{"id":191,"date":"2015-06-24T18:09:19","date_gmt":"2015-06-24T18:09:19","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.candelalearning.com\/americanlit1x22x1\/?post_type=chapter&p=191"},"modified":"2015-06-24T18:18:29","modified_gmt":"2015-06-24T18:18:29","slug":"book-i","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/rangercollege-britlit1-curry\/chapter\/book-i\/","title":{"raw":"Book I","rendered":"Book I"},"content":{"raw":"[caption id=\"attachment_193\" align=\"aligncenter\" width=\"194\"]\"Photograph<\/a> Title page of Paradise Lost, London: 1667, by John Milton (1608-1674)[\/caption]\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nOf Man's first disobedience, and the fruit\r\nOf that forbidden tree whose mortal taste\r\nBrought death into the World, and all our woe,\r\nWith loss of Eden, till one greater Man\r\nRestore us, and regain the blissful seat,\r\nSing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top\r\nOf Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire\r\nThat shepherd who first taught the chosen seed\r\nIn the beginning how the heavens and earth\r\nRose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill\r\nDelight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed\r\nFast by the oracle of God, I thence\r\nInvoke thy aid to my adventurous song,\r\nThat with no middle flight intends to soar\r\nAbove th' Aonian mount, while it pursues\r\nThings unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.\r\nAnd chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer\r\nBefore all temples th' upright heart and pure,\r\nInstruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first\r\nWast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,\r\nDove-like sat'st brooding on the vast Abyss,\r\nAnd mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark\r\nIllumine, what is low raise and support;\r\nThat, to the height of this great argument,\r\nI may assert Eternal Providence,\r\nAnd justify the ways of God to men.\r\nSay first--for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,\r\nNor the deep tract of Hell--say first what cause\r\nMoved our grand parents, in that happy state,\r\nFavoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off\r\nFrom their Creator, and transgress his will\r\nFor one restraint, lords of the World besides.\r\nWho first seduced them to that foul revolt?\r\nTh' infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,\r\nStirred up with envy and revenge, deceived\r\nThe mother of mankind, what time his pride\r\nHad cast him out from Heaven, with all his host\r\nOf rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring\r\nTo set himself in glory above his peers,\r\nHe trusted to have equalled the Most High,\r\nIf he opposed, and with ambitious aim\r\nAgainst the throne and monarchy of God,\r\nRaised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,\r\nWith vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power\r\nHurled headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky,\r\nWith hideous ruin and combustion, down\r\nTo bottomless perdition, there to dwell\r\nIn adamantine chains and penal fire,\r\nWho durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.\r\nNine times the space that measures day and night\r\nTo mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,\r\nLay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,\r\nConfounded, though immortal. But his doom\r\nReserved him to more wrath; for now the thought\r\nBoth of lost happiness and lasting pain\r\nTorments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,\r\nThat witnessed huge affliction and dismay,\r\nMixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.\r\nAt once, as far as Angels ken, he views\r\nThe dismal situation waste and wild.\r\nA dungeon horrible, on all sides round,\r\nAs one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames\r\nNo light; but rather darkness visible\r\nServed only to discover sights of woe,\r\nRegions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace\r\nAnd rest can never dwell, hope never comes\r\nThat comes to all, but torture without end\r\nStill urges, and a fiery deluge, fed\r\nWith ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.\r\nSuch place Eternal Justice has prepared\r\nFor those rebellious; here their prison ordained\r\nIn utter darkness, and their portion set,\r\nAs far removed from God and light of Heaven\r\nAs from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole.\r\nOh how unlike the place from whence they fell!\r\nThere the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmed\r\nWith floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,\r\nHe soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,\r\nOne next himself in power, and next in crime,\r\nLong after known in Palestine, and named\r\nBeelzebub. To whom th' Arch-Enemy,\r\nAnd thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words\r\nBreaking the horrid silence, thus began:--\r\n\"If thou beest he--but O how fallen! how changed\r\nFrom him who, in the happy realms of light\r\nClothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine\r\nMyriads, though bright!--if he whom mutual league,\r\nUnited thoughts and counsels, equal hope\r\nAnd hazard in the glorious enterprise\r\nJoined with me once, now misery hath joined\r\nIn equal ruin; into what pit thou seest\r\nFrom what height fallen: so much the stronger proved\r\nHe with his thunder; and till then who knew\r\nThe force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,\r\nNor what the potent Victor in his rage\r\nCan else inflict, do I repent, or change,\r\nThough changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,\r\nAnd high disdain from sense of injured merit,\r\nThat with the Mightiest raised me to contend,\r\nAnd to the fierce contentions brought along\r\nInnumerable force of Spirits armed,\r\nThat durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,\r\nHis utmost power with adverse power opposed\r\nIn dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,\r\nAnd shook his throne. What though the field be lost?\r\nAll is not lost--the unconquerable will,\r\nAnd study of revenge, immortal hate,\r\nAnd courage never to submit or yield:\r\nAnd what is else not to be overcome?\r\nThat glory never shall his wrath or might\r\nExtort from me. To bow and sue for grace\r\nWith suppliant knee, and deify his power\r\nWho, from the terror of this arm, so late\r\nDoubted his empire--that were low indeed;\r\nThat were an ignominy and shame beneath\r\nThis downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,\r\nAnd this empyreal substance, cannot fail;\r\nSince, through experience of this great event,\r\nIn arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,\r\nWe may with more successful hope resolve\r\nTo wage by force or guile eternal war,\r\nIrreconcilable to our grand Foe,\r\nWho now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy\r\nSole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.\"\r\nSo spake th' apostate Angel, though in pain,\r\nVaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;\r\nAnd him thus answered soon his bold compeer:--\r\n\"O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers\r\nThat led th' embattled Seraphim to war\r\nUnder thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds\r\nFearless, endangered Heaven's perpetual King,\r\nAnd put to proof his high supremacy,\r\nWhether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,\r\nToo well I see and rue the dire event\r\nThat, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,\r\nHath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host\r\nIn horrible destruction laid thus low,\r\nAs far as Gods and heavenly Essences\r\nCan perish: for the mind and spirit remains\r\nInvincible, and vigour soon returns,\r\nThough all our glory extinct, and happy state\r\nHere swallowed up in endless misery.\r\nBut what if he our Conqueror (whom I now\r\nOf force believe almighty, since no less\r\nThan such could have o'erpowered such force as ours)\r\nHave left us this our spirit and strength entire,\r\nStrongly to suffer and support our pains,\r\nThat we may so suffice his vengeful ire,\r\nOr do him mightier service as his thralls\r\nBy right of war, whate'er his business be,\r\nHere in the heart of Hell to work in fire,\r\nOr do his errands in the gloomy Deep?\r\nWhat can it the avail though yet we feel\r\nStrength undiminished, or eternal being\r\nTo undergo eternal punishment?\"\r\nWhereto with speedy words th' Arch-Fiend replied:--\r\n\"Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,\r\nDoing or suffering: but of this be sure--\r\nTo do aught good never will be our task,\r\nBut ever to do ill our sole delight,\r\nAs being the contrary to his high will\r\nWhom we resist. If then his providence\r\nOut of our evil seek to bring forth good,\r\nOur labour must be to pervert that end,\r\nAnd out of good still to find means of evil;\r\nWhich ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps\r\nShall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb\r\nHis inmost counsels from their destined aim.\r\nBut see! the angry Victor hath recalled\r\nHis ministers of vengeance and pursuit\r\nBack to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,\r\nShot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid\r\nThe fiery surge that from the precipice\r\nOf Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,\r\nWinged with red lightning and impetuous rage,\r\nPerhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now\r\nTo bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.\r\nLet us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn\r\nOr satiate fury yield it from our Foe.