UC-NRLF Ibl DTI . THE .POETICAL WORKS JOHN MILTON THE GROSVENOR POETS. THE POETICAL WORKS OF JOHN MILTON. EDITED, WITH A CRITICAL MEMOIR, BY WILLIAM MICHAEL ROSSETTI. ILLUSTRATED BY THOMAS SECCOMBE. WILLIAM COLLINS, SONS, & CO., LIMITED, LONDON, GLASGOW, AND EDINBURGH. CONTENTS. PREFATORY NOTICE ..... PAGE i* PARADISE LOST Book I. ...... l Book 11. ...... 17 Book III 35 Book IV 53 Book V. ...... 73 Book VI Book VII 9i 109 Book VIII 121 Book IX. ...... 34 Book X 157 Book XI 179 Book XII. ...... 197 Agreement for the publication of Paradise Lost . 21G PAKADISE REGAINED - Book I. . 212 Book II 222 Book III. ...... 231 BcoklV 240 Comus, a Mask ...... 253 Samson Agonistes . . . 275 Lycidas ,..,. a ^ vl CONTENTS. PAGE II Penseroso .,,... 316 L' Allegro ... . 320 Arcades ... .... 324 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS- On the Death of a Fair Infant dying of a Cough . 327 At a Vacation Exercise in the College . . 329 On the Morning of Christ's Nativity . . 331 The Hymn ..... 332 The Passion . . . -337 On Time 339 Upon the Circumcision . . . 339 At a Solemn Music ..... 340 An Epitaph on the Marchioness of Winchester . 340 Song on May Morning .... 342 An Epitaph on the Admirable Dramatic Poet, W. Shakespeare . . . 342 On the University Carrier .... 343 Another on the same ..... 343 Epigram on Salmasius's Ilundreda . . . 344 On the New Forcers of Conscience under the Long Parliament ..... 344 ;>.\NETS I. To the Nightingale . . . 345 II. On his being arrived to the Age of Twenty-three 345 III. When the Assault was intended to the City . 346 IV. To a Virtuous Young Lady . . . 346 V. To the Lady Margaret Ley . ./ . 346 VI. On the Detraction which followed upon my writ- ing certain Treatises .. . 347 VII. On the same . . . . -347 VIII. To Mr. H. Lawes on the Publishing his Airs . 347 IX. On the Religious Memory of Mrs. Catharine Thomson ..... 34^ X. To the Lord General Fairfax . . r 348 XL To the Lord General Cromwell . 34 8 XII. To Sir Henry Vane the Younger . . 349 XIII. On the late Massacre in Piemont . - 349 CONTENTS. ril FAOB SON N ETS continued. XIV. On his Blindness . 349 XV. To Mr. Lawrence . 35 XVI. To Cyriac Skinner . . -35 XVII. To the same . . 35 XVIII. On his Deceased Wife . . . 35 1 Psalms .... 35 2 Fragments of Translations . . . 373 ITALIAN SONNETS I. " Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora " . 376 II. "Qual in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera" 37^ Canzone ...... 377 III. "Diodati, e te'l diro con maraviglia" . . 377 IV. " Per certo i bei vostr' occhi, Donna mia" . 377 V. " Giovane piano, e simplicetto amante " . . 378 Joannis Milton* Londinensis Poemata . . . 379 ELEGIARUM LIBER I. Ad Carolum Deodatum .... 379 II. In obitum Prceconis Academici Cantabrigiensis . 381 III. In obitum Pnesulis \Vintoniensis . . . 382 IV. Ad Thomam Junium, &c. . . . . 383 V. In adventum Veris . . . 386 VI. Ad Carolum Deodatum ruri cornmorantem . 389 VII 390 EPIGRAMMATUM LIBER I. In Proditionem Bombardicam . . . 394 II. In eandem ..... 394 III. In eandem 394 IV In eandem 395 V. In Inventorem Bombardae . . . 395 VI. Ad Leonoram Romse canentem . . . 395 VII. Ad eandom 395 VIII. Ad eandem 396 IX. In Salmasii Hundredam 39^ X. In Salmasium ..... 396 XI > 396 XII. Apolopus de Rustico et Hen: . . 396 EPIGRAMM ATUM Li T.ER continued. XIII. Ad Christinum Suecorum Reginam, nomine Cromwelli ..... 397 SYLVARUM LIBER In obitum Procancellarii, Medici . . . 398 In Quintum Novembris .... 399 In obitum Pnesulis Eliensis . . . 403 Naturam non pati senium .... 405 De idea Platonica quemadmodum ArLstotdes intellexit 406 Ad Patrem ...... 407 Psalm cxiv. .... . 409 Ad Salsillum, Poetam Romanum, oegrotantem . 410 Mansus . . . . . .411 Epitaph ium Damonis . . . . .413 Ad Joannum Rousium Oxoniensis Academics liiblio- thecarium . . . . .418 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON'S FOREIGN POEMS . 421 APPENDIX ..... . 452 PREFATORY NOTICE, IN the latter part of the sixteenth century a Mr. John Milton (or Mylton, for thus was the name spelled in the baptismal register of the poet at a subsequent date) held the appointment of Under-Ranger of the royal Forest of Shotover, near Oxford. The family, which was one of very creditable standing, traced its origin from a town bearing the same name in Oxfordshire. This Mr. John Milton was a zealous Roman Catholic ; and his son John, having em- braced the reformed religion at an early age, was disin- herited, and left to shift for himself. The son came to London, and entered on the profession of a scrivener much the same sort of thing as the " Notaire" so familiar to us in the French comedy of Moliere and others ; a posi- tion combining something of what we now call a notary with a good deal of the attorney. The junior Milton throve in his profession, and amassed a competent estate on which he lived in his later years. He had received his education at Oxford, and was a man of superior acquirements, espe- cially in music : some specimens of his compositions are given in Burney's History of Music. Nor did he entirely abstain from dabbling in verse. He had turned the age of forty when he married a lady of good Welsh family, Sarah Caston (or perhaps Bradshaw, for some degree of uncer- tainty exists on the point). Two sons and three daughters were the fruit of this union. It is to the second child and first son that the name of Milton owes its immortality. John Milton the future poet was born in Bread Street, London, on the 9th of December 1608. Nature had done her choicest for him, both in person and in mind : and at a x PREFA TOR Y NO T2CE. very early age he began to raise in his father uncommon hopes of his future capabilities. Some symptoms of poetic gifts were discernible when he was but ten years old. The father engaged a domestic tutor for his instruction, Mr. Thomas Young : the boy entered from the first into study with extraordinary ardour, and thus began that course of overstraining and weakening of the eyes which ended in total blindness. Next he went to St. Paul's School, under the tuition of Dr. Gill ; and was soon afterwards, on the 1 2th of February 1625, transferred to Christ College, Cam- bridge. Here he distinguished himself in many ways, in- cluding the writing of Latin verses : he took his degree as M.A. in 1632. Milton's father had now quitted his profession and Lon- don, to pass the evening of life in comfortable retirement at Horton in Buckinghamshire. Hither the son returned upon leaving college. He continued his studies, reading over all the Greek and Latin classics. The choice of a vocation in life was before him. Both the church and the bar were meditated and rejected ; the former because Milton, a young man already of a severe rectitude of mind, intolerant of all snug expediencies and shifty compromises, considered the yoke of the church, as then established, tyrannous, and the oaths to be taken unendurable. It was apparently at Horton that he wrote his first poems plainly fated not to die the Allegro, Penseroso, Com us, and Lycidas. These poems had, however, had various fore- runners still holding their place amid the body of Milton's works. His paraphrases of the ii4th and I26th Psalms were done at the age of fifteen : his earliest known original verses were those On the Death of a Fair Infant, dating in 1625, his seventeenth year. There is something very pleasurable to contemplate in the earnest studiousness, and leisurely rounded productivity, of Milton's early manhood. He is in no hurry to live through his career, only to lay the solid foundations of an exalted structure of work, and to make each successive portion of it clearly and umnis- takeably right, not needing re-doing or repentance. It is indeed highly probable that in these early years he wrote many poems, of a less positive measure of excellence, whicX have not come down to us : but whatever has come down from the Horton period is of its class a masterpiece. For stately discrimination of language, Lycidas is a model un- superseded to the present day ; the Allegro and Penscros* are almost the first-fruits of descriptive poetry in English ; Comus is both unlike and higher than any work that had preceded it under the designation of a "' masque." This semi-dramatic work was performed in 1634 at Lucllow Castle PREFA TOR y XO T1CE. xi before the Earl of Ludlow, then Lord President of Wales. It was printed in 1637, and Lye Idas in 1638. From about this time, therefore, we may assume that, by the cultivated among his reading countrymen, Milton was understood to be a preeminent poet ; although for many years thence ensuing his work, and his consequent general celebrity, lay in very different directions. Soon after the death of his mother, Milton in 1638 went abroad. He was absent about a year and a quarter. His journey lay through France and Italy : he had intended to visit Sicily and Greece as well, but this purpose remained still unfulfilled when events recalled him to England. In Paris he was introduced to Grotius ; in Florence, to Galileo, then kept under the custody of the Inquisition ; in Naples, to Manso, Marquis of Villa, now a very aged man who had been the admirer, friend, and biographer, of Tasso. He saw also Venice and Geneva. In all these cities some of them conspicuously luxurious he lived, as he afterwards solemnly asseverated in one of his controver- sial writings, free from all vice. He was back in England in August 1639 ; having expedited his return through a patriotic disinclination to be abroad when events of such vital importance to the future of his country, in religion and politics, were in progress. He now engaged a house in Aldersgate Street, and undertook the education of the two sons of his sister, mar- ried to a Mr. Philips ; and soon afterwards he received also some other youths as pupils, all of them seemingly the sons of his friends. He boarded and lodged them, and subjected them to a strict course of discipline. The books which