt, in wood or mountain fell'd)Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouthsWith hideous orifice gaped on us wide,Portending hollow truce: At each behindA Seraph stood, and in his hand a reedStood waving tipt with fire: while we, suspense,Collected stood within our thoughts amused,Not long; for sudden all at once their reedsPut forth, and to a narrow vent appliedWith nicest touch. Immediate in a flame,But soon obscured with smoke, all Heaven appear'd,From those deep-throated engines belch'd, whose roarEmbowell'd with outrageous noise the air,And all her entrails tore, disgorging foulTheir devilish glut, chain'd thunderbolts and hailOf iron globes; which, on the victor hostLevell'd, with such impetuous fury smote,That, whom they hit, none on their feet might stand,Though standing else as rocks, but down they fellBy thousands, Angel on Arch-Angel roll'd;The sooner for their arms; unarm'd, they mightHave easily, as Spirits, evaded swiftBy quick contraction or remove; but nowFoul dissipation follow'd and forced rout;Nor served it to relax their serried files.What should they do? If on they rush'd, repulseRepeated, and indecent overthrowDoubled, would render them yet more despised,And to their foes a laughter; for in viewStood rank'd of Seraphim another row,In posture to displode their second tireOf thunder: Back defeated to returnThey worse abhorr'd. Satan beheld their 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 weTo entertain them fair with open frontAnd breast (what could we more) propounded termsOf composition, straight they changed their minds,Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell,As they would dance; yet for a dance they seem'dSomewhat extravagant and wild, perhapsFor joy of offer'd 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 gamesome mood.Leader! the terms we sent were terms of weight,Of hard contents, and full of force urged home;Such as we might perceive amused them all,And stumbled many: who receives them right,Had need from head to foot well understand;Not understood, this gift they have besides,They show us when our foes walk not upright. So they among themselves in pleasant veinStood scoffing, heighten'd in their thoughts beyondAll doubt of victory: Eternal MightTo match with their inventions they presumedSo easy, and of his thunder made a scorn,And all his host derided while they stoodAwhile in trouble: But they stood not long;Rage prompted them at length, and found them armsAgainst such hellish mischief fit to oppose.Forthwith (behold the excellence, the powerWhich God hath in his mighty Angels placed!)Their arms away they threw, and to the hills(For earth hath this variety from HeavenOf pleasure situate in hill and dale)Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they flew;From their foundations loosening to and fro,They pluck'd the seated hills with all their load,Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy topsUplifting bore them in their hands: Amaze,Besure, and terror, seized the rebel host,When coming towards them so dread they sawThe bottom of the mountains upward turn'd;Till on those cursed engines' triple-rowThey saw them whelm'd, and all their confidenceUnder the weight of mountains buried deep;Themselves invaded next, and on their headsMain promontories flung, which in the airCame shadowing, and oppress'd whole legions arm'd;Their armour help'd their harm, crush'd in and bruisedInto their substance pent, which wrought them painImplacable, and many a dolorous groan;Long struggling underneath, ere they could windOut of such prison, though Spirits of purest light,Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown,The rest, in imitation, to like armsBetook them, and the neighbouring hills uptore;So hills amid the air encounter'd hillsHurl'd to and fro with jaculation dire,That under ground they fought in dismal shade;Infernal noise; war seem'd a civil gameTo this uproar; horrid confusion heap'dUpon confusion rose: And now all HeavenHad gone to wrack, with ruin overspread;Had not the Almighty Father, where he sits Shrined in his sanctuary of Heaven secure,Consulting on the sum of things, foreseenThis tumult, and permitted all, advised:That his great purpose he might so fulfil,To honour his anointed Son avengedUpon his enemies, and to declareAll power on him transferr'd: Whence to his Son,The assessor of his throne, he thus began. Effulgence of my glory, Son beloved,Son in whose face invisible is beheldVisibly, what by Deity I am,And in whose hand what by decree I do,Second Omnipotence! two days are past,Two days, as we compute the days of Heaven,Since Michael and his Powers went forth to tameThese disobedient; Sore hath been their 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 impair'd; which yet hath wroughtInsensibly, for I suspend their doom;Whence in perpetual fight they needs must lastEndless, and no solution will be found.War wearied hath perform'd what war can do,And to disorder'd rage let loose the reins,With mountains, as with weapons, arm'd; which makesWild work in Heaven, and dangerous to the main.Two days are therefore past, the third is thine;For thee I have ordain'd it, and thus farHave suffer'd, that the glory may be thineOf ending this great war, since none but ThouCan end it. Into thee such virtue and graceImmense I have transfused, that all may knowIn Heaven and Hell thy power above compare;And, this perverse commotion govern'd thus,To manifest thee worthiest to be HeirOf all things; to be Heir, and to be KingBy sacred unction, thy deserved right.Go then, Thou Mightiest, in thy Father's might;Ascend my chariot, guide the rapid wheelsThat shake Heaven's basis, bring forth all my war,My bow and thunder, my almighty armsGird on, and sword upon thy puissant thigh;Pursue these sons of darkness, drive them outFrom all Heaven's bounds into the utter deep:There let them learn, as likes them, to despiseGod and Messiah his anointed King. He said, and on his Son with rays directShone full; he all his Father full express'dIneffably into his face received;And thus the filial Godhead answering spake. O Father, O Supreme of heavenly Thrones,First, Highest, Holiest, Best, thou always seekstTo glorify thy son, I always theeAs is most just; this I my glory account,My exaltation, and my whole delight,That thou, in me well pleased, declarest thy willFulfill'd, which to fulfil is all my bliss.Sceptre and power, thy giving, I assume,And gladlier shall resign, when in the endThou shalt be all in all, and I in theeFor ever; and in me all whom thou lovest:But whom thou hatest, I hate, and can put onThy terrors, as I put thy mildness on,Image of thee in all things; and shall soon,Arm'd with thy might, rid Heaven of these rebell'd,To their prepared ill mansion driven downTo chains of darkness, and the undying worm;That from thy just obedience could revolt,Whom to obey is happiness entire.Then shall thy Saints unmix'd, and from the impureFar separate, circling thy holy mount,Unfeigned Halleluiahs to thee sing,Hymns of high praise, and I among them Chief. So said, he o'er his sceptre bowing, roseFrom the right hand of Glory where he sat;And the third sacred morn began to shine,Dawning through Heaven: Forth rush'd with whirlwind soundThe chariot of Paternal Deity,Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn,Itself instinct with Spirit, but convoy'dBy four Cherubic shapes; four faces eachHad wonderous; as with stars, their bodies all,And wings, were set with eyes; with eyes, the wheelsOf beril; and careering fires between:Over their heads a crystal firmament;Where, on a sapphire Throne, inlaid with pureAmber, and colours of the showery Arch,He, in celestial panoply all arm'dOf radiant Urim, work divinely wrought!Ascended: at his right hand, VictorySat eagle-wing'd; beside him hung his bow,And quiver with three-bolted Thunder stored:And from about him fierce Effusion rowl'dOf smoke, and bickering flame, and sparkles dire.Attended with ten thousand thousand Saints,He onward came; far off his coming shone,And twenty thousand, (I their number heard,)Chariots of God, half on each hand, were seen.He on the wings of Cherub rode sublimeOn the crystalline sky, in sapphire, throned,Illustrious far and wide; but by his ownFirst seen, them unexpected joy surprised,When the great ensign of Messiah blazed,Aloft by Angels borne, his sign in Heaven:Under whose conduct Michael soon reducedHis army, circumfused on either wing,Under their head imbodied all in one.Before him Power Divine his way prepared;At his command the uprooted hills retiredEach to his place; they heard his voice, and wentObsequious; Heaven his wonted face renew'd,And with fresh flowerets hill and valley smiled.This saw his hapless foes, but stood obdured,And to rebellious fight rallied their PowersInsensate! hope conceiving from despair;In heavenly Spirits could such perverseness dwell?But to convince the proud what signs avail,Or wonder move the obdurate to relent;They harden'd more, by what might most reclaim,Grieving to see his glory, at the sightTook envy; and aspiring to his height,Stood re-embattled fierce; by force, or fraud,Weening to prosper, and at length prevailAgainst God, and Messiah; or to fallIn universal ruin last; and nowTo final battle drew, disdaining flight,Or faint retreat; when the great Son of GodTo all his hosts on either hand thus spake. Stand still in bright array, ye Saints! stand hereYe Angels arm'd; this day from battle rest;Faithful hath been your warfare, and of GodAccepted, fearless in his righteous cause;And as ye have received, so have ye done,Invincibly. But of this cursed crewThe punishment to other hand belongs;Vengeance is his, or whose he sole appoints.Number to this day's work is not ordain'd,Nor multitude; stand only, and beholdGod's indignation on these Godless pour'dBy me; not you, but me, they have despised,Yet envied; against me is all their rage,Because the Father, to whom in Heaven supremeKingdom, and power, and glory, appertains,Hath honour'd me, according to his will.Therefore to me their doom he hath assign'd:That they may have their wish, to try with meIn battle which the stronger proves, they all,Or I alone against them; since by strengthThey measure all, of other excellenceNot emulous, nor care who them excels;Nor other strife with them do I vouchsafe. So spake the Son, and into terror changedHis countenance, too severe to be beheld,And full of wrath bent on his enemies.At once the Four spread out their starry wings,With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbsOf his fierce chariot rowl'd, as with the soundOf torrent floods, or of a numerous host.He on his impious foes right onward drove,Gloomy as night; under his burning wheelsThe stedfast empyrean shook throughout;All but the throne itself of God. Full soonAmong them he arrived; in his right handGrasping ten thousand thunders, which he sentBefore him, such as in their souls infix'dPlagues: they, astonish'd, all resistance lost,All courage; down their idle weapons dropp'd:O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he rodeOf Thrones, and mighty Seraphim prostrate;That wish'd the mountains now might be againThrown on them as a shelter from his ire.Nor less on either side tempestuous fellHis arrows, from the fourfold-visaged Four,Distinct with eyes; and from the living wheelsDistinct alike with multitude of eyes;One Spirit in them ruled, and every eyeGlared lightning, and shot forth pernicious fireAmong the accurs'd, that wither'd all their strength,And of their wonted vigour left them drain'd,Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen.Yet, half his strength he put not forth, but check'dHis thunder in mid volley; for he meantNot to destroy, but root them out of Heaven:The overthrown he raised, and as a herdOf goats, or timourous flock, together throng'd,Drove them before him thunderstruck, pursuedWith terrors, and with furies, to the boundsAnd crystal wall of Heaven; which, opening wide,Rowl'd inward, and a spacious gap disclosedInto the wasteful deep: the monstrous sightStruck them with horror backward; but far worseUrged them behind; headlong themselves they threwDown from the verge of Heaven; eternal wrathBurnt after them to the bottomless pit. Hell heard the unsufferable noise: Hell sawHeaven ruining from Heaven, and would have fledAffrighted; but strict fate had cast too deepHer dark foundations, and too fast had bound.Nine days they fell; confounded Chaos roar'd,And felt tenfold confusion in their fall,Through his wild anarchy, so huge a routEncumber'd him with ruin! Hell at lastYawning received them whole, and on them closed:Hell, their fit habitation fraught with fireUnquenchable, the house of woe and pain.Disburden'd Heaven rejoiced, and soon repair'dHer mural breach, returning whence it rowl'd.Sole victor, from the expulsion of his foes,Messiah his triumphal chariot turn'd:To meet him all his Saints, who silent stoodEye-witnesses of his almighty acts,With jubilee advanced; and, as they went,Shaded with branching palm, each order brightSung triumph, and him sung victorious King,Son, Heir, and Lord! to him dominion given,Worthiest to reign. He celebrated, rodeTriumphant through mid Heaven, into the courtsAnd temple of his Mighty Father thronedOn high: who into glory him received,Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss. Thus measuring things in Heaven by things on Earth,At thy request, and that thou mayst bewareBy what is past, to thee I have revealedWhat might have else to human race been hid;This discord which befel, and war in HeavenAmong the angelic Powers, and the deep fallOf those too high aspiring, who rebell'dWith Satan: he who envies now thy state;Who now is plotting how he may seduceThee also from obedience, that, with himBereaved of happiness, thou mayst partakeHis punishment, eternal misery;Which would be all his solace and revenge,As a despite done against the Most High,Thee once to gain companion of his woe.But listen not to his temptations; warnThy weaker: let it profit thee to have heard,By terrible example, the rewardOf disobedience; firm they might have stood,Yet fell; remember, and fear to transgress.
Paradise Lost.
Book VII.
ARGUMENT.
RAPHAEL, at the request of Adam, relates how and wherefore this world was first created; that God, after the expelling of Satan and his Angels out of Heaven, declared his pleasure to create another world, and other creatures to dwell therein; sends his Son with glory and attendance of Angels to perform the work of creation in six days: the Angels celebrate with hymns the performance thereof, and his reascension to Heaven.
Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that nameIf rightly thou art call'd, whose voice divineFollowing, above the Olympian hill I soar,Above the flight of Pagasean wing.The meaning, not the name, I call: for thou,Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the topOf old Olympus dwellst; but, heavenly born,Before the hills appear'd, or fountain flow'd,Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse,Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst playIn presence of the Almighty Father, pleasedWith thy celestial song. Up-led by thee,Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,Thy tempering; with like safety guided down,Return me to my native element;Lest from this flying steed unrein'd, (as onceBellerophon, though from a lower clime),Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fallErroneous there to wander and forlorn.Half yet remains unsung, but narrower boundWithin the visible diurnal sphere;Standing on Earth, not rapt above the pole,More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchangedTo hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues;In darkness, and with dangers compass'd round,And solitude; yet not alone, while thouVisitst my slumbers nightly, or when mornPurples the east; still govern thou my song,Urania: and fit audience find, though few.But drive far off the barbarous dissonanceOf Bacchus and his revellers; the raceOf that wild rout that tore the Thracian bardIn Rhodope, where woods, and rocks, had earsTo rapture, till the savage clamour drown'dBoth harp and voice; nor could the Muse defendHer Son. So fail not thou, who thee implores:For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream. Say Goddess, what ensued when Raphael,The affable Archangel, had forewarn'dAdam, by dire example, to bewareApostacy, by what befel in HeavenTo those Apostates; lest the like befallIn Paradise to Adam or his race,Charged not to touch the interdicted tree,If they transgress, and slight that sole command,So easily obey'd amid the choiceOf all tastes else to please their appetite,Though wandering. He, with his consorted Eve,The story heard attentive, and was fill'dWith admiration, and deep muse, to hearOf things so high and strange; things, to their thoughtSo unimaginable, as hate in Heaven,And war so near the peace of God in bliss,With such confusion; but the evil, soonDriven back, redounded as a flood, on thoseFrom whom it sprung; impossible to mixWith blessedness. Whence Adam soon repeal'dThe doubts that in his heart arose; and nowLed on, yet sinless, with desire to knowWhat nearer might concern him, how this worldOf heaven and Earth conspicuous first began;When, and whereof created, for what cause,What within Eden, or without, was doneBefore his memory, as one whose drought,Yet scarce allay'd, still eyes the current stream,Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites,Proceeded thus to ask his heavenly guest. Great things, and full of wonder in our ears,Far differing from this world, thou hast reveal'd,Divine interpreter; by favour sentDown from the empyrean, to forewarnUs timely of what might else have been our lossUnknown, which human knowledge could not reach;For which to the infinitely Good we oweImmortal thanks, and his admonishmentReceive, with solemn purpose to observeImmutably his sovereign will, the endOf what we are. But since thou hast vouchsafedGently, for our instruction, to impartThings above earthly though, which yet concern'dOur knowing, as to highest wisdom seem'd,Deign to descend now lower, and relateWhat may no less perhaps avail us known,How first began this Heaven, which we beholdDistant so high, with moving fires adorn'dInnumerable; and this which yields or fillsAll space, the ambient air wide interfused,Embracing round this florid earth; what causeMoved the Creator, in his holy restThrough all eternity, so late to buildIn Chaos; and the work begun, how soon Absolved; if unforbid thou mayest unfoldWhat we, not to explore the secrets askOf his eternal empire, but the more To magnify his works, the more we know.And the great light of day yet wants to runMuch of his race, though steep, suspense in Heaven,Held by thy voice; thy potent voice he hears,And longer will delay to hear thee tellHis generation, and the rising birthOf nature from the unapparent deep;Or if the star of evening and the moonHaste to thy audience, night with her will bringSilence, and sleep listening to thee, will watch;Or we can bid his absence, till thy songEnd, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine. Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought;And thus the Godlike Angel answered mild. This also thy request, with caution ask'd,Obtain: though to recount almighty works,What words or tongue of Seraph can suffice,Or heart of Man suffice to comprehend?Yet, what thou canst attain, which best may serveTo glorify the Maker, and inferThee also happier, shall not be withheldThy hearing; such commission from aboveI have received, to answer thy desireOf knowledge within bounds; beyond abstainTo ask; nor let thine own inventions hopeThings not reveal'd, which the invisible king,Only omniscient, hath suppress'd in night;To none communicable in Earth or Heaven:Enough is left besides to search and know.But knowledge is as food, and needs no lessHer temperance over appetite, to knowOr measure what the mind may well contain;Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turnsWisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.Know then, that after Lucifer from Heaven(So call him, brighter once amidst the hostOf Angels, than that star the stars among)Fell with his flaming legions through the deepInto his place, and the great Son return'dVictorious with his Saints, the OmnipotentEternal Father from his throne beheldTheir multitude, and to his Son thus spake. At least our envious Foe hath fail'd, who thoughtAll like himself rebellious, by whose aidThis inaccessible high strength, the seatOf Deity supreme, us dispossess'd,He trusted to have seized, and into fraudDrew many, whom their place knows here no more;Yet far the greater part have kept, I see,Their station; Heaven, yet populous, retainsNumber sufficient to possess her realmsThough wide, and this high temple to frequentWith ministeries due, and solemn rites:But lest his heart exalt him in the harmAlready done, to have dispeopled Heaven,My damage fondly deem'd, I can repairThat detriment, if such it be to loseSelf-lost; and in a moment will create Another world, out of one man a raceOf men innumerable, there to dwell,Not here; till, by degrees of merit raised,They open to themselves at length the wayUp hither, under long obedience tried;And Earth be changed to Heaven, and Heaven to Earth,One kingdom, joy and union without end.Meanwhile inhabit lax, ye Powers of Heaven;And thou my Word, begotten Son, by theeThis I perform; speak thou, and be it done!My overshadowing Spirit, and Might with theeI send along; ride forth, and bid the DeepWithin appointed bounds be Heaven and Earth;Boundless the Deep, because I Am who fillInfinitude, nor vacuous the space.Though I, uncircumscribed myself, retire,And put not forth my goodness, which is freeTo act or not, Necessity and ChanceApproach not me, and what I will is fate. So spake the Almighty, and to what he spakeHis Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect.Immediate are the acts of God, more swiftThan time or motion, but to human earsCannot without process of speech be told,So told as earthly notion can receive,Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heaven,When such was heard declared the Almighty's will;Glory they sung to the Most High, good willTo future men, and in their dwellings peace:Glory to Him, whose just avenging ireHad driven out the ungodly from his sightAnd the habitations of the just; to HimGlory and praise, whose wisdom had ordain'dGood out of evil to create; insteadOf Spirits malign, a better race to bringInto their vacant room, and thence diffuseHis good to worlds and ages infinite. So sang the Hierarchies: Meanwhile the SonOn his great expedition now appear'd,Girt with Omnipotence, with radiance crown'dOf Majesty Divine; sapience and loveImmense, and all his Father in him shone.About his chariot numberless were pour'dCherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones,And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots wing'dFrom the armoury of God; where stand of oldMyriads, between two brazen mountains lodgedAgainst a solemn day, harness'd at hand,Celestial equipage; and now came forthSpontaneous, for within them Spirit lived,Attendant on their Lord: Heaven open'd wideHer ever-during gates, harmonious soundOn golden hinges moving, to let forthThe King of Glory, in his powerful WordAnd Spirit, coming to create new worlds.On heavenly ground they stood; and from the shoreThey view'd the vast immeasurable abyssOutrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,Up from the bottom turn'd by furious windsAnd surging waves, as mountains, to assaultHeaven's height, and with the centre mix the pole. Silence, ye troubled Waves, and thou Deep, peace,Said then the Omnific Word; your discord end:Nor stay'd, but on the wings of CherubimUplifted, in paternal glory rodeFar into Chaos, and the world unborn;For Chaos heard his voice: Him all his trainFollow'd in bright procession to beholdCreation, and the wonders of his might.Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and in his handHe took the golden compasses, preparedIn God's eternal store, to circumscribeThis universe, and all created things:One foot he center'd, and the other turn'dRound through the vast profundity obscure,And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,This be thy just circumference, O World!Thus God the Heaven created, thus the Earth,Matter unform'd and void: Darkness profoundCover'd the abyss: but on the watery calmHis brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,And vital virtue infused, and vital warmthThroughout the fluid mass; but downward purgedThe black tartareous cold infernal dregs,Adverse to life; then founded, then conglobedLike things to like; the rest to several placeDisparted, and between spun out the air,And Earth self-balanced on her centre hung. Let there be light, said God; and forthwith LightEtherial, first of things, quintessence pureSprung from the deep; and from her native eastTo journey through the airy gloom began,Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sunWas not; she in a cloudy tabernacleSojourn'd the while. God saw the light was good;And light from darkness by the hemisphereDivided: light the Day, and darkness NightHe named. Thus was the first day even and morn:Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsungBy the celestial quires, when orient lightExhaling first from darkness they beheld;Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and shoutThe hollow universal orb they fill'd,And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning praisedGod and his works; Creator him they sung,Both when first evening was, and when first morn. Again, God said, Let there be firmamentAmid the waters, and let it divideThe waters from the waters; and God madeThe firmament, expanse of liquid, pure,Transparent, elemental air, diffusedIn circuit to the uttermost convexOf this great round: partition firm and sure,The waters underneath from those above Dividing; for as earth, so he the worldBuilt on circumfluous waters calm, in wideCrystalline ocean, and the loud misruleOf Chaos far removed, lest fierce extremesContiguous might distempter the whole frame:And Heaven he named the Firmament: So evenAnd morning chorus sung the second day. The Earth was form'd, but in the womb as yetOf waters, embryon immature involved,Appear'd not: over all the face of EarthMain ocean flow'd, not idle; but with warmProlific humour softening all her globe,Fermented the great Mother to conceive,Satiate with genial moisture; when God said,Be gather'd now ye waters under HeavenInto one place, and let dry land appear.Immediately the mountains huge appearEmergent, and their broad bare backs upheaveInto the clouds; their tops ascend the sky:So high as heaved the tumid hills, so lowDown sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,Capacious bed of waters: Thither theyHasted with glad precipitance, uproll'dAs drops on dust conglobing from the dry;Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct,For haste; such flight the great command impress'dOn the swift floods: As armies at the callOf trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard)Troop to their standard, so the watery throng,Wave rolling after wave, where way they found,If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain,Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill;But they, or under ground, or circuit wideWith serpent error wandering, found their way,And on the washy oose deep channels wore;Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry,All but within those banks, where rivers nowStream, and perpetual draw their humid train.The dry land, Earth, and the great receptacleOf congregated waters, he call'd Seas:And saw that it was good; and said, Let the EarthPut forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed,And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind,Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth.He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till thenDesert and bare, unsightly, unadorn'd,Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure cladHer universal face with pleasing green;Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower'dOpening their various colours, and made gayHer bosom, smelling sweet; and, these scarce blown,Forth flourish'd thick the clustering vine, forth creptThe smelling gourd, up-stood the corny reedEmbattled in her field, and the humble shrub,And bush with frizzled hair implicit: LastRose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spreadTheir branches hung with copious fruit; or gemm'd Their blossoms: With high woods the hills were crown'd;With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side;With borders long the rivers: That Earth nowSeem'd like to Heaven, a seat where Gods might dwell,Or wander with delight, and love to hauntHer sacred shades: though God had yet not rain'dUpon the Earth, and man to till the groundNone was, but from the Earth a dewy mistWent up and water'd all the ground, and eachPlant of the field, which ere it was in the earthGod made, and every herb, before it grewOn the green stem; God saw that it was good.So even and morn recorded the third day. Again the Almighty spake: Let there be lightsHigh in the expanse of Heaven, to divideThe day from night; and let them be for signsFor seasons, and for days, and circling years;And let them be for lights as I ordainTheir office in the firmament of Heaven,To give light on the earth; and it was so.And God made two great lights, great for their useTo man, the greater to have rule by day,The less by night, altern: and made the stars,And set them in the firmament of HeavenTo illuminate the Earth, and rule the dayIn their 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 sunA mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first,Though of etherial mould: then form'd the moonGlobose, and every magnitude of stars,And sow'd with stars the Heaven thick as a field:Of light by far the greater part he took,Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placedIn the sun's orb, made porous to receiveAnd drink the liquid light; firm to retainHer gather'd beams, great palace now of light.Hither, as to their fountain, other starsRepairing, in their golden urns draw light,And hence the morning planet gilds her horns;By tincture or reflection they augmentTheir small peculiar, though from human sightSo far remote, with diminution seen.First in his east the glorious lamp was seen,Regent of day, and all the horizon roundInvested with bright rays, jocund to runHis longitude, through Heaven's high road: the greyDawn, and the Pleiades, before him danced,Shedding sweet influence: Less bright the moon,But opposite in levell'd west was setHis mirror, with full face borrowing her lightFrom him; for other light she needed noneIn that aspect, and still that distance keepsTill night; then in the east her turn she shines,Revolved on Heaven's great axle, and her reignWith thousand lesser lights dividual holds,With thousand thousand stars, that then appear'dSpangling the hemisphere: Then first adorn'dWith their bright luminaries that set and rose,Glad evening and glad morn crown'd the fourth day. And God said, Let the waters generateReptile with spawn abundant, living soul:And let fowl fly above the Earth, with wingsDisplay'd on the open firmament of Heaven.And God created the great whales, and eachSoul living, each that crept, which plenteouslyThe waters generated by their kinds;And every bird of wing after his kind;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 fowl be multiplied on the Earth.Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bayWith fry innumerable swarm, and shoalsOf fish that with their fins and shining scalesGlide under the green wave, in sculls that oftBank the mid-sea: part single, or with mate,Graze the sea-weed their pasture, and thro' grovesOf coral stray; or, sporting with quick glance,Show to the sun their waved coats dropt with gold,Or, in their pearly shells at ease, attendMoist nutriment; or under rocks their foodIn jointed armour watch: on smooth the seal,And bended dolphins play: part huge of bulkWallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait,Tempest the ocean: there leviathanHugest of living creatures, on the deepStretch'd like a promontory sleeps or swims,And seems a moving land; and at his gillsDraws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea.Meanwhile the tepid caves, and fens, and shores,Their brood as numerous hatch, from the egg that soonBursting with kindly rupture, forth disclosedTheir callow young, but feather'd soon and fledgeThey summ'd their pens, and, soaring the air sublimeWith clang despised the ground, under a cloudIn prospect; there the eagle and the storkOn cliffs and cedar tops their eyries build;Part loosely wing the region, part more wiseIn common, ranged in figure wedge their way,Intelligent of seasons, and set forthTheir airy caravan high over seasFlying, and over lands with mutual wingEasing their flight, so steers the prudent craneHer annual voyage, borne on winds; the airFloats, as they pass, fann'd with unnumber'd plumes.From branch to branch the smaller birds with songSolaced the woods, and spread their painted wingsTill even, nor then the solemn nightingaleCeased warbling, but all night tuned her soft lays:Others on silver lakes and rivers bathed Their downy breast; the swan, with arched neckBetween her white wings mantling proudly, rowsHer state with oary feet; yet oft they quitThe dank, and, rising on stiff pennons, towerThe mid aerial sky: Others on groundWalk'd firm; the crested cock, whose clarion soundsThe silent hours, and the other whose gay trainAdorns him, colour'd with the florid hueOf rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thusWith fish replenish'd, and the air with fowl,Evening and morn solemnized the fifth day. The sixth, and of creation last, aroseWith evening harps and matin, when God said,Let the Earth bring forth soul living in her kind,Cattle, and creeping things, and beast of the Earth,Each in their kind. The Earth obey'd, and straightOpening her fertile womb, teem'd at a birthInnumerous living creatures, perfect forms,Limb'd and full grown; out of the ground up-rose,As from his lair, the wild beast where he wonsIn forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den;Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walk'd.The cattle in the fields and meadows green:Those rare and solitary, these in flocksPasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung.The grassy clods now calved, now half appear'dThe tawny lion, pawing to get freeHis hinder parts, then springs as broke from bonds,And rampant shakes his brinded mane; the ounce,The libbard, and the tiger, as the moleRising, the crumbled Earth above them threwIn hillocks; the swift stag from under groundBore up his branching head; scarce from his mouldBehemoth, biggest born of Earth, upheavedHis vastness; fleeced the flocks and bleating rose,As plants; ambiguous between sea and landThe river horse and scaly crocodile.At once came forth whatever creeps the ground,Insect or worm: those waved their limber fansFor wings, and smallest lineaments exact,In all the liveries deck'd of summer's pride,With spots of gold and purple, azure and green;These as a line their long dimension drew,Streaking the ground with sinuous trace; not allMinims of nature, some of serpent kind,Wonderous in length and corpulence, involvedTheir snaky folds, and added wings. First creptThe parsimonious emmet, providentOf future, in small room large heart inclosed,Patter of just equality perhapsHereafter, join'd in her popular tribesOf commonalty; swarming next appear'dThe female bee, that feeds her husband droneDeliciously, and builds her waxen cellsWith honey stored. The rest are numberless,And thou their natures knowst, and gavest them names,Needless to thee repeated; nor unknownThe serpent, subtlest beast of all the field,Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyesAnd hairy main terrific, though to thee Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. Now Heaven in all her glory shone, and roll'dHer motions, as the great first Mover's handFirst wheel'd their course; Earth in her rich attireConsummate lovely smiled; air, water, earth,By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was walk'dFrequent: and of the sixth day yet remain'd;There wanted yet the master work, the endOf all yet done; a creature who, not proneAnd brute as other creatures, but enduedWith sanctity of reason, might erectHis stature, and upright, with front serene,Govern the rest, self-knowing, and from thenceMagnanimous to correspond with Heaven,But grateful to acknowledge whence his goodDescends, thither with heart, and voice, and eyes,Directed in devotion, to adoreAnd worship God Supreme, who made him chief Of all his works: therefore the OmnipotentEternal Father (for where is not hePresent?) thus to his Son audibly spake. Let us make now Man in our image, ManIn our similitude, and let them ruleOver the fish and fowl of sea and air,Beast of the field, and over all the Earth,And every creeping thing that creeps the ground.This said, he form'd thee, Adam, thee, O Man,Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breathedThe breath of life; in his own image heCreated thee, in the image of GodExpress, and thou becamest a living soul.Male he created thee, but thy consortFemale, for race; then bless'd mankind, and said,Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the Earth,Subdue it, and throughout dominion holdOver fish of the sea, and fowl of the air,And every living thing that moves on the Earth.Wherever thus created, for no placeIs yet distinct by name; thence, as thou knowst,He brought thee into this delicious grove,This garden, planted with the trees of God,Delectable both to behold and taste;And freely all their pleasant fruit for foodGave thee; all sorts are here that all the Earth yields,Variety without end; but of the tree,Which, tasted, works knowledge of good and evil,Thou mayest not; in the day thou eatst, thou diest;Death is the penalty imposed; beware,And govern well thy appetite, lest SinSurprise thee, and her black attendant Death. Here finish'd he, and all that he had madeView'd, and behold all was entirely good;So even and morn accomplish'd the sixth day:Yet not till the Creator from his workDesisting, though unwearied, up return'd,Up to the Heaven of Heavens, his high abode,Thence to behold this new-created world, The addition of his empire, how it show'dIn prospect from his throne, how good, how fair,Answering his great idea. Up he rode,Follow'd with acclamation and the soundSymphonious of ten thousand harps, that tunedAngelic harmonies: the earth, the airResounded, (thou rememberst, for thou heardst)The Heavens and all the constellations rung.The planets in their station listening stood,While the bright pomp ascended jubilant.Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung,Open, ye Heavens, your living doors; let inThe great Creator from his work return'dMagnificent, his six days work, a world;Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deignTo visit oft the dwellings of just menDelighted, and with frequent intercourseThither will send his winged messengersOn errands of supernal grace. So sungThe glorious train ascending: He through Heaven,That open'd wide her blazing portals, ledTo God's eternal house direct the way,A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold,And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear,Seen in the galaxy, that milky way,Which nightly, as a circling zone, thou seestPowder'd with stars. And now on Earth the seventhEvening arose in Eden, for the sunWas set, and twilight from the east came on,Forerunning night; when at the holy mount Of Heaven's high-seated top, the imperial throneOf Godhead, fix'd for ever firm and sure,The Filial Power arrived, and sat him downWith his great Father, for he also wentInvisible, yet stay'd, (such privilegeHath Omnipresence), and the work ordain'd,Author and End of all things, and from workNow resting, bless'd and hallow'd the seventh day,As resting on that day from all his work,But not in silence holy kept; the harpHad 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 intermix'd with voiceChoral or unison: of incense clouds,Fuming from golden censers, hid the mount.Creation and the six days acts they sung;Great are thy works, Jehovah! infiniteThy power! what thought can measure thee, or tongueRelate thee? Greater now in thy returnThan from the giant Angels; thee that day Thy thunders magnified; but to createIs greater than created to destroy.Who can impair thee, Mighty King, or boundThy empire? easily the proud attemptOf Spirits Apostate, and their counsel vainThou hast repell'd, while impiously they thoughtThee to diminish, and from thee withdrawThe number of thy worshippers. Who seeksTo lessen thee, against his purpose servesTo manifest the more thy might: his evilThou usest, and from thence createst more good.Witness this new-made world, another HeavenFrom Heaven-gate not far, founded in viewOn the clear hyaline, the glassy sea:Of amplitude almost immense, with starsNumerous, and every star perhaps a worldOf destined habitation; but thou knowstTheir seasons: among these the seat of Men,Earth, with her nether ocean circumfused,Their pleasant dwelling-place. Thrice happy Men,And sons of Men, whom God hath thus advanced,Created in his image, there to dwellAnd worship him, and in reward to ruleOver his works, on earth, in sea, or air,And multiply a race of worshippersHoly and just: thrice happy, if they knowTheir happiness, and persevere upright. So sung they, and the empyrean rungWith Halleluiahs. Thus was Sabbath kept,And thy request think now fulfill'd, that ask'dHow first this world and face of things began,And what before thy memory was doneFrom the beginning; that posterityInform'd by thee, might know; if else thou seekstAught, not surpassing human measure, say.
