Gladly 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 batdements adornedOf living sapphire, once his native seat,And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain,This pendent World, in bigness as a starOf smallest magnitude close by the moon.Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge,Accurst, and in a cursed hour, he hies.The Third Book
¶THE 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; dears 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 ho 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 coeternal beam
May 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 hear'st thou rather pure Ethereal Stream,Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the Sun,
p. 136¶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 detainedIn that obscure sojourn, while in my flight,Through utter and through middle Darkness borne,With other notes than to the Orphean lyreI 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 sovran vital lamp; but thouRevisit'st not these eyes, that rowl in vainTo find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs,Or dim suffusion veiled. 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 hallowed feet, and warbling flow,Nighdy I visit: nor sometimes forgetThose other two equalled with me in fate,(So were I equalled 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 hid,Tunes 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 fair,Presented with a universal blank[137]Of 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 highth, 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, unrivalled love,In blissful solitude. He then surveyedHell and the gulf between, and Satan thereCoasting the wall of Heaven on this side Night,In the dun air sublime, and ready nowTo stoop, with wearied wings and willing feet,On the bare outside of this World, that seemedFirm land imbosomed 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 chainsHeaped on him there, nor yet the main AbyssWide 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,[138]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 Ethereal PowersAnd Spirits, both them who stood and them whofailed;Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.Not free, what proof could they have given sincereOf true allegiance, constant faith, or love,Where only what they needs must do appeared,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 despoiled,Made passive both, had served Necessity,Not Me? They, therefore, as to right belongedSo 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 aught by me immutably foreseen,They trespass, authors to themselves in all,Both what they judge and what they choose; for soI formed them free, and free they must remainTill they enthrall themselves: I else must changeTheir nature, and revoke the high decreeUnchangeable, eternal, which ordained[139]Their freedom; they themselves ordained 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 filledAll 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 shonSubstantially expressed; and in his faceDivine compassion visibly appeared,Love without end, and without measure grace;Which uttering, thus He to his Father spake:—"O Father, gracious was that word which closedThy sovran 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 throneEncompassed shall resound thee ever blest.For, should Man finally be lost—should Man,Thy creature late so loved, thy youngest son,Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though joinedWith 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 naughtOr proud return, though to his heavier doomYet with revenge accomplished, 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 questioned and blasphemed without defense."To whom the great Creator thus replied:—[140]"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 voutsafed. Once more I will renewHis lapsed powers, though forfeit, and enthralledBy 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 grace,Elect above the rest; so is my will:The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warnedTheir sinful state, and to appease betimesThe incensed Deity, while offered graceInvites; for I will clear their senses darkWhat may suffice, and soften stony heartsTo pray, repent, and bring obedience due.To prayer, repentance, and obedience due,Though but endeavoured 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 grace,They who neglect and scorn shall never taste;But hard be hardened, 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 naught left,[141]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 asked, but all the Heavenly Quire stood mute,And silence was in Heaven: on Man's behalfPatron or intercessor none appeared—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 renewed:—"Father, thy word is passed, 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 life,I 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 vanquished. Thou hast given me to possessLife in myself for ever; by thee I live;Though now to Death I yield, and am his due,All that of me can die, yet, that debt paid,Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave[142]His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soulFor ever with corruption there to dwell;But I shall rise victorious, and subdueMy vanquisher, spoiled of his vaunted spoil.Death his death's wound shall then receive, and stoopInglorious, of his mortal sting disarmed;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 redeemed,Shall enter Heaven, long absent, and return,Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloudOf anger shall remain, but peace assuredAnd reconcilement: wrauth shall be no moreThenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire."His words here ended; but his meek aspect'Silent yet spake, and breathed immortal loveTo mortal man, above which only shonFilial obedience: as a sacrificeGlad to be offered, he attends the willOf his great Father. Admiration seizedAll Heaven, what this might mean, and whither tend,Wondering; but soon the Almighty thus replied:—"O thou in Heaven and Earth the only peaceFound out for mankind under wrauth, O thouMy sole complacence! well thou know'st how dearTo me are all my works; nor Man the