\r\nSeest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,\r\nThe seat of desolation, void of light,\r\nSave what the glimmering of these livid flames\r\nCasts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend\r\nFrom off the tossing of these fiery waves;\r\nThere rest, if any rest can harbour there;\r\nAnd, re-assembling our afflicted powers,\r\nConsult how we may henceforth most offend\r\nOur enemy, our own loss how repair,\r\nHow overcome this dire calamity,\r\nWhat reinforcement we may gain from hope,\r\nIf not, what resolution from despair.\"\r\nThus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,\r\nWith head uplift above the wave, and eyes\r\nThat sparkling blazed; his other parts besides\r\nProne on the flood, extended long and large,\r\nLay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge\r\nAs whom the fables name of monstrous size,\r\nTitanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,\r\nBriareos or Typhon, whom the den\r\nBy ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast\r\nLeviathan, which God of all his works\r\nCreated hugest that swim th' ocean-stream.\r\nHim, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,\r\nThe pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,\r\nDeeming some island, oft, as seamen tell,\r\nWith fixed anchor in his scaly rind,\r\nMoors by his side under the lee, while night\r\nInvests the sea, and wished morn delays.\r\nSo stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,\r\nChained on the burning lake; nor ever thence\r\nHad risen, or heaved his head, but that the will\r\nAnd high permission of all-ruling Heaven\r\nLeft him at large to his own dark designs,\r\nThat with reiterated crimes he might\r\nHeap on himself damnation, while he sought\r\nEvil to others, and enraged might see\r\nHow all his malice served but to bring forth\r\nInfinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn\r\nOn Man by him seduced, but on himself\r\nTreble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.\r\nForthwith upright he rears from off the pool\r\nHis mighty stature; on each hand the flames\r\nDriven backward slope their pointing spires, and rolled\r\nIn billows, leave i' th' midst a horrid vale.\r\nThen with expanded wings he steers his flight\r\nAloft, incumbent on the dusky air,\r\nThat felt unusual weight; till on dry land\r\nHe lights--if it were land that ever burned\r\nWith solid, as the lake with liquid fire,\r\nAnd such appeared in hue as when the force\r\nOf subterranean wind transports a hill\r\nTorn from Pelorus, or the shattered side\r\nOf thundering Etna, whose combustible\r\nAnd fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire,\r\nSublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,\r\nAnd leave a singed bottom all involved\r\nWith stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole\r\nOf unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;\r\nBoth glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood\r\nAs gods, and by their own recovered strength,\r\nNot by the sufferance of supernal Power.\r\n\"Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,\"\r\nSaid then the lost Archangel, \"this the seat\r\nThat we must change for Heaven?--this mournful gloom\r\nFor that celestial light? Be it so, since he\r\nWho now is sovereign can dispose and bid\r\nWhat shall be right: farthest from him is best\r\nWhom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme\r\nAbove his equals. Farewell, happy fields,\r\nWhere joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,\r\nInfernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,\r\nReceive thy new possessor--one who brings\r\nA mind not to be changed by place or time.\r\nThe mind is its own place, and in itself\r\nCan make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.\r\nWhat matter where, if I be still the same,\r\nAnd what I should be, all but less than he\r\nWhom thunder hath made greater? Here at least\r\nWe shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built\r\nHere for his envy, will not drive us hence:\r\nHere we may reign secure; and, in my choice,\r\nTo reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:\r\nBetter to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.\r\nBut wherefore let we then our faithful friends,\r\nTh' associates and co-partners of our loss,\r\nLie thus astonished on th' oblivious pool,\r\nAnd call them not to share with us their part\r\nIn this unhappy mansion, or once more\r\nWith rallied arms to try what may be yet\r\nRegained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?\"\r\nSo Satan spake; and him Beelzebub\r\nThus answered:--\"Leader of those armies bright\r\nWhich, but th' Omnipotent, none could have foiled!\r\nIf once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge\r\nOf hope in fears and dangers--heard so oft\r\nIn worst extremes, and on the perilous edge\r\nOf battle, when it raged, in all assaults\r\nTheir surest signal--they will soon resume\r\nNew courage and revive, though now they lie\r\nGrovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,\r\nAs we erewhile, astounded and amazed;\r\nNo wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!\"\r\nHe scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend\r\nWas moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,\r\nEthereal temper, massy, large, and round,\r\nBehind him cast. The broad circumference\r\nHung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb\r\nThrough optic glass the Tuscan artist views\r\nAt evening, from the top of Fesole,\r\nOr in Valdarno, to descry new lands,\r\nRivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.\r\nHis spear--to equal which the tallest pine\r\nHewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast\r\nOf some great ammiral, were but a wand--\r\nHe walked with, to support uneasy steps\r\nOver the burning marl, not like those steps\r\nOn Heaven's azure; and the torrid clime\r\nSmote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.\r\nNathless he so endured, till on the beach\r\nOf that inflamed sea he stood, and called\r\nHis legions--Angel Forms, who lay entranced\r\nThick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks\r\nIn Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades\r\nHigh over-arched embower; or scattered sedge\r\nAfloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed\r\nHath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew\r\nBusiris and his Memphian chivalry,\r\nWhile with perfidious hatred they pursued\r\nThe sojourners of Goshen, who beheld\r\nFrom the safe shore their floating carcases\r\nAnd broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown,\r\nAbject and lost, lay these, covering the flood,\r\nUnder amazement of their hideous change.\r\nHe called so loud that all the hollow deep\r\nOf Hell resounded:--\"Princes, Potentates,\r\nWarriors, the Flower of Heaven--once yours; now lost,\r\nIf such astonishment as this can seize\r\nEternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place\r\nAfter the toil of battle to repose\r\nYour wearied virtue, for the ease you find\r\nTo slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?\r\nOr in this abject posture have ye sworn\r\nTo adore the Conqueror, who now beholds\r\nCherub and Seraph rolling in the flood\r\nWith scattered arms and ensigns, till anon\r\nHis swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern\r\nTh' advantage, and, descending, tread us down\r\nThus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts\r\nTransfix us to the bottom of this gulf?\r\nAwake, arise, or be for ever fallen!\"\r\nThey heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung\r\nUpon the wing, as when men wont to watch\r\nOn duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,\r\nRouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.\r\nNor did they not perceive the evil plight\r\nIn which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;\r\nYet to their General's voice they soon obeyed\r\nInnumerable. As when the potent rod\r\nOf Amram's son, in Egypt's evil day,\r\nWaved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud\r\nOf locusts, warping on the eastern wind,\r\nThat o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung\r\nLike Night, and darkened all the land of Nile;\r\nSo numberless were those bad Angels seen\r\nHovering on wing under the cope of Hell,\r\n'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;\r\nTill, as a signal given, th' uplifted spear\r\nOf their great Sultan waving to direct\r\nTheir course, in even balance down they light\r\nOn the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain:\r\nA multitude like which the populous North\r\nPoured never from her frozen loins to pass\r\nRhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons\r\nCame like a deluge on the South, and spread\r\nBeneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.\r\nForthwith, form every squadron and each band,\r\nThe heads and leaders thither haste where stood\r\nTheir great Commander--godlike Shapes, and Forms\r\nExcelling human; princely Dignities;\r\nAnd Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,\r\nThough on their names in Heavenly records now\r\nBe no memorial, blotted out and rased\r\nBy their rebellion from the Books of Life.\r\nNor had they yet among the sons of Eve\r\nGot them new names, till, wandering o'er the earth,\r\nThrough God's high sufferance for the trial of man,\r\nBy falsities and lies the greatest part\r\nOf mankind they corrupted to forsake\r\nGod their Creator, and th' invisible\r\nGlory of him that made them to transform\r\nOft to the image of a brute, adorned\r\nWith gay religions full of pomp and gold,\r\nAnd devils to adore for deities:\r\nThen were they known to men by various names,\r\nAnd various idols through the heathen world.\r\nSay, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,\r\nRoused from the slumber on that fiery couch,\r\nAt their great Emperor's call, as next in worth\r\nCame singly where he stood on the bare strand,\r\nWhile the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof?\r\nThe chief were those who, from the pit of Hell\r\nRoaming to seek their prey on Earth, durst fix\r\nTheir seats, long after, next the seat of God,\r\nTheir altars by his altar, gods adored\r\nAmong the nations round, and durst abide\r\nJehovah thundering out of Sion, throned\r\nBetween the Cherubim; yea, often placed\r\nWithin his sanctuary itself their shrines,\r\nAbominations; and with cursed things\r\nHis holy rites and solemn feasts profaned,\r\nAnd with their darkness durst affront his light.\r\nFirst, Moloch, horrid king, besmeared with blood\r\nOf human sacrifice, and parents' tears;\r\nThough, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud,\r\nTheir children's cries unheard that passed through fire\r\nTo his grim idol. Him the Ammonite\r\nWorshiped in Rabba and her watery plain,\r\nIn Argob and in Basan, to the stream\r\nOf utmost Arnon. Nor content with such\r\nAudacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart\r\nOf Solomon he led by fraud to build\r\nHis temple right against the temple of God\r\nOn that opprobrious hill, and made his grove\r\nThe pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence\r\nAnd black Gehenna called, the type of Hell.\r\nNext Chemos, th' obscene dread of Moab's sons,\r\nFrom Aroar to Nebo and the wild\r\nOf southmost Abarim; in Hesebon\r\nAnd Horonaim, Seon's real, beyond\r\nThe flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines,\r\nAnd Eleale to th' Asphaltic Pool:\r\nPeor his other name, when he enticed\r\nIsrael in Sittim, on their march from Nile,\r\nTo do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.\r\nYet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged\r\nEven to that hill of scandal, by the grove\r\nOf Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate,\r\nTill good Josiah drove them thence to Hell.\r\nWith these came they who, from the bordering flood\r\nOf old Euphrates to the brook that parts\r\nEgypt from Syrian ground, had general names\r\nOf Baalim and Ashtaroth--those male,\r\nThese feminine. For Spirits, when they please,\r\nCan either sex assume, or both; so soft\r\nAnd uncompounded is their essence pure,\r\nNot tried or manacled with joint or limb,\r\nNor founded on the brittle strength of bones,\r\nLike cumbrous flesh; but, in what shape they choose,\r\nDilated or condensed, bright or obscure,\r\nCan execute their airy purposes,\r\nAnd works of love or enmity fulfil.\r\nFor those the race of Israel oft forsook\r\nTheir Living Strength, and unfrequented left\r\nHis righteous altar, bowing lowly down\r\nTo bestial gods; for which their heads as low\r\nBowed down in battle, sunk before the spear\r\nOf despicable foes. With these in troop\r\nCame Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians called\r\nAstarte, queen of heaven, with crescent horns;\r\nTo whose bright image nightly by the moon\r\nSidonian virgins paid their vows and songs;\r\nIn Sion also not unsung, where stood\r\nHer temple on th' offensive mountain, built\r\nBy that uxorious king whose heart, though large,\r\nBeguiled by fair idolatresses, fell\r\nTo idols foul. Thammuz came next behind,\r\nWhose annual wound in Lebanon allured\r\nThe Syrian damsels to lament his fate\r\nIn amorous ditties all a summer's day,\r\nWhile smooth Adonis from his native rock\r\nRan purple to the sea, supposed with blood\r\nOf Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale\r\nInfected Sion's daughters with like heat,\r\nWhose wanton passions in the sacred porch\r\nEzekiel saw, when, by the vision led,\r\nHis eye surveyed the dark idolatries\r\nOf alienated Judah. Next came one\r\nWho mourned in earnest, when the captive ark\r\nMaimed his brute image, head and hands lopt off,\r\nIn his own temple, on the grunsel-edge,\r\nWhere he fell flat and shamed his worshippers:\r\nDagon his name, sea-monster, upward man\r\nAnd downward fish; yet had his temple high\r\nReared in Azotus, dreaded through the coast\r\nOf Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon,\r\nAnd Accaron and Gaza's frontier bounds.\r\nHim followed Rimmon, whose delightful seat\r\nWas fair Damascus, on the fertile banks\r\nOf Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams.\r\nHe also against the house of God was bold:\r\nA leper once he lost, and gained a king--\r\nAhaz, his sottish conqueror, whom he drew\r\nGod's altar to disparage and displace\r\nFor one of Syrian mode, whereon to burn\r\nHis odious offerings, and adore the gods\r\nWhom he had vanquished. After these appeared\r\nA crew who, under names of old renown--\r\nOsiris, Isis, Orus, and their train--\r\nWith monstrous shapes and sorceries abused\r\nFanatic Egypt and her priests to seek\r\nTheir wandering gods disguised in brutish forms\r\nRather than human. Nor did Israel scape\r\nTh' infection, when their borrowed gold composed\r\nThe calf in Oreb; and the rebel king\r\nDoubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,\r\nLikening his Maker to the grazed ox--\r\nJehovah, who, in one night, when he passed\r\nFrom Egypt marching, equalled with one stroke\r\nBoth her first-born and all her bleating gods.\r\nBelial came last; than whom a Spirit more lewd\r\nFell not from Heaven, or more gross to love\r\nVice for itself. To him no temple stood\r\nOr altar smoked; yet who more oft than he\r\nIn temples and at altars, when the priest\r\nTurns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who filled\r\nWith lust and violence the house of God?\r\nIn courts and palaces he also reigns,\r\nAnd in luxurious cities, where the noise\r\nOf riot ascends above their loftiest towers,\r\nAnd injury and outrage; and, when night\r\nDarkens the streets, then wander forth the sons\r\nOf Belial, flown with insolence and wine.\r\nWitness the streets of Sodom, and that night\r\nIn Gibeah, when the hospitable door\r\nExposed a matron, to avoid worse rape.\r\nThese were the prime in order and in might:\r\nThe rest were long to tell; though far renowned\r\nTh' Ionian gods--of Javan's issue held\r\nGods, yet confessed later than Heaven and Earth,\r\nTheir boasted parents;--Titan, Heaven's first-born,\r\nWith his enormous brood, and birthright seized\r\nBy younger Saturn: he from mightier Jove,\r\nHis own and Rhea's son, like measure found;\r\nSo Jove usurping reigned. These, first in Crete\r\nAnd Ida known, thence on the snowy top\r\nOf cold Olympus ruled the middle air,\r\nTheir highest heaven; or on the Delphian cliff,\r\nOr in Dodona, and through all the bounds\r\nOf Doric land; or who with Saturn old\r\nFled over Adria to th' Hesperian fields,\r\nAnd o'er the Celtic roamed the utmost Isles.\r\nAll these and more came flocking; but with looks\r\nDowncast and damp; yet such wherein appeared\r\nObscure some glimpse of joy to have found their Chief\r\nNot in despair, to have found themselves not lost\r\nIn loss itself; which on his countenance cast\r\nLike doubtful hue. But he, his wonted pride\r\nSoon recollecting, with high words, that bore\r\nSemblance of worth, not substance, gently raised\r\nTheir fainting courage, and dispelled their fears.\r\nThen straight commands that, at the warlike sound\r\nOf trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared\r\nHis mighty standard. That proud honour claimed\r\nAzazel as his right, a Cherub tall:\r\nWho forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled\r\nTh' imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,\r\nShone like a meteor streaming to the wind,\r\nWith gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,\r\nSeraphic arms and trophies; all the while\r\nSonorous metal blowing martial sounds:\r\nAt which the universal host up-sent\r\nA shout that tore Hell's concave, and beyond\r\nFrighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.\r\nAll in a moment through the gloom were seen\r\nTen thousand banners rise into the air,\r\nWith orient colours waving: with them rose\r\nA forest huge of spears; and thronging helms\r\nAppeared, and serried shields in thick array\r\nOf depth immeasurable. Anon they move\r\nIn perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood\r\nOf flutes and soft recorders--such as raised\r\nTo height of noblest temper heroes old\r\nArming to battle, and instead of rage\r\nDeliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved\r\nWith dread of death to flight or foul retreat;\r\nNor wanting power to mitigate and swage\r\nWith solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase\r\nAnguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain\r\nFrom mortal or immortal minds. Thus they,\r\nBreathing united force with fixed thought,\r\nMoved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed\r\nTheir painful steps o'er the burnt soil. And now\r\nAdvanced in view they stand--a horrid front\r\nOf dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise\r\nOf warriors old, with ordered spear and shield,\r\nAwaiting what command their mighty Chief\r\nHad to impose. He through the armed files\r\nDarts his experienced eye, and soon traverse\r\nThe whole battalion views--their order due,\r\nTheir visages and stature as of gods;\r\nTheir number last he sums. And now his heart\r\nDistends with pride, and, hardening in his strength,\r\nGlories: for never, since created Man,\r\nMet such embodied force as, named with these,\r\nCould merit more than that small infantry\r\nWarred on by cranes--though all the giant brood\r\nOf Phlegra with th' heroic race were joined\r\nThat fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side\r\nMixed with auxiliar gods; and what resounds\r\nIn fable or romance of Uther's son,\r\nBegirt with British and Armoric knights;\r\nAnd all who since, baptized or infidel,\r\nJousted in Aspramont, or Montalban,\r\nDamasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond,\r\nOr whom Biserta sent from Afric shore\r\nWhen Charlemain with all his peerage fell\r\nBy Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond\r\nCompare of mortal prowess, yet observed\r\nTheir dread Commander. He, above the rest\r\nIn shape and gesture proudly eminent,\r\nStood like a tower. His form had yet not lost\r\nAll her original brightness, nor appeared\r\nLess than Archangel ruined, and th' excess\r\nOf glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen\r\nLooks through the horizontal misty air\r\nShorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon,\r\nIn dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds\r\nOn half the nations, and with fear of change\r\nPerplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shone\r\nAbove them all th' Archangel: but his face\r\nDeep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care\r\nSat on his faded cheek, but under brows\r\nOf dauntless courage, and considerate pride\r\nWaiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast\r\nSigns of remorse and passion, to behold\r\nThe fellows of his crime, the followers rather\r\n(Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned\r\nFor ever now to have their lot in pain--\r\nMillions of Spirits for his fault amerced\r\nOf Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung\r\nFor his revolt--yet faithful how they stood,\r\nTheir glory withered; as, when heaven's fire\r\nHath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines,\r\nWith singed top their stately growth, though bare,\r\nStands on the blasted heath. He now prepared\r\nTo speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend\r\nFrom wing to wing, and half enclose him round\r\nWith all his peers: attention held them mute.