Paradise Lost.
Book VIII.
ARGUMENT.
ADAM inquires concerning celestial motions; is doubtfully answered, and exhorted to search rather things more worthy of knowledge: Adam assents, and still desirous to retain Raphael, relates to him what he remembered since his own creation: his placing in paradise; his talk with God concerning solitude and fit society; his first meeting and nuptials with Eve; his discourse with the Angel thereupon; who, after admonitions repeated, departs.
The Angel ended, and in Adam's earSo charming left his voice, that he awhileThought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear;Then, as new waked, thus gratefully replied. What thanks sufficient, or what recompenceEqual have I to render thee, divineHistorian, who thus largely hast allay'dThe thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsafedThis friendly condescension, to relateThings else by me unsearchable, now heardWith wonder, but delight, and, as is due,With glory attributed to the highCreator? Something yet of doubt remains,Which only thy solution can resolve.When I behold this goodly frame, this world,Of Heaven and Earth consisting, and computeTheir magnitudes, this Earth a spot, a grain,An atom, with the firmament comparedAnd all her number'd stars, that seem to rollSpaces incomprehensible, (for suchTheir distance argues, and their swift returnDiurnal), merely to officiate lightRound this opacous Earth, this punctual spot,One day and night, in all their vast surveyUseless besides; reasoning, I oft admire,How nature, wise and frugal, could commitSuch disproportions, with superfluous handSo many nobler bodies to create,Greater so manifold, to this one use,For aught appears, and on their orbs imposeSuch restless revolution, day by dayRepeated; while the sedentary Earth,That better might with far less compass move,Served by more noble than herself, attainsHer end without least motion, and receives,As tribute, such a sumless journey broughtOf incorporeal speed, her warmth and light:Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails. So spake our Sire, and by his countenance seem'dEntering on studious thoughts abstruse, which EvePerceiving, where she sat retired 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 flowers,To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom,Her nursery: they at her coming sprung,And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.Yet went she not, as not with such discourseDelighted, or not capable her earOf what was high: such pleasure she reserved,Adam relating, she sole auditress;Her husband the relator she preferr'dBefore the Angel, and of him to askChose rather; he, she knew, would intermixGrateful digressions, and solve high disputeWith conjugal caresses: from his lipNot words alone pleased her. O! when meet nowSuch pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd?With Goddess-like demeanour forth she went,Not unattended; for on her as queenA pomp of winning graces waited still,And from about her shot darts of desireInto all eyes to wish her still in sight.And Raphael now, to Adam's doubt proposed,Benevolent and facile thus replied. To ask or search, I blame thee not; for HeavenIs as the book of God before thee set,Wherein to read his wonderous works, and learnHis seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years;This to attain, whether Heaven move or Earth,Imports nots, if thou reckon right; the restFrom Man or Angel the great ArchitectDid wisely to conceal, and not divulgeHis secrets to be scann'd by them who oughtRather admire; or, if they list to tryConjecture, he his fabric of the HeavensHath left to their disputes, perhaps to moveHis laughter at their quaint opinions wideHereafter, when they come to model HeavenAnd calculate the stars, how they will wieldThe mighty frame; how build, unbuild, contriveTo save appearances; how gird the sphereWith centric and eccentric scribbled o'er,Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb:Already by thy reasoning this I guess,Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposestThat bodies bright and greater should not serveThe less not bright, nor Heaven such journeys run,Earth sitting still, when she alone receivesThe benefit. Consider first, that greatOr bright infers not excellence: the Earth,Though, in comparison of Heaven, so small,Not glistering, may of solid good containMore plenty than the sun that barren shines,Whose virtue on itself works no effect,But in the fruitful Earth; there first receivedHis beams, unactive else, their vigour find.Yet not to Earth are those bright luminariesOfficious; but to thee, Earth's habitant.And for the Heaven's wide circuit, let it speakThe Maker's high magnificence, who builtSo spacious, and his line stretch'd out so far;That Man may know he dwells not in his own;An edifice too large for him to fill,Lodged in a small partition; and the restOrdain'd for uses to his Lord best known.The swiftness of those circles attribute,Though numberless, to his omnipotence,That to corporeal substances could addSpeed almost spiritual: Me thou thinkst not slow,Who since the morning hour set out from HeavenWhere God resides, and ere mid-day arrivedIn Eden, distance inexpressibleBy numbers that have name. But this I urge,Admitting motion in the Heavens, to showInvalid that which thee to doubt it moved;Not that I so affirm, though so it seemTo thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth.God, to remove his ways from human sense,Placed Heaven from Earth so far, that earthly sight,If it presume, might err in things too high,And no advantage gain. What if the sunBe centre to the world, and other stars,By his attractive virtue and their ownIncited, dance about him various rounds?Their wandering course now high, now low, then hid,Progressive, retrograde, or standing still,In six thou seest, and what if seventh to theseThe planet Earth, so stedfast though she seem,Insensibly three different motions move?Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe,Moved contrary with thwart obliquities;Or save the sun his labour, and that swiftNocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed,Invisible else above all stars, the wheelOf day and night; which needs not thy belief,If Earth, industrious of herself, fetch dayTravelling east, and with her part averseFrom the sun's beam meet night, her other partStill luminous by his ray. What if that light,Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air,To the terrestrial moon be as a starEnlightning her by day, as she by nightThis earth? reciprocal, if land be there,Fields and inhabitants: Her spots thou seestAs clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produceFruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eatAllotted there; and other suns perhaps,With their attendant moons, thou wilt descryCommunicating male and female light,Which two great sexes animate the world,Stored in each orb perhaps with some that live.For such vast room in nature unpossess'dBy living soul, desert and desolate,Only to shine, yet scarce to contributeEach orb a glimpse of light convey'd so farDown to this habitable, which returns Light back to them, is obvious to dispute.But whether thus these things, or whether not,Whether the sun predominant in HeavenRise on the Earth, or Earth rise on the sun;He from the east his flaming road begin,Or she from west her silent course advance,With inoffensive pace that spinning sleepsOn her soft axle, while she paces even,And bears thee soft with the smooth air along;Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid;Leave them to God above, him serve and fear;Of other creatures, as him pleases best,Wherever placed, let him dispose: joy thouIn what he gives to thee, this ParadiseAnd thy fair Eve; Heaven is for thee too highTo know what passes there; be lowly wise:Think only what concerns thee and thy being;Dream not of other worlds, what creatures thereLive, in what state, condition, or degree,Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd,Not of Earth only, but of highest Heaven. To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, replied.How fully hast thou satisfied me, pureIntelligence of Heaven, Angel serene!And freed from intricacies, taught to live,The easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughtsTo interrupt the sweet of life, from whichGod hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares,And not molest us, unless we ourselvesSeek them with wandering thoughts, and notions vain.But apt the mind or fancy is to roveUncheck'd, and of her roving is no end;Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learnThat not to know at large of things remoteFrom use, obscure, and subtle, but to knowThat 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 concernUnpractised, unprepared, and still to seek.Therefore from this high pitch let us descendA lower flight, and speak of things at handUseful; whence, haply, mention may ariseOf something not unseasonable to askBy sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd.Thee I have heard relating what was doneEre my remembrance: now, hear me relateMy story, which perhaps thou hast not heard;And day is yet not spent; till then thou seestHow subtly to detain 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 Heaven,And sweeter thy discourse is to my earThan fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirstAnd hunger both, from labour, at the hourOf sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fillTho' pleasant; but thy words, with grace divineImbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.To whom thus Raphael answer'd heavenly meek.Nor are thy lips ungraceful, Sire of Men,Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on theeAbundantly his gifts hath also pour'dInward and outward both, his image fair:Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and graceAttends thee; and each word, each motion forms;Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on EarthThan of our fellow-servant, and inquireGladly into the ways of God with Man;For God we see hath honour'd thee, and setOn Man his equal love: say therefore on;For I that day was absent, as befel, Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure,Far on excursion toward the gates of Hell;Squared in full legion (such command we had)To see that none thence issued forth a spy,Or enemy, while God was in his work,Lest he, incensed at such eruption bold,Destruction with creation might have mix'd.Not that they durst without his leave attempt,But us he sends upon his high behestsFor state, as Sovereign King, and to inureOur prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shutThe dismal gates, and barricadoed strong;But long ere our approaching heard withinNoise, other than the sound of dance or song,Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage.Glad we return'd up to the coasts of lightEre Sabbath evening: so we had in charge.But thy relation now; for I attend,Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine. So spake the Godlike Power, and thus our Sire.For Man to tell how human life beganIs hard; for who himself beginning knew?Desire with thee still longer to converseInduced me. As new waked from soundest sleepSoft on the flowery herb I found me laidIn balmy sweat, which with his beams the sunSoon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed,Straight toward Heaven my wondering eyes I turn'd,And gazed a while the ample sky, till raisedBy quick instinctive motion I sprung,As thitherward endeavouring, and uprightStood on my feet; about me round I sawHill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains,And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these,Creatures that lived and moved, and walk'd, or flew,Birds on the branchs warbling; all things smiled;With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflow'd.Myself I then perused, and limb by limbSurvey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ranWith supple joints, as lively vigour led:But who I was, or where, or from what cause,Knew not; to speak I tried, and forwith spake;My tongue obey'd, and readily could nameWhate'er I saw. Thou Sun, said I, fair light,And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay,Ye Hills, and Dales, ye Rivers, Woods, and Plains,And ye that live and move, fair Creatures tell,Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?Not of myself; by some great Maker then,In goodness and in power pre-eminent;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 than I know.While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither,From whence I first drew air, and first beheldThis happy light, when answer non return'd,On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers,Pensive I sat me down; there gentle sleepFirst found me, and with soft oppression seizedMy drowsed sense, untroubled, though I thought I then was passing to my former stateInsensible, and forthwith to dissolve:When suddenly stood at my head a dream,Whose inward apparition gently movedMy fancy to believe I yet had being,And lived. 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 prepared."So saying, by the hand he took me raised,And oyer fields and waters, as in airSmooth sliding without step, last led me upA woody mountain; whose high top was plain,A circuit wide, inclosed, with goodliest treesPlanted, with walks and bowers, that what I saw Of Earth before scarce pleasant seem'd. Each treeLoaden with fairest fruit, that hung to the eyeTempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetiteTo pluck and eat: whereat I waked, and foundBefore mine eyes all real, as the dreamHad lively shadow'd: Here had new begunMy wandering, had not he, who was my guideUp hither, from among the trees appear'd,Presence divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,In adoration at his feet I fellSubmiss: he rear'd me, and "Whom thou soughtst I am,"Said mildly, "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 eat:"Of every tree that in the garden grows"Eat freely with glad heart: fear here no dearth;"But of the tree whose operation brings"Knowledge 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 warn thee, shun to taste,"And shun the bitter consequence: for know,"The day thou eatst thereof, my sole command"Transgress'd, inevitably thou shalt die,"From that day mortal, and this happy state"Shalt lose, expell'd from hence into a world"Of woe and sorrow." Sternly he pronouncedThe rigid interdiction, which resoundsYet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choiceNot to incur; but soon his clear aspectReturn'd, and gracious purpose thus renew'd."Not only 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 air; beast, fish, and fowl."In sign whereof, each bird and beast behold"After their kinds; I bring them to receive"From thee their names, and pay thee fealty"With low subjection; understand the same"Of fish within their watery residence,"Not hither summon'd, since they cannot change"Their element, to draw the thinner air."As thus he spake, each bird and beast beholdApproaching two and two; these cowering lowWith blandishment; each bird stoop'd on his wing.I named them, as they pass'd, and understoodTheir nature, with such knowledge God induedMy sudden apprehension: But in theseI found not what methought I wanted still;And to the heavenly Vision this presumed. O, by what name, for thou above all these,Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher,Surpassest far my naming; how may I Adore thee, Author of this universe,And all this good to man? for whose well-beingSo amply, and with hands so liberal,Thou hast provided all things; but with meI see not who partakes. In solitudeWhat happiness, who can enjoy alone,Or all enjoying, what contentment find?Thus I presumptuous; and the Vision bright,As with a smile more brighten'd, thus replied. What callst thou solitude? Is not the EarthWith various living creatures, and the air,Replenish'd, and all these at thy commandTo come and play before thee? Knowst thou notTheir language and their ways? They also know,And reason not contemptibly; with theseFind pastime, and bear rule; thy realm is large.So spake the Universal Lord, and seem'dSo ordering. I, with leave of speech implored,And humble deprecation, thus replied. Let not my words offend thee, Heavenly Power,My Maker, be propitious while I speak.Hast thou not made me here thy substitute,And these inferior far beneath me set?Among unequals what societyCan sort, what harmony, or true delight?Which must be mutual, in due proportion dueGiven and received; but in disparityThe one intense, the other still remissCannot well suit with either, but soon proveTedious alike: Of fellowship I speakSuch as I seek, fit to participateAll rational delight, wherein the bruteCannot be human consort; they rejoiceEach with their kind, lion with lioness;So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined;Much less can bird with beats, or fish with fowlSo well converse, nor with the ox the ape;Worse then can man with beast, and least of all. Whereto the Almighty answer'd, not displeased.A nice and subtle happiness, I see,Thou to thyself proposest, in the choiceOf thy associates, Adam! and wilt tasteNo pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary.What thinkst thou then of me, and this my state?Seem I to thee sufficiently possess'dOf happiness, or not? Who am aloneFrom all eternity, for none I knowSecond to me or like, equal much less.Who have I then with whom to hold converse,Save with the creatures which I made, and thoseTo me inferior, infinite descentsBeneath what other creatures are to thee? He ceased; I lowly answer'd. To attainThe heighth and depth of thy eternal waysAll human thoughts come short, Supreme of things!Thou in thyself are perfect, and in theeIs 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 thouShouldst propagate, already Infinite; And through all numbers absolute, though One; But Man by number is to manifestHis single imperfection, and begetLike of his like, his image multiplied, In unity defective, which requiresCollateral love, and dearest amity. Thou in thy secresy although alone, Best with thyself accompanied, seekst notSocial communication; yet so pleased, Canst raise thy creature to what height thou wilt Of union or communion, deified; I, by conversing, cannot these erectFrom prone, nor in their ways complacence find. Thus I embolden'd spake, and freedom usedPermissive, and acceptance found; which gain'd This answer from the gracious Voice Divine. Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleased, And find thee knowing not of beasts alone, Which thou hast rightly named, but of thyself; Expressing well the spirit within thee free, My image, not imparted to the brute; Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for theeGood reason was thou freely shouldst dislike; And be so minded still; I, ere thou spakest, Knew it not good for Man to be alone; And no such company as then thou sawst Intended thee; for trial only brought, To see how thou couldst judge of fit and meet:What next I bring shall please thee, be assured, Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self, Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire. He ended, or I heard no more; for nowMy earthly by his heavenly overpower'd, Which it had long stood under, strain'd to the height In that celestial colloquy sublime, As with an object that excels the senseDazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought repairOf sleep, which instantly fell on me, call'dBy nature as in aid, and closed mine eyes. Mine eyes he closed, but open left the cellOf fancy, my internal sight; by whichAbstract as in a trance, methought I saw,Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape Still glorious before whom awake I stood; Who stooping open'd my left side, and tookFrom thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm, And life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the wound, But suddenly with flesh fill'd up and heal'd:The rib he form'd, and fashion'd with his hands; Under his forming hands a creature grew, Manlike, but different sex; so lovely fair, That what seem'd fair in all the world, seem'd nowMean, or in her summ'd up, in her contain'd, And in her looks; which from that time infusedSweetness into my heart, unfelt before, And into all things from her air inspiredThe spirit of love and amorous delight. She disappear'd, and left me dark; I wakedTo find her, or for ever to deploreHer loss, and other pleasures all abjure:When out of hope, behold her, not far off, Such as I saw her in my dream, adorn'd With what all Earth or Heaven could bestowTo make her amiable: On she came, Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen, And guided by his voice; nor uninform'dOf nuptial sanctity, and marriage rites:Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye, In every gesture, dignity and love. I, overjoy'd, could not forbear aloud. This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfill'dThy words, Creator bounteous and benign, Giver of all things fair! but fairest thisOf all thy gifts! nor enviest. I now seeBone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myselfBefore me; Woman is her name, of ManExtracted; for this cause he shall foregoFather and mother, and to his wife adhere; And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul. She heard me thus; and though divinely brought, Yet innocence and virgin modesty, Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won, Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired, The more desirable; or to say all, Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, Wrought in her so, that seeing me, she turn'd; I followed her; she what was honour knew, And with obsequious majesty approvedMy pleaded reason. To the nuptial bowerI led her blushing like the morn: All Heaven, And happy constellations, on that hourShed their selectest influence: The EarthGave sign of gratulation, and each hill; Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airsWhisper'd it to the woods, and from their wingsFlung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub, Disporting, till the amorous bird of nightSung spousal, and bid haste the evening-starOn his hill-top, to light the bridal lamp. Thus have I told thee all my state, and broughtMy story to the sum of earthly blissWhich I enjoy; and must confess to findIn all things else delight indeed, but suchAs used or not, works in the mind no change, Nor vehement desire; these delicaciesI mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers, Walks, and the melody of birds; but hereFar otherwise, transported I behold, Transported touch; here passion first I felt, Commotion strange! in all enjoyments elseSuperior and unmoved; here only weakAgainst the charm of Beauty's powerful glance. Or Nature fail'd in me, and left some partNot proof enough such object to sustain; Or from my side subducting, took perhapsMore than enough; at least on her bestow'dToo much of ornament, in outward showElaborate, of inward less exact. For well I understand in the prime endOf Nature her the inferior, in the mindAnd inward faculties, which most excel; In outward also her resembling lessHis image who made both, and less expressingThe character of that dominion givenO'er other creatures; yet when I approachHer loveliness, so absolute she seemsAnd in herself complete, so well to knowHer own, that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best; All higher knowledge in her presence fallsDegraded; Wisdom in discourse with herLoses discountenanced, and like Folly shows; Authority and Reason on her wait, As one intended first, not after madeOccasionally; and, to consummate all, Greatness of mind, and Nobleness, their seatBuild in her loveliest, and create an aweAbout her, as a guard angelic placed. To whom the Angel with contracted brow. Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part; Do thou but thine, and be not diffidentOf wisdom; she deserts thee not, if thouDismiss not her, when most thou needs her nigh, By attributing overmuch to thingsLess excellent, as thou thyself perceivest. For, what admirest thou, what transports thee so, An outside? fair no doubt, and worthy wellThy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love, Not thy subjection: weigh with her thyself; Then value: Ofttimes nothing profits moreThan self-esteem, grounded on just and rightWell managed; of that skill the more thou knowst, The more she will acknowledge thee her head, And to realities yield all her shows:Made so adorn for thy delight the more, So awful, that with honour thou mayst loveThy mate, who sees when thou are seen least wise. But if the sense of touch, whereby mankindIs propagated, seem such dear delightBeyond all other, think the same vouchsafedTo cattle and each beast; which would not beTo them made common and divulged, if aughtTherein enjoy'd were worthy to subdueThe soul of man, or passion in him move. What higher in her society thou findstAttractive, human, rational, love still; In loving thou dost well, in passion not, Wherein true love consists not: Love refinesThe thoughts, and heart enlarges; hath his seatIn reason, and is judicious; is the scaleBy which to heavenly love thou mayst ascend; Not sunk in carnal please; for which cause, Among the beasts no mate for thee was found. To whom thus, half-abash'd, Adam replied. Neither her outside form'd so fair, nor aughtIn procreation common to all kinds(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, mix'd with loveAnd sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'dUnion of mind, or in us both one soul; Harmony to behold in wedded pairMore grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. Yet these subject not; I to thee disclose What inward thence I feel, not therefore foil'd, Who meet with various objects, from the senseVariously representing; yet still free, Approve the best, and follow what I approve. To love thou blamest me not, for love thou saystLeads up to Heaven, is both the way and guide:Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask; Love not the heavenly Spirits, and how their loveExpress they? by looks only? or do they mix Irradiance, virtual or immediate touch? To whom the Angel, with a smile that glow'dCelestial rosy red, Loves proper hue, Answer'd. Let it suffice thee that thou knowstUs happy, and without love no happiness. Whatever pure thou in the body enjoyst(And pure thou wert created) we enjoyIn eminence; and obstacle find noneOf membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bar; Easier than air with air, if Spirits embrace, Total they mix, union of pure with pureDesiring; nor restrain'd conveyance need, As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul. But I can now no more; the parting sunBeyond the Earth's green Cape and verdant IslesHesperian sets, my signal to depart. Be strong, live happy, and love! But, first of all, Him, whom to love is to obey, and keepHis great command; take heed lest passion swayThy judgment to do aught, which else free willWould not admit: thine, and of all thy sons, The weal or woe in thee is placed; beware! I in thy persevering shall rejoice, And all the Blest: Stand fast; to stand or fallFree in thine own arbitrement it lies. Perfect within, no outward aid require; And all temptation to transgress repel. So saying, he arose; whom Adam thusFollow'd with benediction. Since to part, Go heavenly Guest, etherial Messenger, Sent from whose sovereign goodness I adore! Gentle to me, and affable hath beenThy condescension, and shall be honour'd everWith grateful memory: Thou to mankindBe good and friendly still, and oft return!So parted they: the Angel up to HeavenFrom the thick shade, and Adam to his bower.