he used in teaching them the classical languages were such as conveyed some solid instruction, and they form a list very extraordinary to modern eyes, especially as being the selection of so great a poet and master of written style. There is no Homer and no Virgil ; but there are Oppian, yElian's Tactics, Palladius, Celsus, Vitruvius, and the Stratagems of Frontinus. The only poets of the first orde< are Hesiod and Lucretius. Hebrew, mathematics, and astronomy, were also included in the range of instruction, with French and Italian (these, along with Spanish, were the modern languages known to Milton) ; nor was he lax in prescribing martial and other exercises subsidiary to the full scope of life of a well-trained citizen. In 1641 he stepped into the lists of controversy as a prose writer, beginning the series of works which, far more than his poetry, gave him his conspicuous public standing during his lifetime, and have doubtless bereaved the world of many an immortal verse which it would otherwise have to xii PRF.FA TOR Y XO TICE. treasure. His first prose work was a treatise on the Refor- mation in England ; followed by three other treatises, the chief of which was The Reason of Church Government urged against Prclaty. In the succeeding year, 1642, he continued the same controversy with his Apology for StnectymnHHS the name Smectymnuus being the pseu- donym under which five puritan ministers had already pub- lished a book of cognate subject-matter. The initials of their names (Stephen Marshall, Edmund Calamy, Thomas Young, Matthew Newcomen, and William [Uuilliam] Spur- stow) made up this formidable vocable. Milton had nearly readied the typical mid age of man, thirty-five, before he entered the state of marriage. In the year 1643, ^ ie wedded Mary, the daughter of Richard Powell, of Forest Hill, Oxfordshire, a gentleman of some estate, whose political principles and connexions were wholly contrary to the poet's. The marriage soon became an obviously unhappy one ; and, though the differences were shortly patched up, it probably never altered very much in essential character. A cohabitation of about a month seems to have been enough to convince Mrs. Milton that her bridegroom was not quite the man for her, nor she the woman for him. She went to her father's house, to spend there the residue of the summer : then, when Milton re- quested her return, she paid no attention to his applica- tions. This was not Milton's notion of the matrimonial relation. He turned up his Bible, and soon discovered that divorce is lawful to an extent and under conditions not theretofore ratified by English or other Christian legisla- tion. In 1644, he published The Doctrine and Discipline of Divorce; and in 1645, Tetrachordon, or Expositions upon the Four chief Places in Scripture 'which treat of Marriage, and another pamphlet besides. Nor did he stop here, but proceeded without more ado to court a young lady of great sense and beauty, the daughter of Dr. Uavies, and would no doubt (supposing her consent obtained) have made a match of it, unindebted to any sort of church authorization. But a timely submission on his wife's part dispersed these bold schemes. One day, xvhen Milton was at the house of a relative, she made her appearance, and implored forgiveness. Milton relented. Houevcr austere and unbending may have been his tone of character and Knind in some relations, one cannot but recognize here a noble leonine clemency ; and when one Considers his legit- imate grounds of complaint against his wife, and how far his feelings and plans stood committed with Miss Davies, a Jofty spirit of self-denial as well. Milton would not be gen- erous by halves. Having received back his absentee wife, PKEFA TOR } ' XO TICK. xiii he treated her kindly ; and soon afterwards, in 1646. her loyalist father being involved in the catastrophe of the monarchy, and exposed to sequestrations, he received both this gentleman and his ions into his own house, and kept mem there till their affairs were accommodated. This act is the more striking when we reflect that the paternal influ- ence had probably been freely exerted to disgust Mary Milton with her marital home, and to retain her away from her wifely duties : the household of Mr. Powell was pre- sumably a good deal livelier and more jovial than that of the scholastic puritan. Milton's own father had been already domesticated with him some little while from about the time when his wife quitted London. His death, and also that of Mr. Powell, took place in 1647 ; and it is to be sur- mised that the junior Powells then ceased to be inmates of Milton's house. In 1644, the latter published the now most famous of his prose works, named Areopagitica, a Speech of Mr. John Milton for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing. The title explains the important thesis of this essay. ' The author held that truth could not be too widely diffused ; that pub- licity was its best protection against intermixture with error ; and that anything like a preliminary censorship of the press was noxious and unworthy of freemen. He was now hostile to the Presbyterian party, probably on account of their general religious intolerance. He was growing in political estimation. There had been an idea of making him adjutant-general to Sir William Waller ; but on the re-modelling of the army, this commander was set aside, and the project fell through. In 1645, ne re-appeared as a poet, but not on any extensive scale, publishing a collection of the English and Latin verses of his youth. His first child, Anne, was born in July 1646; the second, Mary, in October 1648. The year 1649 was well calculated to try the mettle of thinkers and republicans : it found Milton equal to the occasion. He approved the execution of that far worse than useless monarch, Charles the First. Early in this year he published, in connexion with these stirring ques- tions, The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates; followed by Eikonoclastes, an answer to the famous Eikon Basilike. The French writer De Saumaise (latinized into Salmasius) issued a Dcfensio Rcgia, in behalf of Charles the Second ; to this Milton, in 1651, replied with his Latin work, Dc- fensio pro Pofiulo Anglicano, an eloquent performance freely indulging in those acerbities with which every sort of disputation was then seasoned. It earned great applause, and was remunerated by the English government with the PREFA TOR Y XO TICE. large sum of .1000. To Milton himself it was in fact a priceless effort, for it cost him his sight. He had been warned by physicians that, in the then condition of his eyes, the labour of writing such a book might result in blindness : with majestic intrepidity he undertook the task at the bid- ding of the Council of State, accomplished it, and paid the forecast forfeit. Most pages in the annals of patriotic heroism grow dim before this one. Milton was now an officer of high position in the English Commonwealth ; having, on the I5th of March 1649, been appointed, without solicitation, Secretary for Foreign Tongues to the Council of State, a post chiefly concerned with the relations of England in continental affairs. He was a very distinguished personage in the eyes of eminent foreigners. He continued to occupy a like position under the protectorship cf Oliver Cromwell ; and again under Richard Cromwell, and on to the Restoration of Charles the Second. The salary of his office was nearly ^300 per annum ; but during the protectorship it was reduced, and an assistant appointed at first (it would seem) Philip Meadows, and afterwards the celebrated Andrew Marvell. For awhile Milton lived in Whitehall ; afterwards in lodg- ings opening on St. James's Park. A son was born to him in March 1650, but soon died ; his youngest daughter Deborah came into the world in May 1652, and the con- finement proved fatal to his wife Mary. The exact date when total blindness overtook the poet is uncertain : it was probably later than the early part of 1653, but before the beginning of 1654. The disease has generally been termed gutta serena : paralysis of the optic nerve might be a more accurate and explicit term. This calamity, while it oppressed Milton, did not overwhelm him : he con- tinued his official and controversial labours. A Dcfcnsio secunda pro Populo Anglicano appeared from his pen in 1654, being a reply to Pierre Du Moulin, junior : it dis- tinctly expressed the author's adhesion to Cromwell's cause. Losing his wife in 1652, when absolute blindness was im- minent, the poet passed a wifeless man through many long months of "total eclipse," not marrying again till the I2th of November 1656 which looks like a rather strong symptom that the yoke of marriage had not proved an alto- gether easy one to his shoulders. His second bride was Katharine, the daughter of Captain Woodcock, of Hackney. With her (as one of the loveliest of his unequalled sonnets assures us) he was happy : but Death soon put an end to his contentment she died, also in childbirth, in February 1658 Milton again went through a rather long term of widower PREFA TOR Y :\ O TICE. x v Hood : eventually, perhaps in the year 1663, on the recom- mendation of his friend Dr. Paget, he married Elizabeth Min- shull, the daughter of a gentleman in Cheshire, about thirty years younger than himself. There was no issue of this mar- riage. Milton, as one of his writings shows, was not in- clined to espouse a widow : and in all his three nuptials, he avoided doing so. His eldest daughter was now grown up about seventeen years of age only five or six years younger than her new stepmother : the other two daughters were also living. The two elder are recorded to have been very serviceable to their father's studies, but in a mode which must have been irksome and grievous in an extreme degree even to the most dutiful children. They had been somehow taught to pronounce the principal modern lan- guages, and