\r\nThrice he assayed, and thrice, in spite of scorn,\r\nTears, such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last\r\nWords interwove with sighs found out their way:--\r\n\"O myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers\r\nMatchless, but with th' Almighty!--and that strife\r\nWas not inglorious, though th' event was dire,\r\nAs this place testifies, and this dire change,\r\nHateful to utter. But what power of mind,\r\nForseeing or presaging, from the depth\r\nOf knowledge past or present, could have feared\r\nHow such united force of gods, how such\r\nAs stood like these, could ever know repulse?\r\nFor who can yet believe, though after loss,\r\nThat all these puissant legions, whose exile\r\nHath emptied Heaven, shall fail to re-ascend,\r\nSelf-raised, and repossess their native seat?\r\nFor me, be witness all the host of Heaven,\r\nIf counsels different, or danger shunned\r\nBy me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns\r\nMonarch in Heaven till then as one secure\r\nSat on his throne, upheld by old repute,\r\nConsent or custom, and his regal state\r\nPut forth at full, but still his strength concealed--\r\nWhich tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.\r\nHenceforth his might we know, and know our own,\r\nSo as not either to provoke, or dread\r\nNew war provoked: our better part remains\r\nTo work in close design, by fraud or guile,\r\nWhat force effected not; that he no less\r\nAt length from us may find, who overcomes\r\nBy force hath overcome but half his foe.\r\nSpace may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife\r\nThere went a fame in Heaven that he ere long\r\nIntended to create, and therein plant\r\nA generation whom his choice regard\r\nShould favour equal to the Sons of Heaven.\r\nThither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps\r\nOur first eruption--thither, or elsewhere;\r\nFor this infernal pit shall never hold\r\nCelestial Spirits in bondage, nor th' Abyss\r\nLong under darkness cover. But these thoughts\r\nFull counsel must mature. Peace is despaired;\r\nFor who can think submission? War, then, war\r\nOpen or understood, must be resolved.\"\r\nHe spake; and, to confirm his words, outflew\r\nMillions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs\r\nOf mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze\r\nFar round illumined Hell. Highly they raged\r\nAgainst the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms\r\nClashed on their sounding shields the din of war,\r\nHurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.\r\nThere stood a hill not far, whose grisly top\r\nBelched fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire\r\nShone with a glossy scurf--undoubted sign\r\nThat in his womb was hid metallic ore,\r\nThe work of sulphur. Thither, winged with speed,\r\nA numerous brigade hastened: as when bands\r\nOf pioneers, with spade and pickaxe armed,\r\nForerun the royal camp, to trench a field,\r\nOr cast a rampart. Mammon led them on--\r\nMammon, the least erected Spirit that fell\r\nFrom Heaven; for even in Heaven his looks and thoughts\r\nWere always downward bent, admiring more\r\nThe riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold,\r\nThan aught divine or holy else enjoyed\r\nIn vision beatific. By him first\r\nMen also, and by his suggestion taught,\r\nRansacked the centre, and with impious hands\r\nRifled the bowels of their mother Earth\r\nFor treasures better hid. Soon had his crew\r\nOpened into the hill a spacious wound,\r\nAnd digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire\r\nThat riches grow in Hell; that soil may best\r\nDeserve the precious bane. And here let those\r\nWho boast in mortal things, and wondering tell\r\nOf Babel, and the works of Memphian kings,\r\nLearn how their greatest monuments of fame\r\nAnd strength, and art, are easily outdone\r\nBy Spirits reprobate, and in an hour\r\nWhat in an age they, with incessant toil\r\nAnd hands innumerable, scarce perform.\r\nNigh on the plain, in many cells prepared,\r\nThat underneath had veins of liquid fire\r\nSluiced from the lake, a second multitude\r\nWith wondrous art founded the massy ore,\r\nSevering each kind, and scummed the bullion-dross.\r\nA third as soon had formed within the ground\r\nA various mould, and from the boiling cells\r\nBy strange conveyance filled each hollow nook;\r\nAs in an organ, from one blast of wind,\r\nTo many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes.\r\nAnon out of the earth a fabric huge\r\nRose like an exhalation, with the sound\r\nOf dulcet symphonies and voices sweet--\r\nBuilt like a temple, where pilasters round\r\nWere set, and Doric pillars overlaid\r\nWith golden architrave; nor did there want\r\nCornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven;\r\nThe roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon\r\nNor great Alcairo such magnificence\r\nEqualled in all their glories, to enshrine\r\nBelus or Serapis their gods, or seat\r\nTheir kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove\r\nIn wealth and luxury. Th' ascending pile\r\nStood fixed her stately height, and straight the doors,\r\nOpening their brazen folds, discover, wide\r\nWithin, her ample spaces o'er the smooth\r\nAnd level pavement: from the arched roof,\r\nPendent by subtle magic, many a row\r\nOf starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed\r\nWith naptha and asphaltus, yielded light\r\nAs from a sky. The hasty multitude\r\nAdmiring entered; and the work some praise,\r\nAnd some the architect. His hand was known\r\nIn Heaven by many a towered structure high,\r\nWhere sceptred Angels held their residence,\r\nAnd sat as Princes, whom the supreme King\r\nExalted to such power, and gave to rule,\r\nEach in his Hierarchy, the Orders bright.\r\nNor was his name unheard or unadored\r\nIn ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land\r\nMen called him Mulciber; and how he fell\r\nFrom Heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove\r\nSheer o'er the crystal battlements: from morn\r\nTo noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,\r\nA summer's day, and with the setting sun\r\nDropt from the zenith, like a falling star,\r\nOn Lemnos, th' Aegaean isle. Thus they relate,\r\nErring; for he with this rebellious rout\r\nFell long before; nor aught availed him now\r\nTo have built in Heaven high towers; nor did he scape\r\nBy all his engines, but was headlong sent,\r\nWith his industrious crew, to build in Hell.\r\nMeanwhile the winged Heralds, by command\r\nOf sovereign power, with awful ceremony\r\nAnd trumpet's sound, throughout the host proclaim\r\nA solemn council forthwith to be held\r\nAt Pandemonium, the high capital\r\nOf Satan and his peers. Their summons called\r\nFrom every band and squared regiment\r\nBy place or choice the worthiest: they anon\r\nWith hundreds and with thousands trooping came\r\nAttended. All access was thronged; the gates\r\nAnd porches wide, but chief the spacious hall\r\n(Though like a covered field, where champions bold\r\nWont ride in armed, and at the Soldan's chair\r\nDefied the best of Paynim chivalry\r\nTo mortal combat, or career with lance),\r\nThick swarmed, both on the ground and in the air,\r\nBrushed with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees\r\nIn spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus rides.\r\nPour forth their populous youth about the hive\r\nIn clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers\r\nFly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank,\r\nThe suburb of their straw-built citadel,\r\nNew rubbed with balm, expatiate, and confer\r\nTheir state-affairs: so thick the airy crowd\r\nSwarmed and were straitened; till, the signal given,\r\nBehold a wonder! They but now who seemed\r\nIn bigness to surpass Earth's giant sons,\r\nNow less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room\r\nThrong numberless--like that pygmean race\r\nBeyond the Indian mount; or faery elves,\r\nWhose midnight revels, by a forest-side\r\nOr fountain, some belated peasant sees,\r\nOr dreams he sees, while overhead the Moon\r\nSits arbitress, and nearer to the Earth\r\nWheels her pale course: they, on their mirth and dance\r\nIntent, with jocund music charm his ear;\r\nAt once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.\r\nThus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms\r\nReduced their shapes immense, and were at large,\r\nThough without number still, amidst the hall\r\nOf that infernal court. But far within,\r\nAnd in their own dimensions like themselves,\r\nThe great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim\r\nIn close recess and secret conclave sat,\r\nA thousand demi-gods on golden seats,\r\nFrequent and full. After short silence then,\r\nAnd summons read, the great consult began.","rendered":"