least,Though last created, that for him I spareThee from my bosom and right hand, to save,By losing thee a while, 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 wondrous birth; be thou in Adam's roomThe head of all mankind, though Adam's son.As in him perish all men, so in thee,[143]As from a second root, shall be restoredAs many as are restored; without thee, none.His crime makes guilty all his sons; thy merit,Imputed, 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, be judged and die,And dying rise, and, rising, with him raiseHis brethren, ransomed 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 destroyed, 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, though 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 birthright 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 Supreme,Thrones, 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 sendThe summoning Archangels to proclaimThy dread tribunal, forthwith from all windsThe living, and forthwith the cited dead[144]Of 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 arraigned 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 long,See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,With Joy and Love triumph'ing, 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 shoutLoud as from numbers without number, sweetAs from blest voices, uttering joy—Heaven rungWith jubilee, and loud Hosannas filledThe 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 Life,Began to bloom, but, soon for Man's offenceTo Heaven removed where first it grew, there growsAnd flowers aloft, shading the Fount of Life,And where the River of Bliss through midst of HeavenRowls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream!With these, that never fade, the Spirits electBind their resplendent locks, inwreathed with beams.Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the brightPavement, that like a sea of jasper shon,Impurpled with celestial roses smiled.Then, crowned again, their golden harps they took—Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their sideLike quivers hung; and with preamble sweet[145]Of 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 sitt'stThroned inaccessible, but when thou shad'stThe full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloudDrawn round about thee like a radiant shrineDark with excessive bright thy skirts appear,Yet dazzle Heaven, that brightest SeraphimApproach not, but with both wings veil their eyes.Thee next they sang, 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 theeImpressed the effulgence of his glory abides;Transfused on thee his ample Spirit rests.He Heaven of Heavens, and all the Powers therein,By 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 drov'st of warring Angels disarrayed.Back from pursuit, thy Powers with loud acclaimThee only extolled, 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 encline.No sooner did thy dear and only SonPerceive thee purposed not to doom frail ManSo strictly, but much more to pity enclined,He, to appease thy wrauth, and end the strifeOf mercy and justice in thy face discerned,[146]Regardless of the bliss wherein he satSecond to thee, offered himself to dieFor Man's offence. O unexampled love!Love nowhere 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 thy 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, enclosedFrom Chaos and the inroad of Darkness old,Satan alighted walks. A globe far offIt seemed; 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 Heaven,Though distant far, some small reflection gainsOf glimmering air less vexed with tempest loud.Here walked the Fiend at large in spacious field.As when a vultur, on Imaus bred,Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds,Dislodging from a region scarce of prey,To 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 cany waggons light;So, on this windy sea of land, the FiendWalked up and down alone, bent on his prey:Alone, for other creature in this place,Living 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 filled the works of men—[147]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,Naught seeking but the praise of men, here findFit retribution, empty as their deeds;All the unaccomplished works of Nature's hand,Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mixed,Dissolved on Earth, fleet hither, and in vain,Till final dissolution, wander here—Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some have dreamed:Those argent fields more likely habitants,Translated Saints, or middle Spirits hold,Betwixt the angelical and human kind.Hither, of ill-joined sons and daughters born,First from the ancient world those Giants came,With many a vain exploit, though then renowned: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 deemedA god, leaped fondly into ./Etna flames,Empedocles; and he who, to enjoyPlato's Elysium, leaped into the sea,Cleombrotus; and many more, too long,Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars,White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery.Here pilgrims roam, that strayed so far to seekIn Golgotha him dead who lives in Heaven;And they who, to be sure of Paradise,Dying put on the weeds of Dominic,Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised.They pass the planets seven, and pass the fixed,And that crystal'lin sphere whose balance weighsThe trepidation talked, 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, lo!A violent cross wind from either coast[148]Blows them transverse, ten thousand leagues awry,Into the devious air. Then might ye seeCowls, hoods, and habits, with their wearers, tostAnd fluttered into rags; then reliques, beads,Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls,The sport of winds: all these, upwhirled aloft,Fly o'er the backside of the World far offInto a Limbo large and broad, since calledThe Paradise of Fools; to few unknownLong after, now unpeopled and untrod.All this dark globe the Fiend found as he passed;And long he wandered, till at last a gleamOf dawning light turned thitherward in hasteHis travelled steps. Far distant he descries,Ascending by degrees magnificentUp to the wall of Heaven, a structure high;At top whereof, but far more rich, appearedThe work