also Latin, Greek, and Hebrew ; and they read Milton the various authors in these tongues, without at all knowing the meaning of what they articulated. He is re- ported nevertheless to have said that the two elder daughterc were not attentive to him : perhaps flesh and blood failed under such an ordeal as the above-named, or perhaps the blind and aging Milton, strict even in youth, was a little rigid and unattaching to the blooming girls. His third wife tended him with assiduity, and secured his affectionate good-will. Milton was by this time not only blind and aging, but also disappointed if disappointment can indeed be affirmed of so lofty and severe a soul in all his most cherished hopes and expectations for the public weal. The despicable profligate, Charles the Second, reoccupied the throne of England in May 1660, soon after Milton had published A ready and easy Way to establish a Free Commonwealth,, opposing monarchy; and everything noblest in the nation re- coiled from the pollution of the royal presence. Milton, then residing in Petty France, quitted his home, and lay con- cealed in a friend's house : the two parts of his Defensio* and the Eikonodastes, were appropriately burned by the common hangman. The poet Davenant is said to have interested himself for Milton, who had done the like for him in the very diverse days of 1657 : there is moreover a curious story that a mock funeral was enacted, so as to illude pursuers. The indemnity for heroes and patriots published in August of this year did not exclude Milton ; but it would seem that he remained awhile in the custody of the sergeant -at-arms. He then returned to the neigh- bourhood of his former house in the city ; and, though inevitably distinguished by the disfavour of the people in xjower, suffered no further molestation of any importance. Before these troubles began perhaps in 1658, or even xvi SREFA TOR V VO T/CA. earlier the poet had commenced the great work of his life, Paradise Lost. He had entertained a project of writing on the same theme a tragedy according to the antique model ; but this scheme was laid aside, and the narrative poem undertaken, and completed in or about 1665. It consisted originally of only ten Books (instead of twelve as now) : the larger number was made up in 1674, in the second edition, bv dividing the 7th and loth sections. The poem, after much difficulty in getting it licensed, was published by Mr. Simmons in 1667. The price paid down for it was ^5 ; to be followed by ^15, contingent upon the sale of a second and a third large impression. As it turned out, the first edition, 1500 copies, sold off in Cwo years to the extent of 1300 : the remaining 200 took five years more to sell. Before Paradise Lost, blank verse in the English language had been almost confined to dramatic works : Milton adopted this measure as alone suitable to so august a theme, and, in his preliminary notice to the poem, went so far as to denounce rhyme as trivial and barbarous. In 1670, Michael Elwood, a well-meaning quaker admirer who acted from time to time as Milton's amanuensis, made a remark which set him upon the composition of Paradise Regained. This was published, along with Samson Agon- istes, in 1671 ; the singular perversity of authorship which led Milton to prefer Paradise Regained to Paradise Lost has often been remarked upon. There are not many more incidents to be noted in the closing years of this illustrious life. In 1665 the poet had quitted London, in which the great plague was then raging, and he lived awhile in the village of Chalfont St. Giles, in Buckinghamshire. When the epidemic was over, he re- turned : his last habitation was in Artillery Walk, Bunhill Fields. His daughters did not reside with him during the final four or five years of his life. He suffered from gout ; and an attack of this malady carried him off on the 8th of November 1674. His will, which was afterwards disputed in the interest of his daughters, left everything to his wife the total value being about ,1500. His tomb is in the Church of St. Giles, Cripplegate. The principal writings of Milton not already mentioned were a Latin Grammar, published in 1661 ; a History of England, 1670, which he only brought clown to the date of the Norman conquest ; a System of Logic after the Mctlioa of Ramus, 1672 ; a Treatise of True Religion, 1673, in the course of which he inveighed against popery, and pro- pounded, as the limit which deserved political toleration, any phase of religious thought which should recognize the Scriptures as sufficient guide ; Familiar ^pistles in Latin, yfe. PREFA TOR Y NO TICK. x vi i and some Academical Exercises, 1674. He had at one time projected writing a poem on the story of King Arthur. In 1823 was made the important discovery of a MS. work by Milton, De Doc t rind Christiana Libri duo: the copy was found in the state-paper office, and was published without delay. Milton, during his life, was classed in a general way among the Independents, the religious body to which Cromwell also belonged : but this MS. showed him to be a Christian differing considerably from the sects of Christians mostly recognized as within any pale of orthodoxy. He did not accept the ordinary dogmas of the Trinity, or of the divinity of Christ : on the latter subject, he might be con- sidered an Arian rather than a Socinian. In various other respects also his opinions assumed a great latitude : he denied, for instance, that polygamy is unlawful, and joined in no public form of worship. Milton was from childhood and all through the years of his less advanced manhood eminently handsome, and con- tinued a fine old man to the last. His hair was light brown, and remained plenteous, his complexion fair and ruddy ; the features were symmetrical ; the eyes, gray in hue, suf- fered no perceptible alteration from his blindness. He was rather below than above the middle height, neither fat nor thin, active in person, erect in deportment, and neat in dress. His courage was abundant, and he was a good swordsman. His voice was musical, as befitted a man one of whose chief relaxations consisted in music ; he played on the organ and bass-viol. Another relaxation was conversation with friends, among whom he was cheerful, open, and an interesting talker. His temper was serene, and it is said that he made no enmities other than such as arose from public grounds : as a controversalist, indeed, he "was sufficiently bitter, and even abusive, but he did not regard himself as naturally controversial rather as sum- moned by a loftier Muse to a calmer, deeper, and more perennial utterance. He was abstemious, and eschewed strong liquors ; he had a fine memory, and much width of reading, and in youth a predilection for romance. Though never rich, he retained a sufficiency to free his declining years from any sordid discomfort. His morals were always pure his religion deep-seated. Among Milton's personal habits, it is recorded that he smoked a pipe at the close of evening ; and that he composed poetry chiefly in the winter-time, and not unfrequently while lying in bed. If ever a man lived of whom an upright and intellectual nation maybe proud, it is Milton. His elevation in every aspect of person, of character, of mind, of acquirements, of conduct, of the field for the exercise of his powers, of * xviii FREFA TOR Y NOTICE. political environments, and (what is here the most impor- tant of all) of poetic purpose and performance is almost fatiguingly conspicuous and uniform. An ordinary mind contemplating Milton can realize to itself the feeling of the Athenian who resented hearing Aristides for ever styled "the Just." Such a mind feels a little and excusably pro- voked at the serene and severe loftiness of a Milton, and casts about to find "him blameworthy in his very superiority an exacting husband and father, an over-learned writer, cumbrous or stilted in prose, and pedantically accoutred in verse, a political and religious extremist. There may be something in these objections, or the smaller kind of souls will please themselves by supposing there is something in them. Honour is the predominant emotion naturally felt towards Milton hardly enthusiasm certainly not sym- pathy. Perhaps a decided feeling of unsympathy would affect many of us, were it not for the one great misfortune of the poet. Nature had forbidden him to be infirm in himself, but gave him a crown of accidental or physical in- firmity, and bowed him somewhat a little lower than th^ angels towards sympathy. This Aristides was blind. Any one who has even a small inkling of self-knowledge must feel, two centuries after the death of Milton, that to pretend to say much about the quality of his poetry would be an impertinence. Admiration and eulogium are long ago discounted : objections sound insolent, and are at any rate supererogatory. One's portion is to read and rever- ence. Still, something remains to be defined by an inde- pendent appreciator, however deeply respectful. I shall re- duce this something to a minimum : and have indeed, in the preceding general observations about Milton's personal and intellectual character, indicated most of the points which seem to deserve some sort of expression with regard to his poetry. Among Milton's many great attributes, his mastery of the sublime is the one which has probably received the most frequent and most emphatic laudation. For my own part, I think it open to question wiiether, even in this preeminent possession of a most preeminent poetic gift, he shows so signal a superiority as he does in point of utterance (as it may be called), or sonority. His power over language, in its beauty and its majesty, his mastery of form and of verse, his dominance over all persuasion and all stress and sus- tainment of sound, its music and loveliness, its resources and charms, its dignity, austerity, and awe, these form perhaps the most marked distinction of Milton, and his most genuinely