\"Photograph<\/a><\/p>\n

Title page of Paradise Lost, London: 1667, by John Milton (1608-1674)<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
\nOf that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
\nBrought death into the World, and all our woe,
\nWith loss of Eden, till one greater Man
\nRestore us, and regain the blissful seat,
\nSing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
\nOf Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
\nThat shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
\nIn the beginning how the heavens and earth
\nRose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill
\nDelight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed
\nFast by the oracle of God, I thence
\nInvoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
\nThat with no middle flight intends to soar
\nAbove th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
\nThings unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
\nAnd chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
\nBefore all temples th’ upright heart and pure,
\nInstruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first
\nWast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
\nDove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss,
\nAnd mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark
\nIllumine, what is low raise and support;
\nThat, to the height of this great argument,
\nI may assert Eternal Providence,
\nAnd justify the ways of God to men.
\nSay first–for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,
\nNor the deep tract of Hell–say first what cause
\nMoved our grand parents, in that happy state,
\nFavoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
\nFrom their Creator, and transgress his will
\nFor one restraint, lords of the World besides.
\nWho first seduced them to that foul revolt?
\nTh’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
\nStirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
\nThe mother of mankind, what time his pride
\nHad cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
\nOf rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring
\nTo set himself in glory above his peers,
\nHe trusted to have equalled the Most High,
\nIf he opposed, and with ambitious aim
\nAgainst the throne and monarchy of God,
\nRaised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
\nWith vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
\nHurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
\nWith hideous ruin and combustion, down
\nTo bottomless perdition, there to dwell
\nIn adamantine chains and penal fire,
\nWho durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.
\nNine times the space that measures day and night
\nTo mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
\nLay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
\nConfounded, though immortal. But his doom
\nReserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
\nBoth of lost happiness and lasting pain
\nTorments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
\nThat witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
\nMixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
\nAt once, as far as Angels ken, he views
\nThe dismal situation waste and wild.
\nA dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
\nAs one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
\nNo light; but rather darkness visible
\nServed only to discover sights of woe,
\nRegions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
\nAnd rest can never dwell, hope never comes
\nThat comes to all, but torture without end
\nStill urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
\nWith ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
\nSuch place Eternal Justice has prepared
\nFor those rebellious; here their prison ordained
\nIn utter darkness, and their portion set,
\nAs far removed from God and light of Heaven
\nAs from the centre thrice to th’ utmost pole.
\nOh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
\nThere the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed
\nWith floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
\nHe soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
\nOne next himself in power, and next in crime,
\nLong after known in Palestine, and named
\nBeelzebub. To whom th’ Arch-Enemy,
\nAnd thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
\nBreaking the horrid silence, thus began:–
\n“If thou beest he–but O how fallen! how changed
\nFrom him who, in the happy realms of light
\nClothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
\nMyriads, though bright!–if he whom mutual league,
\nUnited thoughts and counsels, equal hope
\nAnd hazard in the glorious enterprise
\nJoined with me once, now misery hath joined
\nIn equal ruin; into what pit thou seest
\nFrom what height fallen: so much the stronger proved
\nHe with his thunder; and till then who knew
\nThe force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
\nNor what the potent Victor in his rage
\nCan else inflict, do I repent, or change,
\nThough changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,
\nAnd high disdain from sense of injured merit,
\nThat with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
\nAnd to the fierce contentions brought along
\nInnumerable force of Spirits armed,
\nThat durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
\nHis utmost power with adverse power opposed
\nIn dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
\nAnd shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
\nAll is not lost–the unconquerable will,
\nAnd study of revenge, immortal hate,
\nAnd courage never to submit or yield:
\nAnd what is else not to be overcome?
\nThat glory never shall his wrath or might
\nExtort from me. To bow and sue for grace
\nWith suppliant knee, and deify his power
\nWho, from the terror of this arm, so late
\nDoubted his empire–that were low indeed;
\nThat were an ignominy and shame beneath
\nThis downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,
\nAnd this empyreal substance, cannot fail;
\nSince, through experience of this great event,
\nIn arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
\nWe may with more successful hope resolve
\nTo wage by force or guile eternal war,
\nIrreconcilable to our grand Foe,
\nWho now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy
\nSole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.”
\nSo spake th’ apostate Angel, though in pain,
\nVaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;
\nAnd him thus answered soon his bold compeer:–
\n“O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
\nThat led th’ embattled Seraphim to war
\nUnder thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
\nFearless, endangered Heaven’s perpetual King,
\nAnd put to proof his high supremacy,
\nWhether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,
\nToo well I see and rue the dire event
\nThat, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
\nHath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
\nIn horrible destruction laid thus low,
\nAs far as Gods and heavenly Essences
\nCan perish: for the mind and spirit remains
\nInvincible, and vigour soon returns,
\nThough all our glory extinct, and happy state
\nHere swallowed up in endless misery.
\nBut what if he our Conqueror (whom I now
\nOf force believe almighty, since no less
\nThan such could have o’erpowered such force as ours)
\nHave left us this our spirit and strength entire,
\nStrongly to suffer and support our pains,
\nThat we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
\nOr do him mightier service as his thralls
\nBy right of war, whate’er his business be,
\nHere in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
\nOr do his errands in the gloomy Deep?
\nWhat can it the avail though yet we feel
\nStrength undiminished, or eternal being
\nTo undergo eternal punishment?”
\nWhereto with speedy words th’ Arch-Fiend replied:–
\n“Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
\nDoing or suffering: but of this be sure–
\nTo do aught good never will be our task,
\nBut ever to do ill our sole delight,
\nAs being the contrary to his high will
\nWhom we resist. If then his providence
\nOut of our evil seek to bring forth good,
\nOur labour must be to pervert that end,
\nAnd out of good still to find means of evil;
\nWhich ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
\nShall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
\nHis inmost counsels from their destined aim.
\nBut see! the angry Victor hath recalled
\nHis ministers of vengeance and pursuit
\nBack to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
\nShot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid
\nThe fiery surge that from the precipice
\nOf Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
\nWinged with red lightning and impetuous rage,
\nPerhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
\nTo bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
\nLet us not slip th’ occasion, whether scorn
\nOr satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
\nSeest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
\nThe seat of desolation, void of light,
\nSave what the glimmering of these livid flames
\nCasts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
\nFrom off the tossing of these fiery waves;
\nThere rest, if any rest can harbour there;
\nAnd, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
\nConsult how we may henceforth most offend
\nOur enemy, our own loss how repair,
\nHow overcome this dire calamity,
\nWhat reinforcement we may gain from hope,
\nIf not, what resolution from despair.”