as of a kingly palace-gate,With frontispiece of diamond and goldImbellished; thick with sparkling orient gemsThe portal shon, 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 Padan-Aram, in the field of LuzDreaming 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 flowedOf jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereonWho after came from Earth sailing arrivedWafted 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 opened from beneath,Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise,[149]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 froPassed frequent, and his eye with choice regardFrom Paneas, the fount of Jordan's flood,To Beersaba, where the Holy LandBorders on ^Lgypt and the Arabian shore.So wide the opening seemed, where bounds were setTo darkness, such as bound the ocean wave.Satan from hence, now on the lower stair,That scaled by steps of gold to Heaven-gate,Looks down with wonder at the sudden viewOf all this World at once. As when a scout,Through dark and desart 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 renowned metropolisWith glistering spires and pinnacles adorned,Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams;Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen,The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized,At 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 pause,Down right into the World's first region throwsHis flight precipitant, and winds with easeThrough the pure marble air his oblique wayAmongst innumerable stars, that shonStars distant, but nigh-hand seemed other worlds.Or other worlds they seemed, or happy isles,[150]Like those Hesperian Gardens famed of old,Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales;Thrice happy isles! But who dwelt happy thereHe staid not to inquire: above them allThe golden Sun, in splendour likest Heaven,Allured his eye. Thither his course he bends,Through the calm firmament (but up or down,By centre or eccentric, hard to tell,Or longitude) where the great luminary,Aloof the vulgar constellations thick,That from the 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-cheeringlampTurn swift their various motions, or are turnedBy his magnetic beam, that gently warmsThe Universe, and to each inward partWith gende penetration, though unseenShoots invisible virtue even to the Deep;So wondrously was set his station bright.There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhapsAstronomer in the Sun's lucent orbThrough his glazed optic tube yet never saw.The place he found beyond expression bright,Compared with aught on Earth, metal or stone—Not all parts like, but all alike informedWith radiant light, as glowing iron with fire.If metal, part seemed gold, part silver clear;If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite,Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shonIn Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besides;Imagined 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,Drained through a limbec to his native form.What wonder then if fields and regions here[151]Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers runPotable gold, when, with one virtuous touch,The arch-chimic Sun, so far from us remote,Produces, with terrestrial humour mixed,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,Nowhere so clear, sharpened 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 turned, but not his brightness hid;Of beaming sunny rays a golden tiarCircled his head, nor less his locks behindIllustrious on his shoulders fledge with wingsLay waving round: on some great charge imployedHe seemed, or fixed 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 feigned.Under a coronet his flowing hairIn curls on either cheek played; wings he woreOf many a coloured 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 turned,[152]Admonished 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 through all the Heavens, or down to theEarthBear 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 wondrous works, but chiefly ManHis chief delight and favour, him for whomAll these his works so wondrous he ordained,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 gazeOr open admiration him beholdOn whom the great Creator hath bestowedWorlds, and on whom hath all these graces poured;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 loss,Created 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, through Heaven and Earth;[153]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 foul,In his uprightness, answer thus returned:—"Fair Angel, thy desire, which tends to knowThe works of God, thereby to glorifyThe great Work-maister, 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 shon, and order from disorder sprung.Swift to their several quarters hasted thenThe cumbrous elements—Earth, Flood, Air, Fire;And this ethereal quint'essence of HeavenFlew upward, spirited with various forms,That rowled orbicular, and turned 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, though but reflected, shines:That place is Earth, the seat of Man; that lightHis day, which else, as the other hemisphere,
Night would invade; but there the neighbouring Moon(So called that opposite fair star) her aidTimely interposes, and, her monthly roundStill ending, still renewing, through mid-heaven,With borrowed 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 turned; 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 aerie wheel,Nor staid till on Niphates' top he lights.The Fourth Book
¶THE 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 a while, to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel, descending on a sunbeam, 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 rounds 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 car 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,