and widely felt appeal. It seems conceiv- able that some readers, not strictly destitute of suscepti- PR EPA TOR Y N-OTtCE. bility to poetry, might remain cold and obtuse to the sub- limity of Milton, or might acknowledge without truly ad- miring it : but anybody who has read Milton with some moderate degree of attention, and who yet fails to feel the noble delight of his diction and music his " numbers," as an elder generation of critics used happily to phrase it must be pronounced deficient in the primary sense of poetry. From a certain point of view, there is no poet more diffi- cult to estimate than Milton salient and unmistakeable as his leading characteristics are to the least expert student of - poetry. To appraise Milton is to appraise Paradise Lost; or, conversely, to appraise Paradise Lost is in the main to appraise Milton. Now Paradise Lost is an enormously difficult book to give a fair account of even to one's own instincts or intuitions much more to one's critical or reasoning faculties, or, through the medium of words, to the like faculties of the reader. The great difficulty consists in this : That Paradise Lost is so interwoven with the religion and religious associations of the people, and is written from a standard of conception so lofty and ideal in many respects, that one can hardly bring oneself to apply any different standard to it, and yet one feels that in numerous instances the product is not commensurate with that standard. Not so much that it falls below it (though this also is indisput- ably true in a sense) as that it deviates entirely. To measure some things in the poem by the ideal standard is like trying chemical substances by the wrong test : they yield no response to the demandant. Hence, I think, some disappointment to the prepossessed reader of Para- dise Lost, or to the reader who, being unprepossessed, has the courage also to be candid : the poem ought, he fancies, to be as true as a divine oracle, unswerving from the severe and impeccable ideal line, and behold it is considerably otherwise. The fault, or part of the fault, lies with the reader. There is no final reason why the spiritual afflatus which wrapped Milton, the atmosphere of ideas and data in which he lived, should be closer to ultimate truth and right, to the sublime of a divine equity, than those of Homer or any other great poet. The inextinguishable laughter of Olympus is alien to us, but has a poetic value of its own not likely soon to perish : the scholastic harangues of Jehovah and Messiah, or the cannonades of Satan and Moloch, may also be alien to us, and it is only our pre- judices which, perceiving them to be thus alien, refuse to allow the fair consequence that these things must be dis- missed as having any connexion with supernal truth, and must henceforth be regarded as merely so much surplusage xx PREP A TOR Y XO TICE. for any save poetic ends. It remains to be judged whether they are good poetry or bad. To Milton they were as ideal and profound as to Homer the laughter of the gods, and Ares wounded by Diomed ; perhaps not more : to us, neitJicr need be profound or ideal. Like all other products of human mind, how great soever and clearly it ranks among the very great Paradise Lost is local and tem- porary : it belongs to the puritan Milton, it belongs to the England of the seventeenth century, inspired by Hebrew religionists and poets, and fancying that it possessed a final criterion of truth, and almost a final interpretation of truth. Local and temporary it is in its constituent parts only in its essence or outcome universal and undying : like the Iliad of Homer, the Commedia of Dante, the Pro- wethens of Shelley, the l^aust of Gothe. " Thus at the rushing loom of Time I ply, And weave for God the garment them seest Him by." W. M. ROSSETTL MILTON'S POETICAL WORKS. PARADISE LOST. "THE VERSE." "'THE measure is English Heroic Verse without Rhyme, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin ; Rhyme being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame metre ; graced indeed since by the use of some famous modern Poets, carried away by custom, but much to their own vexation, hindrance, and constraint, to express many things otherwise, and for the most part worse, than else they would have expressed them. Not without cause, therefore, some botli Italian and Spanish Poets of prime note have rejected Rhyme both in longer and shorter works ; as have also, long since, our best English Tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial and of no true musical delight; which consists only in apt num- bers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoided by the learned Ancients both in Poetry and all good OrUpry. This neglect then of Rhyme so iittle is to be taken for a defect, thou j i it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather is to be esteemed an example set, the first in English, of ancient liberty recovered to Heroic Poem from the troublesome }nd modern bondage of Rhyming." BOOK I. THE ARGUMENT. THIS First Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject, man's disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise, wherein he was placed. Then touches the prime cause of his fall, the serpent, or rather Satan in the Serpent ; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of angels, was, by the command of God, driven out of Heaven, with all his crew, into the great deep. Which action passed over, the Poem hastens into the midst of things, presenting Satan with his angels now fallen into hell, described here, not in the centre, for Heaven and Earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed, but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos : Here Satan, with his angels, lying on the burning lake, thunderstruck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from con- fusion, calls up him who next in order and dignity lay by him ; they confer 3f their miserable falJ. Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then ir J* -, 2 PARADISE LOST. the same manner confounded ; they rise : their numbers, array of battle, their chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech, comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven, but tells them lastly of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy or report in heaven ; for, that angels were long before this visible creation, was the opinion of many ancient fathers. To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the deep: the infernal peers there sit in council OF man's first disobedience and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire , That shepherd, who first taught the chosen saed In the beginning how the heavens and earth Rose out of chaos ; or, if Sion hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flow'd Fast by the oracle of God ; I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know'st ; thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss, And madest it pregnant : what in me is dark, Illumine ; what is low, raise and support ; That to the height of this great argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men. Say first, for Heaven hides nothing from thy view, Nor the deep tract of hell ; say first, what cause Moved our grand parents in that happy state, Favour' d of Heaven so highly, to fall off From their Creator, and transgress his will For one restraint, lords of the world besides? Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? The infernal Serpent ; he it was, whose guile, Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceived The mother of mankind ; what time his pride Had cast him out from heaven, with all his host Of rebel angels, by whose aid, aspiring To set himself in glory above his peers, ^ He trusted to have equalled the Most High, If he opposed; and. with ambitious aim Against the throne and monarchy of Gor, Raised impious war in heaven, and battle proud, PARADISE LOST. With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power Hurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky With hideous ruin and combustion, down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, "Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms. Nine times the space that measures day and night To mortal men, he with his horrid crew Lay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulf, Confounded though immortal : but his doom Reserved him to more wrath ; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him ; round he throws his baleful eyes, That witness'd huge affliction and dismay, Mix'd with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. At once, as far as angels' ken, he views The dismal situation waste and wild ; A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed ; yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes, That comes to all ; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed. Such place eternal justice had prepared For those rebellious ; here their prison ordain'd In utter darkness, and their portion set As far removed from God and light of heaven, As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole. Oh, how unlike the place from whence they fell ! There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'cl With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, He soon discerns, and weltering by his side One next himself in power, and next in crime, Long after known in Palestine, and named Beelzebub : To whom the arch-enemy, And thence in heaven call'd Satan, with bold words Breaking the horrid silence, thus began : If thou beest he ; but oh, how fallen! how changed From him, who in the happy realms of light, Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine Myriads, though bright ! If he, whom mutual league, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise, Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd In equal ruin ; into what pit thou seest From what height fallen, so much the