\nThus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
\nWith head uplift above the wave, and eyes
\nThat sparkling blazed; his other parts besides
\nProne on the flood, extended long and large,
\nLay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
\nAs whom the fables name of monstrous size,
\nTitanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,
\nBriareos or Typhon, whom the den
\nBy ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast
\nLeviathan, which God of all his works
\nCreated hugest that swim th’ ocean-stream.
\nHim, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,
\nThe pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,
\nDeeming some island, oft, as seamen tell,
\nWith fixed anchor in his scaly rind,
\nMoors by his side under the lee, while night
\nInvests the sea, and wished morn delays.
\nSo stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,
\nChained on the burning lake; nor ever thence
\nHad risen, or heaved his head, but that the will
\nAnd high permission of all-ruling Heaven
\nLeft him at large to his own dark designs,
\nThat with reiterated crimes he might
\nHeap on himself damnation, while he sought
\nEvil to others, and enraged might see
\nHow all his malice served but to bring forth
\nInfinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn
\nOn Man by him seduced, but on himself
\nTreble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.
\nForthwith upright he rears from off the pool
\nHis mighty stature; on each hand the flames
\nDriven backward slope their pointing spires, and rolled
\nIn billows, leave i’ th’ midst a horrid vale.
\nThen with expanded wings he steers his flight
\nAloft, incumbent on the dusky air,
\nThat felt unusual weight; till on dry land
\nHe lights–if it were land that ever burned
\nWith solid, as the lake with liquid fire,
\nAnd such appeared in hue as when the force
\nOf subterranean wind transports a hill
\nTorn from Pelorus, or the shattered side
\nOf thundering Etna, whose combustible
\nAnd fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire,
\nSublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,
\nAnd leave a singed bottom all involved
\nWith stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole
\nOf unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;
\nBoth glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood
\nAs gods, and by their own recovered strength,
\nNot by the sufferance of supernal Power.
\n“Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,”
\nSaid then the lost Archangel, “this the seat
\nThat we must change for Heaven?–this mournful gloom
\nFor that celestial light? Be it so, since he
\nWho now is sovereign can dispose and bid
\nWhat shall be right: farthest from him is best
\nWhom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
\nAbove his equals. Farewell, happy fields,
\nWhere joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,
\nInfernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
\nReceive thy new possessor–one who brings
\nA mind not to be changed by place or time.
\nThe mind is its own place, and in itself
\nCan make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
\nWhat matter where, if I be still the same,
\nAnd what I should be, all but less than he
\nWhom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
\nWe shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built
\nHere for his envy, will not drive us hence:
\nHere we may reign secure; and, in my choice,
\nTo reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
\nBetter to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
\nBut wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
\nTh’ associates and co-partners of our loss,
\nLie thus astonished on th’ oblivious pool,
\nAnd call them not to share with us their part
\nIn this unhappy mansion, or once more
\nWith rallied arms to try what may be yet
\nRegained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?”
\nSo Satan spake; and him Beelzebub
\nThus answered:–“Leader of those armies bright
\nWhich, but th’ Omnipotent, none could have foiled!
\nIf once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge
\nOf hope in fears and dangers–heard so oft
\nIn worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
\nOf battle, when it raged, in all assaults
\nTheir surest signal–they will soon resume
\nNew courage and revive, though now they lie
\nGrovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,
\nAs we erewhile, astounded and amazed;
\nNo wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!”
\nHe scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend
\nWas moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,
\nEthereal temper, massy, large, and round,
\nBehind him cast. The broad circumference
\nHung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
\nThrough optic glass the Tuscan artist views
\nAt evening, from the top of Fesole,
\nOr in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
\nRivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
\nHis spear–to equal which the tallest pine
\nHewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
\nOf some great ammiral, were but a wand–
\nHe walked with, to support uneasy steps
\nOver the burning marl, not like those steps
\nOn Heaven’s azure; and the torrid clime
\nSmote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
\nNathless he so endured, till on the beach
\nOf that inflamed sea he stood, and called
\nHis legions–Angel Forms, who lay entranced
\nThick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
\nIn Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades
\nHigh over-arched embower; or scattered sedge
\nAfloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed
\nHath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew
\nBusiris and his Memphian chivalry,
\nWhile with perfidious hatred they pursued
\nThe sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
\nFrom the safe shore their floating carcases
\nAnd broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown,
\nAbject and lost, lay these, covering the flood,
\nUnder amazement of their hideous change.
\nHe called so loud that all the hollow deep
\nOf Hell resounded:–“Princes, Potentates,
\nWarriors, the Flower of Heaven–once yours; now lost,
\nIf such astonishment as this can seize
\nEternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place
\nAfter the toil of battle to repose
\nYour wearied virtue, for the ease you find
\nTo slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?
\nOr in this abject posture have ye sworn
\nTo adore the Conqueror, who now beholds
\nCherub and Seraph rolling in the flood
\nWith scattered arms and ensigns, till anon
\nHis swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern
\nTh’ advantage, and, descending, tread us down
\nThus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
\nTransfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
\nAwake, arise, or be for ever fallen!”
\nThey heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung
\nUpon the wing, as when men wont to watch
\nOn duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
\nRouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
\nNor did they not perceive the evil plight
\nIn which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
\nYet to their General’s voice they soon obeyed
\nInnumerable. As when the potent rod
\nOf Amram’s son, in Egypt’s evil day,
\nWaved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud
\nOf locusts, warping on the eastern wind,
\nThat o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
\nLike Night, and darkened all the land of Nile;
\nSo numberless were those bad Angels seen
\nHovering on wing under the cope of Hell,
\n‘Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;
\nTill, as a signal given, th’ uplifted spear
\nOf their great Sultan waving to direct
\nTheir course, in even balance down they light
\nOn the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain:
\nA multitude like which the populous North
\nPoured never from her frozen loins to pass
\nRhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons
\nCame like a deluge on the South, and spread
\nBeneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.
\nForthwith, form every squadron and each band,
\nThe heads and leaders thither haste where stood
\nTheir great Commander–godlike Shapes, and Forms
\nExcelling human; princely Dignities;
\nAnd Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,
\nThough on their names in Heavenly records now
\nBe no memorial, blotted out and rased
\nBy their rebellion from the Books of Life.
\nNor had they yet among the sons of Eve
\nGot them new names, till, wandering o’er the earth,
\nThrough God’s high sufferance for the trial of man,
\nBy falsities and lies the greatest part
\nOf mankind they corrupted to forsake
\nGod their Creator, and th’ invisible
\nGlory of him that made them to transform
\nOft to the image of a brute, adorned
\nWith gay religions full of pomp and gold,
\nAnd devils to adore for deities:
\nThen were they known to men by various names,
\nAnd various idols through the heathen world.
\nSay, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,
\nRoused from the slumber on that fiery couch,
\nAt their great Emperor’s call, as next in worth
\nCame singly where he stood on the bare strand,
\nWhile the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof?
\nThe chief were those who, from the pit of Hell
\nRoaming to seek their prey on Earth, durst fix
\nTheir seats, long after, next the seat of God,
\nTheir altars by his altar, gods adored
\nAmong the nations round, and durst abide
\nJehovah thundering out of Sion, throned
\nBetween the Cherubim; yea, often placed
\nWithin his sanctuary itself their shrines,
\nAbominations; and with cursed things
\nHis holy rites and solemn feasts profaned,
\nAnd with their darkness durst affront his light.
\nFirst, Moloch, horrid king, besmeared with blood
\nOf human sacrifice, and parents’ tears;
\nThough, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud,
\nTheir children’s cries unheard that passed through fire
\nTo his grim idol. Him the Ammonite
\nWorshiped in Rabba and her watery plain,
\nIn Argob and in Basan, to the stream
\nOf utmost Arnon. Nor content with such
\nAudacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart
\nOf Solomon he led by fraud to build
\nHis temple right against the temple of God
\nOn that opprobrious hill, and made his grove
\nThe pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence
\nAnd black Gehenna called, the type of Hell.