p. 155¶Came furious down to be revenged on men,Woe to the inhabitants on Earth! that now,While time was, our first parents had been warnedThe 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 wreak 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 birthNow rowling, 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 slumbered; wakes the bitter memoryOf what he was, what is, and what must beWorse; of worse deeds worse sufferings 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 crowned,Look'st from thy sole dominion like the godOf this new World—at whose sight all the starsHide their diminished heads—to thee I call,But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,0 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 was[156]In 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 high,I 'sdained subjection, and thought one step higherWould set me highest, and in a moment quitThe debt immense of endless gratitude,So burthensome, 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?Oh, had his powerful destiny ordainedMe 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 armed!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 wrauth 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 repentence, none for pardon left?None left but by submission; and that wordDisdain forbids me, and my dread of shameAmong the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced[157]With other promises and other vauntsThan to submit, boasting I could subdueThe Omnipotent. Aye 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 obtain,By act of grace, my former state; how soonWould highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsayWhat feigned submission swore! Ease would recantVows made in pain, as violent and void(For never can true reconcilement growWhere 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, insteadOf 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 dimmed his face,Thrice changed with pale—ire, envy, and despair;Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayedHim counterfeit, if any eye beheld:For Heavenly minds from such distempers foulAre ever dear. Whereof he soon awareEach perturbation smoothed with outward calm,Artificer of fraud; and was the firstThat practised falsehood under saintly shew,Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge:[158]Yet not enough had practised to deceiveUriel, once warned; 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 marked 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 enclosure green,As with a rural mound, the champain headOf a steep wilderness whose hairy sidesWith thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild.Access denied; and overhead up-grewInsuperable highth of loftiest shade,Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascendShade 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,Appeared, with gay enamelled colours mixed;On which the sun more glad impressed his beamsThan in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,When God hath showered the earth; so lovely seemedThat lantskip. And of pure now purer airMeets his approach, and to the heart inspiresVernal delight and joy, able to driveAll sadness but despair. Now gentle gales,Fanning 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 pastMozambic, off at sea north-east winds blowSabean odours from the spicy shoreOf Araby the Blest, with such delay[159]Well pleased they slack their course, and many aleagueCheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles;So entertained those odorous sweets the FiendWho came their bane, though with them better pleasedThan Asmodeus with the fishy fumeThat drove him, though enamoured, 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 perplexeaAll path of man or beast that passed that way.One gate there only was, and that looked eastOn the other side. Which when the Arch-Felon saw,Due entrance he disdained, and, in contempt,At one slight bound high overleaped 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 eve,In 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-barred 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 regained, 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 right[160]The 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 stretched 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 ordained.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 hillPassed underneath ingulfed; for God had thrownThat mountain, as his garden-mould, high raisedUpon the rapid current, which, through veinsOf porous earth with kindly thirst updrawn,Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rillWatered 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 tellHow, from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,Rowling 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 boon[161]Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,Both where the morning sun first warmly smoteThe open field, and where the unpierced shadeImbrowned the noontide bowers. Thus was this place,A happy rural seat of various view:Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm,Others whose fruit, burnished 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 manding vineLays forth her purple grape, and gendy creepsLuxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fallDown the slope hills dispersed, or in a lake,That to the fringed bank with myrtle crownedHer 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 Pan,Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,Led on the eternal Spring. Not that fair fieldOf Enna, where Proserpin gathering flowers,Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy DisWas gathered—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 Libyan Jove,Hid Amalthea, and her florid son,Young 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 line[162]By Nilus' head, enclosed 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,God-like erect, with native honour cladIn naked majesty, seemed lords of all,And worthy seemed; for in their looks divineThe image of their glorious Maker shon,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 seemed;For contemplation he and valour formed,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 Hyacinthin locksRound from his parted forelock manly hungClustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad:She, as a veil down to the slender waist,Her unadorned golden tresses woreDishevelled, but in wanton ringlets wavedAs the vine curls her tendrils—which impliedSubjection, but required with gende 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 concealed:Then was not guilty shame. Dishonest shameOf Nature's works, honour dishonourable.Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankindWith shews instead, mere shews of seeming pureAnd banished from man's life his happiest life,Simplicity and spotless innocence!So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sightOf God or Angel; for they thought no ill:So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pairThat ever since in love's embraces met—[163]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-side,They sat them down; and, after no more toilOf their sweet gardening labour than sufficedTo recommend cool Zephyr, and make 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 damasked with flowers.The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind,Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming streamNor gentle purpose, nor endearing smilesWanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseemsFair couple linked in happy nuptial league,Alone as they. About them frisking playedAll beasts of the earth, since wild, and of all chaseIn wood or wilderness, forest or den.Sporting the lion ramped, and in his pawDandled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces, pards,Gambolled before them; the unwieldy elephant,To make them mirth, used all his might, and wreathedHis lithe proboscis; close the serpent sly,Insinuating, wove with Gordian twineHis breaded train, and of his fatal guileGave proof unheeded. Others on the grassCouched, and, now filled with pasture, gazing sat,Or bedward ruminating; for the sun,Declined, was hastening 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 failed speech recovered 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 pursue[164]With wonder, and could love; so lively shinesIn them divine resemblance, and such graceThe hand that formed them on their shape hathpoured.Ah! gende 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 Heaven,HI fenced for Heaven to keep out such a foeAs now is entered; 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 me,Henceforth. 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 revengeOn you, who wrong me not, for him who wronged.And, should I at your harmless innocenceMelt, as I do, yet public reason just—Honour and empire with revenge enlargedBy conquering this new World—compels me nowTo do what else, though damned, 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, unespied,To mark what of their state he more might learnBy word or action marked. About them round[165]A lion now he stalks with fiery glare;Then as a tiger, who by chance hath spiedIn some pourlieu two gentle fawns at play,Straight crouches close; then rising, changes oftHis couchant watch, as one who chose his ground,Whence rushing he might surest seize them bothGriped in each paw: when Adam, first of men.To first of women, Eve, thus moving speech,Turned 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 this handHave nothing merited, nor can performAught 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 know'stGod hath pronounced it Death to taste that Tree:The only sign of our obedience leftAmong so many signs of power and ruleConferred 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 whomAnd from whom I was formed flesh of thy flesh,[166]And without whom am to no end, my guideAnd head! what thou hast said is just and right.For we to him, indeed, all praises 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 nowhere find.That day I oft remember, when from sleepI first awaked, and found myself reposed,Under a shade, on flowers, much wondering whereAnd 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 wentWith unexperienced thought, and laid me downOn the green bank, to look into the clearSmooth lake, that to me seemed another sky.As I bent down to look, just oppositeA Shape within the watery gleam appeared,Bending to look on me. I started back,It started back; but pleased I soon returned,Pleased it returned as soon with answering looksOf sympathy and love. There I had fixedMine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire,Had not a voice thus warned 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 staysThy coming, and thy soft imbraces—heWhose image thou art; him thou shalt enjoyInseparably thine; to him shalt bearMultitudes like thyself, and thence be calledMother of human race.' What could I do,But follow straight, invisibly thus led?Till I espied thee, fair, indeed, and tall,Under a platan; yet methought less fair,Less winning soft, less amiably mild,Than that smooth watery image. Back I turned;Thou, following, cried'st aloud, 'Return, fair Eve;[167]Whom fliest thou? Whom thou fliest, of him thou artHis 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 claimMy other half.' With that thy gentle handSeized mine: I yielded, and from that time seeHow beauty is excelled by manly graceAnd wisdom, which alone is truly fair."So spake our general mother, and, with eyesOf conjugal attraction unreproved,And meek surrender, half-embracing leanedOn 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 cloudsThat shed May flowers, and pressed her matron lipWith kisses pure. Aside the Devil turnedFor envy; yet with jealous leer malignEyed them askance, and to himself thus plained:—"Sight hateful, sight tormentingl 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,Among our other torments not the least,Still unfulfilled, with pain of longing pinestYet let me not forget what I have gainedFrom their own mouths. All is not theirs, it seems;One fatal tree there stands, of Knowledge called,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 build[168]Their 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 learned. Live while ye may,Yet happy pair; enjoy, till I return,Short pleasures; for long woes are to succeed 1"So saying, his proud step he scornful turned,But with sly circumspection, and beganThrough wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, hisroam.Meanwhile in utmost longitude, where HeavenWith Earth and Ocean meets, the setting SunSlowly descended, and with right aspect/Against the eastern gate of ParadiseLevelled his evening rays. It was a rockOf alablaster, piled up to the clouds,Conspicuous far, winding