stronger proved He with his thunder : and till then who knew The force of those dire arms ? yet not for those, Nor what the potent Victor in his rage PARADISE LOST. Can else inflict, do I repent or change, Though changed in outward lustre, that fix'd mind, And high disdain from sense of injured merit, That with the Mightiest raised me to contend, And to the fierce contention brought along Innumerable force of Spirits arm'd, That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring, His utmost power with adverse power opposed In dubious battle on the plains of heaven, And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? All is not lost ; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield, And v/hat is else not to be overcome ; That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power, Who from the terror of this arm so late Doubted his empire, that were low indeed, That were an ignominy and shame beneath This downfall ; since, by fate the strength of gods, And this empyreal substance, cannot fail ; Since, through experience of this great event, In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced, \Ve may with more successful hope resolve To wage by force or guile eternal war, Irreconcileable to our grand foe, Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heaven. So spake the apostate angel, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair ; And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer : O prince, O chief of many-throned powers, That led the embattled seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds Fearless, endanger'd heaven's perpetual King, And put to proof his high supremacy, Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate, Too well 1 see and rue the dire event, That with sad overthrow and foul defeat Hath lost us heaven, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction laid thus low, As far as gods and heavenly essences Can perish : for the mind and spirit remain Invincible, and vigour soon returns, Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless misery. But what if he our Conqueror, whom I now Of force believe Almighty, since no less Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as ours, Have left us this our spirit and strength entire, Strongly to suffer and support our pains, PARADISE LOST. That \ve may so suffice his vengeful ire, Or do him mightier service as his thralls By right of war, whate'er his business be, Here in the heart of hell to work in fire, Or do his errands in the gloomy deep ? What can it then avail, though yet we feel Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being, To undergo eternal punishment ? "Whereto with speedy words the arch-fiend replied : Fallen cherub, to be weak is miserable, Doing or suffering ; but of this be sure, To do aught good never will be our task, But ever to do ill our sole delight, As being the contrary to his high will, Whom we resist. If then his providence Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, Our labour must be to pervert that end, And out of good still to find means of evil ; Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb His inmost counsels from their destined aim. But see ! the angry Victor hath recall'd His ministers of vengeance and pursuit Back to the gates of heaven ; the sulphurous hail, Shot after us in storm, o'erblown, hath laid The fiery surge, that from the precipice Of heaven received us falling ; and the thunder, Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now To bellow through the vast and boundless deep Let us not slip the occasion, whether scorn Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe. Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid flames Casts pale and dreadful ? thither let us tend From off the tossing of these fiery waves ; There rest, if any rest can harbour there ; And, reassembling our afflicted powers, Consult how we may henceforth most offend Our Enemy, our own loss how repair, How overcome this dire calamity, What reinforcement we may gain from hope ; If not, what resolution from despair. Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate. With head uplift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blazed ; his other parts besides Prone on the 'flood, extended long and large, Lay floating many a rood ; in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove; Briareos, or Typhon, whom the den PARADISE LOST. "By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim the ocean stream : Him haply slumbering on the Norway foam, The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays : So stretch'd out huge in length the arch-fiend lay Chain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thence Had risen or heaved his head, but that the will And high permission of all-ruling Heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs ; That with reiterated crimes he might Heap on himself damnation, while he sought Evil to others, and enraged might see How all his malice served but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shown On man by him seduced ; but on himself Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured. Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty stature ; on each hand the flames Driven backward slope their pointing spires, and roll'd In billows leave in the midst a horrid vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air, That felt unusual weight, till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd With solid, as the lake with liquid, fire ; And such appear'd in hue, as when the force Of subterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shaltorM side Of thundering .'Etna, whose combustible And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire, Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds, And leave a singed bottom, all involved With stench and smoke : such resting found the sole Of unbless'd feet. Him follow'd his next mate, Both glorying to have 'scaped the Stygian flood, As gods, and by their own recovered strength, Not by the sufferance of supernal Power. Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, Said then the lost archangel, this the seat That we must change for heaven, this mournful gloom For that celestial light ? Be it so, since he, Who now is Sovereign, can dispose and bid What shall be right : farthest from him is best, W r hom reason hath cquall'd, force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, PARADISE LOST. Where joy for ever dwells : hail, horrors ; hail, Infernal world ; and thou, profoundest hell, Receive thy new possessor ; one who brings A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free ; the Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence : Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition, though* in hell : Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, The associates and copartners of our loss, Lie thus astonish'd on the oblivious pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy mansion ; or once more With rallied arms to try what may be yet Regain'd in heaven, or what more lost in hell ? So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub Thus answer'd : Leader of those armies bright, Which but the Omnipotent none could have foilM, If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge Of battle when it raged, in all assaults Their surest signal, they will soon resume New courage and revive, though now they lie Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire, As we erewhile, astounded and amazed, No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height. I le scarce had cea-ed, when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield. Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast ; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesole Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe. His spear, to equal which the tallest pine, Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marie, not like those steps On heaven's azure, and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire. Nathless he so endured, till on the beach Of that inflamed sea he stood, and call'd His legions, angel forms, who lay entranced PARADISE LOST. Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks In Vallambrosa, where the Etrurian shades High overarch'd imbower ; or scatter'd sedge Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd Hath vex'd the Red Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew Busiris and his Memphian chivalry, While with perfidious hatred they pursued The sqjourners of Goshen, who beheld From the safe shore their floating carcases And broken chariot-wheels : so thick bestrewn Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, Under amazement of their hideous change. He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep Of hell resounded : Princes, potentates, Warriors, the flower of heaven, once yours, now lost, If such astonishment as this can seize Eternal spirits ; or have ye chosen this place After the toil of battle to repose Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find To slumber here, as in the vales of heaven ? Or in this abject posture have ye sworn To adore the Conqueror ? who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood With scatter'd arms and ensigns, till anon His swift pursuers from heaven-gates discern The advantage, and descending tread us down Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts Transfix us to the bottom of this gurf? Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen ! They heard, and were abash'd, and up they sprung Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread, Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake. Nor did they not perceive the evil plight In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel ; Yet to their general's voice they soon obey'd, Innumerable. As when the potent rod Of Amram's son, in Egypt's evil day, Waved round the coast, up call'd a pitchy cloud Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind, That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung Like night, and darken'd all the land of Nile : So numberless were those bad angels seen Hovering on wing under the cope of hell, Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires ; Till, as a signal given the uplifted spear Of their great Sultan waving to direct Their course, in even balance down they light On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain ; A multitude, like which the populous North Pour'd never from her frozen loins, to pass Rhene or the Danaw, where her barbarous sons PARADISE LOST. Came like a deluge on the south, and spread 1'icneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands. Forthwith from every squadron and each band The heads and leaders thither haste, where stood Their great commander ; god-like shapes and forms Excelling human, princely dignities, And powers that erst in heaven sat on thrones, Though of their names in heavenly records now Be no memorial, blotted out and rased By their rebellion from the books of life. Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve Got them new names ; till, wandering o'er the earth, Through God's high sufferance, for the trial of man, By falsities and lies the greatest part Of mankind they corrupted to forsake God their Creator, and the invisible Glory of him that made them to transform Oft to the image of a brute, adorn'd With gay religions full of pomp and gold, And devils to adore for deities : Then were they known to men by various names, And various idols through the heathen world. Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last, Roused from the slumber on that fiery couch At their great emperor's call, as next in worth, Came singly where he stood on the bare strand, While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof? The chief were those, who, from the pit of hell, Roaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fix Their seats long after next the seat of God, Their altars by his altar, gods adored Among the nations round, and durst abide Jehovah thundering out of Sion, throned Between the cherubim ; yea, often placed Within his sanctuary itself their shrines, Abominations ; and with cursed things His holy rites and solemn feasts profaned, And with their darkness durst affront his light. First Moloch, horrid king, besmear'd with blood Of human sacrifice, and parents' tears, Though for the noise of drums and timbrels loud Their children's cries unheard, that pass'd through fire To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite "Worshipp'd in Rabba and her watery plain, In Argob, and in Basan, to the stream Of utmost Arnon. Nor content with such Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart Of Solomon he led by fraud to build His temple right against the temple of God, On that opprobrious hill, and made his grove The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence /TV yfy 10 PARADISE LOST. And black Gehenna call'd, the type of hell. Next Chemos, the obscene dread of Moab's sons, From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild Of southmost Abarim ; in Hesebon And Horonaim, Seon's realm, beyond The flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines, And Ele'ale, to the asphaltic pool : Peor his other name, when he enticed Israel in Sittim, on their inarch from Nile, To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe. Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove Of Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate ; Till good Josiah drove them thence to hell. With these came they, who, from the bordering flood Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names Of Baalim and Ashtaroth, those male, These feminine : for spirits, when they please, Can either sex assume, or both ; so soft And uncompounded is their essence pure ; Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, Like cumbrous flesh ; but, in what shape they choose, Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure, Can execute their aery purposes, And works of love or enmity fulfil. For those the race of Israel oft forsook Their living Strength, and unfrequented left His righteous altar, bowing lowly down To bestial gods ; for which their heads as low Bow'd down in battle, sunk before the spear Of despicable foes. With these in troop Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians call'd Astarte, queen of heaven, with crescent horns ; To whose bright image nightly by the moon Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs, In Sion also not unsung, where stood Her temple on the offensive mountain, built By that uxorious king, whose heart, though large, Beguiled by fair idolatresses, fell To idols foul. Thammuz came next behind, Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured The Syrian damsels to lament his fate In amorous ditties all a summer's day, While smooth Adonis from his native rock Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood Of Thammuz yearly wounded : the love-tale Infected Sion's daughters with like heat, Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch Ezekiel saw, when by the vision led His eyes survey'd the dark idolatries ** : *> V PARADISE LOST. U Of alienated Judah. Next came one Who mourn' d in earnest, when the captive ark Maim'd his brute image, head and hands lopt off In his own temple, on the grunsel edge, Where he fell flat, and shamed his worshippers : Dagon his name ; sea-monster, upward man And downward fish : yet had his temple high Rear'd in Azotus, dreaded through the coast Of Palestine, in Gath, and Ascalon, And Accaron, and Gaza's frontier bounds. Him follow'd Rimmon, whose delightful seat Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams. He also 'gainst the house of God was bold : A leper once he lost, and gain'd a king, Ahaz his sottish conqueror, whom he drew God's altar to disparage and displace For one of Syrian mode, whereon to burn His odious offerings, and adore the gods Whom he had vanquished. After these appear'd A crew, who under names of old renown, Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train, With monstrous shapes and sorceries abused Fanatic Egypt and her priests, to seek Their wandering gods disguised in brutish forms, Rather than human. Nor did Israel 'scape The infection, when their borrow'd gold composed The calf in Oreb ; and the rebel king Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan, Likening his Maker to the grazed ox ; Jehovah, who, in one night, when he pass'd From Egypt marching, equall'd with one stroke Both her first-born and all her bleating gods. Belial came last, than whom a spirit more lewd Fell not from heaven, or more gross to love Vice for itself : to him no temple stood Or altar smoked ; yet who more oft than he In temples and at altars, when the priest Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who fill'd With lust and violence the house of God ? In courts and palaces he also reigns, And in luxurious cities, where the noise Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers, And injury, and outrage : and when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night In Gibeah, when the hospitable door Exposed a matron to avoid worse rape. These were the prime in order and in might ; The rest^were long to tell, though far renown'd, The Ionian gods, of Javan's issue, held * ~* V 12 PARADISE LOST. Gods, yet confess 'd later than heaven and earth, Their boasted parents. Titan, heaven's first-born With his enormous brood and birthright seized By younger Saturn, he from mightier Jove, His own and Rhea's son, like measure found ; So Jove usurping reign'd : these first in Crete And Ida known ; thence on the snowy top Of cold Olympus ruled the middle air, Their highest heaven ; or on the Delphian cliff, Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds Of Doric land ; or who with Saturn old Fled over Adria to the Hesperian fields, And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles. All these and more came flocking ; but with looks Downcast and damp, yet such wherein appear'd Obscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chief Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost In loss itself ; which on his countenance cast Like doubtful hue : but he, his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised Their fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears. Then straight commands, that at the warlike sound Of trumpets loud and clarions be uprear'd His mighty standard : that proud honour claim'd Azazel as his right, a cherub tall ; Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'd The imperial ensign, which, full high advanced Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind, With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed, Seraphic arms and trophies ; all the while Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds : At which the universal host up sent A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. All in a moment through the gloom were seen Ten thousand banners rise into the air With orient colours waving : with them rose A forest huge of spears ; and thronging helms Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable : anon they move In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders ; such as raised To height of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle ; and instead of rage Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved With dread of death to flight or foul retreat ; Nor wanting power to mitigate and 'suage With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, an 1 pain, From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, Breathing united force, with fixed thought, PARADISE LOST. Moved on in silence to soft pipes, that charm' d Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil ; and no\y Advanced in view they stand, a horrid front Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise Of warriors old with order'd spear and shield, Awaiting what command their mighty chief Had to impose : he through the armed files Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverse The whole battalion views ; their order due, Their visages and stature as of gods ; Their number last he sums. And now his heart Distends with pride, and hardening in his strength Glories ; for never, since created man, Met such embodied force, as named with these Could merit more than that small infantry Warr'd on by cranes ; though all the giant brood Of Phlegra with the heroic race were join'd That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side Mix'd with auxiliar gods ; and what resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son, Begirt witli British and Armoric knights ; And all who since, baptized or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore, When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabia. Thus far these beyond Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed Their dread commander : he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower ; his form had yet not lost All its original brightness, nor appear'd Less than archangel ruin'd, and the excess Of glory obscured : as when the sun ne\v-ri.