\nNext Chemos, th’ obscene dread of Moab’s sons,
\nFrom Aroar to Nebo and the wild
\nOf southmost Abarim; in Hesebon
\nAnd Horonaim, Seon’s real, beyond
\nThe flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines,
\nAnd Eleale to th’ Asphaltic Pool:
\nPeor his other name, when he enticed
\nIsrael in Sittim, on their march from Nile,
\nTo do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.
\nYet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged
\nEven to that hill of scandal, by the grove
\nOf Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate,
\nTill good Josiah drove them thence to Hell.
\nWith these came they who, from the bordering flood
\nOf old Euphrates to the brook that parts
\nEgypt from Syrian ground, had general names
\nOf Baalim and Ashtaroth–those male,
\nThese feminine. For Spirits, when they please,
\nCan either sex assume, or both; so soft
\nAnd uncompounded is their essence pure,
\nNot tried or manacled with joint or limb,
\nNor founded on the brittle strength of bones,
\nLike cumbrous flesh; but, in what shape they choose,
\nDilated or condensed, bright or obscure,
\nCan execute their airy purposes,
\nAnd works of love or enmity fulfil.
\nFor those the race of Israel oft forsook
\nTheir Living Strength, and unfrequented left
\nHis righteous altar, bowing lowly down
\nTo bestial gods; for which their heads as low
\nBowed down in battle, sunk before the spear
\nOf despicable foes. With these in troop
\nCame Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians called
\nAstarte, queen of heaven, with crescent horns;
\nTo whose bright image nightly by the moon
\nSidonian virgins paid their vows and songs;
\nIn Sion also not unsung, where stood
\nHer temple on th’ offensive mountain, built
\nBy that uxorious king whose heart, though large,
\nBeguiled by fair idolatresses, fell
\nTo idols foul. Thammuz came next behind,
\nWhose annual wound in Lebanon allured
\nThe Syrian damsels to lament his fate
\nIn amorous ditties all a summer’s day,
\nWhile smooth Adonis from his native rock
\nRan purple to the sea, supposed with blood
\nOf Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale
\nInfected Sion’s daughters with like heat,
\nWhose wanton passions in the sacred porch
\nEzekiel saw, when, by the vision led,
\nHis eye surveyed the dark idolatries
\nOf alienated Judah. Next came one
\nWho mourned in earnest, when the captive ark
\nMaimed his brute image, head and hands lopt off,
\nIn his own temple, on the grunsel-edge,
\nWhere he fell flat and shamed his worshippers:
\nDagon his name, sea-monster, upward man
\nAnd downward fish; yet had his temple high
\nReared in Azotus, dreaded through the coast
\nOf Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon,
\nAnd Accaron and Gaza’s frontier bounds.
\nHim followed Rimmon, whose delightful seat
\nWas fair Damascus, on the fertile banks
\nOf Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams.
\nHe also against the house of God was bold:
\nA leper once he lost, and gained a king–
\nAhaz, his sottish conqueror, whom he drew
\nGod’s altar to disparage and displace
\nFor one of Syrian mode, whereon to burn
\nHis odious offerings, and adore the gods
\nWhom he had vanquished. After these appeared
\nA crew who, under names of old renown–
\nOsiris, Isis, Orus, and their train–
\nWith monstrous shapes and sorceries abused
\nFanatic Egypt and her priests to seek
\nTheir wandering gods disguised in brutish forms
\nRather than human. Nor did Israel scape
\nTh’ infection, when their borrowed gold composed
\nThe calf in Oreb; and the rebel king
\nDoubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,
\nLikening his Maker to the grazed ox–
\nJehovah, who, in one night, when he passed
\nFrom Egypt marching, equalled with one stroke
\nBoth her first-born and all her bleating gods.
\nBelial came last; than whom a Spirit more lewd
\nFell not from Heaven, or more gross to love
\nVice for itself. To him no temple stood
\nOr altar smoked; yet who more oft than he
\nIn temples and at altars, when the priest
\nTurns atheist, as did Eli’s sons, who filled
\nWith lust and violence the house of God?
\nIn courts and palaces he also reigns,
\nAnd in luxurious cities, where the noise
\nOf riot ascends above their loftiest towers,
\nAnd injury and outrage; and, when night
\nDarkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
\nOf Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
\nWitness the streets of Sodom, and that night
\nIn Gibeah, when the hospitable door
\nExposed a matron, to avoid worse rape.
\nThese were the prime in order and in might:
\nThe rest were long to tell; though far renowned
\nTh’ Ionian gods–of Javan’s issue held
\nGods, yet confessed later than Heaven and Earth,
\nTheir boasted parents;–Titan, Heaven’s first-born,
\nWith his enormous brood, and birthright seized
\nBy younger Saturn: he from mightier Jove,
\nHis own and Rhea’s son, like measure found;
\nSo Jove usurping reigned. These, first in Crete
\nAnd Ida known, thence on the snowy top
\nOf cold Olympus ruled the middle air,
\nTheir highest heaven; or on the Delphian cliff,
\nOr in Dodona, and through all the bounds
\nOf Doric land; or who with Saturn old
\nFled over Adria to th’ Hesperian fields,
\nAnd o’er the Celtic roamed the utmost Isles.
\nAll these and more came flocking; but with looks
\nDowncast and damp; yet such wherein appeared
\nObscure some glimpse of joy to have found their Chief
\nNot in despair, to have found themselves not lost
\nIn loss itself; which on his countenance cast
\nLike doubtful hue. But he, his wonted pride
\nSoon recollecting, with high words, that bore
\nSemblance of worth, not substance, gently raised
\nTheir fainting courage, and dispelled their fears.
\nThen straight commands that, at the warlike sound
\nOf trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared
\nHis mighty standard. That proud honour claimed
\nAzazel as his right, a Cherub tall:
\nWho forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled
\nTh’ imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,
\nShone like a meteor streaming to the wind,
\nWith gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,
\nSeraphic arms and trophies; all the while
\nSonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
\nAt which the universal host up-sent
\nA shout that tore Hell’s concave, and beyond
\nFrighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
\nAll in a moment through the gloom were seen
\nTen thousand banners rise into the air,
\nWith orient colours waving: with them rose
\nA forest huge of spears; and thronging helms
\nAppeared, and serried shields in thick array
\nOf depth immeasurable. Anon they move
\nIn perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood
\nOf flutes and soft recorders–such as raised
\nTo height of noblest temper heroes old
\nArming to battle, and instead of rage
\nDeliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved
\nWith dread of death to flight or foul retreat;
\nNor wanting power to mitigate and swage
\nWith solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase
\nAnguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain
\nFrom mortal or immortal minds. Thus they,
\nBreathing united force with fixed thought,
\nMoved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed
\nTheir painful steps o’er the burnt soil. And now
\nAdvanced in view they stand–a horrid front
\nOf dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise
\nOf warriors old, with ordered spear and shield,
\nAwaiting what command their mighty Chief
\nHad to impose. He through the armed files
\nDarts his experienced eye, and soon traverse
\nThe whole battalion views–their order due,
\nTheir visages and stature as of gods;
\nTheir number last he sums. And now his heart
\nDistends with pride, and, hardening in his strength,
\nGlories: for never, since created Man,
\nMet such embodied force as, named with these,
\nCould merit more than that small infantry
\nWarred on by cranes–though all the giant brood
\nOf Phlegra with th’ heroic race were joined
\nThat fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side
\nMixed with auxiliar gods; and what resounds
\nIn fable or romance of Uther’s son,
\nBegirt with British and Armoric knights;
\nAnd all who since, baptized or infidel,
\nJousted in Aspramont, or Montalban,
\nDamasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond,
\nOr whom Biserta sent from Afric shore
\nWhen Charlemain with all his peerage fell
\nBy Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond
\nCompare of mortal prowess, yet observed
\nTheir dread Commander. He, above the rest
\nIn shape and gesture proudly eminent,
\nStood like a tower. His form had yet not lost
\nAll her original brightness, nor appeared
\nLess than Archangel ruined, and th’ excess
\nOf glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen
\nLooks through the horizontal misty air
\nShorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon,
\nIn dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
\nOn half the nations, and with fear of change
\nPerplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shone
\nAbove them all th’ Archangel: but his face
\nDeep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care
\nSat on his faded cheek, but under brows
\nOf dauntless courage, and considerate pride
\nWaiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast
\nSigns of remorse and passion, to behold
\nThe fellows of his crime, the followers rather
\n(Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned
\nFor ever now to have their lot in pain–
\nMillions of Spirits for his fault amerced
\nOf Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung
\nFor his revolt–yet faithful how they stood,
\nTheir glory withered; as, when heaven’s fire
\nHath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines,
\nWith singed top their stately growth, though bare,
\nStands on the blasted heath. He now prepared
\nTo speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend
\nFrom wing to wing, and half enclose him round
\nWith all his peers: attention held them mute.