Paradise Lost.
Book IX.
ARGUMENT.
SATAN, having compassed the Earth, with meditated guile returns, as a mist, by night into Paradise; enters into the serpent sleeping. Adam and Eve in the morning go forth to their labours, which Eve proposes to divide in several places, each labouring apart: Adam consents not, alleging the danger, lest that enemy, of whom they were forewarned, should attempt her found alone: Eve, loath to be thought not circumspect or firm enough, urges her going apart, the rather desirous to make trial of her strength; Adam at last yields: The Serpent finds her alone; his subtle approach, first gazing, then speaking; with much flattery extolling Eve above all other creatures. Eve, wondering to hear the Serpent speak, asks how he attained to human speech and such understanding not till now; the Serpent answers, that by tasting of a certain tree in the garden he attained to both speech and reason, till then void of both: Eve requires him to bring her to that tree, and finds it to be the tree of knowledge forbidden: The Serpent, now grown bolder, with many wiles and arguments, induces her at length to eat; she, pleased with the taste, deliberates awhile whether to impart thereof to Adam or not; at last brings him of the fruit; relates what persuaded her to eat thereof: Adam, at first amazed, but perceiving her lost, resolves, through vehemence of love, to perish with her; and, extenuating the trespass, eats also of the fruit: The effects thereof in them both: they seek to cover their nakedness; then fall to variance and accusation of another.
No more of talk, where God or Angel guestWith Man, as with his friend, familiar usedTo sit indulgent, and with him partakeRural repast, permitting him the whileVenial discourse unblamed: I now must changeThose notes to tragic; foul distrust, and breachDisloyal on the part of Man, revolt,And disobedience; on the part of HeavenNow alienated, distance and distaste,Anger and just rebuke, and judgment given,That brought into this world a world of woe,Sin and her shadow Death, and MiseryDeath's harbinger. Sad task! yet argumentNot less but more heroic than the wrathOf stern Achilles on his foe pursuedThrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rageOf Turnus for Lavinia disespoused;Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's that so longPerplex'd the Greek, and Cytherea's Son;If answerable style I can obtainOf my celestial patroness, who deignsHer nightly visitation unimplored,And dictates to me slumbering, or inspires Easy my unpremeditated verse:Since first this subject for heroic songPleased me, long choosing, and beginning late:Not sedulous by nature to inditeWars, hitherto the only argumentHeroic deem'd, chief mastery to dissect,With long and tedious havoc, fabled knightsIn battles feign'd; the better fortitudeOf patience and heroic martyrdomUnsung; or to describe races and games,Or tilting furniture, emblazon'd shields,Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds;Bases and tinsel trapping, gorgeous knightsAt joust and tournament; then marshall'd feastServed up in hall and sewers and seneschals;The skill of artifice or office mean,Not that which justly gives heroic nameTo person, or to poem. Me, of theseNor skill'd nor studious, higher argumentRemains, sufficient of itself to raiseThat name, unless an age too late, or coldClimate, or years, damp my intended wingDepress'd; 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 star Of Hesperus, whose office is to bringTwilight upon the earth, short arbiter 'Twixt day and night; and now from end to endNight's hemisphere had veil'd the horizon round:When Satan, who late fled before the threatsOf Gabriel out of Eden, now improvedIn meditated fraud and malice, bentOn Man's destruction, maugre what might hapOf heavier on himself, fearless return'd.By night he fled, and at midnight return'dFrom compassing the earth, cautious of day,Since Uriel, regent of the sun, descriedHis entrance, and forewarn'd the CherubimThat kept their watch; thence, full of anguish driven,The space of seven continued nights he rodeWith darkness, thrice the equinoctial lineHe circled, four times cross'd the car of nightFrom pole to pole, reversing each colure;On the eighth return'd, and on the coast, averseFrom entrance or Cherubic watch, by stealthFound unsuspected way. There was a place,Now not, tho' sin, not time, first wrought the change, Where Tigris, at the foot of Paradise,Into a gulf shot under ground, till partRose up a fountain by the tree of life:In with the river sunk, and with it roseSatan, involved in rising mist, then soughtWhere to lie hid; sea he had search'd and land,From Eden over Pontus, and the poolMaeotis, up beyond the river Ob; Downward as far antarctic; and in lengthWest from Orontes to the ocean barr'dAt Darien, thence to the land where flowsGanges and Indus. Thus the orb he roam'dWith narrow search, and, with inspection deep,Consider'd every creature, which of allMost opportune might serve his wiles, and foundThe serpent subtlest beast of all the field.Him, after long debate, irresoluteOf thoughts revolved, his final sentence chose Fit vessel, fittest imp of fraud, in whomTo enter, and his dark suggestions hideFrom sharpest sight: for, in the wily snake,Whatever sleights, none would suspicious mark,As from his wit and native subtlety Proceeding; which, in other beasts observed,Doubt might beget of diabolic powerActive within, beyond the sense of brute. Thus he resolved; but first, from inward grief,His bursting passion into plaints thus pour'd. O Earth, how like to Heaven, if not preferr'dMore justly, seat worthier of Gods, as builtWith second thoughts, reforming what was old!For what God, after better, worse would build?Terrestrial Heaven, danced round by other HeavensThat shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps,Light above light, for thee alone, as seems, In thee concentring all their precious beamsOf sacred influence! As God in HeavenIs centre, yet extends to all, so thouCentring receivest from all those orbs; in thee, Not in themselves, all their known virtue appearsProductive in herb, plant, and nobler birthOf creatures animate with gradual lifeOf growth, sense, reason, all summ'd up in Man.With what delight could I have walk'd thee round,If I could joy in aught, sweet interchangeOf hill, and valley, rivers, woods, and plains,Now land, now sea, and shores with forests crown'd, Rocks, dens, and caves! But I in none of theseFind place or refuge; and the more I seePleasures about me, so much more I feelTorment within me, as from the hateful siegeOf contraries; all good to me becomesBane, and in Heaven much worse would be my state. But neither seek I, no nor in HeavenTo dwell, unless by mastering Heaven's Supreme; Nor hope to be myself less miserableBy what I seek, but others to make such As I, though thereby worse to me redound: For only in destroying I find easeTo my relentless thoughts; and, him destroy'd, Or won to what may work his utter loss, For whom all this was made, all this will soonFollow, as to him link'd in weal or woe; In woe then; that destruction wide may range. To me shall be the glory sole amongThe infernal Powers, in one day to have marred What he, Almighty styled, six nights and daysContinued making, and who knows how longBefore had been contriving, though perhapsNot longer than since I, in one night, freedFrom servitude inglorious well nigh halfThe angelic name, and thinner left the throngOf his adorers: He, to be avenged, And to repair his numbers thus impair'd,Whether such virtue spent of old now fail'dMore angel to create, if they at leastAre his created, or, to spite us more,Determined to advance into our roomA creature form'd of earth, and him endow, Exalted from so base original,With heavenly spoils, our spoils. What he decreed, He effected; Man he made, and for him builtMagnificent this world, and earth his seat, Him lord pronounced, and, O indignity!Subjected to his service angel wings,And flaming ministers, to watch and tendTheir earthly charge: of these the vigilanceI dread; and to elude, thus wrapt in mistOf midnight vapour, glide obscure, and pryIn every bush and brake, where hap may findThe serpent sleeping; in whose mazy foldsTo hide me, and the dark intent I bring. O foul descent! that I, who erst contended With Gods to sit the highest, am now constrain'd Into a beast, and mix'd with bestial slime, This essence to incarnate and imbrute,That to the height of deity aspired!But what will not ambition and revengeDescend to? who aspires, must down as lowAs high he soar'd; obnoxious, first of last, To basest things. Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils:Let it; I reck not, so it light well aim'd, Since higher I fall short, on him who nextProvokes my envy, this new favourite Of Heaven, this man of clay, son of despite, Whom, us the more to spite, his Maker raisedFrom dust. Spite then with spite is best repaid. So saying, through each thicket, dank or dry, Like a black mist low creeping, he held onHis midnight search, where soonest he might findThe serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found In labyrinth of many a round self-roll'd, His head the midst, well stored with subtle wiles. Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den, Nor nocent yet; but, on the grassy herbFearless, unfear'd he slept: in at his mouthThe Devil enter'd, and his brutal sense, In heart or head, possessing, soon inspiredWith act intelligential; but his sleepDisturb'd not, waiting close the approach of morn.Now, when as sacred light began to dawnIn Eden on the humid flowers, that breathed Their morning incense, when all things that breath, From the earth's great altar send up silent praiseTo the Creator, and his nostrils fillWith grateful smell, forth came the human pair, And join'd their vocal worship to the quireOf creatures wanting voice ; that done, partakeThe season, prime for sweetest scents and airs:Then commune how that day they best may plyTheir growing work; for much their work outgrewThe hands' dispatch of two gardening so wide; And Eve first to her husband thus began. Adam, well may we labour still to dressThis garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower,Our pleasant task enjoin'd; but, till more handsAid us, the work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint; what we by dayLop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind,One night or two with wanton growth derides,Tending to wild. Thou therefore now advise,Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present; Let us divide our labours, thou, where choiceLeads thee, or where most needs, whether to windThe woodbine round this arbour, or directThe clasping ivy where to climb; while I,In yonder spring of roses intermix'd With myrtle, find what to redress till noon: For, while so near each other thus all dayOur task we choose, what wonder if so nearLooks intervene and smiles, or object newCasual discourse draw on, which intermitsOur day's work, brought to little, though begunEarly, and the hour of supper comes unearn'd. To whom mild answer Adam thus return'd.Sole Eve, associate sole, to me beyondCompare above all living creatures dear! Well has thou motion'd, well thy thoughts employ'd, How we might best fulfil the world which hereGod hath assign'd us; nor of me shalt passUnpraised; for nothing lovelier can be foundIn woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote. Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposedLabour, as to debar us when we needRefreshment, whether food, or talk between, Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourseOf looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow,To brute denied, and are of love the food;Love, not the lowest end of human life.For not to irksome toil, but to delight,He made us, and delight to reason join'd.These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint handsWill keep from wilderness with ease, as wideAs we need walk, till younger hands ere long Assist us: But, if much converse perhapsThee satiate, to short absence I could yield:For solitude sometimes is best society,And short retirement urges sweet return.But other doubt possesses me, lest harmBefall thee severed from me; for thou knowst What hath been warn'd us, hath malicious foeEnvying our happiness, and of his ownDespairing, seeks to work us woe and shameBy sly assault; and somewhere nigh at handWatches, no doubt, with greedy hope to findHis wish and best advantage, us asunder; Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where eachTo other speedy aid might lend at need; Whether his first design be to withdrawOur fealty from God, or to disturbConjugal love, than which perhaps no blissEnjoy'd by us excites his envy more; Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful sideThat gave thee being, still shades thee, and protects:The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures. To whom the virgin majesty of Eve, As one who loves, and some unkindness meets, With sweet austere composure thus replied. Offspring of Heaven and Earth, and all Earth's Lord, That such an Enemy we have, who seeks Our ruin, both by thee inform'd I learn, And from the parting Angel overheard, As in a shady nook I stood behind,Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers.But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubtTo God or thee, because we have a foeMay tempt it, I expected not to hear. His violence thou fearst not, being suchAs we, not capable of death or pain, Can either not receive, or can repel. His fraud is then thy fear; which plain infersThy equal fear, that my firm faith and loveCan by his fraud be shaken or seduced; Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast, Adam, misthought of her to thee so dear? To whom with healing words Adam replied. Daughter of God and Man, Immortal Eve, For such thou art, from sin and blame entire; Not diffident of thee do I dissuadeThy absence from my sight, but to avoidThe attempt itself, intended by our foe. For he who tempts, though in vain, at least aspersesThe tempted with dishonor foul, supposedNot incorruptible of faith, not proofAgainst temptation: Thou thyself with scornAnd anger wouldst resent the offer'd wrong, Though ineffectual found; misdeem not then, If such affront I labour to avertFrom thee alone, which on us both at onceThe enemy, though bold, will hardly dare, Or daring, first on me the assault shall light. Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn ; Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce Angels; nor think superfluous others aid. I, from the influence of thy looks, receiveAccess in every virtue; in thy sightMore wise, more watchful, stronger, if need wereOf outward strength; while shame, thou looking on, Shame to be overcome or over-reach'd, Would utmost vigor raise, and raised unite.Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feelWhen I am present and thy trial chooseWith me, best witness of thy virtue tried? So spake domestic Adam in his careAnd matrimonial love; but Eve, who thoughtLess attributed to her faith sincere,Thus her reply with accent sweet renew'd. If this be our condition, thus to dwellIn narrow circuit straiten'd by a foe,Subtle or violent, we not enduedSingle with like defence, wherever met, How are we happy, still in fear of harm? But harm precedes not sin; only our foeTempting, affronts us with his foul esteemOf our integrity: his foul esteem Sticks no dishonor on our front, but turnsFoul on himself: then wherefore shunn'd or fear'd By us? who rather double honour gainFrom his surmise proved false, find peace within, Favour from heaven, our witness, from the event. And what is faith, love, virtue, unassay'd Alone, without exterior help sustain'd ?Let us not then suspect our happy stateLeft so imperfect by the Maker wise, As not secure to single or combined. Frail is our happiness, if this be so, And Eden were no Eden, thus exposed. To whom thus Adam fervently replied. O woman, best are all things as the willOf God ordain'd them: His creating handNothing imperfect or deficient leftOf all that he created, much less Man, Or aught that might his happy state secure, Secure from outward force; within himselfThe danger lies, yet lies within his power:Against his will he can receive no harm: But God left free the will; for what obeysReason, is free; and Reason he made right, But bid her well beware, and still erect; Lest, by some fair appearing good surprisedShe dictate false; and misinform the willTo do what God expressly hath forbid.Not then mistrust, but tender love, enjoins, That I should mind thee oft; and mind thou me. Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve; Since Reason not impossibly may meetSome specious object by the foe suborned, And fall into deception unaware, Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warn'd. Seek no temptation then, which to avoidWere better, and most likely if from meThou sever not: Trial will come unsought. Wouldst thou approve thy constancy, approveFirst thy obedience; the other who can know, Not seeing thee attempted, who attest? But if thou think, trial unsought may findUs both securer than thus warn'd thou seems,Go! for thy stay, not free, absents thee more; Go in thy native innocence, relyOn what thou hast of virtue; summon all! For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine. So spake the patriarch of mankind; but EvePersisted; yet submiss, though last, replied. With thy permission then, and thus forewarn'd Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning wordsTouch'd only, that our trial, when least sought, May find us both perhaps far less prepared, The willinger I go, nor much expectA foe so proud will first the weaker seek; So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse. Thus saying, from her husband's hand her handSoft she withdrew; and, like a Wood-Nymph light,Oread or Dyrad, or of Delia's train, Betook her to groves; but Delia's selfIn gait surpass'd, and Goddess-like deport,Though not as she with bow and quiver arm'd, But with such gardening tools as art yet rude, Guiltless of fire, had form'd, or Angels brought. To Pales, or Pomona, thus adorn'd, Likest she seem'd, Pomona when she fledVertumnus, or to Ceres in her prime, Yet Virgin of Proserpina from Jove.Her long with ardent look his eye pursuedDelighted, but desiring more her stay.Oft he to her his charge of quick returnRepeated; she to him as oft engagedTo be returned by noon amid bower, And all things in best order to inviteNoontide repast, or afternoon's repose. O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve, Of thy presumed return! event perverse! Thou never from that hour in ParadiseFoundst either sweet repast, or sound repose; Such ambush, hid among sweet flowers and shades, Waited with hellish rancour imminentTo intercept thy way, or send thee backDespoil'd of innocence, of faith, of bliss.For now, and since first break of dawn, the Fiend, Mere serpent in appearance, forth was come, And on his quest, where likeliest he might findThe only two of mankind, but in themThe whole included race, his purposed prey. In bower and field he sought, where any tuftOf grove or garden-plot more pleasant lay,Their tendance, or plantation for delight; By fountain or by shady rivuletHe sought them both, but wish'd his hap might findEve separate; he wish'd but not with hopeOf what so seldom changed; when to his wish, Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies, Veil'd in a cloud of fragrance, where she stood, Half spied, so thick the roses blushing roundAbout her glow'd, oft stooping to supportEach flower of slender stalk, whose head, tho' gayCarnation, purple, azure, or speck'd with gold, Hung drooping unsustain'd; them she upstaysGently with myrtle band, mindless the whileHerself, though fairest unsupported flower, From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh.Nearer he drew, and many a walk traversed Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm; Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen Among thick woven arborets, and flowersImbordered on each bank, the hand of Eve:Spot more delicious than those gardens feign'd Or of revived Adonis, or renown'd Alcinous, host of old Laertes' son; Or that, not mystic, where the sapient kingHeld dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse. Much he the place admired, the person more. As one who long in populous city pent, Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, Forth issuing on a summer's morn, to breatheAmong the pleasant villages and farmsAdjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight; The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine,Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound;If chance with nymph-like step fair virgin pass,What pleasing seem'd for her now pleases more;She most, and in her look sums all delight:Such pleasure took the Serpent to beholdThis flowery plat, the sweet recess of EveThus early, thus alone: Her heavenly form Angelic, but more soft, and feminine, Her graceful innocence, her every airOf gesture, or least action, overawedHis malice, and with rapine sweet bereavedHis fierceness of the fierce intent it brought: That space the Evil-one abstracted stoodFrom his own evil, and for the time remain'd Stupidly good; of enmity disarm'd, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge; But the hot Hell that always in him burns,Though in mid heaven, soon ended his delight, And tortures him now more, the more he seesOf pleasure, not for him ordain'd: then soonFierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughtsOf mischief, gratulating, thus excites. Thoughts, whither have ye led me? With what sweetCompulsion thus transported, to forgetWhat hither brought us! Hate, not love, nor hopeOf paradise for Hell, hope here to tasteOf pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy,Save what is in destroying; other joyTo me is lost. Then, let me not let passOccasion which now smiles; behold aloneThe woman, opportune to all attempts,Her husband, for view far round, not nigh, Whose higher intellectual more I shun, And strength, of courage haughty, and of limbHeroic built, though of terrestrial mould;Foe not informidable! exempt from wound, I not; so much hath Hell debased, and pain Enfeebled me, to what I was in Heaven. She fair, divinely fair, fit love for Gods! Not terrible, though terror be in loveAnd beauty, not approach'd by stronger hate, Hate stronger, under show of love well feign'd; The way which to her ruin now I tend. So spake the enemy of mankind, inclosedIn serpent, inmate bad; and toward EveAddress'd his way; not with indented wave, Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear, Circular base of rising folds, that tower'dFold above fold a surging maze; his headCrested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes: With burnish'd neck of verdant gold, erectAmidst his circling spires, that on the grassFloated redundant: pleasing was his shape, And lovely; never since of serpent-kindLovelier, not those that in Illyria changedHermione and Cadmus, or the GodIn Epidaurus; nor to which transform'd Ammonian Jove, or Capitoline was seen, He with Olympias; this with her who boreScipio the height of Rome. With tract obliqueAt first, as one who sought access, but fear'd To interrupt, side-long he works his way.As when a ship, by skillful steersman wroughtNigh river's mouth or foreland, where the windVeers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail:So varied he, and of his tortuous trainCurl'd many a wanton wreath in sight of Eve, To lure her eye; she, busied, heard the soundOf rustling leaves, but minded not, as usedTo such disport before her through the fieldFrom every beast; more duteous at her call,Than at Circean call the herd disguised. He, bolder now, uncalled before her stood, But as in gaze admiring: oft he bowedHis turret crest, and sleek enamell'd neck, Fawning, and lick'd the ground whereon she trod.His gentle dumb expression turn'd at lengthThe eye of Eve to mark his play; he, gladOf her attention gain'd, with serpent-tongueOrganic, or impulse of vocal air,His fraudulent temptation thus began. Wonder not, Sovereign Mistress, if perhapsThou canst, who art sole wonder; much less armThy looks, the Heaven of mildness, with disdain, Displeased that I approach thee thus, and gazeInsatiate; I thus single; nor have fear'dThy awful brow, more awful thus retired. Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair, Thee all things living gaze on, all things thineBy gift, and thy celestial beauty adoreWith ravishment beheld! there best beheld, Where universally admired; but hereIn this inclosure wild, these beasts among, Beholders rude, and shallow to discern Half what in thee is fair, one man except, Who sees thee? (And what is one?) who shouldst be seenA Goddess among Gods, adored and servedBy Angels numberless, thy daily train. So glozed the Tempter, and his proem tuned; Into the heart of Eve his words made way, Though at the voice much marvelling; at length, Not unamazed, she thus in answer spake. What may this mean? Language of man pronouncedBy tongue of brute, and human sense express'd? The first, at least, of these I thought deniedTo beasts; whom God on their creation-dayCreated mute to all articulate sound; The latter I demur; for in their looksMuch reason, and in their actions, oft appears. Thee, Serpent, subtlest beast of all the fieldI knew, but not with human voice endued; Redouble this miracle, and say, How camest thou speakable of mute, and howTo me so friendly grown above the restOf brutal kind, that daily are in sight?Say, for s ch wonder claims attention due. To whom the guileful Tempter thus replie.Empress of this fair world, resplendent Eve!Easy to me it is to tell thee allWhat thou commandest; and right thou shouldst be obey'd: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 roving the field, I chanced A goodly fair tree far distant to beholdLoaden with fruit of fairest colours mix'd, Ruddy and gold: I nearer drew to gaze; When from the boughs a savoury odour blown,Grateful to appetite, more pleased my senseThan smell of sweetest fennel, or the teatsOf ewe or goat dropping with milk at even, Unsuck'd of lamb or kid, that tend their play. To satisfy the sharp desire I had Of tasting those fair apples, I resolvedNot to defer; hunger and thirst at once, Powerful persuaders, quicken'd at the scent Of that alluring fruit, urged me so keen. About the mossy trunk I wound me soon; For high from ground the branches would requireThy utmost reach or Adam's: Round the treeAll other beasts that saw, with like desireLonging and envying stood, but could not reach. Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fillI spared not; for, such pleasure till that hourAt feed or fountain, never had I found.Sated at length, ere long I might perceive Strange alteration in me, to degreeOf reason in my inward powers; and speechWanted not long; though to this shape retain'd.Thenceforth to speculations high or deepI turn'd my thoughts, and with capacious mindConsider'd all things visible in Heaven, Or Earth, or Middle; all things fair and good: But all that fair and good in thy divineSemblance, and in thy beauties heavenly ray,United I beheld! no fair to thine Equivalent or second! which compell'd Me thus, though importune perhaps, to comeAnd gaze, and worship thee of right declaredSovereign of creatures, universal Dame! So talk'd the spirited sly Snake; and Eve, Yet more amazed, unwary thus replied. Serpent thy overpraising leaves in doubtThe virtue of that fruit, in thee first proved; But say, where grows the tree? from hence how far?In Paradise, and various, yet unknown To us; in such abundance lies our choice,As leaves a greater store of fruit untouch'd,Still hanging incorruptible, till menGrow up to their provision, and more handsHelp to disburden Nature of her birth. To whom the wily Adder, blithe and glad. Empress, the way is ready, and not long;Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat,Fast by a fountain, one small thicket pastOf blowing myrrh and balm; if thou acceptMy conduct, I can bring thee thither soon. Lead then, said Eve. He, leading, swiftly roll'd In tangles, and made intricate seem straight, To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joyBrightens his crest; as when a wandering fire,Compact of unctuous vapour, which the nightCondenses, and the cold environs round, Kindled through agitation to flame, Which oft, they say, some evil Spirit attends, Hovering and blasting with delusive light, Misleads the amazed night-wanderer from his wayTo bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool:There swallow'd up and lost, from succor far. So glister'd the dire Snake, and into fraudLed Eve, our credulous mother, to the treeOf prohibition, root of all our woe; Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake. Serpent, we might have spared our coming hither, Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess, The credit of whose virtue rest with thee; Wonderous indeed, if cause of such effects. But of this tree we may not taste nor touch; God so commanded, and left that commandSole daughter of his voice; the rest, we liveLaw to ourselves; our reason is our law. To whom the Tempter guilefully replied. Indeed! Hath God then said that of the fruitOf all these garden-trees ye shall not eat, Yet Lords declared of all in earth or air? To whom thus Eve, yet sinless. Of the fruitOf each tree in the garden we may eat;But of the fruit of this fair tree amidstThe garden, God hath said, ye shall not eatThereof, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die. She scarce had said, though brief, when now moreThe Tempter, but with show of zeal and loveTo Man, and indignation at his wrong, New part puts on; and, as to passion moved, Fluctuates disturb'd, yet comely and in actRaised, as of some great matter to begin.As when of old some orator renown'dIn Athens or free Rome, where eloquenceFlourish'd, since mute; to some great cause address'd, Stood in himself collected; while each part, Motion, each act, won audience ere the tongue; Sometimes in height began, as no delayOf preface brooking, through his zeal of right: So standing, moving, or to height up grown,The Tempter, all impassion'd thus began. O sacred, wise, and wisdom giving Plant, Mother of Science! now I feel thy powerWithin me clear; not only to discernThings in their causes, but to trace the ways Of highest agents, deem'd however wise. Queen of this universe! do not believeThose rigid threats of death; ye shall not die:How should you? By the fruit? It gives you lifeTo knowledge; by the threatener? look on me, Me, who have touch'd and tasted; yet both live, And life more perfect have attain'd than FateMeant me, by venturing higher than my lot. Shall that be shut to Man, which to the BeastIs open? Or will God incense his ireFor such a petty trespass? and not praise Rather your dauntless virtue, whom the painOf death denounced, whatever thing death be, Deterr'd not from atchieving what might lead To happier life, knowledge of good and evil? Of good, how just? Of evil, if what is evilBe real, why not known, since easier shunn'd? God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just; Not just, not God; not fear'd then, nor obey'd: Your fear itself of death removes the fear. 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 eat thereof, your eyes that seem so clear, Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be thenOpen'd and clear'd, and ye shall be as Gods, Knowing both good and evils, as they know. That ye shall be as Gods, since I as Man, Internal Man, is but proportion meet; I, of brute, human; ye, of human, Gods. So shall ye die perhaps by putting off Human, to put on Gods; death to be wish'd, Tho' threaten'd, which no worse than this can bring. And what are Gods, that Man may not becomeAs they, participating god-like food? The Gods are first, and that advantage useOn 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 inclosedKnowledge of good and evil in this tree, That whoso eats thereof, forthwith attainsWisdom without their leave? And wherein liesThe offence, that Man should thus attain to know? What can your knowledge hurt him, or this treeImpart against his will, if all be his? Or is it envy, and can envy dwellIn heavenly breasts? These, these, and many moreCauses 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 easy entrance won: Fix'd on the fruit she gazed, which to beholdMight tempt alone: and in her ears the soundYet rung of his persuasive words, impregn'd With reason, to her seeming, and with truth;Meanwhile the hour of noon drew on, and waked An eager appetite, raised by the smellSo savory of that fruit, which with desire, Inclinable now grown to touch or taste, Solicited her longing eye; yet firstPausing a while, thus to herself she mused. Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits,Though kept from Man, and worthy to be admired;Whose taste, too long forlorn, at first assayGave elocution to the mute, and taughtThe tongue not made for speech, to speak thy praise: Thy praise he also, who forbids thy use, Conceals not from us, naming thee the treeOf knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil; Forbids us then to taste! But his forbiddingCommends thee more, while it infers the goodBy thee communicated, and our want: For good unknown, sure is not had, or, hadAnd 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 bind not. But, if deathBind us with after-bands, what profits then Our inward freedom? In the day we eat Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die! How dies the Serpent? he hath eaten and lives, And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns, Irrational till then. For us aloneWas death invented? or to us deniedThis intellectual food, for beasts reserved?For beasts it seems: yet that one beast which firstHath tasted, envies not, but brings with joyThe good befallen him, author unsuspected, Friendly to Man, far from deceit or guile. What fear I then? rather, what know to fearUnder this ignorance of good and evil, Of God or death, of law or penalty? Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine, Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,Of virtue to make wise: What hinders thenTo reach, and feed at once both body and mind? So saying, her rash hand in evil hourForth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat! Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her words, gave signs of woe, That all was lost. Back to thicket slunkThe guilty Serpent; and well might; for Eve, Intent now wholly on her taste, nought elseRegarded; such delight till then, as seem'd,In fruit she never tasted, whether trueOr fancied so, through expectation high Of knowledge; nor was Godhead from her thought, Greedily she ingorged without restraint,And knew not eating death: Satiate at length, And heighten'd as with wine, jocund and boon, Thus to herself she pleasingly began. O sovereign, virtuous, precious of all treesIn Paradise! of operation blestTo sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed, And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no endCreated; but henceforth my early careNot without song, each morning, and due praise,Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden easeOf thy full branches offer'd free to all; Till, dieted by thee, I grow matureIn knowledge, as the Gods who all things know; Though others envy what they cannot give; For, had the gift been theirs, it had not here Thus grown. Experience, next, to thee I owe, Best guide; not following thee, I had remain'd In ignorance; thou openst wisdom's way, And gives access, though secret she retire.And I perhaps am secret; Heaven is high, High, and remote to see from thence distinctEach thing on Earth; and other care perhapsMay have diverted from continual watchOur great Forbidder, safe with all his spies About him. But to Adam in what sortShall I appear? Shall I to him make known As yet my change, and give him to partakeFull happiness with me, or rather not, But keep the odds of knowledge in my powerWithout copartner? So to add what wantsIn female sex, the more to draw his love, And render me more equal; and perhaps, A thing not undesirable, sometimeSuperior; 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 turn'd; But first low reverence done, as to the PowerThat dwelt within, whose presence had infusedInto the plant sciential sap, derivedFrom nectar, drink of Gods. Adam the while,Waiting desirous her return, had woveOf choicest flowers a garland, to adornHer tresses, and her rural labours crown, As reapers oft are wont their harvest-queen.Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and newSolace in her return, so long delay'd; Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill, Misgave him; he the faltering measure felt; And forth to meet her went, the way she tookThat morn when first they parted; by the treeOf knowledge he must pass; there he her met, Scarce from the tree returning; in her handA bough of fairest fruit, that downy smiledNew gather'd, and ambrosial smell diffused. To him she hasted; in her face excuseCame prologue, and apology too prompt;Which with bland words at will she thus address'd. Hast thou not wonder'd, Adam, at my stay? Thee I have miss'd, and thought it long, deprived Thy presence; agony of love till nowNot felt, nor shall be twice; for never moreMean I to try, what rash untried I sought, The pain of absence from thy sight. But strangeHath been the cause, and wonderful to hear: This tree is not, as we are told, a treeOf danger tasted, not to evil unknownOpening the way, but of divine effectTo open eyes, and make them Gods who taste; And hath been tasted such: The serpent wise, Or not restrain'd as we, or not obeying, Hath eaten of the fruit; and is become, Not dead as we are threaten'd, but thenceforth Endued with human voice and human sense, Reasoning to admiration; and with mePersuasively hath so prevail'd, that I Have also tasted, and have also foundThe effects to correspond; opener my eyes,Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart, And growing up to Godhead; which for theeChiefly I sought, without thee can despise. For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss; Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon. Thou therefore also taste, that equal lotMay join us, equal joy, as equal love: Lest thou not tasting, different degreeDisjoin us, and I then too late renounce Deity for thee, when Fate will not permit. Thus eve with countenance blithe her story told; But in her cheek distemper flushing glow'd.On the other side, Adam, soon as he heardThe fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed, Astonied stood and blank, while horror chillRan through his veins, and all his joints relax'd; From his slack hand the garland wreath'd for EveDown dropt, and all the faded roses shed: Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at lengthFirst to himself he inward silence broke. Oh fairest of creation, last and bestOf all God's works, Creature in whom excell'dWhatever can to sight or thought be form'd, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!How are thou lost! how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflower'd, and now to death devote!Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgressThe strict forbiddance, how to violateThe sacred fruit forbidden? Some cursed fraud Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown, And me with thee hath ruin'd; for with theeCertain my resolution is to die; How can I live without thee! how foregoThy sweet converse, and love so dearly join'd, To live again in these wild woods forlorn! Should God create another Eve, and IAnother rib afford, yet loss of theeWould never from my heart; no, no! I feelThe 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 disturb'dSubmitting to what seem'd remediless, Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turn'd. Bold deed thou hast presumed, adventurous Eve, And peril great provoked, who thus hast dared, Had it been only coveting to eyeThat sacred fruit, sacred to abstinence, Much more to taste it under ban to touch. But past who can recall, or done undo? Not God Omnipotent, nor Fate; yet soPerhaps thou shalt not die, perhaps the factIs not so heinous now, foretasted fruit, Profaned first by the serpent, by him firstMade common and unhallow'd, ere our taste; Nor yet on him found deadly; he yet lives; Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live, as Man, Higher degree of life; inducement strongTo us, as likely tasting to attain Proportional ascent; which cannot beBut to be Gods, or Angels, Demi-Gods. Nor can I think that God, Creator wise, Though threatening, will in earnest so destroy Us his prime creatures, dignified so high, Set over all his works; which in our fall, For us created, needs with us must fail, Dependent made; so God shall uncreate, Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour lose; Not well conceived of God, who, though his powerCreation could repeat, yet would be loathUs to abolish, lest the AdversaryTriumph and say: "Fickle their state whom God"Most favours; who can please him long? Me first"He ruin'd, not Mankind? whom will he next?"Matter of scorn, not to be given the Foe. However I with thee, have fix'd my lot, Certain to undergo like doom; if deathConsort with thee, death is to me as lifeSo forcible within my heart I feel The bond of Nature draw me to my own; My own in thee, for what thou art is mine; Our state cannot be severed, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself. So Adam, and thus Eve to him replied. O glorious trial of exceeding love, Illustrious evidence, example high! Engaging me to emulate; but, shortOf thy perfection, how shall I attain, Adam? from whose dear side I boast me sprung, And gladly of our union hear thee speak, One heart, one soul in both; whereof good proofThis day affords, declaring thee resolved, Rather than death, or aught than death more dread, Shall separate us, link'd in love so dear, To undergo with me one guilt, one crime, If any be, of tasting this fair fruit, Whose virtue (for of good still good proceeds, Direct, or by occasion) hath presentedThis happy trial of thy love, which elseSo eminently never had been known. Were it I thought death menaced would ensueThis my attempt, I would sustain aloneThe worse, and not persuade thee, rather dieDeserted, than oblige thee with a factPernicious to thy peace; chiefly, assuredRemarkably so late of thy so sure, So faithful, love unequall'd; but I feelFar otherwise the event; not death, but lifeAugmented, open'd eyes, new hopes, new joys, Taste so divine, that what of sweet beforeHath touch'd my sense, flat seems to this, and harsh. On my experience, Adam, freely taste, And fear of death deliver to the winds. So saying, she embraced him, and for joyTenderly wept, much won that he his loveHad so ennobled, as of choice to incurDivine displeasure for her sake, or death.In recompense (for such compliance badSuch recompense best merits) from the boughShe gave him of that fair enticing fruitWith liberal hand: he scrupled not to eatAgainst his better knowledge, not deceived, But fondly overcome with female charm.Earth trembled from her entrails, as againIn pangs, and Nature gave a second groan; Sky lower'd, and muttering thunder, some sad dropsWept at completing of the mortal sinOriginal; while Adam took no thought, Eating his fill, nor Eve to iterateHer former trespass fear'd, the more to soothHim with her loved society; that now, As with new wine intoxicated both, They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feelDivinity within them breeding wingsWherewith to scorn the earth: but that false fruitFar other operation first display'd, Carnal desire inflaming; he on EveBegan to cast lascivious eyes; she himAs wantonly repaid; in lust they burn: 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 praiseYield thee, so well this day thou hast purvey'd. Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstain'dFrom this delightful fruit, nor known till nowTrue relish, tasting: if such pleasure beIn things to us forbidden, it might be wish'd, For this one tree had been forbidden ten. But come, so well refresh'd, now let us play,As meet is after such delicious fare; For never did thy beauty, since the dayI saw thee first, and wedded thee, adorn'd With all thy perfections, so inflame my senseWith ardour to enjoy thee, fairer nowThan ever, bounty of this virtuous tree! So said he, and forbore not glance or toyOr amorous intent, well understoodOf Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire. Her hand he seized, and to a shady bank, Thick overhead with verdant roof embower'd, He led her, nothing loath; flowers were the couch, Pansies, and violets, and asphodel,And hyacinth, earth's freshest softest lap. There they took their fill of love and love's disportTook largely, of their mutual guilt the seal, The solace of their sin, till dewy sleepOppress'd them, wearied with their amorous play. Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit, That with exhilarating vapour blandAbout their spirits has play'd, and inmost powersMade err, was now exhaled; and grosser sleep, Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreamsEncumber'd, now had left them; up they roseAs from unrest, and, each the other viewing, Soon found their eyes how open'd, and their minds How darken'd; innocence, that as a veilHad shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone;Just confidence, and native righteousness,And honour from about them, naked leftTo guilty shame; he cover'd, but his robeUncover'd more. So rose the Danite strong, Herculean Samson, from the harlot-lapOf Philistean Dalilah, and wakedShorn of his strength. They destitute and bareOf all their virtue; silent, and in faceConfounded, long they sat, as strucken mute,Till Adam, though not less than Eve abash'd, At length gave utterance to these words constrain'd. O Eve, in evil hour thou didst ever give earTo that false worm, of whomsoever taughtTo counterfeit Man's voice, true in our fall, False in our promised rising; since our eyesOpen'd we find indeed, and find we knowBoth good and evil, good lost, and evil got; But fruit of knowledge if this be to know; Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity, Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd, And in our faces evident the signsOf foul concupiscence; whence evil store; Even shame, the last of evils: of the firstBe sure then. How shall I behold the faceHenceforth of God or Angel, erst with joyAnd rapture so oft beheld? Those heavenly shapesWill dazzle now this earthly with their blazeInsufferably bright. O! might I hereIn solitude live savage, in some gladeObscured, where highest woods, impenetrableTo star or sun light, spread their umbrage broadAnd brown as evening. Cover me, ye Pines! Ye Cedars, with innumerable boughsHide me, where I may never see them more! But let us now, as in bad plight, deviseWhat best may for the present serve to hideThe parts of each from other, that seem mostTo shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen; Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves together sew'd. And girded on our loins, may cover roundThose middle parts, that this new comer, Shame, There sit not, and reproach us as unclean. So counsell'd he, and both together wentInto the thickest wood; there soon they choseThe fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her armsBranching so broad and long, that in the groundThe bended twigs take root, and daughters growAbout the mother tree, a pillar'd shadeHigh overarch'd, and echoing walks between; There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat, Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herdsAt loop-holes cut thro' thickest shade. Those leavesThey gather'd, broad as Amazonian targe,And, with what skill they had, together sew'd, To gird their waist; vain covering, if to hideTheir guilt and dreaded shame! O, how unlikeTo that first naked glory! Such of lateColumbus found the American, so girt With feather'd cincture; naked else, and wildAmong the trees on isles and woody shores.Thus fenced, and as they thought, their shame in partCover'd, but not as rest or ease of mind, They sat them down to weep; nor only tearsRain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse withinBegan to rise, high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook soreTheir inward state of mind, calm region onceAnd full of peace, now tost and turbulent: For understanding ruled not, and the willHeard not her lore, both in subjection nowTo sensual appetite, who from beneath, Usurping over sovereign reason, claim'dSuperior sway: From thus distemper'd breast, Adam, estranged in look and alter'd style,Speech intermitted thus Eve renew'd. Would thou hadst hearken'd to my words, and stay'd With me, as I besought thee, when that strangeDesire of wandering this unhappy morn,I know not whence possess'd thee; we had thenRemain'd still happy; not, as now, despoil'dOf all our good, shamed, naked, miserable.Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approveThe faith they owe; when earnestly they seekSuch proof, conclude, they then begin to fail. To whom, soon moved with touch of blame, thus Eve. What words have pass'd thy lips, Adam severe! Imputest thou that to default, or will Of wandering, as thou callst it, which who knowsBut might as ill have happen'd thou being by, Or to thyself perhaps? Hadst thou been there,Or here the attempt, thou couldst not have decern'd Fraud in the Serpent, speaking as he spake; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. Was I to have never parted from thy side? As good have grown there still a lifeless 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 facile then, thou didst not much gainsay; Nay didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me. To whom then first incensed, Adam replied. Is this the love, is this the recompenseOf mine to thee, ingrateful Eve! express'd Immutable, when thou wert lost, not I; Who might have lived, and joy'd immortal bliss, Yet willingly chose rather death with thee? And am I now upbraided as the causeOf thy transgressing? not enough severe, It seems, in thy restraint: what could I more?I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretoldThe danger, and the lurking enemyThat lay in wait; beyond this had been force, And force upon free-will hath here no place. But confidence then bore thee on; secureEither to meet no danger, or to findMatter of glorious trial; and perhapsI also err'd, in overmuch admiringWhat seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thoughtNo evil durst attempt thee; but I rueThat error now, which is become my crime, And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befallHim who to worth in woman overtrusting, Lets her will rule; restraint she will not brook; And left to herself, if evil thence ensue, She first his weak indulgence will accuse. Thus they in mutual accusation spentThe fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning; And of their vain contest appear'd no end.
Paradise Lost.
Book X.
ARGUMENT.
MAN'S transgression known, the guardian Angels forsake Paradise, and return up to Heaven to approve their vigilance, and are approved; God declaring that the entrance of Satan could not be by them prevented. He sends his Son to judge the transgressors; who descends, and gives sentence accordingly; then in pity clothes them both, and re-ascends. Sin and Death sitting till then at the gates of Hell, by wonderous sympathy feeling the success of Satan in this new world, and the sin by Man there committed, resolve to sit no longer confined in Hell, but to follow Satan their sire up to the place of Man: To make the way easier from Hell to this world to and fro, they pave a broad highway, or bridge over Choas[sic], according to the tract that Satan first made; then preparing for Earth, they meet him, proud of his success, returning to Hell; their mutual gratulation. Satan arrives at Pandemonium, in full assembly relates with boasting his success against Man; instead of applause is entertained with a general hiss by all his audience, transformed with himself also suddenly into serpents, according to his doom given in Paradise; then, deluded with a shew of the forbidden tree springing up before them, they, greedily reaching to take of the fruit, chew dust and bitter ashes. The proceedings of Sin and Death: God foretells the final victory of his Son over them, and the renewing of all things; but, for the present, commands his Angels to make several alterations in the heavens and elements. Adam, more and more perceiving his fallen condition, heavily bewails, rejects the condolement of Eve; she persists, and at length appeases him: then, to evade the curse likely to fall on their offspring, proposes to Adam violent ways, which he approves not; but, conceiving better hope, puts her in mind of the late promise made them, that her seed should be revenged on the Serpent; and exhorts her with him to seek peace of the offended Deity, by repentance and supplication.
Meanwhile the heinous and despiteful actOf Satan, done in Paradise, and how He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve, Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,Was known in Heaven; for what can 'scape the eyeOf God all-seeing, or deceive his heartOmniscient? who, in all things wise and just, Hinder'd not Satan to attempt the mindOf Man, with strength entire, and free-will, arm'd;Complete to have discover'd and repulsed 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 penalty;And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall. Up into Heaven from Paradise in hasteThe angelic guards ascended, mute, and sad, For Man; for of his state by this they knew, Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolenEntrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased All were who heard; dim sadness did not spareThat time celestial visages, yet mix'd With pity, violated not their bliss. About the new-arrived, in multitudesThe etherial people ran, to hear and knowHow all befell: They towards the throne supreme, Accountable, made haste, to make appear, With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance, And easily approved: when the Most-HighEternal Father, from his secret cloud, Amidst in thunder utter'd thus his voice. Assembled Angels, and ye Powers return'd From unsuccessful charge, be not dismay'd, Nor troubled 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 speedOn his bad errand; Man should be seducedAnd flatter'd out of all, believing liesAgainst his Maker; no decree of mineConcurring to necessitate his fall, Or touch with lightest moment of impulseHis free-will, to her own inclining leftIn even scale. But fallen he is; and nowWhat rests, but that the mortal sentence passOn his transgression; death denounced that day! Which he presumes already vain and void, Because not yet inflicted, as he fear'd, By some immediate stroke; but soon shall findForbearance no acquittance, ere day end. Justice shall not return as bounty scorn'd. But whom send I to judge them? whom but theeViceregent Son? To thee I have transferr'dAll judgment, whether in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell. Easy it may be seen that I intendMercy colleague with justice, sending theeMan's friend, his Mediator, his design'd Both ransom and redeemer voluntary, And destined Man himself to judge Man fallen. So spake the Father; and, unfolding brightToward the right hand his glory, on the SonBlazed forth unclouded Deity; He fullResplendent all his father manifestExpress'd, and thus divinely answer'd mild. Father Eternal, thine is to decree;Mine, both in Heaven and Earth, to do thy willSupreme; that thou in me, thy Son beloved, Mayst ever rest well pleased. I go to judge On earth these thy transgressors; but thou knows, Whoever judged, the worst on me must light, When time shall be, for so I undertookBefore thee; and, not repenting, this obtain Of right, that I may mitigate their doomOn me derived, yet I shall temper soJustice with mercy, as may illustrate mostThem fully satisfied, and thee appease. Attendance none shall need, nor train, where noneAre to behold the judgment, but the judged, 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 roseOf high collateral glory: Him Thrones, and Powers, Princedoms, and Dominations ministrantAccompanied to Heaven-gate: from whence Eden and all the coast in prospect lay. Down he descended straight; the speed of GodsTime counts not, though with swiftest minutes wing'd. Now was the sun in western cadence lowFrom noon, and gentle airs, due at their hour, To fan the earth now waked, and usher inThe evening cool; when he, from wrath more cool, Came the mild Judge, and Intercessor both, To sentence Man: The Voice of God they heardNow walking in the garden, by soft windsBrought to their ears, while day declined; they heard, And from his presence hid themselves amongThe thickest trees, both man and wife; till God, Approaching, thus to Adam call'd aloud. Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meetMy coming seen far off? I miss thee here, Not pleased, thus entertain'd with solitude, Where obvious duty ere while appear'd unsought: Or come I less conspicuous, or what changeAbsents thee, or what chance detains? Come forth! He came, and with him Eve, more loth, though firstTo offend: discountenanced both, and discomposed: Love was not in their looks, either to God, Or to each other; but apparent guilt, And shame, and perturbation, and despair,Anger and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. Whence Adam, faltering one, thus answer'd brief. I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voiceAfraid, being naked, hid myself. To whomThe gracious Judge without revile replied. My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd,But still rejoiced; how is it now become So dreadful to thee? That thou art naked, whoHath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the tree, Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat? To whom thus Adam sore beset replied. O Heaven! in evil straight this day I standBefore my Judge; either to undergoMyself the total crime, or to accuseMy other self, the partner of my life;Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, I should conceal, and not expose to blameBy my complaint; but strict necessitySubdues me, and calamitous constraint; Lest on my head both sin and punishment, However unsupportable, be allDevolved; though should I hold my peace, yet thouWouldst easily detect what I conceal. This Woman, whom thou madest to be my help, And gavest me as they perfect gift, so good, So fit, so acceptable, so divine, That from her hand I could suspect no ill, And what she did, whatever in itself, Her doing seem'd to justify the deed; She gave me of the tree, and I did eat. To whom the sovereign Presence thus replied. Was she thy God, that her thou didst obeyBefore his voice? or was she made thy guide, Superior, or but equal, that to herThou didst resign thy manhood, and the placeWherein God set thee above her made of thee, And for her, whose perfection far excell'd Hers in all real dignity? Adorn'd She was indeed, and lovely, to attractThy love, not thy subjection; and her giftsWere such, as under government well seem'd; Unseemly to bear rule; which was thy partAnd person, hadst thou known thyself 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 JudgeBold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied. The Serpent me beguiled, and I did eat. Which when the Lord God heard, without delayTo judgment he proceeded on the accusedSerpent, though brute; unable to transferThe guilt on him who made him instrumentOf mischief, and polluted from the endOf his creation; justly then accursed, As vitiated in nature: More to knowConcern'd not Man (since he no further knew)Nor alter'd his offence; yet God at last To Satan first in sin his doom applied, Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best: And on the serpent thus his curse let fall. Because thou hast done this, thou art accursedAbove all cattle, each beast of the field; Upon thy belly groveling thou shalt go, And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life. Between thee and the Woman I will put Enmity, and between thine and her seed; Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel. So spake this oracle, then verified When Jesus, son of Mary, second Eve, Saw Satan fall like lightning down from Heaven,Prince of the air; then, rising form his grave, Spoil'd Principalities and Powers, triumph'dIn open show; and, with ascension bright, Captivity led captive through the air, The realm itself of Satan, long usurp'd; Whom he shall tread at last under our feet; Even he, who now foretold his fatal bruise; And to the Woman thus his sentence turn'd. Thy sorrow I will greatly multiplyBy thy conception; children thou shalt bringIn sorrow forth; and to thy husband's willThine shall submit; he over thee shall rule. On Adam last thus judgment he pronounced. Because thou hast hearken'd to the voice of thy wife, And eaten of the tree, concerning whichI charged thee, saying, thou shalt not eat thereof:Cursed is the ground for thy sake; thou in sorrowShalt eat thereof, all the days of thy life; Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forthUnbid; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field. In the sweat of they face shalt thou eat breadTill thou return unto the ground; for thouOut of the ground wast taken, know thy birth, For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return. So judged he Man, both Judge and Saviour sent; And the instant stroke of death, denounced that dayRemoved far off; then, pitying how they stoodBefore him naked to the air, that nowMust suffer change, disdain'd not to beginThenceforth the form of servant to assume; As when he wash'd his servants' feet; so now, As father of his family, he cladTheir nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain, Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid; And thought not much to clothe his enemies: Nor he their outward only with the skinsOf beasts, but inward nakedness, much moreOpprobrious, with his robe of righteousness, Arraying, cover'd from his Father's sight. To him with swift ascent he up return'd, Into his blissful bosom reassumedIn glory as of old: to him appeasedAll, though all-knowing, what had pass'd with ManRecounted, mixing intercession sweet. Meanwhile, ere thus was sinn'd and judged on Earth, Within the gates of Hell sat Sin and Death, In counterview within the gates, that nowStood open wide, belching outrageous flameFar into Chaos, since the Fiend pass'd through, Sin opening; who thus now to Death began. O Son, why sit we here each other viewingIdly, while Satan, our great author, thrivesIn other worlds, and happier seat providesFor us, his offspring dear? It cannot beBut that success attends him; if mishap, Ere this he had return'd, with fury drivenBy his avengers; since no place like thisCan fit his punishment, or their revenge. Methinks I feel new strength within me rise, Wings growing, and dominion given me largeBeyond this deep; whatever draws me on, Or sympathy, or some connatural force, Powerful at greatest distance to unite, With secret amity, things of like kind, By secretest conveyance. Thou, my shadeInseparable, must with me along: For Death from Sin no power can separate. But, lest the difficulty of passing backStay his return perhaps over this gulfImpassable, impervious; let us tryAdventurous work, yet to thy power and mineNot unagreeable, to found a pathOver this main from Hell to that new worldWhere Satan now prevails; a monumentOf merit high to all the infernal host,Easing their passage hence, for intercourse, Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead. Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawnBy this new-felt attraction and instinct. Whom thus the meagre Shadow answer'd soon. Go, whither fate and inclination strongLeads thee; I shall not lag behind, nor errThe way, thou leading; such a scent I drawOf carnage, prey innumerable, and tasteThe savor of Death from all things there that live: Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisestBe wanting, but afford thee equal aid. So saying, with delight he snuff'd the smellOf mortal change on Earth. As when a flockOf ravenous fowl, though many a league remote, Against the day of battle, to a field, Where armies lie encamp'd, come flying, luredWith scent of living carcases design'd For death, the following day, in bloody fight: So scented the grim Feature, and upturn'dHis nostril wide into the murky air, Sagacious of his quarry from so far.Then both from out Hell-gates, into the wasteWide anarchy of Chaos, damp and dark,Flew diverse, and with power (their power was great)Hovering upon the waters, what they metSolid or slimy, as in rain sea, Tost up and down, together crowded droveFrom each side shoaling, towards the mouth of Hell: As when two polar winds, blowing adverse Upon the Cronian sea, together driveMountains of ice, that stop the imagined wayBeyond Petsora eastward, to the richCathaian coast. The aggregated soilDeath with his mace petrific, cold and dry, As with a trident smote, and fix'd as firmAs Delos floating once; the rest his look Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move; And with Asphaltic slime, broad as the gate, Deep to the roots of Hell the gather'd beachThey fasten'd, and the mole immense wrought onOver the foaming deep high-arch'd, a bridge Of length prodigious, joining to the wallImmoveable of this now fenceless worldForfeit to Death; from hence a passage broad, Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to Hell. So, if great things to small may be compared, Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke, From Susa, his Memnonian palace high,Came to the sea, and, over Hellespont Bridging his way, Europe with Asia join'd, And scourged with many a stroke the indignant waves.Now had they brought the work, by wonderous art Pontifical, a ridge of pendant rockOver the vex'd abyss, following the tractOf Satan to the self-same place where he First lighted from his wing, and landed safeFrom out of Chaos, to the outside bareOf this round world; with pins of adamant, And chains they made all fast, too fast they made And durable: And now, in little space, The confines met of empyrean HeavenAnd of this World; and, on the left hand, Hell, With long reach interposed; three several waysIn sight, to each of these three places led. And now their way to Earth they had descried, To Paradise first tending; when, behold, Satan, in likeness of an Angel bright, Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steeringHis zenith, while the sun in Aries rose:Disguised he came, but those his children dearTheir parent soon discern'd, though in disguise. He after Eve seduced, unminded slunkInto the wood fast by; and, changing shape,To observe the sequel, saw his guileful actBy Eve, though all unweeting, seconded Upon her husband; saw their shame, that soughtVain covertures; but, when he saw descendThe Son of God to judge them, terrifiedHe fled; not hoping to escape, but shunThe present; fearing, guilty, what his wrath Might suddenly inflict; that passed, return'dBy night, and listening where the hapless pairSat in their sad discourse, and various plaint,Thence gather'd his own doom; which understoodNot instant, but of future time, with joyAnd tidings fraught, to Hell he now return'd; And at the brink of Chaos, near the footOf this wondrous pontifice, unhopedMet, who to meet him came, his offspring dear.Great joy was at their meeting, and at sightOf that stupendous bridge, his joy increased. Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fairInchanting daughter, thus the silence broke. O Parent, these are they magnific deeds, Thy trophies, which thou viewst as not thine own; Thou are their author, and prime architect, For I no sooner in my heart divined, My heart which by a secret harmonyStill moves with thine, join'd in connection sweet, That thou on Earth hadst prosper'd, which thy looksNow 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 obscureDetain from following thy illustrious tract. Thou has achieved our liberty, confinedWithin Hell-gates till now; thou hast empower'dTo fortify thus far, and overlayWith this portentous bridge the dark abyss.Thine now is all this world; thy virtue hath wonWhat thy hands builded not; thy wisdom gain'd, With odds, what war hath lost, and fully avengedOur foil in Heaven; here thou shalt monarch reign, There didst not; there let him still victor sway, As battle hath adjudged; from this new worldRetiring, by his own doom alienated;And henceforth monarchy with thee divideOf all things parted by the empyreal bounds, His quadrature, from thy orbicular world; Or try thee, now more dangerous to his throne. Whom thus the Prince of Darkness answer'd glad. Fair Daughter, and thou Son and Grand-child both, High proof ye now have given to be the raceOf Satan, (for I glory in the name,Antagonist of Heaven's Almighty King), Amply have merited of me, of allThe infernal empire, that so near Heaven's doorTriumphal with triumphal act have met, Mine, with this glorious work, and made one realm, Hell and this world, one realm, one continentOf easy thoroughfare. Therefore, while I Descend through darkness, on your road with ease, To my associate Powers, them to acquaintWith these successes, and with them rejoice; You two this way, among these numerous orbs, All yours, right down to Paradise descend; There dwell, and reign in bliss; thence on the EarthDominion exercise and in the air. Chiefly on Man, sole Lord of all declared; Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill. My substitutes I send ye, and createPlenipotent on Earth, of matchless mightIssuing from me: on your joint vigour nowMy hold of this new kingdom all depends, Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit. If your joint power prevail, the affairs of HellNo detriment need fear; go, and be strong. So saying he dismiss'd them; they with speedTheir course through thickest constellations held, Spreading their bane; the blasted stars look'd wan, And planets, planet-struck, real eclipseThen suffer'd. The other way Satan went down The causey to Hell-gate; on either sideDisparted Chaos over-built exclaim'd, And with rebounding surge the bars assail'd,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 their charge, Flown to the upper wold; the rest were allFar to the inland retired, about the wallsOf Pandemonium, city and proud seatOf Lucifer, so by allusion call'd,Of that bright star to Satan paragon'd; There kept their watch the legions, while the GrandIn council sat, solicitous what chanceMight intercept their emperor sent; so heDeparting gave command, and they observed. As when the Tartar from his Russian foe, By Astracan, over the snowy plains, Retires; or Bactrian Sophi, from the hornsOf Turkish Crescent, leaves all waste beyondThe realm of Aladule, in his retreatTo Tauris or Casbin: So these, the lateHeaven banish'd host, left desert utmost HellMany a dark league, reduced in careful watchRound their metropolis; and now expecting Each hour their great adventurer, from the searchOf foreign worlds: He through the midst unmark'd, In shew plebeian Angel militantOf lowest order pass'd; and from the doorOf that Plutonian hall, invisibleAscended his high throne; which, under stateOf richest texture spread, at the upper endWas placed, in regal lustre. Down awhileHe sat, and round about him saw, unseen: At last, as from a cloud, his fulgent headAnd shape star-bright appear'd, or brighter; cladWith what permissive glory since his fallWas left him, or false glitter: All amazedAt that so sudden blaze, the Stygian throngBent their aspect, and whom they wish'd beheld,Their mighty Chief return'd: loud was the acclaim: Forth rush'd in haste the great consulting Peers, Raised from their dark Divan, and with like joyCongratulant approach'd him; who with handSilence, and with these words, attention won. Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers;For in possession such not only of right, I call ye, and declare ye now; return'dSuccessful beyond hope, to lead ye forthTriumphant out of this infernal pitAbominable, accursed, the house of woe, And dungeon of our tyrant: Now possess, As Lords, a spacious world; to our native HeavenLittle inferior, by my adventure hardWith peril great achieved. Long were to tellWhat I have done, what suffer'd; with what painVoyaged the unreal, vast, unbounded deepOf horrible confusion; over which, By Sin and Death a broad way now is paved, To expedite your glorious march: but I Toil'd out my uncouth passage, forced to rideThe untractable abyss, plunged in the wombOf unoriginal Night and Chaos wild;That, jealous of their secrets, fiercely opposedMy journey strange, with clamorous uproarProtesting Fate supreme; thence how I foundThe new-created world, which fame in HeavenLong had foretold, a fabric wonderful Of absolute perfection, therein ManPlaced in a Paradise, by our exileMade happy: Him by fraud I have seduced From his Creator; and, the more to increaseYour wonder, with an apple; he, thereatOffended, worth your laughter, hath given upBoth his beloved Man and all his worldTo Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, Without our hazard, labour, or alarm; To range in, and to dwell, and over ManTo rule, as over all he should have ruled. True is, me also he hath judged, or ratherMe not, but the brute serpent in whose shapeMan I deceived: that which to me belongsIs enmity, which he will put betweenMe and Mankind; 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 the accountOf my performance: what remains, ye Gods, But up, and enter now into full bliss. So having said, awhile he stood, expecting Their universal shout and high applauseTo fill his ear; when, contrary, he hearsOn all sides, from innumerable tongues, A dismal universal hiss, the soundOf public scorn; he wonder'd, but not longHad leisure, wondering at himself now more; His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare; His arms clung to his ribs: his legs entwiningEach other, till supplanted down he fell, A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, Reluctant, but in vain; a greater powerNow ruled him, punished in the shape he sinn'd, According to his doom: He would have spoke, But hiss for hiss return'd with forked tongue To forked tongue: for, now were all transform'dAlike, to serpents all, as accessoriesTo his bold riot, dreadful was the dinOf hissing through the hall, thick swarming nowWith complicated monsters head and tail, Scorpion, and Asp, and Amphisbaena dire,Cerastes horn'd, Hydrus, and Elops drear, And Dipsas; not so thick swarm'd once the soilBedropp'd with blood of Gorgon, or the isleOphiusa; but still greatest he the midst, Now Dragon grown, larger than whom the sun Ingender'd in the Pythian vale on slime, Huge Python, and his power no less he seem'dAbove the rest still to retain; they allHim follow'd, issuing forth to the open field, Where all yet left of that revolted routHeaven fallen, in station stood or just array; Sublime with expectation when to seeIn triumph issuing forth their glorious Chief;They saw, but other sight instead, a crowdOf ugly serpents; horror on them fell, And horrid sympathy; for, what they saw, They felt themselves now changing; down their arms, Down fell both spear and shield; down they as fast, And the dire hiss renew'd, and the dire formCatch'd by contagion; like in punishment, As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meant, Turn'd to exploding hiss, triumph to shameCast on themselves from their own mouths. There stoodA grove hard by, sprung with this their change, His will who reigns above, to aggravateTheir penance, laden with fair fruit, like thatWhich grew in Paradise, the bait of EveUsed by the Tempter; on that prospect strangeTheir earnest eyes they fix'd; imagining For one forbidden tree a multitudeNow risen, to work them further woe or shame; Yet, parch'd with scalding thirst, and hunger fierce. Though to delude them sent, could not abstain; But on they rolled in heaps, and, up the treesClimbing, sat thicker than the snaky locksThat curled Megaera: greedily they pluck'dThe fruitage fair to sight, like that which grewNear that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed; This more delusive; not the touch, but tasteDeceived; they, fondly thinking to allay Their appetite with gust, instead of fruitChew'd bitter ashes, which the offended tasteWith spattering noise rejected: oft they assay'd, Hunger and thirst constraining; drugg'd as oftWith hatefullest disrelish writhed their jawsWith soot and cinders fill'd; so oft they fellInto the same illusion, not as Man,Whom they triumph'd once lapsed. Thus were they plaguedAnd worn with famine long, and ceaseless hiss,Till their lost shape, permitted they resumed; Yearly enjoin'd, some say, to undergoThis annual humbling certain number'd days,To dash their pride, and joy, for Man seduced.However, some tradition they dispersedAmong the heathen of their purchase got, And fabled how the serpent, whom they call'dOphion, with Eurynome, the wideEncroaching Eve perhaps, had first the ruleOf high Olympus; thence by Saturn drivenAnd Ops, ere yet Dictaean Jove was born. Meanwhile in Paradise the hellish pairToo soon arrived; 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 yetOn his pale horse; to whom Sin thus began. Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death, What thinks thou of our empire now, tho' earn'd With travel difficult, not better farThan still at Hell's dark threshold to have sat watch, Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half starved. Whom thus the Sin-born monster answer'd soon. To me, who with eternal famine pine, Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven; There best, where most with ravine I may meet; Where here, though plenteous, all too little seems To stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corpse. To whom the incestuous mother thus replied. Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flower, Feed first; on each beast next, and fish, and fowl; No homely morsels; and, whatever thingThe sithe of Time mows down, devour unspared;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 ways, Both to destroy, or unimmortal makeAll kinds, and for destruction to matureSooner or later; which the Almighty seeing, From his transcendent seat the Saints among, To those bright Orders utter'd thus his voice. See with what heat these dogs of Hell advance To waste and havock yonder world, which I So fair and good created; and had still Kept in that state, had not the folly of ManLet in these wasteful furies, who imputeFolly to me; so doth the prince of HellAnd his adherents, that with so much easeI suffer them to enter and possessA place so heavenly; and, conniving, seem To gratify my scornful enemies, That laugh, as if, transported with some fitOf passion, I to them had quitted all, At random yielded up to their misrule; And know not that I call'd and drew them thitherMy Hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filthWhich Man's polluting sin with taint hath shedOn whatwas pure; till, cramm'd and gorged, night burstWith suck'd and glutted offal, at one slingOf thy victorious arms, well-pleasing Son, Both Sin, and Death, and yawning Grave, at last Through Chaos hurl'd, obstruct the mouth of HellFor ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. Then Heaven and Earth renew'd shall be made pureTo sanctity, that shall receive no stain: Till then, the curse pronounced on both precedes. He ended, and the heavenly audience loudSung Halleluiah, 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, Destined Restorer of mankind, by whomNew Heaven and Earth shall to the ages rise, Or down from Heaven descend. Such was their song; While the Creator, calling forth by nameHis mighty Angels, gave them several charge, As sorted best with present things. The sunHad first his precept so to move, so shine, As might affect the earth with cold and heatScare tolerable; and from the north to callDecrepit winter; from the south to bringSolstitial summer's heat. To the blanc moonHer office they prescribed: to the other five Their planetary motions and aspectsIn sextile, square, and trine, and opposite, Of noxious efficacy, and when to joinIn synod unbenign; and taught the fix'd Their influence malignant when to shower,Which of them rising with the sun, or falling, Should prove tempestuous: To the winds they set Their corners, when with bluster to confoundSea, air, and shore; the thunder when to rollWith terror through the dark aerial hall.Some say, he bid his Angels turn askance The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more, From the sun's axle; they with labour push'dOblique the centric globe: Some say, the sunWas bid turn reins from the equinoctial roadLike distant breadth to Taurus with the sevenAtlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins, Up to the Tropic Crab; thence down amainBy Leo, and the Virgin, and the Scales, As deep as Capricorn; to bring in changeOf seasons to each clime; else had the springPerpetual smiled on earth with verdant flowers, Equal in days and nights, except to thoseBeyond the polar circles; to them dayHad unbenighted shone, while the low sun, To recompense his distance, in their sightHad rounded still the horizon, and not knownOr east or west; which had forbid the snowFrom cold Estotiland, and south as farBeneath Magellan. At that tasted fruitThe sun, as from Thyestian banquet, turn'd His course intended; else, how had the worldInhabited, though sinless, more than now, Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? These changes in the Heavens, though slow, producedLike change on sea and land; sideral blast, Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot, Corrupt and pestilent: Now, from the northOf Norumbega, and the Samoed shore, Bursting their brazen dungeon, arm'd with ice, And snow, and hail, and stormy gust and flaw, Boreas, and Caecias, and Argestes loud,And Thrascias, rend the woods, and seas upturn;With adverse blast upturns them from the southNotus and Afer black with thunderous cloudsFrom Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierce, Forth rush the Levant and the Potent winds, Eurus and Zephyr, with their lateral noise, Sirocco, and Libecchio. Thus beganOutrage from lifeless things; but Discord first, Daughter of Sin, among the irrational, Death introduced, through fierce antipathy: Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl, And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leaving, Devour'd each other; not stood much in aweOf Man, but fled him; or, with countenance grim, Glared on him passing. These were from without The growing miseries, which Adam sawAlready in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, To sorrow abandon'd, but worse felt within:And, in a troubled sea of passion tost, Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint. O miserable of happy! Is this the endOf this new glorious world, and me so lateThe glory of that glory, who now become Accursed of blessed? hide me from the faceOf God, whom to behold was then my heightOf happiness! yet well if here would endThe misery; I deserved it, and would bearMy own deservings; but this will not serve; All that I eat or drink, or shall beget, Is propagated curse. O voice, once heard Delightfully, Increase and multiply,Now death to hear! for what can I increase, Or multiply, but curses on my head? Who of all ages to succeed, but feelingThe evil on him brought by me, will curseMy head? Ill fare our ancestor impure, For this we may thank Adam! but his thanksShall be the execration; so, besidesMine own that bide upon me, all from meShall with a fierce reflux on me rebound; On me, as on their natural centre, lightHeavy, though in their place. O fleeting joysOf Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes!Did I request thee, Maker, from my clayTo mould me Man? Did I solicit thee, From darkness to promote me, or here placeIn this delicious garden? As my willConcurr'd not to my being, it were but rightAnd equal to reduce me to my dust; Desirous to resign and render backAll I received; unable to performThy terms too hard, by which I was to holdThe good I sought not. To the loss of that, Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added The sense of endless woes? Inexplicable Thy justice seems; yet, to say truth, too lateI thus contest; then should have been refused Those terms, whatever, when they were proposed:Thou didst accept them; wilt thou enjoy the good, Then cavil the conditions? and, though GodMade thee without thy leave, what if thy sonProve disobedient, and, reproved, retort, "Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not:"Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of theeThat 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 return: O welcome hour whenever! Why delaysHis hand to execute what his decreeFix'd on this day? Why do I overlive? Why am I mock'd with death, and lengthen'd outTo deathless pain? How gladly would I meetMortality my sentence, and be earthInsensible! how glad would lay me down As in my mother's lap! There I should rest And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no moreWould thunder in my ears; no fear of worse To me and to my offspring, would torment meWith cruel expectation. Yet one doubt Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die;Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of ManWhich God inspired, cannot together perishWith this corporeal clod; then, in the grave, Or in some other dismal place, who knowsBut I shall die a living death? O thoughtHorrid, if true! yet, why? it was but breathOf life that sinn'd; what dies but what had lifeAnd sin? the body properly hath neither.All of me then shall die: let this appease The doubt, since human reach no further knows. For though the Lord of all be infinite, Is his wrath 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 argumentOf weakness, not of power. Will he draw out,For anger's sake, finite to infinite,In punish'd Man, to satisfy his rigour,Satisfied never? That were to extend His sentence beyond dust and Nature's law; By which all causes else, according still To the reception of their matter, act; Not to the extent of their own sphere. But sayThat death be not one stroke, as I supposed,Bereaving sense, but endless miseryFrom this day onward; which I feel begunBoth in me, and without me; and so lastTo perpetuity; Ay me! that fear Comes thundering back with dreadful revolution On my defenceless head; both death and IAre found eternal, and incorporate both; Nor I on my part single; in me allPosterity stands cursed: Fair patrimonyThat I must leave ye, Sons! O, were I ableTo waste it all myself, and leave ye none! So disinherited, how would ye blessMe, now your curse! Ah, why should all mankind, For one Man's fault thus guiltless be condemn'd, If guiltless? But from me what can proceed, But all corrupt; both mind and will depraved, Not to do only, but to will the sameWith me? How can they then acquitted standIn sight of God? Him, after all disputes, Forced I absolve: all my evasions vain, And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me stillBut to my own conviction: first and lastOn me, me only, as the source and springOf all corruption, all the blame lights due; So might the wrath! Fond wish! Couldst thou supportThat burden heavier than the earth to bear; Than all the world much heavier, though dividedWith that bad Woman? Thus, what thou desires, And what thou fearst, alike destroys all hope Of refuge, and concludes thee miserableBeyond all past example and future; To Satan only like both crime and doom. O Conscience! into what abyss of fearsAnd horrors hast thou driven me; out of whichI find no way, from deep to deeper plunged! Thus Adam to himself lamented loudThrough the still night: not now, as ere Man fell, Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black airAccompanied, with damps, and dreadful gloom; Which to his evil conscience represented All things with double terror: On the groundOutstretch'd he lay, on the cold ground; and oftCursed his creation; Death as oft accused Of tardy execution, since denounced The day of his offence. Why comes not Death, Said he, with one thrice acceptable strokeTo end me? Shall Truth fail to keep her word, Justice Divine not hasten to be just? But Death comes not at call; Justice DivineMends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers!With other echo late I taught your shades To answer and resound far other song.—Whom thus afflicted when sad Eve beheld, Desolate where she sat, 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 leagued, thyself as falseAnd hateful; nothing wants, but that thy shape, Like his, and colour serpentine, may showThy inward fraud; to warn all creatures from theeHenceforth; lest that too heavenly form, pretendedTo hellish falsehood, snare them! But for theeI had persisted happy; had not they prideAnd wandering vanity, when least was safe, Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'dNot to be trusted; longing to be seen, Though by the Devil himself; him overweeningTo overreach; but with the Serpent meeting, Fool'd and beguiled; by him though, I by thee, To trust thee from my side; imagined wise, Constant, mature, proof against all assaults; And understood not all was but a show, Rather than solid virtue; all but a ribCrooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister, from me drawn; Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found. O! why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest HeavenWith Spirits masculine, create at lastThis novelty on earth, this fair defectOf nature, and not fill the world at onceWith Men, as Angels, without feminine; Of find some other way to generate Mankind? This mischief had not then befallenAnd more that shall befall; innumerable Disturbances on earth through female snares, And strait conjunction with this sex: for eitherHe never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gainThrough her perverseness, but shall see her gain'dBy a far worse; or, if she love, withheldBy parents; or his happiest choice too lateShall meet, already link'd and wedlock-boundTo a fell adversary, his hate or shame: Which infinite calamity shall causeTo human life, and household peace confound. He added not, and from her turn'd; but Eve, Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing, And tresses all disorder'd, at his feetFell humble; and embracing them, besoughtHis peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint. Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness HeavenWhat love sincere, and reverence in my heartI bear thee, and unwitting have offended, Unhappily deceived! Thy suppliantI beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Thy counsel, I this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: Forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two let there be peace; both joining, As join'd in injuries, on enmityAgainst a foe by doom express assign'd us, That cruel Serpent: On me exercise notThy hatred for this misery befallen; On me already lost, me than thyselfMore miserable! Both have sinn'd; but thouAgainst God only, I against God and thee; And to the place of judgment will return, There with my cries importune Heaven, that allThe sentence, from thy head removed, may lightOn me, sole cause to thee of all this woe;Me, me only, just object of his ire! She ended weeping, and her lowly plight, Immoveable, till peace obtain'd from faultAcknowledged and deplored, in Adam wroughtCommiseration: Soon his heart relentedTowards her, his life so late and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress; Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, His counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid:As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon. Unwary, and too desirous, as before, So now of what thou knowst not, who desirestThe punishment all on thyself; alas! Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain His full wrath, whose thou feelst as yet least part, And my displeasure bearst so ill. If prayersCould alter high decrees, I to that placeWould speed before thee, and be louder heard, That on my head all might be visited; Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven, To me committed, and by me exposed. But rise; let us no more contend, nor blameEach other, blamed enough elsewhere; but strive,In offices of love, how we may lightenEach other's burden, in our share of woe;Since this day's death denounced, if aught I see, Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil, A long day's dying, to augment our pain; And to our seed (O hapless seed!) derived. To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied. Adam, by sad experiment I knowHow little weight my words with thee can find, Found so erroneous; thence by just eventFound so unfortunate: Nevertheless, Restored by thee, vile as I am, to placeOf new acceptance, hopeful to regainThy love, the sole contentment of my heartLiving or dying, from thee I will not hideWhat thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen, Tending to some 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, devour'd By Death at last; and miserable it isTo be to others cause of misery, Our own begotten, and of our loins to bringInto this cursed world a woeful race, That after wretched life must be at lastFood for so foul a monster; in thy powerIt lies yet ere conception to preventThe race unblest, to being yet unbent. Childless thou art, childless remain: so DeathShall be deceived by his glut, and with us twoBe forced to satisfy his ravenous maw. But if thou judge it hard and difficult, Conversing, looking, loving, to abstainFrom love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet,And with desire to languish without hope, Before the present object languishingWith like desire, which would be miseryAnd torment less than none of what we dread; Then, both ourselves and seed at once to freeFrom what we fear for both, let us make short; Let us seek Death; or, he not found, supplyWith our own hands his office on ourselves:Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That shew no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy? She ended here, or vehement despairBroke off the rest; so much of death her thoughtsHad entertain'd, as dyed her cheeks with pale.But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd, To better hopes his more attentive mindLabouring had raised, and thus to Eve replied. Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems To argue in thee something more sublime And excellent than what thy mind contemns; But self-destruction therefore sought, refutesThat excellence thought in thee; and implies, Not thy contempt, but anguish and regretFor loss of life and pleasure overloved. Or if thou covet death, as utmost endOf misery, so thinking to evade The penalty pronounced; doubt not but GodHath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire, than so To be forestall'd; much more I fear lest death, So snatch'd, will not exempt us from the painWe are by doom to pay; rather such actsOf contumacy will provoke the HighestTo make death in us live: Then let us seekSome safer resolution, which methinks I have in view, calling to mind with heedPart of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruiseThe Serpent's head; piteous amends, unlessBe meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe, Satan; who, in the serpent, hath contrivedAgainst us this deceit: To crush his head Would be revenge indeed! which will be lostBy death brought on ourselves, or childless daysResolved as thou proposest; so our foeShall 'scape his punishment ordain'd, and weInstead shall double ours upon our heads.No more be mention'd then of violenceAgainst ourselves; and wilful barrenness,That cuts us off from hope; and savours onlyRancour and pride, impatience and despite, Reluctance against God and his just yokeLaid on our necks. Remember with what mild And gracious temper he both heard, and judged, Without wrath or reviling; we expectedImmediate dissolution, which we thoughtWas meant by death that day; when lo! to theePains only in child-bearing were foretold, And bringing forth; soon recompensed with joy, Fruit of thy womb: On me the curse aslopeGlanced on the ground; with labour I must earnMy bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse:My labour will sustain me; and, lest coldOr heat should injure us, his timely careHath, unbesought, provided; and his handsClothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged;How much more, if we pray him, will his earBe open, and his heart to pity incline, And teach us further by what means to shunThe inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow? Which now the sky, with various face, begins To shew us in this mountain; while the windsBlow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locksOf these fair spreading trees; which bids us seekSome better shroud, some better warmth to cherishOur limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal starLeave cold the night, how we his gather'd beamsReflected may with matter sere foment; Of by collision of two bodies grindThe air attrite to fire; as late the cloudsJustling, or push'd with winds, rude in their shockTine the slant lightning; whose thwart flame, driven down,kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine;And sends a comfortable heat from far,Which might supply the sun: Such fire to use, And what may else be remedy or cureTo evils which our own misdeeds have wrought, He will instruct us praying, and of graceBeseeching him; so as we need not fearTo pass commodiously this life, sustain'dBy him with many comforts, till we endIn dust, our final rest and native home. What better can we do, than, to the placeRepairing where he judged us, prostrate fallBefore him reverent; and there confessHumbly our faults, and pardon beg; with tearsWatering the ground, and with our sighs the airFrequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in signOf sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek?Undoubtedly he will relent and turnFrom his displeasure; in whose looks serene, When angry most he seem'd and most severe, What else but favour, grace, and mercy shone? So spake our Father penitent, nor EveFelt less remorse: they forthwith to the placeRepairing where he judged them, prostrate fellBefore him reverent; and both confess'dHumbly their faults, and pardon begg'd; with tearsWatering the ground, and with their sighs the airFrequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in signOf sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.
Paradise Lost.
Book XI.
ARGUMENT.
THE Son of God presents to his Father, the prayers of our first parents now repenting, and intercedes for them: God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise; sends Michael with a band of Cherubim to dispossess them; but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael's coming down. Adam shews to Eve certain ominous signs; he discerns Michael's approach: goes out to meet him: the Angel denounces their departure. Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: The Angel leads him up to a high hill; sets before him in vision what shall happen till the flood.
Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stoodPraying; for from the mercy-seat above, Prevenient grace descending, had removed The stony from their hearts, and made new fleshRegenerate grow instead; that sighs now breathedUnutterable, which the Spirit of prayerInspired, and wing'd for Heaven with speedier flightThan loudest oratory: yet their portNot of mean suitors; nor important lessSeem'd their petition, than when the ancient pairIn fables old, less ancient yet than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restoreThe race of mankind drown'd, before the shrineOf Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayersFlew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious windsBlown vagabond or frustrate; in they pass'dDimensionless through heavenly doors: then cladWith incense, where the golden altar fumed,By their great Intercessor, came in sightBefore the Father's throne: them the glad SonPresenting, thus to intercede began. See, Father, what first fruits on earth are sprungFrom thy implanted grace in Man; these sighsAnd prayers, which in this golden censer, mix'd With incense, I thy priest before thee bring; Fruit of more pleasing savour, from thy seedSown with contrition in his heart, than thoseWhich, his own hand manuring, all the treesOf Paradise could have produced, ere fallenFrom innocence. Now therefore, bend thine ear To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute; Unskilful with what words to pray, let meInterpret for him; me, his advocate, And propitiation; all his works on me, Good, or not good, ingraft: my merit those Shall perfect; and for these my death shall pay. Accept me; and, in me, from these receive The smell of peace toward mankind: let him liveBefore thee reconciled, at least his daysNumber'd, though sad; till death, his doom, (which ITo mitigate thus plead, not to reverse,) To better life shall yield him; where with meAll my redeem'd 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 unharmonious mixture foul, Eject him, tainted now; and purge him off As a distemper, gross to air as gross, And mortal food; as may dispose him bestFor dissolution wrought by sin, that firstDistemper'd all things, and of incorrupt, Corrupted. I, at first, with two fair giftsCreated him endow'd; with happiness,And immortality: that fondly lost,This other served but to eternize woe;Till I provided death; so death becomesHis final remedy; and after life, Tried in sharp tribulation, and refined By faith and faithful works to second life, Waked in the renovation of the just,Resigns him up to Heaven and Earth renew'd. But let us call to synod all the Blest,Through Heaven's wide bounds; from them I will not hideMy judgements; how with Mankind I proceed, As how with peccant Angels late they saw, And in their state, though firm, stood more confirm'd. He ended, and the Son gave signal highTo the bright minister that watch'd; he blewHis trumpet, heard in Oreb since, perhapsWhen God descended, and perhaps once moreTo sound a general doom. The angelic blastFill'd all the regions: from their blissful bowersOf amaranthine shade, fountain or spring, By the waters of life, where'er they satIn fellowships of joy, the sons of lightHasted, resorting to the summons high;And took their seats; till from his throne supremeThe Almighty thus pronounced his sovereign will. O Sons! like one of us Man is becomeTo know both good and evil, since his tasteOf that defended fruit; but let him boastHis knowledge of good lost, and evil got; Happier had it sufficed him to have known Good by itself, and evil not at all. He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite; My motions in him: longer than they move, His heart I know, how variable and vain, Self-left. Lest therefore his now bolder hand Reach also of the tree of life, and eat,And live for ever, dream at least to liveFor ever, to remove him I decree, And send him from the garden forth to tillThe ground whence he was taken, fitter soil. Michael, this my behest have thou in charge; Take to thee from among the CherubimThy choice of flaming warriors, lest the Fiend, Or in behalf of man, or to invadeVacant possession, some new trouble raise:Haste thee, and from the Paradise of GodWithout remorse drive out the sinful pair;From hallowed ground the unholy; and denounceTo them, and to their progeny, from thencePerpetual banishment. Yet, lest they faintAt the sad sentence rigorously urged, (For I behold them soften'd, and with tearsBewailing their excess), all terror hide. If patiently thy bidding they obey, Dismiss them not disconsolate; revealTo Adam what shall come in future days,As I shall thee enlighten; intermixMy covenant in the Woman's seed renew'd;So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace:And on the east side of the garden place,Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs,Cherubic watch; and of a sword the flameWide-waving; all approach far off to fright,And guard all passage to the three of life;Lest Paradise a receptacle proveTo spirits foul, and all my trees their prey;With whose stolen fruit man once more to delude. He ceased; and the Arch-Angelic Power preparedFor swift descent; with him the cohort brightOf watchful Cherubim; four faces eachHad, like a double Janus; all their shapeSpangled with eyes more numerous than thoseOf Argus, and more wakeful than to drowse, Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reedOf Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile, To re-salute the world with sacred lightLeucothea waked; and with fresh dews embalm'd The earth; when Adam and first matron EveHad ended now their orisons; and foundStrength added from above; new hope to springOut of despair; joy, but with fear yet link'd;Which thus to Eve his welcome words renew'd. Eve, easily may faith admit, that allThe good which we enjoy, from Heaven descends; But, that from us aught should ascend to Heaven, So prevalent as to concern 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 human breath, upborneEven to the seat of God. For since I sought By prayer the offended Deity to appease; Kneel'd, and before him humbled all my heart; Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his ear; persuasion in me grewThat I was heard with favour; peace return'd Home to my breast, and to my memoryHis promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe; Which, then not minded in dismay, yet now Assures me that the bitterness of deathIs past, and we shall live. Whence hail to thee, Eve rightly call'd, mother of all mankind, Mother of all things living, since by theeMan is to live; and all things live for Man. To whom thus Eve with sad demeanor meek. Ill-worthy I such title should belongTo me transgressor; who, for thee ordain'dA help, became they snare; to me reproach Rather belongs, distrust, and all dispraise:But infinite in pardon was my judge, That I, who first brought death on all, am gracedThe source of life; next favourable thou, Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsafest, Far other name deserving. But the file To labour calls us, now with sweat imposed, Though after sleepless night; for see! the Morn, All unconcern'd with our unrest, begins Her rosy progress smiling; let us forth; I never from thy side henceforth to stray, Where'er our day's work lies; though now enjoin'd Laborious, till day drop while here we dwell, What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks?Here let us live, though in fallen state, content. So spake, so wish'd much-humbled Eve, but fateSubscribed not; Nature first gave signs, impress'dOn bird, beast, air; air suddenly eclipsed, After short blush of morn; nigh in her sight, The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his airy tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove: Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, First hunter then, pursued a gentle brace, Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. Adam observed, and with his eye the chasePursuing, not unmoved to Eve thus spake. O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, Which Heaven by these mute signs in Nature, showsForerunners of his purpose: or to warnUs, haply too secure, of our dischargeFrom penalty, because from death releasedSome days; how long, and what till then our life, Who knows? Or more than this, that we are dust, And thither must return, and be no more? Why else this double object in our sightOf flight pursued in the air, and o'er the ground, One way the self-same hour? why in the eastDarkness ere day's mid course, and morning lightMore orient in yon western cloud, that drawsO'er the blue firmament a radiant white;And slow descended, with something heavenly fraught? He err'd not; for by this the heavenly bandsDown from a sky of jasper lighted nowIn Paradise, and on a hill made halt; A glorious apparition, had not doubt And carnal fear that day dimm'd Adam's eye. Not that more glorious, when the Angels metJacob in Mahanaim, where he sawThe field pavilion'd with his guardians bright; Nor that, which on the flaming mount appear'dIn Dothan, cover'd with a camp of fire, Against the Syrian king, who to surpriseOne man, assassin-like, had levied war; War unproclaim'd. The princely HierarchIn their bright stand there left his Powers, to seize Possession of the garden; he alone, To find where Adam shelter'd, took his way, Not unperceived of Adam; who to Eve, While the great visitant approach'd, thus spake. Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps Of us will soon determine, or imposeNew laws to be observed; for I descry,From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill, One of the heavenly host; and by his gait, None of the meanest; some great Potentate, Or of the Thrones above; such majestyInvests 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 the Arch-Angel soon drew nigh,Not in his shape celestial, but as manClad to meet man; over his lucid armsA military vest of purple flow'd, Livelier than Meliboean, or the grainOf Sarra, worn by kings and heroes oldIn time of truce; Iris had dipp'd the woof:His starry helm unbuckled shew'd him primeIn manhood where youth ended; by his side, As in a glistering zodiac, hung the sword, Satan's dire dread; and in his hand the spear.Adam bow'd low; he, kingly from his stateInclined not, but his coming thus declared. Adam, Heaven's high behest no preface needs:Sufficient that thy prayers are heard; and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seizure many daysGiven thee of grace; wherein thou mayst repent, And one bad act with many deeds well doneMayst cover: Well may then thy Lord, appeased, Redeem thee quite from Death's rapacious claim; But longer in this Paradise to dwell Permits not; to remove thee I am come, And send thee from the garden forth to tillThe ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil. He added not; for Adam at the newsHeart-struck with the chilling gripe of sorrow stood, That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseenYet all had heard, with audible lamentDiscover'd soon the place of her retire. O unexpected stroke, worse than of death!Must I leave thee, Paradise? thus leaveThee, native soil! these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that dayThat must be mortal to us both. O flowers,That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my lastAt even, which I bred up with tender handFrom the first opening bud, and gave ye names! Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rankYour tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?Thee lastly nuptial bower! by me adorn'd With what to sight or smell was sweet! from theeHow shall I part, and whither wander downInto a lower world; to this obscureAnd wild? How shall we breath in other airLess pure, accustom'd to immortal fruit. Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild: Lament not Eve, but patiently resignWhat 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 soil. Adam, by this from the cold sudden dampRecovering, and his scatter'd spirits return'd, To Michael thus his humble worlds address'd. Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named Of them the highest; for such of shape may seemPrince above princes! gently hast thou toldThy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besidesOf sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweetRecess, and only consolation leftFamiliar to our eyes! all places elseInhospitable appear, and desolate; Nor knowing us, nor known: And, if by prayerIncessant I could hope to change the willOf Him who all things can, I would not ceaseTo weary him with my assiduous cries: But prayer against his absolute decreeNo more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth:Therefore to his great bidding I submit. This most afflicts me, that departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, deprivedHis blessed countenance: Here I could frequent With worship place by place where he vouchsafedPresence Divine; and to my sons relate, "On this mount he appear'd; 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 rearOf grassy turf, and pile up every stoneOf lustre from the brook, in memory, Or monument to ages; and thereonOffer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits and flowers: In yonder nether world where shall I seekHis bright appearances, or footstep trace? For though I fled him angry, yet, recall'dTo life prolong'd and promised race, I nowGladly behold, though but his utmost skirtsOf glory; and far off his steps adore. To whom thus Michael with regard benign. Adam, thou knowst heaven his, and all the Earth; Not this rock only; his Omnipresence fillsLand, sea, and air, and every kind that lives. Fomented by his ritual power and warm'd: All the Earth he gave thee to possess and rule, No despicable gift! surmise not thenHis presence to these narrow bounds confinedOf Paradise, or Eden: this had been Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spreadAll generations; and had hither come, From all the ends of the Earth, to celebrateAnd reverence thee, their great progenitor.But this pre-eminence thou has lost, brought downTo dwell on even ground now with thy sons:Yet doubt not but in valley, and in plain, God is, as here; and will be found alikePresent; and of his presence many a signStill following thee, still compassing thee roundWith goodness and paternal love, his faceExpress, and of his steps the track divine. Which that thou mayst believe, and be confirm'd Ere thou from hence depart, know, I am sentTo shew thee what shall come in future daysTo thee, and to thy offspring, good with badExpect to hear; supernal grace contendingWith sinfulness of men; thereby to learnTrue patience, and to temper joy with fearAnd pious sorrow; equally enured By moderation either state to bear, Prosperous, or adverse: so shalt thou leadSafest thy life, and best prepared endureThy mortal passage when it comes.—AscendThis hill; let Eve (for I have drenched her eyes)Here sleep below; while thou to foresight wakest; As once thou sleeps, while she to life was form'd. To whom thus Adam gratefully replied. Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the pathThou leadst me; and to the hand of Heaven submit, However chastening; to the evil turnMy obvious breast; arming to overcomeBy suffering, and earn rest from labour won, If so I may attain.—So both ascendIn the visions of God. It was a hill,Or Paradise the highest; from whose topThe hemisphere of earth, in clearest ken, Stretch'd out to the amplest reach of prospect lay. Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round, Whereon, for different cause, the Tempter setOur second Adam, in the wilderness; To shew him all Earth's kingdoms, and their glory. His eye might there command wherever stoodCity of old or modern fame, the seatOf mightiest empire, from the destined wallsOf Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne;To Paquin of Sinaean kings; and thenceTo Agra and Lahor of the great Mogul, Down to the golden Chersonese; or whereThe Persian in Ecbatan sat, or sinceThe Hispahan; or where the Russian Kzar In Moscow; or the Sultan in Bizance, Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not kenThe empire of Negus, to his utmost portErcoco, and the less maritime kings, Monbaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south; Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mountThe kingdoms of Almansor, Fez, and Sus, Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen; On Europe thence, and where Rome was to swayThe world; in spirit perhaps he also sawRich Mexico, the seat of Montezume, And Cusco in Peru, the richer seatOf Atabalipa; and yet unspoil'dGuiana, whose great city Geryon's sonsCall El Dorado. But to nobler sightsMichael from Adam's eyes the film removed, Which that false fruit that promised clearer sightHad bred; then purged with euphrasy and rueThe visual nerve, for he had much to see; And from the well of life three drops instill'd. So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, E'en to the inmost seat of mental sight, That Adam now, enforced to close his eyes, Sunk down, and all his spirits became entranced; But him the gentle Angel by the handSoon raised, and his attention thus recall'd. Adam, now ope thine eyes; and first beholdThe effect which thy original crime hath wroughtIn some to spring from thee; who never touch'dThe excepted tree; nor with the Snake conspired, Nor sinn'd thy sin; yet from that sin deriveCorruption, to bring forth more violent deeds. His eyes he open'd, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheavesNew reap'd; the other part sheep-walks and folds; In the midst an altar as the land-mark stood, Rustic, of grassy sord; thither anonA sweaty reaper from his tillage broughtFirst fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf, Uncurl'd, as came to hand; a shepherd next, More meek, came with the firstlings of his flock, Choicest and best; then, sacrificing, laidThe inwards and their fat, with incenses strow'd, On the cleft wood, and all due rites perform'd. His offering soon propitious fire from HeavenConsumed with nimble glance, and grateful steam; The other's not, for his was not sincere; Whereat he inly raged, and, as they talk'd, Smote him into the midriff with a stoneThat beat out life: he fell; and, deadly pale, Groan'd out his soul with gushing blood effused. Much at that sight was Adam in his heartDismay'd, and thus in haste to the Angel cried. O Teacher, some great mischief hath befallen To that meek man, who well hath sacrificed; Is piety thus and pure devotion paid? To whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied. These two are brethren, Adam, and to comeOut of thy loins; the unjust the just hath slain, For envy that his brother's offering foundFrom Heaven acceptance; but the bloody factWill be avenged, and the other's faith approved, Lose no reward, though here you see him die, Rolling 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 wayI must return to native dust? O sightOf terror, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel! To whom thus Michael. Death thou hast seenIn his first shape on Man; but many shapesOf death, and many are the ways that lead To his grim cave, all dismal, yet to senseMore terrible at the entrance than within. Some, as thou sawst, by violent stroke shall die; By fire, flood, famine, by intemperance moreIn meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crewBefore thee shall appear; that thou mayst knowWhat misery the inabstinence of EveShall bring on Men. Immediately a placeBefore his eyes appear'd, sad, poison, dark; A lazar-house it seem'd; wherein were laidNumbers of all diseased, all maladiesOf ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualmsOf heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, chalice pangs, Demoniac frenzy, moaping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence,Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums.Dire was the tossing, deep the groans: DespairTended the sick busiest from couch to couch; And over them triumphant Death his dartShook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invoked With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. Sight so deform what heart of rock could longDry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept, Though not of woman born; compassion quell'dHis best of man, and gave him up to tearsA space, till firmer thoughts restrain'd excess:And, scarce recovering words, his plaint renew'd. O miserable mankind, to what fallDegraded, to what wretched state reserved!Better end here unborn. Why is life givenTo be thus wrested from us? rather, whyObtruded on us thus? who, if we knewWhat we receive, would either not acceptLife offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down; Glad to be so dismiss'd in peace. Can thusThe image of God in Man, created onceSo goodly and erect, though faulty since, To such unsightly sufferings be debasedUnder inhuman pains? Why should not Man, Retaining still divine similitudeIn part, from such deformities be free, And, for his Maker's image sake, exempt? Their Maker's image, answer'd Michael, then Forsook them, when themselves they vilifiedTo serve ungovern'd Appetite; and took His image whom they served, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. Therefore so abject is their punishment, Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own; Or if his likeness, by themselves debased; While they pervert pure Nature's healthful rulesTo lothsome sickness, worthily, since theyGod's image did not reverence in themselves. I yield it just, said Adam, and submit. But is there yet no other way, besidesThese painful passages, how we may comeTo death, and mix with our connatural dust? There is, said Michael, if thou well observeThe rule of Not too much; by temperance taught, In what thou eatst and drinkst; seeking from thenceDue nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return: So mayst thou live; till like ripe fruit thou dropInto thy mother's lap; or be with easeGather'd, not harshly pluck'd; for death mature: This is Old Age; but then, thou must outliveThy youth, thy strength, thy beauty; which will changeTo withered, weak, and grey; thy senses then, Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forego, To what thou hast; and, for the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reignA melancholy damp of cold and dryTo weigh thy spirits down, and last consumeThe balm of life. To whom our ancestor. Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong Life much; bent rather, how I may be quitFairest and easiest of this cumberous charge, Which I must keep till my appointed dayOf rendering up, and patiently attendMy dissolution. Michael replied. Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livest, Live well; how long, or short, permit to Heaven: And now prepare thee for another sight. He look'd, and saw a spacious plain, whereon Were tents of various hue; by some, were herdsOf cattle grazing; others, whence the soundOf instruments, that made melodious chime, Was heard, of harp and organ; and who movedTheir stops and chords, was seen; his volant touch, Instinct through all proportions, low and high, Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue. In other part stood one who at the forge, Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brassHad melted, (whether found where casual fire Had wasted woods on mountain or in vale, Down to the veins of Earth; thence gliding hotTo some cave's mouth; or whether wash'd by streamFrom under ground) the liquid ore he drain'd Into fit moulds prepared; from which he form'd First his own tools; then, what might else be wroughtFusile or graven in metal. After these, But on the hither side, a different sortFrom the high neighboring hills, which was their seatDown to the plain descended: by their guise, Just men they seem'd, and all their study bentTo worship God aright, and know his worksNot hid; nor those things last, which might preserveFreedom and peace to men: they on the plainLong had not walk'd, when, from the tents behold!A bevy of fair women, richly gayIn gems and wanton dress; to the harp they sungSoft amorous ditties, and in dance came on. The men, tho' grave, eyed them, and let their eyesRove without rein, till in the amorous netFast caught, they liked, and each his liking chose; And now of love they treat, till the evening star, Love's harbinger, appear'd; then, all in heat, They light the nuptial torch, and bid invokeHymen, then first to marriage-rites invoked; With feast and music all the tents resound. Such happy interview and fair event, Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flowers, And charming symphonies, attach'd the heartOf Adam, soon inclined 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 hopeOf peaceful days portends, than those two past; Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse; Here Nature seems fulfill'd in all her ends. To whom thus Michael. Judge not what is bestBy pleasure, though to nature seeming meet; Created, as thou art, to nobler end, Holy and pure, conformity divine. Those tents thou sawst so pleasant, were the tentsOf wickedness, wherein shall dwell his raceWho slew his brother; studious they appearOf arts that polish life, inventors rare, Unmindful of their Maker, though his SpiritTaught them; but they his gifts acknowledge none. Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget; For that fair female troop thou sawst, that seem'd Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, Yet empty of all good wherein consists Woman's domestic honor and chief praise; Bred only and completed to the tasteOf lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye; To these, that sober race of men, whose livesReligious titled them the songs of God, Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fameIgnobly, to the trains and to the smiles, Of these fair atheists: and now swim in joy, Ere long to swim at large; and laugh, for whichThe world ere long a world of tears must weep. To whom thus Adam, of short joy bereft. O pity and shame, that they, who to live wellEnter'd so fair, should turn aside to tread Paths indirect, or in the midway faint! But still I see the tenor of Man's woeHolds on the same, from Woman to begin. From Man's effeminate slackness it begins, Said the Angel, who should better hold his placeBy wisdom, and superior gifts received. But now prepare thee for another scene. He look'd, and saw wide territory spread Before him, towns and rural works between, Cities of men with lofty gates and towers, Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war, Giants of mighty bone, and bold emprise:Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, Single, or in array of battle ranged, Both horse and foot, nor idly mustering stood; One way a band select from forage drivesA herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine, From a fat meadow ground; or fleecy flock, Ewes and their bleating lambs over the plain, Their booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly, But all in aid, which makes a bloody fray; With cruel tournament the squadrons join; Where cattle pastured late, now scatter'd lies, With carcases and arms, the ensanguined field, Deserted: others to a city strongLay siege, encamp'd; by battery, scale, and mine, Assaulting; others from the wall defendWith dart and javelin, stones, and sulfurous fire; On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds. In other parts the scepter'd heralds callTo council, in the city gates: anonGrey-headed men and grave, with warriors mix'd, 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 judgment from above: him old and youngExploded, and had seized with violent hands, Had not a cloud descending snatch'd him thenceUnseen 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 guideLamenting turn'd full sad; O! what are these, Death's ministers, not men, who thus deal deathInhumanly to men, and multiplyTen thousandfold the sin of him who slewHis brother: for of whom such massacreMake they, but of their brethren, men of men? But who was that just man, whom had not HeavenRescued, had in his righteousness been lost? To whom thus Michael. These are the productOf those ill-mated marriages thou sawst;Where good with bad were match'd, who of themselvesAbhor to join; and by imprudence mix'd, Produce prodigious births of body or mind. Such were these Giants, men of high renown; For in those days might only shall be admired, And valour and heroic virtue call'd; To overcome in battle, and subdueNations, and bring home spoils with infinite Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitchOf human glory, and for glory doneOf triumph, to be styled great conquerors, Patrons of Mankind, Gods, and sons of Gods, Destroyers rightlier call'd, and plagues of men. Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth; And what most merits fame, in silence hid. But he, the seventh from thee, whom thou beheldst The only righteous in a world perverse, And therefore hated, therefore so besetWith 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 balmy cloud, with winged steedsDid, as thou sawst, receive, to walk with GodHigh in salvation and the climes of bliss, Exempt from death; to shew thee what rewardAwaits the good, the rest what punishment; Which now direct thine eyes, and soon behold. He look'd, and saw the face of things quite changed;The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar:All now was turn'd to jollity and game, To luxury and riot, feast and dance, Marrying or prostituting, as befell, Rape or adultery, where passing fairAllured them: thence from cups to civil broils. At length a reverend Sire among them came, And of their doings great dislike declared, And testified against their ways; he oftFrequented their assemblies, whereso met, Triumphs or festivals, and to them preach'd Conversion and repentance, as to soulsIn prison, under judgments imminent: But all in vain: which when he saw, he ceasedContending, and removed his tents far off; Then from the mountain hewing timber tall, Began to build a vessel of huge bulk, Measured by cubit, length, and breath, and height, Smear'd round with pitch, and in the side a doorContrived, and of provisions laid in largeFor man and beast: when lo, a wonder strange!Of every beast, and bird, and insect smallCame sevens, and pairs, and entered in as taughtTheir order: last the Sire, and his three sons, With their four wives; and God made fast the door. Meanwhile the south wind rose, and with black wingsWide hovering, all the clouds together droveFrom under Heaven; the hills to their supplyVapour, and exhalation dusk and moist, Sent up amain; and now the thicken'd skyLike a dark ceiling stood; down rush'd the rainImpetuous, and continued till the EarthNo more was seen; the floating vessel swumUplifted, and secure with beaked prowRode tilting o'er the waves; all dwellings elseFlood overwhelm'd, and them with all their pomp Deep under water roll'd; sea cover'd sea, Sea without shore: and in their palaces, Where luxury late reign'd, sea monsters whelp'dAnd stabled; of mankind, so numerous late, All left, in one small bottom swum embark'd. How didst thou grieve them, Adam, to beholdThe end of all thy offspring, end so sad, Depopulation? thee another flood, Of tears and sorrow, a flood thee also drown'd, And sunk thee as thy sons; till, gently rear'dBy the Angel, on thy feet thou stoodst at last, Though comfortless; as when a father mourns His children, all in view destroyed at once; And scarce to the Angel utteredst thus thy plaint. O visions ill foreseen! better had I Lived ignorant of future, so had borneMy part of evil only, each day's lotEnough to bear; those now, that were dispensedThe burden of many ages, on me lightAt once, by my foreknowledge gaining birthAbortive, to torment me ere their being, With thought that they must be. Let no man seekHenceforth to be foretold what shall befallHim or his children; evil he may be sure, Which neither his foreknowing can prevent;And he the future evil shall no lessIn apprehension than in substance feel, Grievous to bear; but that care now is past, Man is not whom to warn: those few escapedFamine and anguish, will at last consume, Wandering that watery desire. I had hope, When violence was ceased, and war on earth, All would have then gone well, peace would have crown'd,With length of happy days, the race of Man:But I was far deceived; for now I seePeace to corrupt no less than war to waste. How comes it thus? unfold, celestial Guide, And whether here the race of Men will end. To whom thus Michael. Those whom last thou sawstIn triumph and luxurious wealth, are theyFirst seen in acts of prowess eminentAnd great exploits, but of true virtue void; Who, having spilt much blood, and done much waste, Subduing nations, and achieved therebyFame in the world, high titles, and rich prey, Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth, Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and prideRaise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. The conquer'd also, and enslaved by war, Shall with their freedom lost, all virtue loseAnd fear of God; from whom their piety feign'd, In sharp contest of battle found no aidAgainst invaders; therefore cool'd in zeal, Thenceforth shall practise how to live secure, Worldly or dissolute, on what their lordsShall leave them to enjoy; for the Earth shall bearMore than enough, that temperance may be tried:So all shall turn degenerate, all depraved, Justice and temperance, truth and faith, forgot; One man except, the only son of light In a dark age, against example good, Against allurement, custom, and a worldOffended; fearless or reproach and scorn, Or violence, he of their wicked waysShall them admonish, and before them setThe paths of righteousness, how much more safe, And full of peace, denouncing wrath to comeOn their impenitence; and shall return Of them derided, but of God observedThe one just man alive; by his commandShall build a wonderous ark, as thou beheldst, To save himself and household, from amidstA world devote to universal wrack. No sooner he, with them of man and beast Select for life, shall in the ark be lodged, And shelter'd round, but all the cataractsOf Heaven set open on the Earth shall pourRain, day and night; all fountains of the deep, Broke up, shall heave the ocean to usurpBeyond all bounds; till inundation riseAbove the highest hills: Then shall this mountOf Paradise by might of waves be movedOut of his place, push'd by the horned flood, With all his verdure spoil'd, and tress adrift, Down the great river to the opening gulf, And there take root an island salt and bare, The haunt of seals, and orcs, and sea-mews clang:To teach thee that God attributes to placeNo sanctity, if none be thither broughtBy men who there frequent, or therein dwell. And now, what further shall ensure, behold. He look'd, and saw the ark-hull on the flood. Which now abated; for the clouds were fled, Driven by a keen north-wind, that, blowing dry, Wrinkled the face of deluge, as decay'd; And the clear sun on his wide watery glassGazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, As after thirst; which made their flowing shrinkFrom standing lake to tripping ebb, that stoleWith soft foot towards the Deep; who now had stoptHis sluices, as the Heaven his windows shut. The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground, Fast on the top of some high mountain fix'd. And now the tops of hills, as rocks, appear; With clamour thence the rapid currents drive, Towards the retreating sea, their furious tide. Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, And after him, the surer messenger, A dove sent forth once and again to spyGreen tree or ground, whereon his foot may light; The second time returning, in his billAn olive leaf he brings, pacific sign:Anon dry ground appears, and from his arkThe ancient sire descends, with all his train: Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout, Grateful to Heaven, over his head beholdsA dewy cloud, and in the cloud a bowConspicuous with three listed colours gay, Betokening peace from God, and covenant new. Whereat the heart of Adam, erst so sad, Greatly rejoiced; and thus his joy broke forth. O thou, who future things canst representAs present, heavenly Instructor! I revive At this last sight; assured that man shall live, With all the creatures, and their seed preserve. Far less I now lament for one whole worldOf wicked sons destroy'd, than I rejoiceFor one man found so perfect, and so just, That God vouchsafes to raise another worldFrom him, and all his anger to forget. But say, what mean those colour'd streaks in HeavenDistended, as the brow of God appeased? Or serve they, as a flowery verge, to bindThe fluid skirts of that same watery cloud, Lest in again dissolve, and shower the earth? To whom the Arch-Angel. Dexterously thou aimst; So willingly doth God remit his ire, Though late repenting him of man depraved; Grieved at his heart, when looking down he sawThe whole earth fill'd with violence, and all fleshCorrupting each their way; yet, those removed, Such grace shall one just man find in his sight, That he relents, not to blot out mankind; And makes a covenant never to destroyThe earth again by flood; nor let the seaSurpass his bounds; nor rain to drown the world, With man therein or beast; but, when he bringsOver the earth a cloud, will therein setHis triple-colour'd bow, whereon to look, And call to mind his covenant: Day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost, Shall hold their course; till fire purge all things new, Both Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell.
Paradise Lost.
Book XII.
ARGUMENT.
THE Angel Michael continues, from the flood, to relate what shall succeed; then, in the mention of Abraham, comes by degrees to explain, who that Seed of the Woman shall be, which was promised Adam and Eve in the Fall; his incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension: the state of the church till his second coming. Adam, greatly satisfied and recomforted by these relations and promises, descends the hill with Michael: wakens Eve, who all this while had slept, but with gentle dreams composed to quietness of mind and submission. Michael in either hand leads them out of Paradise, the fiery sword waving behind them, and the Cherubim taking their stations to guard the place.