-:cn Looks through the horizontal misty air, Shorn of his beams ; or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs : darken'd so, yet shone Above them all the archangel ; but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrench'd, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride Waiting revenge : cruel his eye, but cast Signs of remorse and passion to behold The fellows of his crime, the followers rather, Far other once beheld in bliss, condemn'd For ever now to have their lot in pain, Millions of spirits for his fault amerced Of heaven, and from eternal splendours flung For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood, Their glory wither'd : as when heaven's fire PARADISE LOST. Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth, though bare, Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared To speak ; whereat their doubled ranks they bend From wing to wing, and half enclose him round With all his peers : attention held them mute. Thrice he essay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn Tears, such as angels wee]-), burst forth ; at last Words interwove with sighs found out their way. O myriads of immortal spirits, O powers Matchless, but with the Almighty, and that strife Was not inglorious, though the event was dire, As this place testifies, and this dire change, Hateful to utter: but what power of mind, Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd, How such united force of gods, how such As stood like these, could ever know repulse? For who can yet believe, though after loss, That all these puissant legions, whose exile Hath emptied heaven, shall fail to reascend Self-raised, and repossess their native seat ? For me, be witness all the host of heaven, If counsels different or danger shunn'd By me have lost our hopes : but he, who reigns Monarch in heaven, till then as one secure Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, Consent, or custom, and his regal state Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal'd, Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. Henceforth his might we know, and know our own. So as not either to provoke, or dread New war, provoked ; our better part remains To work in close design, by fraud or guile, W T hat force effected not ; that he no less At length from us may find, who overcomes By force, hath overcome but half his foe. Space may produce new worlds, whereof so rife There went a fame in heaven, that he ere long Intended to create, and therein plant A generation, whom his choice regard Should favour equal to the sons of heaven Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere ; For this infernal pit shall never hold Celestial spirits in bondage, nor the abyss Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts Full counsel must mature : peace is despair'd ; For who can think submission ? war then, wai, Open or understood, must be resolved. He spake : and to confirm his words outflew Millions of flaming sworcls, drawn from the thighs PAKADISE LOST. 1 Of mighty cherubim ; the sudden blaze Far round illumined hell : highly they raged Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war, Hurling defiance toward the vault of heaven. There stood a hill not far, whose grisly top Belch'd fire and rolling smoke ; the rest entire Shone with a glossy scurf, undoubted sign That in his womb was hid metallic ore, The work of sulphur. Thither, wing'd with speed, A numerous brigade hasten'd ; as when bands Of pioneers, with spade and pickaxe arm'd, Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on, Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell From heaven ; for even in heaven his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold, Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd In vision beatific. By him first Men also, and by his suggestion taught, Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands Rifled the bowels of their mother earth For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew Open'd into the hill a spacious wound, And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire That riches grow in hell ; that soil may best Deserve the precious bane. And here let those Who boast in mortal things, and wondering till Of Babel and the works of Memphian kings, Learn how their greatest monuments of fame And strength and art are easily outdone By spirits reprobate, and in an hour What in an age they with incessant toil And hands innumerable scarce perform. Nigh on the plain, in many cells prepared, That underneath had veins of liquid fire Sluiced from the lake, a second multitude With wondrous art founded the massy ore, Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross, A third as soon had form'd within the ground A various mould, and from the boiling cells By strange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook : As in an organ from one blast of wind To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes. Anon out of the earth a fabric huge Rose, like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple, where pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid With golden architrave ; nor did there want Cornice or frieze with bossy sculptures gravea ; 1 6 PARADISE LOST. The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon, Nor great Alcairo such magnificence Equall'd in all their glories, to enshrine Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxury. The ascending pile Stood fix'd her stately height, and straight the door f Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide Within her ample spares, o'er 'the smooth And level pavement : from the arched roof, Pendent by subtle magic, many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky. The hasty multitude Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise, And some the architect : his hand was known In heaven by many a tower'd structure high. Where sceptred angels held their residence, And sat as princes ; whom the supreme King Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright. Nor was his name unheard or unadored In ancient Greece ; and in Ausonian land Men call'd him Mulciber ; and how he fell From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o'er the crystal battlements ; from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day ; and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the zenith like a falling star, On Lemnos the ^Egean isle ; thus they relate, Erring ; for he with this rebellious rout Fell long before ; nor anght avail'd him now To have built in heaven high towers ; nor did he 'scape By all his engines, but was headlong sent With his industrious crew to build in hell. Meanwhile the winged heralds by command Of sovereign power, with awful ceremony And trumpet's sound, throughout the host proclaim A solemn council forthwith to be held At Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers : their summons call'd From every band and squared regiment By place or choice the worthiest ; they anon With hundreds and with thousands trooping came Attended : all access was throng'd, the gates And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall, Though like a cover'd field, where champions bold Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldan's chair Defied the best of Panim chivalry To mortal combat or career with lance, Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in be air, Brush 'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees PARADISE LOST. 17 In spring-time, when the sun with Taurus rides, Pour forth their populous youth about the hive In clusters ; they among fresh dews and flowers Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, The suburb of their straw-built citadel, New rubb'd with balm, expatiate and confer Their state affairs ; so thick the aery crowd Swarm'd and were straiten'd ; till, the signal given, Behold a wonder ! they, but now who seem'd In bigness to surpass earth's giant sons, Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow roo Throng numberless, like that Pygmean race Beyond the Indian mount, or fairy elves, Whose midnight revels, by a forest side, Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, ' Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth Wheels her pale course ; they, on their mirth and dance Intent, with jocund music charm his ear ; At once with joy and fear his heart rebound?. Thus incorporeal spirits to smallest forms Reduced their shapes immense, and were at large, Though without number still, amidst the hall Of that infernal court. But far within, And in their own dimensions like themselves. The