\nThrice he assayed, and thrice, in spite of scorn,
\nTears, such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last
\nWords interwove with sighs found out their way:–
\n“O myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers
\nMatchless, but with th’ Almighty!–and that strife
\nWas not inglorious, though th’ event was dire,
\nAs this place testifies, and this dire change,
\nHateful to utter. But what power of mind,
\nForseeing or presaging, from the depth
\nOf knowledge past or present, could have feared
\nHow such united force of gods, how such
\nAs stood like these, could ever know repulse?
\nFor who can yet believe, though after loss,
\nThat all these puissant legions, whose exile
\nHath emptied Heaven, shall fail to re-ascend,
\nSelf-raised, and repossess their native seat?
\nFor me, be witness all the host of Heaven,
\nIf counsels different, or danger shunned
\nBy me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns
\nMonarch in Heaven till then as one secure
\nSat on his throne, upheld by old repute,
\nConsent or custom, and his regal state
\nPut forth at full, but still his strength concealed–
\nWhich tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.
\nHenceforth his might we know, and know our own,
\nSo as not either to provoke, or dread
\nNew war provoked: our better part remains
\nTo work in close design, by fraud or guile,
\nWhat force effected not; that he no less
\nAt length from us may find, who overcomes
\nBy force hath overcome but half his foe.
\nSpace may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife
\nThere went a fame in Heaven that he ere long
\nIntended to create, and therein plant
\nA generation whom his choice regard
\nShould favour equal to the Sons of Heaven.
\nThither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
\nOur first eruption–thither, or elsewhere;
\nFor this infernal pit shall never hold
\nCelestial Spirits in bondage, nor th’ Abyss
\nLong under darkness cover. But these thoughts
\nFull counsel must mature. Peace is despaired;
\nFor who can think submission? War, then, war
\nOpen or understood, must be resolved.”
\nHe spake; and, to confirm his words, outflew
\nMillions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs
\nOf mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze
\nFar round illumined Hell. Highly they raged
\nAgainst the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms
\nClashed on their sounding shields the din of war,
\nHurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.
\nThere stood a hill not far, whose grisly top
\nBelched fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire
\nShone with a glossy scurf–undoubted sign
\nThat in his womb was hid metallic ore,
\nThe work of sulphur. Thither, winged with speed,
\nA numerous brigade hastened: as when bands
\nOf pioneers, with spade and pickaxe armed,
\nForerun the royal camp, to trench a field,
\nOr cast a rampart. Mammon led them on–
\nMammon, the least erected Spirit that fell
\nFrom Heaven; for even in Heaven his looks and thoughts
\nWere always downward bent, admiring more
\nThe riches of heaven’s pavement, trodden gold,
\nThan aught divine or holy else enjoyed
\nIn vision beatific. By him first
\nMen also, and by his suggestion taught,
\nRansacked the centre, and with impious hands
\nRifled the bowels of their mother Earth
\nFor treasures better hid. Soon had his crew
\nOpened into the hill a spacious wound,
\nAnd digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire
\nThat riches grow in Hell; that soil may best
\nDeserve the precious bane. And here let those
\nWho boast in mortal things, and wondering tell
\nOf Babel, and the works of Memphian kings,
\nLearn how their greatest monuments of fame
\nAnd strength, and art, are easily outdone
\nBy Spirits reprobate, and in an hour
\nWhat in an age they, with incessant toil
\nAnd hands innumerable, scarce perform.
\nNigh on the plain, in many cells prepared,
\nThat underneath had veins of liquid fire
\nSluiced from the lake, a second multitude
\nWith wondrous art founded the massy ore,
\nSevering each kind, and scummed the bullion-dross.
\nA third as soon had formed within the ground
\nA various mould, and from the boiling cells
\nBy strange conveyance filled each hollow nook;
\nAs in an organ, from one blast of wind,
\nTo many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes.
\nAnon out of the earth a fabric huge
\nRose like an exhalation, with the sound
\nOf dulcet symphonies and voices sweet–
\nBuilt like a temple, where pilasters round
\nWere set, and Doric pillars overlaid
\nWith golden architrave; nor did there want
\nCornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven;
\nThe roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon
\nNor great Alcairo such magnificence
\nEqualled in all their glories, to enshrine
\nBelus or Serapis their gods, or seat
\nTheir kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove
\nIn wealth and luxury. Th’ ascending pile
\nStood fixed her stately height, and straight the doors,
\nOpening their brazen folds, discover, wide
\nWithin, her ample spaces o’er the smooth
\nAnd level pavement: from the arched roof,
\nPendent by subtle magic, many a row
\nOf starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
\nWith naptha and asphaltus, yielded light
\nAs from a sky. The hasty multitude
\nAdmiring entered; and the work some praise,
\nAnd some the architect. His hand was known
\nIn Heaven by many a towered structure high,
\nWhere sceptred Angels held their residence,
\nAnd sat as Princes, whom the supreme King
\nExalted to such power, and gave to rule,
\nEach in his Hierarchy, the Orders bright.
\nNor was his name unheard or unadored
\nIn ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land
\nMen called him Mulciber; and how he fell
\nFrom Heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove
\nSheer o’er the crystal battlements: from morn
\nTo noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
\nA summer’s day, and with the setting sun
\nDropt from the zenith, like a falling star,
\nOn Lemnos, th’ Aegaean isle. Thus they relate,
\nErring; for he with this rebellious rout
\nFell long before; nor aught availed him now
\nTo have built in Heaven high towers; nor did he scape
\nBy all his engines, but was headlong sent,
\nWith his industrious crew, to build in Hell.
\nMeanwhile the winged Heralds, by command
\nOf sovereign power, with awful ceremony
\nAnd trumpet’s sound, throughout the host proclaim
\nA solemn council forthwith to be held
\nAt Pandemonium, the high capital
\nOf Satan and his peers. Their summons called
\nFrom every band and squared regiment
\nBy place or choice the worthiest: they anon
\nWith hundreds and with thousands trooping came
\nAttended. All access was thronged; the gates
\nAnd porches wide, but chief the spacious hall
\n(Though like a covered field, where champions bold
\nWont ride in armed, and at the Soldan’s chair
\nDefied the best of Paynim chivalry
\nTo mortal combat, or career with lance),
\nThick swarmed, both on the ground and in the air,
\nBrushed with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees
\nIn spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus rides.
\nPour forth their populous youth about the hive
\nIn clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers
\nFly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank,
\nThe suburb of their straw-built citadel,
\nNew rubbed with balm, expatiate, and confer
\nTheir state-affairs: so thick the airy crowd
\nSwarmed and were straitened; till, the signal given,
\nBehold a wonder! They but now who seemed
\nIn bigness to surpass Earth’s giant sons,
\nNow less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room
\nThrong numberless–like that pygmean race
\nBeyond the Indian mount; or faery elves,
\nWhose midnight revels, by a forest-side
\nOr fountain, some belated peasant sees,
\nOr dreams he sees, while overhead the Moon
\nSits arbitress, and nearer to the Earth
\nWheels her pale course: they, on their mirth and dance
\nIntent, with jocund music charm his ear;
\nAt once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.
\nThus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms
\nReduced their shapes immense, and were at large,
\nThough without number still, amidst the hall
\nOf that infernal court. But far within,
\nAnd in their own dimensions like themselves,
\nThe great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim
\nIn close recess and secret conclave sat,
\nA thousand demi-gods on golden seats,
\nFrequent and full. After short silence then,
\nAnd summons read, the great consult began.<\/p>\n\n\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t

Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t
Public domain content<\/div>