As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed; so here the Arch-Angel pausedBetwixt the world destroy'd and world restored,If Adam aught perhaps might interpose;Then, with transition sweet, new speech resumes. Thus hast thou seen one world begin, and end;And Man, as from a second stock, proceed.Much hast thou yet to see; but I perceiveThy mortal sight to fail; objects divineMust needs impair and weary human sense:Henceforth what is to come I will relate;Thou therefore give due audience, and attend. This second source of Men, while yet but few,And while the dread of judgment past remainsFresh in their minds, fearing the Deity,With some regard to what is just and rightShall lead their lives, and multiply apace;Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop,Corn, wine and oil; and, from the herd or flock,Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid,With large wine-offerings pour'd, and sacred feast,Shall spend their days in joy unblamed; and dwellLong time in peace, by families and tribes,Under paternal rule: till one shall riseOf proud ambitious heart; who, not contentWith fair equality, fraternal state,Will arrogate dominion undeservedOver his brethren, and quite dispossessConcord and law of nature from the earth;Hunting (and men not beasts shall be his game)With war and hostile snare, such as refuseSubjection to his empire tyrannous:A mighty hunter thence he shall be styledBefore the Lord; as in despite of Heaven,Or from Heaven claiming second sovereignty;And from rebellion shall derive his name,Though of rebellion others he accuse.He with a crew, whom like ambition joinsWith him or under him to tyrannize,Marching from Eden towards the west, shall findThe plain, wherein a black bituminous gurgeBoils out from under ground, the mouth of Hell:Of brick, and of that stuff, they cast to buildA city and tower, whose top may reach to Heaven;And get themselves a name; lest, far dispersedIn foreign lands, their memory be lost;Regardless whether good or evil fame.But God, who oft descends to visit menUnseen, and through their habitations walks To mark their doings, them beholding soon,Comes down to see their city, ere the towerObstruct Heaven-towers, and in derision setsUpon their tongues, a various spirit, to raseQuite out their native language; and, instead,To sow a jangling noise of words unknown:Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud,Among the builders; each to other callsNot understood; till hoarse, and all in rage,As mock'd they storm; great laughter was in Heaven,And looking down, to see the hubbub strange,And hear the din: Thus was the building left Ridiculous, and the work Confusion named. Whereto thus Adam, fatherly displeased.O execrable son! so to aspireAbove his brethren; to himself assumingAuthority usurp'd, from God not given;He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl,Dominion absolute; that right we holdBy his donation; but man over menHe made not lord: such title to himselfReserving, human left from human free.But this usurper his encroachment proudStays not on man; to God his tower intendsSiege and defiance: Wretched man! What foodWill he convey up thither, to sustainHimself and his rash army; where thin airAbove the clouds will pine his entrails gross,And famish him of breath, if not of bread! To whom thus Michael. Justly thou abhorrstThat son, who on the quiet state of menSuch trouble brought, affecting to subdueRational liberty; yet know withal,Since thy original lapse, true liberty Is lost, which always with right reason dwellsTwinn'd, and from her hath no dividual being:Reason in man obscured, or not obey'd,Immediately inordinate desires,And upstart passions, catch the governmentFrom reason; and to servitude reduceMan, till then free. Therefore, since he permitsWithin himself unworthy powers to reignOver free reason, God, in judgment just,Subjects him from without to violent lords:Who oft as undeservedly inthrallHis outward freedom: Tyranny must be;Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse.Yet sometimes nations will incline so lowFrom virtue, which is reason, that no wrong,But justice, and some fatal curse annex'd,Deprives them of their outward liberty;Their inward lost: Witness the irreverent sonOf him who built the ark; who, for the shameDone to his father, heard this heavy curse,"Servant of servants," on his vicious race.Thus will this latter, as the former world,Still tend from bad to worse; till God at last,Wearied with their iniquities, withdrawHis presence from among them, and avert His holy eyes; resolving from thenceforthTo leave them to their own polluted ways;And one peculiar nation to selectFrom all the rest, of whom to be invoked,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 patriarch lived, who 'scaped the flood,As to forsake the living God, and fallTo worship their own work in wood and stoneFor Gods! yet him God the Most High vouchsafesTo call by vision from his father's house,His kindred, and false Gods, into a landWhich he will show him; and from him will raise A mighty nation; and upon him showerHis benediction so, that in his seedAll nations shall be blest; he 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 soil,Ur of Chaldea, passing now the fordTo Haran; after him a cumberous trainOf herds and flocks, and numerous servitude;Not wandering poor, but trusting all his wealthWith God, who call'd him, in a land unknown.Canaan he now attains; I see his tentsPitch'd about Sechem, and the neighbouring plainOf Moreh; there by promise he receivesGift to his progeny of all that land,From Hamath northward to the Desert south;(Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed,)From Hermon east to the great western Sea;Mount Hermon, yonder sea; each place beholdIn prospect, as I point them; on the shoreMount Carmel; here, the double-founted stream,Jordan, true limit eastward: But his sonsShall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills.This ponder, that all nations of the earthShall in his seed be bless'd: By that seedIs meant thy great Deliverer, who shall bruiseThe Serpent's head; whereof to thee anonPlainlier shall be reveal'd. This patriarch blest,Whom faithful Abraham due time shall call,A son, and of his son a grandchild, leaves;Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown;The grandchild, with twelve sons increased, departsFrom Canaan, to a land hereafter call'dEgypt, divided by the river Nile;See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouthsInto the sea: To sojourn in that landHe comes, invited by a younger sonIn time of dearth; a son, whose worthy deedsRaise him to be the second in that realmOf Pharaoh: There he dies, and leaves his raceGrowing into a nation; and, now grown Suspected to a sequent king, who seeksTo stop their overgrowth, as inmate guestsToo numerous; whence of guests he makes them slavesInhospitably, and kills their infant males:Till by too brethren (those too brethren callMoses and Aaron) sent from God to claim His people from inthralment, they returnWith glory, and spoil, back to their promised land.But first, the lawless tyrant, who denies To know their God, or message to regard,Must be compell'd by signs and judgments dire;To blood unshed the rivers must be turn'd;Frogs, lice, and flies, must all his palace fillWith loth'd intrusion, and fill all the land;His cattle must of rot and murrain die;Botches and blains must all his flesh emboss,And all his people; thunder mix'd with hail,Hail mix'd with fire, must rend the Egyptian sky,And wheel on the earth, devouring where it rolls;What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain,A darksome cloud of locusts swarming downMust eat, and on the ground leave nothing green;Darkness must overshadow all his bounds,Palpable darkness, and blot out three days;Last, with one midnight-stroke, all the first-bornOf Egypt must lie dead. Thus with ten woundsThe river dragon tamed at length submitsTo let his sojourners depart, and oftHumbles his stubborn heart; but still, as iceMore harden'd after thaw; till, in his ragePursuing whom he late dismiss'd, the seaSwallows him with his host; but them lets pass,As on dry land, between two crystal walls;Aw'd by the rod of Moses so to standDivided, till his rescued gain their shore:Such wonderous power God to his saint will lend,Though present in his Angel; who shall go Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire;By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire,To guide them in their journey, and removeBehind them, while the obdurate king pursues:All night he will pursue; but his approach Darkness defends between till morning watch;Then, through the fiery pillar, and the cloud,God looking forth will trouble all his host,And craze their chariot-wheels: when by commandMoses once more his potent rod extendsOver the sea; the sea his rod obeys;On their embattel'd ranks the waves return,And overwhelm their war: The race electSafe towards Canaan from the shore advanceThrough the wild Desert, not the readiest way;Lest, entering on the Canaanite alarm'd,War terrify them inexpert, and fearReturn them back to Egypt, choosing ratherInglorious life with servitude; for lifeTo noble and ignoble is more sweetUntrain'd in arms, where rashness leads not on.This also shall they gain by their delayIn the wide wilderness; there they shall foundTheir government, and their great senate chooseThrough the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordain'd:God from the Mount of Sinai, whose gray top Shall tremble, he descending, will himself In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets sound,Ordain them laws; part, such as appertainTo civil justice; part, religious ritesOf sacrifice; informing them, by typesAnd shadows, of that destined Seed to bruiseThe Serpent, by what means he shall achieveMankind's deliverance. But the voice of GodTo mortal ear is dreadful; they beseechThat Moses might report to them his will,And terror cease; he grants what they besought,Instructed that to God is no accessWithout Mediator, whose high office nowMoses in figure bears; to introduceOne greater, of whose day he shall foretell,And all the Prophets in their age the timesOf great Messiah shall sing. Thus, laws and ritesEstablish'd, such delight hath God in MenObedient to his will, that he vouchsafesAmong them to set up his tabernacle,The Holy One with mortal Men to dwell:By his prescript a sanctuary is framedOf cedar, overlaid with gold; thereinAn ark; and in the ark his testimony,The records of his covenant; over theseA mercy-seat of gold, between the wingsOf two bright Cherubim; before him burnSeven lamps as in a zodiac representingThe heavenly fires; over the tent a cloud Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night,Save when they journey, and at length they come,Conducted by his Angel, to the land Promised to Abraham and his seed: The restWere long to tell! how many battles fought;Or how the sun shall in mid Heaven stand stillA day entire, and night's due course adjourn,Man's 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 himHis whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win. Here Adam interposed. O sent from Heaven,Enlightener of my darkness, gracious thingsThou hast reveal'd; those chiefly which concernJust Abraham and his seed: now first I findMine eyes true-opening, and my heart much eased;Erewhile perplex'd with thoughts, what would become Of me and all mankind: But now I seeHis day, in whom all nations shall be blest;Favour unmerited by me, who sought Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means.This yet I apprehend not, why to those Among whom God will deign to dwell on Earth,So many and so various laws are given;So many laws argue so many sinsAmong them; how can God with such reside? To whom thus Michael. Doubt not but that sinWill reign among them, as of thee begot;And therefore was law given them, to evinceTheir natural pravity, by stirring upSin against law to fight: that when they seeLaw can discover sin, but not remove,Save by those shadowy expiations weak,The blood of bulls and goats, they may concludeSome blood more precious must be paid for Man;Just for unjust; that, in such righteousness,To them by faith imputed, they may findJustification towards God, and peaceOf conscience, which the law by ceremoniesCannot appease, nor Man the moral part Perform, and not performing cannot live.So law appears imperfect, and but given With purpose to resign them, in full time,Up to a better covenant, disciplinedFrom shadowy types to truth; from flesh to spirit;From imposition of strict laws to freeAcceptance of large grace; from servile fearTo filial; works of law to works of faith.And therefore shall not Moses, though of GodHighly beloved, being but the ministerOf law, his people into Canaan lead;But Joshua, whom the Gentiles Jesus call,His name and office bearing, who shall quellThe adversary-Serpent, and bring backThrough the world's wilderness long wander'd ManSafe to eternal Paradise of rest.Meanwhile they, in their earthly Canaan placed,Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sinsNational interrupt their public peace,Provoking God to raise them enemies;From whom as oft he saves them penitentBy Judges first, then under Kings; of whomThe second, both for piety renown'dAnd puissant deeds, a promise shall receiveIrrevocable, that his regal throneFor ever shall endure; the like shall singAll prophecy, that of the royal stockOf David (so I name this king) shall riseA Son, the Woman's seed to thee foretold,Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trustAll nations, and to kings foretold, of kingsThe last; for of his reign shall be no end.But first a long succession must ensue;And his next son, for wealth and wisdom famed,The clouded ark of God, till then in tentsWandering, shall in a glorious temple inshrine.Such follow him, as shall be register'dPart good, part bad; of bad the longer scroll;Whose foul idolatries, and other faultsHeap'd to the popular sum, will so incenseGod, as to leave them, and expose their land,Their city, his temple, and his holy ark,With all his sacred things, a scorn and preyTo that proud city, whose high walls thou sawstLeft in confusion; Babylon thence call'd.There in captivity he lets them dwellThe space of seventy years; then brings them back,Remembering mercy, and his covenant swornTo David, stablish'd as the days of Heaven.Return'd from Babylon by leave of kingsTheir lords, whom God disposed, the house of GodThey first re-edify; and for a whileIn mean estate live moderate; till, grownIn wealth and multitude, factious they grow;But first among the priests dissension springs,Men who attend the altar, and should mostEndeavour peace: their strife pollution bringsUpon the temple itself: at last they seize The sceptre, and regard not David's sons;Then lose it to a stranger, that the trueAnointed King Messiah might be bornBarr'd of his right; yet at his birth a starUnseen before in Heaven, proclaims him come;And guides the eastern sages, who inquireHis place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold.His place of birth a solemn Angel tellsTo simple shepherds, keeping watch by night;They gladly thither haste, and by a quireOf squadron'd Angels hear his carol sung.A virgin is his mother, but his sireThe power of the Most High: He shall ascendThe throne hereditary, and bound his reignWith Earth's wide bounds, his glory with the Heavens. He ceased, discerning Adam with such joySurcharged, as had like grief been dew'd in tears,Without the vent of words; which these he breathed: O Prophet of glad tidings, finisherOf utmost hope! now clear I understandWhatoft my steadiest thoughts have search'd in vain;Why our great expectation should be call'dThe seed of Woman: Virgin Mother, hail,High in the love of Heaven; yet from my loins,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 bruiseExpect with mortal pain: Say where and when Their fight, what stroke shall bruise the victor's heel? To whom thus Michael. Dream not of their fight,As of a duel, or the local woundsOf head or heel: not therefore joins the Son Manhood to Godhead, with more strength to foilThy enemy; nor so is overcomeSatan, whose fall from Heaven, a deadlier bruise,Disabled, not to give thee thy death's wound:Which he, who comes thy Saviour, shall recure,Not by destroying Satan, but his worksIn thee, and in thy seed: Nor can this be, But by fulfilling that which thou didst want,Obedience to the law of God, imposedOn penalty of death, and suffering death;The penalty to thy transgression due,And due to theirs which out of thine will grow:So only can high Justice rest appaid.The law of God exact he shall fulfilBoth by obedience and by love, though loveAlone fulfil the law; thy punishmentHe shall endure, by coming in the fleshTo a reproachful life and cursed death;Proclaiming life to all who shall believe In his redemption; and that his obedienceImputed, becomes theirs by faith; his meritsTo save them, not their own, though legal, works.For this he shall live hated, be blasphemed,Seized on by force, judged and to death condemn'dAs shameful, and accursed, nail'd to the crossBy his own nation! slain for bringing life;But to the cross he nails thy enemies,The law that is against thee, and the sins Of all mankind, with him there crucified,Never to hurt them more who rightly trustIn this his satisfaction; so he dies,But soon revives; death over him no powerShall long usurp; ere the third dawning lightReturn, the stars of morn shall see him riseOut of his grave, fresh as the dawning light,Thy ransom paid, which Man from death redeems,His death for Man, as many as offer'd lifeNeglect not, and the benefit embraceBy faith not void of works: This godlike actAnnuls thy doom, the death thou shouldst have died,In sin for ever lost from life; this actShall bruise the head of Satan, crush his strength,Defeating Sin and Death, his two main arms;And fix far deeper in his head their stingsThan temporal death shall bruise the victor's 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, than certain times to appearTo his disciples, men who in his lifeStill follow'd him; to them shall leave in chargeTo teach all nations what of him they learn'dAnd his salvation; them who shall believeBaptizing in the profluent stream, the signOf washing them from guilt of sin to lifePure, and in mind prepared, if so befall,For death, like that which the Redeemer died.All nations they shall teach; for, from that day,Not only to the sons of Abraham's loinsSalvation shall be preach'd, but to the sonsOf Abraham's faith wherever through the world:So in his seed all nations shall be bless'd.Then to the Heaven of Heavens he shall ascendWith victory, triumphing through the airOver his foes and thine. There shall surpriseThe Serpent, prince of air, and drag in chainsThrough all his realm, and there confounded leave;Then enter into glory, and resume His seat at God's right hand, exalted highAbove all names in Heaven; and thence shall come,When this world's dissolution shall be ripe,With glory and power to judge both quick and dead;To judge the unfaithful dead, but to rewardHis faithful, and receive them into bliss,Whether in Heaven or Earth; for then the EarthShall all be Paradise, far happier placeThan this of Eden, and far happier days. So spake the Arch-Angel Michael; then paused,As at the world's great period; and our SireReplete with joy and wonder, thus replied. O Goodness infinite, Goodness immense!That all this good of evil shall produce,And evil turn to good; more wonderfulThan that which by creation first brought forthLight out of darkness! Full of doubt I stand,Whether I should repent me now of sinBy me done, and occasion'd; or rejoiceMuch more, that much more good thereof shall spring;To God more glory, more good-will to MenFrom God, and over wrath grace shall abound.But say, if our Deliverer up to HeavenMust reascend, what will betide the few,His faithful, left among the unfaithful herd,The enemies of truth? Who then shall guide His people, who defend? Will they not dealWorse with his followers than with him they dealt? Besure they will, said the Angel; but from HeavenHe to his own a Comforter will send,The promise of the Father, who shall dwellHis Spirit within them; and the law of faith,Working through love, upon their hearts shall write,To guide them in all truth; and also armWith spiritual armour, able to resistSatan's assaults, and quench his fiery darts;What man can do against them, not afraidThough to the death; against such crueltiesWith inward consolations recompensed,And oft supported so as shall amazeTheir proudest persecutors: For the SpiritPour'd first on his Apostles, whom he sendsTo evangelize the nations, then on allBaptized, shall them with wonderous gifts endueTo speak all tongues, and do all miracles,As did their Lord before them. Thus they winGreat numbers of each nation to receiveWith joy the tidings brought from Heaven: At lengthTheir ministry perform'd, and race well run,Their doctrine and their story written left,They die; but in their room, as they forewarn,Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves,Who all the sacred mysteries of HeavenTo their own vile advantages shall turnOf lucre and ambition; and the truthWith superstitions and traditions taint,Left only 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 joinSecular power; though feigning still to actBy spiritual, to themselves appropriatingThe Spirit of God, promised alike and givenTo all believers; and, from that pretence,Spiritual laws by carnal power shall forceOn every conscience; laws which none shall findLeft them enroll'd, or what the Spirit withinShall on the heart engrave. What will they thenBut force the Spirit of Grace itself, and bindHis consort Liberty? What, but unbuildHis living temples, built by faith to stand,Their own faith, not another's? for, on earth,Who against faith and conscience can be heardInfallible? yet many will presume:Whence heavy persecution shall ariseOn all, who in the worship persevereOf Spirit and truth; the rest, far greater part,Will deem in outward rites and specious formsReligion satisfied: Truth shall retireBestruck with slanderous darts, and works of faithRarely be found: so shall the world go on,To good malignant, to bad men benign;Under her own weight groaning; till the dayAppear of respiration to the just,And vengeance to the wicked, at returnOf him so lately promised to thy aid,The Woman's Seed; obscurely then foretold,Now amplier known, thy Saviour and thy Lord,Last, in the clouds, from Heaven to be reveal'dIn glory of the Father, to dissolveSatan with his perverted world; then raiseFrom the conflagrant mass, purged and refined,New Heavens, 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 replied:"How soon hath thy prediction, Seer blest,Measured this transient world, the race of time, Till time stand fix'd! Beyond is all abyss,Eternity, whose end no eye can reach.Greatly instructed I shall hence depart;Greatly in peace of thought; and have my fillOf knowledge, what this vessel can contain;Beyond which was my folly to aspire.Henceforth I learn, that to obey is best,And love with fear the only God; to walkAs in his presence; ever to observeHis providence, and on him sole depend,Merciful over all his works, with goodStill overcoming evil, and by smallAccomplishing great things, by things deem'd weakSubverting worldly strong, and worldly wiseBy simply meek; that suffering for truth's sakeIs fortitude to highest victory,And, to the faithful, death the gate of life;Taught this by his example, whom I nowAcknowledge my Redeemer ever blest. To whom thus also the Angel last replied:"This having learn'd, thou hast attain'd the sumOf wisdom; hope no higher, though all the starsThou knewst by name, and all the etherial powers,All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works,Or works of God in heaven, air, earth, or sea,And all the riches of this world enjoyedst,And all the rule one empire; only addDeeds to thy knowledge answerable; add faith,Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love,By name to come call'd charity, the soulOf all the rest: then wilt thou not be loth To leave this Paradise, but shalt possessA Paradise within thee, happier far.Let us descend now therefore from this topOf speculation; for the hour preciseExacts our parting hence; and see the guards,By me encamp'd on yonder hill, expectTheir 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'dPortending good, and all her spirits composedTo 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 Woman's seed) on all mankind;That ye may live, which will be many days,Both in one faith unanimous, though sad,With cause for evils past; yet much more cheer'dWith meditation on the happy end. He ended, and they both descend the hill;Descended, Adam to the bower, where EveLay sleeping, ran before, but found her waked;And thus with words not sad she him received: When thou returnst, and whither wentst, I know;For God is also in sleep, and dreams advise,Which he hath sent propitious, some great goodPresaging, since with sorrow and heart's distressWearied I fell asleep: But now lead on;In me is no delay; with thee to goIs to stay here; without thee here to stay,Is to go hence unwillingly; thou to meArt all things under Heaven, all places thou,Who for my wilful crime art banish'd hence.This further consolation yet secureI carry hence; though all by me is lost,Such favour I unworthy am vouchsafed,By me the promised Seed shall all restore. So spake our mother Eve, and Adam heardWell pleased, but answered not; for now too nighThe Arch-Angel stood; and, from the other hillTo their fix'd station, all in bright arrayThe Cherubim descended; on the groundGliding meteorous, as evening mistRisen from a river o'er the marish glides,And gathers ground fast at the labourer's heelHomeward returning. High in front advanced,The brandish'd sword of God before them blazedFierce as a comet; which with torrid heat,And vapour as the Libyan air adust,Began to parch that temperate clime; whereatIn either hand the hastening Angel caughtOur lingering parents, and to the eastern gateLed them direct, and down the cliff as fastTo the subjected plain; then disappear'd.They, looking back, all the eastern side beheldOf Paradise, so late their happy seat,Waved over by that flaming brand, the gateWith dreadful faces throng'd, and fiery arms:Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon.The world was all before them, where to chooseTheir place of rest, and Providence their guide.They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,Through Eden took their solitary way.FINIS.
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See an article by me signed “an admirer of Keats—in the Athenaeum—Oct 26th 1872. I discovered that J. F. C. was the Revd James Freeman Clarke[.] I discovered that Herbert Lindon (son of Louis Lindon who died after the article was written) had Keats’ Shakespeare—with the original draft of the sonnet “on sitting down to read King Lear once again & the lines “on seeing a lock of Milton’s hair.
This note was written by Sir Charles Dilke, grandson of Charles Wentworth and Maria Dilke, to the latter of whom Keats gave his copy of Paradise Lost. In his note, Sir Charles Dilke refers to an article he published in The Athenaeum under the name “An Admirer of Keats, in which he transcribed the eight notes in Keats’s Paradise Lost that had not been previously published by “J. F. C. or James Freeman Clarke in the American periodical The Dial for April 1843 (see discussion in Introduction, section on “Transmission and Publication History). Herbert Lindon was the son of Louis and Fanny Brawne Lindon. Keats gave his folio copy of Mr. William Shakespeare’s Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies, into which he written the two poems Dilke mentions, to Fanny Brawne before he left for Italy.
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The Genius of Milton, more particularly in respect to its span in immensity, calculated him, by a sort of birthright, for such an 'argument' as the paradise lost. he had an exquisite passion for what is properly in the sense of ease and pleasure poetical Luxury—and with that it appears to me he would fain have been content if he could so doing have preserved his self respect and feel of duty perform'd—but there was working in him as it were that same sort of thing as operates in the great world to the end of a Prophecy's being accomplish'd—therefore he devoted himself rather to the Ardours than the pleasures of Song, solacing himself at intervals with cups of old wine—and those are with some exceptions the finest parts of the Poem. In some par With some exceptions—for the spirit of mounting and adventure can never be unfruitful or unrewarded—had he not broken through the clouds which envellope so deliciously the Elysian field of Verse and committed himself to the Extreme we never should have seen Satan as described
"But his face"Deep Scars of thunder had entrench'd &[c.]
Keats’s characterization of Milton’s conflict between “poetical Luxury and “the Ardours . . . of Song resembles his own struggle with these impulses, as when he distinguishes between a “Life of Sensations and a life of “Thoughts in a 22 November 1817 letter to Bailey and when he tells John Taylor on 24 April 1818 that “I have been hovering for some time between an exquisite sense of the luxurious and a love for Philosophy (Letters 1: 185, 271). Some critics, in fact, believe that Keats in this note is projecting onto Milton his own inner conflicts (Wilkie 162; Trott, “Keats and the Prison-House 270). Others, however, note that choices between sensuality and other temptations of this world versus disciplined obedience are central to Milton’s poetry, from “L’Allegro and “Il Penseroso to Comus, Paradise Lost, Samson Agonistes, and Paradise Regained, so that Keats may be identifying a struggle he shares with the elder poet (see especially Leslie Brisman ix-54). Newlyn claims that “It is to moments of choice in Paradise Lost “that the Romantics frequently return, especially in their narrative poetry (85). Havens notes both similarities and differences between Keats and Milton regarding the conflict between duty and “poetical Luxury (213-14).
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There is a greatness which the Paradise Lost possesses over every other Poem—the Magnitude of Contrast and that is softened by the contrast being ungrotesque to a degree—Heaven moves on like music throughout—Hell is also peopled with angels it also move[s] on like music not grating and ha[r]sh but like a grand accompaniment in the Base to Heaven—
“Hell is also peopled with angels it also move[s] on like music not grating and ha[r]sh is an allusion to Wordsworth’s “Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, 91-92: “The still, sad music of humanity, / Nor harsh nor grating.
Several other of Keats’s notes convey an appreciation of contrasts in Milton. The note on PL 1.535-69 celebrates the “light and shade—the sort of black brightness in that passage. The note at the beginning of book 3 praises Milton’s “management of the poem as the setting shifts from hell to heaven and declares, “we are getting ripe for diversity. Finally, the related terms “sublime pathetic and “Grandeur of Tenderness in notes on 2.546-52 and 4.1-4, respectively, are oxymoronic and thereby signify a blending of contrasting qualities. Keats’s appreciation of opposites in
Paradise Lost is further expressed in the poem “Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow, which has for a motto “Under the flag / Of each his faction, they to battle bring / Their embryo atoms, a slight misquotation from PL 2.899-901. Keats also responds to passages that convey not the delight and harmony but the pain of contrast, as when he underscores and marks with triple vertical lines Satan’s experience of “the hateful siege / Of contraries (9.121-22). Keats also quotes this passage to describe the conflict he feels composing Hyperion while his brother is dying (Letters 1: 369). R. S. White notes that Keats’s markings in his two copies of Shakespeare’s plays often draw attention to contrasts and oppositions (24-25). For further discussion of Keats’s interest in contrasts in Paradise Lost see Lau 59-61; Fairer 162-63.
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There is always a great charm in the openings of great Poems—more particularly where the action begins—that of Dante's Hell—of Hamlet. the first step must be heroic and full of power and nothing can be more impressive and shaded than the commencement of the action here 'Round he throws his baleful eyes'—
Compare Keats’s remark in his 4 January 1818 Champion review of Retribution, or the Chieftain’s Daughter (written around the same time as Keats was beginning to read and annotate his copy of Paradise Lost): “The title of an old play gives us a direct taste and surmise of its inwards, as the first lines of the Paradise Lost smack of the great Poem (Forman 5: 247). Apropos of Keats’s reference to the “charm of the opening of “Dante’s Hell, Robert Gittings notes that “the first two pages of the first canto of the Inferno [are marked] more heavily than anywhere else in Keats’s copy (10). Keats’s markings of Hamlet’s opening scene in his copy of The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, vol. 7, can be viewed on the Harvard Keats Collection website at https://iiif.lib.harvard.edu/manifests/view/drs:14637636$3112i. See also R. S. White’s discussion of Keats’s markings in Hamlet (109-26).