with one ascentAccessible 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 sunbeam, swift as a shooting starIn autumn thwarts the night, when vapours firedImpress the air, and shews the marinerFrom what point of his compass to bewareImpetuous winds. He thus began in haste:—[169]"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 highth of noon came to my sphereA Spirit, zealous, as he seemed, to knowMore of the Almighty's works, and chiefly Man,God's latest image. I described his wayBent all on speed, and marked his aerie gait,But in the mount that lies from Eden north,Where he first lighted, soon discerned his looksAlien from Heaven, with passions foul obscured.Mine eye pursued him still, but under shadeLost sight of him. One of the banished crew,I fear, hath ventured from the Deep, to raiseNew troubles; him thy care must be to find."To whom the winged Warrior thus returned:—"Uriel, no wonder if thy perfet sight,Amid the Sun's bright circle where thou sitt'st,See far and wide. In at this gate none passThe vigilance here placed, but such as comeWell known from Heaven; since meridian hourNo creature thence. If Spirit of other sort,So minded, have o'erleaped these earthly boundsOn purpose, hard thou know'st it to excludeSpiritual substance with corporeal bar.But, if within the circuit of these walks,In whatsoever shape, he lurk of whomThou tell'st, by morrow dawning I shall know."So promised he; and Uriel to his chargeReturned on that bright beam, whose point nowraisedBore him slope downward to the Sun, now fallenBeneath the Azores; whether the Prime Orb,Incredible how swift, had thither rowledDiurnal, or this less voliibil Earth,By shorter flight to the east, had left him thereArraying with reflected purple and goldThe clouds that on his western throne attend.Now came still Evening on, and Twilight grayHad in her sober livery all things clad;[170]Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,They to their grassy couch, these to their nestsWere slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale.She all night long her amorous descant sung:Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmamentWith living Saphirs; Hesperus, that ledThe starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon,Rising in clouded majesty, at lengthApparent queen, unveiled 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 restMind 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 slumberous weight, inclinesOur eye-lids. Other creatures all day longRove idle, unimployed, and less need rest;Man hath his daily work of body or mindAppointed, 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 bestrewn, unsighdy 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 adorned:—"My author and disposer, what thou bidd'stUnargued 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,[171]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 fertil 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, accomplished Eve,Those have their course to finish round the EarthBy 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 heatOf 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 behold[172]Both day and night. How often, from the steepOf echoing hill or thicket, have we heardCelestial voices to the midnight air,Sole, or responsive each to other's note,Singing their great Creator! Oft in bandsWhile they keep watch, or nighdy rounding walk,With heavenly touch of instrumental soundsIn full harmonic number joined, their songsDivide the night, and lift our thoughts to Heaven."Thus talking, hand in hand alone they passedOn to their blissful bower. It was a placeChosen by the sovran Planter, when he framedAll things to Man's delightful use. The roofOf thickest covert was inwoven shade,Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grewOf 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 gessamin,Reared high their flourished heads between, andwroughtMosaic; under foot the violet,Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlayBroidered the ground, more coloured than with stoneOf costliest emblem. Other creature here,Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none;Such was their awe of Man. In shadier bowerMore sacred and sequestered, though but feigned,Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor NymphFor Faunus haunted. Here, in close recess,With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling hearbsEspoused Eve decked first her nuptial bed,And heavenly choirs the hymenacan sung,What day the genial Angel to our SireBrought her, in naked beauty more adorned,More lovely, than Pandora, whom the godsEndowed with all their gifts; and, O! too likeIn sad event, when, to the unwiser sonOf Japhet brought by Hermes, she ensnaredMankind with her fair looks, to be avenged[173]On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire.Thus at their shady lodge arrived, both stood,Both turned, 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 imployed,Have finished, happy in our mutual helpAnd mutual love, the crown of all our blissOrdained by thee; and this delicious place,For us too large, where thy abundance wantsPartakers, and uncropt 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,Straight side by side were laid; nor turned, 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 abstainBut 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 menAmong the bestial herds to raunge; 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,[174]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 imploys, here lightsHis constant lamp, and waves his purple wings,Reigns here and revels; not in the bought smileOf harlots—loveless, joyless, unindeared,Casual fruition; nor in court amours,Mixed dance, or wanton mask, or midnight bal,Or serenate, which the starved lover singsTo his proud fair, best quitted with disdain.These, lulled by nightingales, imbracing slept,And on their naked limbs the flowery roofShowered roses, which the morn repaired. 