Keats quotes “round he throws his baleful eyes twice in his annotations: first in his note on PL 1-22 and next in his note on 3.26-50.
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One of the most mysterious of semi-speculations is, one would suppose, that of one Mind's imagining into another Things may be described by a Man's self in parts so as to make a grand whole which that Man him-self would scarcely inform to its excess. A Poet can seldom have justice done to his imagination—for men are as distinct in their conceptions of material shadowings as they are in matters of spiritual understanding—it can scarcely be conceived how Milton's Blindness might here ade the magnitude of his conceptions as a bat in a large gothic vault—.
Several critics compare Keats's marginal remarks on this page to his concept of Negative Capability, as expressed in his 27 (?) December 1817 letter to his brothers (
Letters 1: 193-94). See Finney 1: 340, Wittreich 564n19, Williams 117.
Compare Keats’s emphasis on the uniqueness of each poet’s imagination ("men are as distinct in their conceptions of material shadowings as they are in matters of spiritual understanding") to his remarks on Milton’s originality in his note to pages 92-93 of volume 1 (PL book 4) .
By “ade Keats presumably means “aid.
Keats suggests that Milton’s blindness enhanced his creativity by liberating his imagination over actual, visual perception. In the same way Keats lauds Homer’s “triple sight in blindness keen in his 1818 sonnet
“To Homer and writes “Milton beside a passage in The Faerie Queene that describes a holy man who is blind in “earthly Eyen, but whose spirit is “wondrous quick and pierceant . . . As Eagle’s Eye, that can behold the Sun (book 1, canto 10, stanza 47; see Lowell 2: 570). Similarly, in The Fall of Hyperion Moneta’s eyes are “Half closed, and visionless entire they seem’d / Of all external things (1.267-68), though the goddess possesses the wisdom of the ages and bestows on the speaker “A power within me of enormous ken, / To see as a God sees (1.303-04). One can also compare the passage in “Ode to a Nightingale in which the speaker is impelled to “guess each sweet by means of his imagination when he can no longer “see what flowers are at my feet (43, 41). Interestingly, however, Keats does not mark PL 3.51-55, where Milton claims that his blindness is compensated for by a “celestial light that “shine[s] inward and “plant[s] eyes in his mind so that he “may see and tell / Of things invisible to mortal sight. Perhaps Keats was unsympathetic with the explicitly religious nature of the inspiration Milton invokes in this passage. For a discussion of PL 3.51-55 in relation to “Ode to a Nightingale, see Revard (211-14). For a comparison of this note to others in Keats’s copy of PL, see note to PL 1.321.
Compare lines 157-8 to the following passage in Hazlitt’s lecture “On Shakespeare and Milton: “He [Satan] expresses the sum and substance of all ambition in one line. ‘Fallen cherub, to be weak is miserable, doing or suffering!’ (5: 64).
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There is a cool pleasure in the very sound of vale—The english word is of the happiest chance. Milton has put vales in heaven and hell with the very utter affection and yearning of a great Poet. It is a sort of delphic Abstraction a beautiful thing made more beautiful by being reflected and put in a Mist. The Next mention of Vale is one of the most pathetic in the whole range of Poetry 'Others more mild, retreated in a Silent Valley'&[c]. How much of the charm is in the Valley!—
Keats marks several passages in
PL in which mist is mentioned (1.594-96; 5.185-87). In addition, two passages that describe light veiled by a cloud are underscored (3.377-82; 7.360). Keats’s marginal remark here on things made more beautiful by being “put in a Mist may be compared to his note on page 23 of volume 1 (Paradise Lost book 1), in which he celebrates “the intense pleasure of not knowing that produces “A sense of independence, of power from the fancy’s creating a world of its own by the sense of probabilities, as well as his note on page 5 of volume 1, where Milton’s blindness is said to have aided “the magnitude of his conceptions as a bat in a large gothic vault. These various comments are in keeping with the aesthetic of the sublime, according to which obscure images are more powerful and moving than clear images and indistinct or ambiguous ideas are more stimulating than definite ones. Milton was a touchstone of the sublime for many Romantic writers (see Newlyn 11-12, 49-62, 193-204; Trott, “Milton and the Romantics 530-32. See also the section on “Obscurity in Lau 49-54). Leigh Hunt published an essay on “Mists and Fogs in The Indicator, 1 December 1819, in which he cites numerous instances from literature (including Paradise Lost) of appearances made more impressive by atmospheric haze. Keats celebrates Fall as the “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness in “To Autumn (1), a passage that may be indebted to PL 5.185-87.
Wolfson notes that “Apollo’s oracular communications at Delphi often involved mist; Delphic thus means ‘obscure’ (227n4). Delphi’s association with Apollo, god of poetry, also suggests that “Delphic means “inspired. Keats uses the word again in his note to PL 4.1-4 (“Nothing can be higher—Nothing so more than delphic).
Wilkie relates Keats's note on "charm [...] in the Valley" to the shady vale in which
Hyperion opens and to Keats’s 21 April 1819 “vale of Soul-making letter. “All three of these references to ‘vale,’ Wilkie writes, “express the same theme: the transition from a world of innocence or joy or both to a world of tragic suffering (165). Jonathan Bate discusses Keats’s note on vales as it reflects differences between Keats’s and Milton’s treatments of fallen and unfallen conditions (“Keats’s Two Hyperions 322-24).
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The light and shade—the sort of black brightness—the ebon diamonding—the ethiop Immortality—the sorrow the pain. the sad-sweet Melody—the P[h]langes of Spirits so depressed as to be 'uplifted beyond hope'—the short mitigation of Misery—the thousand Melancholies and Magnificences of this Page—leaves no room for any thing to be said thereon, but: 'so it is'—
For Keats’s appreciation of contrasts in this and other passages in Paradise Lost, see his note in vol. 1, half-title page.
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How noble and collected an indignation against Kings 'and for fear of change perplexes Monarchs' &[c.] His very wishing should have had power to pull that feeble animal Charles from his bloody throne. 'The evil days' had come to him—he hit the new System of things a mighty mental blow—the exertion must have had or is yet to have some sequences—
"Perplexes monarchs" (line 599): like many progressive Romantic writers, Keats frequently celebrates Milton as a patriot who opposed monarchical tyranny. For example, in
“Oh! How I love, on a fair summer’s eve Keats writes, “There warm my breast with patriotic lore, / Musing on Milton’s fate—on Sydney’s bier (9-10), and in a letter to George and Georgiana he similarly remarks, “there are none [at the current time] prepared to suffer in obscurity for their Country. . . . We have no Milton, no Algernon Sidney (Letters 1: 396; see also 397). For Milton’s reputation in the Romantic period as a defender of liberty who suffered heroically for his views, see Newlyn 32-39; on Keats’s association of Milton with liberal politics, see Roe 28, 47, 49, 209. Wolfson suggests that the reference to “the blasted heath in line 615, a little further down from the lines that provoked his note praising Milton’s “noble and collected . . . indignation against Kings, may have reminded Keats of King Lear, “exiled to the blasted heath, where he confronts his pompous neglect of his poor subjects (Wolfson 229n6). The phrase may also have suggested to Keats the setting where another tragic, misguided Shakespearean figure—Macbeth—hears the prophecy of the three witches that impels him on his bloodthirsty pursuit of a throne.
Keats quotes “but his face / Deep scars of thunder had intrench’d in his note on the half-title page of vol. 1.
Keats quotes “Tears such as angels weep as an example of “the sublime pathetic in his note to PL 2.546-52.
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What creates the intense pleasure of not knowing? A sense of independence, of power from the fancy's creating a world of its own by the sense of probabilities—We have read the Arabian Nights and hear there are thousands of those sort of Romances lost—we imagine after them—but not their realities if we had them nor our fancies in the[i]r strength can go further than this Pandemonium— — - - 'Straight the doors opening" &c[.] 'rose like an exhalation—
See the discussion of this note on page 5 of volume 1, and on page 12.
Jackson observes that Keats’s use of “We instead of “I in this and other notes (those on pages 44-45 of volume 1 [book 2] and pages 62-63 [book 3]) suggests the communal nature of his marginalia. Keats’s annotations were not intended for himself alone, Jackson argues, but were meant to be shared with “a coterie comfortable in its shared values (194-95). On Keats’s expectation of an audience for his marginalia, see also Lau 13-16.
Wolfson perceives a “rich layering of meanings in Keats’s phrase, “we imagine after them (the “Romances lost) and offers three implications: “our imagination is chronologically later; strains to grasp them; takes their pattern (231n11).
Keats quotes “uplifted beyond hope in his note on Volume 1, page 18.Text circles around the outside margins (left, top, right, bottom) of the two pages, 44 and 45
Milton is godlike in the sublime pathetic. In Demons, fallen Angels, and Monsters the delicacies of passion living in and from their immortality, is of the most softening and dissolving nature. It is carried to the utmost here—Others more mild—nothing can express the sensation one feels at 'Their song was partial &[c]. Examples of this nature are divine to the utmost in other poets—in Caliban 'Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments' &c[.] In Theocritus'———Polyphemus—and Homers Hymn to Pan where Mercury is represented as taking his 'homely fac'd' to heaven. There are numerous other instances in Milton—where Satan's progeny is called his 'daughter dear,' and where this same Sin, a female, and with a feminine instinct for the showy & martial is in pain lest death should sully his bright arms 'nor vainly hope to be invulnerable in those bright arms'. Another instance is 'pensive I sat alone[.] We need not mention 'Tears such as Angels weep'.
In his lecture
“On Shakespeare and Milton Hazlitt writes that “of all the passages in Paradise Lost, the description of the employments of the angels during the absence of Satan, some of whom ‘retreated in a silent valley, sing with notes angelical to many a harp their own heroic deeds and hapless fall by doom of battle,’ is the most perfect example of mingled pathos and sublimity (5: 66). The passage Hazlitt cites, PL 2.546-50, is not only marked by Keats (with underscoring and a marginal line) but is also quoted in his note on PL 1.321. Other passages in which Hazlitt juxtaposes the terms “sublimity and “pathos occur in his lecture “On Poetry in General (5: 5) and his edition of Select British Poets (9: 237 [on Milton], 241-42 [on Thomas Gray], and 244 [on Byron]). Stuart Ende believes that Hazlitt, “As well as being the probable source of Keats’s ‘sublime pathetic’ . . . may have provided Keats with his understanding of both sublimity and pathos (190n21). Ende discusses at length Keats’s concept of the “sublime pathetic (xvi-xvii, 27-28, 89-91, 96-97). See also Albrecht (who disagrees with Ende) 198-201 and Lau 61-66.
In his note Keats quotes from Shakespeare’s
The Tempest 3.2.134 and George Chapman’s translation of Homer’s Hymn to Pan, line 74. Keats’s pronoun in the phrase “his homely fac’d to heaven is ambiguous; in Hymn to Pan, the passage refers to Pan’s face. Theocritus recounts Polyphemus’s unrequited love for Galatea in his eleventh idyll.
It is interesting to compare the passage not underscored in lines 254-255 (“and took with ravishment / The thronging audience) to a comment Keats made about a similar passage in book 4 of Wordsworth’s
Excursion. According to Benjamin Bailey, Keats said that the line “And filled the illumined groves with ravishment (The Excursion 4.860) should have been omitted from Wordsworth’s description of Apollo (Keats Circle 2: 276). Keats himself uses “ravishment in “I stood tip-toe upon a little hill 147 and Endymion 2.715, 875, so he does not appear to have found this word objectionable in itself.
Keats quotes line 584 in a 27 April 1818 letter to Reynolds: “If I must be immortal, I hope it will be after having taken a little of ‘that watery labyrinth’ in order to forget some of my schoolboy days & others since then (Letters 1: 273).
Keats quotes (slightly misquotes) “Pensive here I sat / Alone as an example of “the sublime pathetic in his note on Paradise Lost Book 2, pages 44-45 (lines 525-96).
Keats quotes “vainly hope / To be invulnerable in those bright arms as an example of “the sublime pathetic in his note on PL 2.546-52.
In his note on PL 2.546-52, Keats refers to Satan calling Sin his “daughter dear; he presumably has line 817 in mind.
Lines 899-901, slightly misquoted, serve as a motto for Keats’s 1818 poem “Welcome joy, and welcome sorrow.Text circles around the top, bottom, and right margins of the two pages, 62 and 63
The management of this Poem is Apollonian—Satan first 'throws round his baleful eyes' the[n] awakes his legions, he consu[l]ts, he sets forward on his voyage—and just as he is getting to the end of it we see the Great God and our first parent, and that same satan all brough[t] in one's vision—we have the invocation to light before we mount to heaven—we breathe more freely—we feel the——great Author's consolations coming thick upon him at a time when he complains most—we are getting ripe for diversity——the immediate topic of the Poem opens with a grand Perspective of all concerned.
Apollo’s attributes as god of the sun and of poetry are both relevant to this note of Keats's, which praises Milton’s magisterial handling of his epic poem as it moves from hell into the precincts of light and heaven in book 3. Adjectives similar to “Apollonian that express Keats’s admiration for Milton’s achievement in Paradise Lost are “godlike in his note to PL 2.546-52 (“Milton is godlike in the sublime pathetic) and “delphic in his note to PL 4.1-4 (“nothing can be higher—Nothing so more than delphic). See also “Delphic Abstraction in his note to PL 1.321.
On line 71, Keats draws an exclamation point after “sight, probably to challenge the word’s validity. In most editions of Paradise Lost, the word is given as “side. The marginalia in Keats’s two editions of Shakespeare’s plays and in Z. Jackson’s Shakspeare’s Genius Justified frequently question the editors’ construction of a line or passage. See Forman 5: 268-75, 287-90 and the discussion in Jackson 190-93.
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Hell is finer than this—
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This part in its sound is unaccountably expressive of the description—
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A Spirit's eye—
On line 608, Keats draws a line through the “r in “Portable, making the word “Potable. As in 3.71, Keats is probably correcting his edition of
Paradise Lost in this passage.
Keats also refers to “the Theory of Spirits eyes in his note on page 42 of Volume 2.
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A friend of mine says this Book has the finest opening of any—the point of time is gigantically critical—the wax is melted, the seal is about to be applied—and Milton breaks out 'O for that warning voice &[c.]' There is moreover an opportunity for a Grandeur of Tenderness—the opportunity is not lost. Nothing can be higher—Nothing so more than delphic—
Benjamin Bailey told Richard Monckton Milnes in 1849 that this note about “a friend of mine referred to himself, for “We had much talk of Milton when Keats was at Oxford: & I remember that I expressed, though more at large, this opinion, or something to the effect here noted down (
Keats Circle 2: 296). The “friend mentioned in Keats’s note may actually be Charles Wentworth Dilke rather than Bailey. A copy of Milton’s poems bearing Dilke’s bookplate (owned by Keats House) contains an annotation at the beginning of book 4 of Paradise Lost that is similar to Keats’s: “The opening of this Book is fearful[ly] sublime.—It gives note of dreadful preparation.—It seems to rouse us from a moral slumber, & bids us prepare for some strange & unkn[own] consequences—It is fit prelude to the act:--an act that in its consequen[ce] was to be felt through all succeeding generations. It is much the finest in the whole work. Claude Lee Finney points out the similarity between Dilke’s and Keats’s remarks on the opening of book 4 and believes the two men were reading and discussing Paradise Lost in December 1817 and January 1818 (1: 337). Both Bailey and Dilke may have influenced Keats’s response to the beginning of book 4 as expressed in this note.
The phrase “Grandeur of Tenderness is similar to “sublime pathetic, which Keats uses in his note on pages 44 and 45 of volume 1. Compare also his note on the pathos of PL 4.271-72.
Apollo was believed to communicate with petitioners at his oracle at Delphi. “Delphic therefore means divinely inspired, though for Keats the divinity in question is the Greek god of poetry (and the sun) rather than Milton’s Christian muse Urania (see PL 1.6-12, 7.1-39). Keats concludes each stanza of his poem
“God of the golden bow with the phrase, “O Delphic Apollo. His poem “On Receiving a Laurel Crown from Leigh Hunt, written around the same time as “God of the golden bow (late 1816 / early 1817) laments his lack of inspiration by stating, “Minutes are flying swiftly; and as yet / Nothing unearthly has enticed my brain / Into a delphic labyrinth (1-3). For other uses of “Delphic or “Apollonian in the Paradise Lost marginalia, see editorial note to volume 1, pages 62-63.
Keats quotes (slightly misquotes) lines 126-127 (“on the Assyrian mount / Saw him disfigured) in his note on PL 7.422-23 as an example of Milton’s gift for “stationing.Text circles around the outside margins (top, bottom, left, right), but not the inside gutter, of the two pages, 92 and 93
There are two specimens of a very extraordinary beauty in the Paradise Lost, they are of a nature as far as I have read, unexampled elsewhere—they are entirely distinct from the brief pathos of Dante—and they are not to be found even in Shakspeare—they are according to the great prerogative of poetry better described in themselves than by a volume the one is in this fol. 'which cost Ceres all that pain'—the other is that ending 'Nor could the Muse defend her son'—they appear exclusively Miltonic without the shadow of another mind ancient or modern—
Keats slightly misquotes line 239 in a 27 June 1818 letter to Tom Keats: “the stream itself is interesting throughout with ‘mazy error over pendant shades.’ Milton meant a smooth river—this is buffetting all the way on a rocky bed ever various (
Letters 1: 300).
The two passages Keats singles out in his marginal note as examples “of a very extraordinary beauty in the Paradise Lost—Ceres’s loss of her daughter Proserpine to the god Pluto or Dis and the muse Calliope’s inability to save her son Orpheus from death—both involve a mother’s grief over the absence of a child. See also Keats’s note to PL 2.546-52 citing instances of “the sublime pathetic in
Paradise Lost.
Keats’s emphasis in this note on Milton’s originality was a point often made by other Romantic writers. Hazlitt, for example, observes that “Milton has borrowed more than any other writer; yet he is perfectly distinct from every other writer. The power of his mind is stamped on every line. He is a writer of centos, and yet in originality only inferior to Homer (
“On Milton’s Versification 4: 37; a similar passage appears in “On Shakespeare and Milton 5: 58). Newlyn discusses Hazlitt’s remarks as part of a tradition that began in the eighteenth century, in which Milton was considered a rare example of a highly original writer who depended heavily on earlier sources (47). Keats also stresses Milton’s (and all writers’) uniqueness in his note to 1.59-94 when he writes, “A Poet can seldom have justice done to his imagination—for men are as distinct in their conception of material shadowings as they are in matters of spiritual understanding.
Keats quotes the lines describing Adam as “fair indeed, and tall, / Under a plantane (477-78) as an example of Milton’s gift for “stationing in his note on pages 42 and 43 of book 7, in volume 2.
Keats slightly misquotes line 683 in a 31 August 1819 letter to John Taylor: “Men should be in imitation of Spirits ‘responsive to each others note’ (Letters 2: 153).
Keats quotes lines 479-80, “So from the root / Springs lighter the green stalk, in his note on pages 42 and 43 of book 7, in volume 2.
Poem occupies center of the empty pageTo SleepO soft embalmer of the still MidnightShutting with careful fingers and benignOur gloom-pleas'd eyes embowered from the lightOf Sun or teasing candlesAs wearisome as darkness is divineO soothest sleep, if so it please thee closeMine My willing eyes in midst of this thine hymnOr wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throwsIts sweet-death dews o'er every pulse and limb—Then shut the hushed Casket of my soulAnd turn the Key round in the oiled wardsAnd let it rest until the morn has stoleBright tressed From the grey west's east's shuddering bourne Dedication in upper right margin
Mrs. Dilke from
her sincere friend
J. Keats
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'Reluctant' with its original and modern meaning combined and woven together, with all its shades of signification has a powerful effect.
By the “original meaning of “reluctant, Keats is probably thinking of “struggling or “writhing; the “modern meaning would be “unwilling, averse; disinclined to do something (OED Online; accessed 12 Oct. 2018). Interestingly, the OED cites PL 6.58 to illustrate the modern meaning of “reluctant and PL 10.515 (“down [Satan] fell, / A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, / Reluctant, but in vain) to illustrate the earlier meaning. Keats uses the modern meaning of the word in Hyperion 1.60-61: “Thy thunder, conscious of the new command, / Rumbles reluctant o’er our fallen house.
Keats quotes “evil days from line 25 in his note on PL 1.598-99.
Keats quotes lines 37 and 38, “nor could the Muse defend / Her Son, as one of two “specimens of a very extraordinary beauty in the Paradise Lost in his note on PL 4.268-72.
Text circles around the outside margins (top, bottom, left, right), but not the inside gutter, of the two pages, 42 and 43
Milton in every instance pursues his imagination to the utmost—he is 'sagacious of his Quarry' he sees Beauty on the wing, pounces upon it and gorges it to the producing his essential verse 'So from the root the springs lighter the green stalk' &[c.]—but in no instance is this sort of perseverance more exemplified than in what may be called his stationing or statu[a]ry: He is not content with simple description, he must station—Thus here, we not only see how the Birds 'with clang despised the ground' but we see them 'under a cloud in prospect' So we see Adam 'Fair indeed and tall—under a plantane and so we see Satan 'disfigured—on the Assyrian Mount' This last with all its accompaniments, and keeping in mind the —Theory of Spirits eyes and the simile of Gallilio, has a dramatic——vastness and solemnity fit and worthy to hold one amazed in the midst of this Paradise Lost—
Richard Woodhouse noted a parallel between lines 438-40 and Keats’s “Imitation of Spenser 14-15: “There saw the swan his neck of arched snow, / And oar’d himself along with majesty (Sperry, “Woodhouse’s Interleaved and Annotated Copy 144-45).
Both Finney (1: 339-40) and W. J. Bate (244-46) link Keats’s celebration of Milton’s intensity in this note to Hazlitt’s concept of “gusto. In his
Round Table essay “On Gusto Hazlitt writes, “Milton has great gusto. He repeats his blows twice; grapples with and exhausts his subject (4: 79). In “On Milton’s Versification, also from The Round Table, Hazlitt states that “Milton had as much of what is meant by gusto as any poet. He forms the most intense conception of things, and then embodies them by a single stroke of his pen. Force of style is perhaps his first excellence (4: 38). Keats reports reading Hazlitt’s Round Table with Bailey in September 1817 (Letters 1: 166).
The term “stationing derives from theories of the visual arts and refers to the positioning of figures within a particular setting. Keats’s remarks on Milton’s “stationing or statu[a]ry are similar to comments Hazlitt makes in his essay
“On Shakespeare and Milton (5: 59-60). See the Introduction (section on “Themes and Patterns in the Marginalia: Descriptive Passages) for further discussion of these points.
It is not clear what “Theory of Spirits eyes Keats is alluding to in this note, but presumably it involves the superior visual power spirits or angels are thought to possess. Keats writes “A Spirit’s eye alongside an earlier passage in which Satan lands on the sun and gazes on the brilliant scene “Undazzled, far and wide his eye commands, / For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, / But all sunshine (3.614-16). Another passage that refers to spirits’ enhanced eyesight is PL 1.59-60 (which Keats underscores): “At once, as far as Angel’s ken, he [Satan] views / The dismal situation waste and wild.
Three similes in
Paradise Lost allude to Galileo, all involving his telescope and all marked by Keats: 1.287-91, 3.588-90, and 5.261-63. Galileo’s telescope in Milton’s accounts is similar (though inferior) to the vision of angels in that it allows clear perception of far-off objects and reveals hitherto unknown features of the moon and sun.
The passage Keats cites in relation to the “Theory of Spirits eyes and the simile of Gallilio (“Satan ‘disfigured on the Assyrian Mount’) depicts Satan as he is viewed by the archangel Uriel. Satan previously had disguised himself as an angel and fooled Uriel into giving him directions to Eden. At this point, however, when his face is distorted by “ire, envy, and despair (PL 4.115), Satan reveals his true, tormented self, while he thinks himself alone and doesn’t realize that he is being observed by Uriel. The dramatic “vastness and solemnity Keats perceives in this image therefore would seem to involve the pathetic irony of a being who once looked on his surroundings with supernatural keenness of perception, but whose fallen condition has now made him, all unaware, the sorry object of a superior angel’s penetrating gaze.
Compare the passage ending “Had lively shadow'd" (line 311) to the well-known passage from Keats’s 22 November 1817 letter to Bailey: “The Imagination may be compared to Adam’s dream—he awoke and found it truth. . . . It is ‘a Vision in the form of Youth’ a Shadow of reality to come (Letters 1: 185). Keats does not mark the other passage in which Adam’s dream becomes reality: when he dreams of Eve and wakes to find her presented to him by God (8.461-90).
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Had not Shakspeare liv'd?
Keats quotes lines 121-22, “the hateful siege / Of contraries, in a 21 September 1818 letter to Dilke in which he describes the strain of living with his dying brother Tom (Letters 1.369). See also the discussion of this passage in the Introduction (section on “Dating the Marginalia).
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Satan having entered the Serpent, and inform'd his brutal sense - might seem seem [sic] sufficient - but Milton goes on "but his sleep disturb'd not' &c. Whose spirit does not ache at the smothering and confinement—the unwilling stillness--the 'waiting close'? Whose head is not dizzy at the prosiable speculations of satan in this serpent prison— - - no passage of poetry ever can give a greater pain of suffocation.
As other editors note, Keats's “prosiable appears to be a combination of “probable and “possible (compare Forman 5: 305; Barnard 526; Cook 614). Wolfson suggests that Keats may also have had in mind “‘prosy’ (wearisome) (237). Keats may have begun writing with one word in mind and then switched to the other, or he may have intentionally coined a new term to express his meaning.
Both W. J. Bate (254) and Meg Williams (117) cite Keats's note as illustrative of his gift for empathy or “negative capability. Nicola Trott, however, points out that Satan does not lose his own identity as he takes on the form of the serpent but instead retains his own consciousness and finds the experience of inhabiting another body oppressive (
“Keats and the Prison House 263-64). Allott (411) compares this note to Hyperion 1.258-63; Cook (614) suggests a comparison to The Eve of St. Agnes 17-18.
Keats quotes “Sagacious of his quarry in his note on PL 7.422-23.
Line 330 (“his children dear) would seem to be another example of what Keats considers “the sublime pathetic in Milton. See his note to PL 2.546-52, where he cites as an instance of the sublime pathetic “where Satan’s progeny is called his ‘daughter dear’. Keats, however, does not underscore similar passages on the next two pages referring to Sin as Satan’s “offspring dear, “fair / Enchanting daughter, and “Fair daughter (10.349, 352-53, 384). Perhaps Keats began to perceive in these latter passages not pathos but sinister irony, as Satan cherishes and flatters the hideous offspring who collaborate with him on bringing about the suffering of mankind.
It may be relevant to the underscored passage in lines 589-90 that Keats in December 1817 saw Benjamin West’s painting “Death on the Pale Horse and described it in a letter to his brothers (Letters 1: 192).
Keats quotes lines 702-03 of book 10 in his 3 May 1818 letter to Reynolds: “one would think there has been growing up for these last four thousand years, a grandchild Scion of the old forbidden tree, and that some modern Eve had just violated it; and that there was come with double charge, ‘Notus and Afer black with thunderous clouds from Sierra-leona’ (Letters 1: 276).
As Allott notes (499), Keats’s poem “As Hermes once took to his feathers light appears to be indebted to lines 130-33.
What should be p. 169 is numbered 171 in Keats’s edition. Subsequent pages continue with the new numbering sequence through p. 182, which is then followed by pages numbered 173-83.
As explained in the previous editorial note, the page numbering is erratic in this section of Keats’s edition of Paradise Lost. After p. 168, pages are numbered 171-82, 173-83. There are no pages numbered 169 or 170 in vol. 2 of Keats’s edition.