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 coneHalf-way up-hill this vast sublunar vault,And from their ivory port the CherubimForth issuing, at the accustomed hour, stood armedTo 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 calledThat near him stood, and gave them thus in charge:—"Ithuriel and Zephon, with winged speedSearch through this Garden; leave unsearched nonook;But chiefly where those two fair creatures lodge,Now laid perhaps asleep, secure of harm.This evening from the Sun's decline arrivedWho 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,[175]Dazzling the moon; these to the bower directIn search of whom they sought. Him there they foundSquat 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 ariseLike gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise,At least distempered, discontented thoughts,Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires,Blown up with high conceits ingendering pride.Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spearTouched lightly; for no falsehood can endureTouch of celestial temper, but returnsOf force to its own likeness. Up he starts,Discovered and surprised. As, when a sparkLights on a heap of nitrous powder, laidFit for the tun, some magazin to storeAgainst a rumoured war, the smutty grain,With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air;So started up, in his own shape, the Fiend.Back stept those two fair Angels, half amazedSo sudden to behold the griesly King;Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon:—"Which of those rebel Spirits adjudged to HellCorn'st thou, escaped thy prison? and, transformed,Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait,Here watching at the head of these that sleep?""Know ye not, then," said Satan, filled 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 withscorn:—"Think not, revolted Spirit, thy shape the same,Or undiminished brightness, to be known[176]As when thou stood'st 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. Abashed 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 impaired; yet seemedUndaunted. "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 reined, went haughty on,Chaumping his iron curb. To strive or flyHe held it vain; awe from above had quelledHis heart, not else dismayed. Now drew they nighThe western point, where those half-rounding guardsJust met, and, closing, stood in squadron joined,Awaiting next command. To whom their chief,Gabriel, from the front thus called 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 lours."He scarce had ended, when those two approached,And brief related whom they brought, where found,How busied, in what form and posture couched.[177]To whom, with stern regard, thus Gabriel spake:—"Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescribedTo thy transgressions, and disturbed the chargeOf others, who approve not to transgressBy thy example, but have power and rightTo question thy bold entrance on this place;Imployed, 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 askedPuts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain?Who would not, finding way, break loose from Hell,Though thither doomed? Thou wouldst thyself, nodoubt,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 know'st only good,But evil hast not tried. And wilt objectHis will who bound us? Let him surer barHis iron gates, if he intends our stayIn that dark durance. Thus much what was asked: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 wrauth,Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flightSevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell,Which taught thee yet no better that no pain[178]Can 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 flight,Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive."To which the Fiend thus answered, frowningstern:—"Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain,Insulting Angel! well thou know'st I stoodThy fiercest, when in battle to thy aidThe blasting volleyed thunder made all speedAnd seconded thy else not dreaded spear.But still thy words at random, as before,Argue thy inexperience what behoves,From hard assays and ill successes past,A 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 to 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 ingaged,[179]Your military obedience, to dissolveAllegiance to the acknowledged Power Supreme?And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seemPatron of liberty, who more than thouOnce fawned, and cringed, and servilely adoredHeaven's awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hopeTo dispossess him, and thyself to reign ?But mark what I areed thee now: A vaunt!Fly thither whence thou fledd'st. If from this hourWithin these hallowed limits thou appear,Back to the Infernal Pit I drag thee chained,And seal thee so as henceforth not to scornThe facile gates of Hell too slightly barred."So threatened 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, draw'st his triumphant wheelsIn progress through the road of Heaven star-paved."While thus he spake, the angelic squadron brightTurned 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 standsLest on the threshing-floor his hopeful sheavesProve chaff. On the other side, Satan, alarmed,Collecting all his might, dilated stood,Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved:His stature reached the sky, and on his crestSat Horror plumed; nor wanted in his graspWhat seemed both spear and shield. Now dreadfuldeedsMight have ensued; nor only Paradise,In this commotion, but the starry copeOf Heaven perhaps, or all the Elements[180]At least, had gone to wrack, disturbed and tornWith violence of this conflict, had not soonThe Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray,Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seenBetwixt Astrara and the Scorpion sign,Wherein all things created first he weighed,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 kicked the beam;Which Gabriel spying thus bespake the Fiend:—"Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine,Neither our own, but given; what folly thenTo boast what arms can do! since thine no moreThan Heaven permits, nor mine, though doubled nowTo trample thee as mire. For proof look up,And read thy lot in yon celestial sign,Where thou art weighed, and shown how light, howweakIf thou resist." The Fiend looked up, and knewHis mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fledMurmuring; and with him fled the shades of Night.