great seraphic lords and cherubim In close recess and secret conclave sat, A thousand demigods on golden seats, Frequent and full. After short silence then And summons read, the great consult began. BOOK II. THE ARGUMENT. The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of heaven : some advise it, others dissuade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much inferior, to themselves, about this time to be created : their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search : Satan, their chief, undertakes alone the voyage, is honoured and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways, and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to hell-gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them, by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between hell and heaven ; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought. HIGH on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings Barbaric pearl and gold, -7- is PARADISE LOST, Satan exalted sat, by merit raised To that bad eminence ; and, from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue Vain war with Heaven, and by success untaught His proud imaginations thus display 'd : Powers and dominions, deities of heaven, For since no deep within her gulf can hold Immortal vigour, though oppress'd and fallen, I give not heaven for lost : from this descent Celestial virtues rising will appear More glorious and more dread, than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate. Me though just right and the fix'd laws of heaven Did first create your leader, next free choice, With what besides, in council or in fight, Hath been achieved of merit ; yet this loss, Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more Establish'd in a safe unenvied throne, Yielded with full consent. The happier state In heaven, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior ; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction ; for none sure will claim in hell Precedence, none, whose portion is so small Of present pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more. With this advantage then To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, More than can be in heaven, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old, Surer to prosper than prosperity Could have assured us ; and by what best way, Whether of open war or covert guile, We now debate ; who can advise, may speak. He ceased ; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair : His trust was with the Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength, and rather than be less Cared not to be at all ; with that care lost Went all his fear : of God, or hell, or worse, He reck'd not ; and these words thereafter spake : My sentence is for open war : of wiles, More unexpert, I boast not : them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now : For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here PARADISE LOST. 19 Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay ? no, let us rather choose, Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once O'er heaven's high towers to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer ; when, to meet the noise Of his almighty engine, he shall hear Infernal thunder, and for lightning see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels ; and his throne itself Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps The way seems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat : descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? the ascent is easy then ; The event is fear'd ; should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction : if there be in hell Fear to be worse destroy'd : what can be worse Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; Where pain of unextinguishable fire Must exercise us without hope of end, The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorable, and the torturing hour Calls us to penance ? more destroy'd than thus We should be quite abolish'd and expire. What fear we then ? what doubt we to incense His utmost ire? which, to the height enraged, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential ; happier far, Than miserable to have eternal being. Or if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne : Which, if not victory, is yet revenge. He ended frowning, and his look denounced Desperate revenge and battle dangerous To less than gods. On the other side uprose 20 PARADISE LOST. Belial, in act more graceful and humane ; A fairer pei'son lost not heaven ; he seem'd For dignity composed and high exploit : But all was false and hollow ; though his tongue Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash Maturest counsels ; for his thoughts were low ; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds Timorous and slothful : yet he pleased the ear, And with persuasive accent thus began : I should be much for open war, O peers, As not behind in hate, if what was urged, Main reason to persuade immediate war, Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success ; When he, who most excels in fact of arms, In what he counsels and in what excels Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair And utter dissolution, as the scope Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. First, what revenge ? the towers of heaven are fill'd With armed watch, that render all access Impregnable ; oft on the bordering deep Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing Scout far and wide into the realm of night, Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all hell should rise With blackest insurrection to confound Heaven's purest light, yet our great Enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted ; and the ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope Is flat despair : we must exasperate The Almighty Victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us, that must be our cure, To be no more : sad cure ; for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night, Devoid of sense and motion ? and who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry Foe Can give it, or will ever ? how he can, Is doubtful ; that he never will, is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger saves To punish endless? Wherefore cease we then ? Say they who counsel war : We are decreed, *** PARADISE LOST, 21 Reserved, and destined to eternal woe ; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse ? Is this then worst, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What, when we fled amain, pursued and struck With heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? this hell then seemM A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake ? that sure was worse. What if the breath that kindled those grim fires Awaked should blow them into sevenfold rage, And plunge us in the flames ? or from above Should intermitted vengeance arm again His red right hand to plague us ? what, if all Her stores were open'd, and this firmament Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall One day upon our heads ; while we, perhaps, Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurl'd Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey Of racking whirlwinds ; or for ever sunk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapp'd in chains ; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved, Ages of hopeless end ? this would be worse. War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike My voice dissuades ; for what can force or guile With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye Views all things at one view ? He from heaven's height All these our motions vain sees and derides ; Not more almighty to resist our might, Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heaven, Thus trampled, thus expell'd, to suffer here Chains and these torments ? better these than worse By my advice ; since fate inevitable Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, The Victor's will. To suffer, as to do, Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust That so ordains : this was at first resolved, If we were wise, against so great a Foe Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold And venturous, if that fail them, shrink and fear What yet they know must follow, to endure Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, The sentence of their Conqueror : this is now Our doom ; which if we can sustain and bear, Our supreme Foe in time may much remit His anger, and perhaps thus far removed Not mind us not offending, satisfied 22 PARADISE LOST. With what is punish'd : whence these raging fires Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. Our purer essence then will overcome Their noxious vapour, or inured not feel ; Or, changed at length, and to the place conform'd In temper and in nature, will receive Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain ; This horror will grow mild, this darkness light : Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe. Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason's garb, Counsell'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace : and after him thus Mammon spake : Either to disenthrone the King of Heaven We war, if war be best, or to regain Our own right lost : him to unthrone we then May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife: The former vain to hope argues as vain The latter : for what place can be for us Within heaven's bound, unless heaven's Lord supreme We overpower? suppose he should relent And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection ; with what eyes could we Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing Forced hallelujahs ; while he lordly sits Our envied Sovereign, and his altar breathes Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, Our servile offerings ? This must be our task In heaven, this our delight ; how wearisome Eternity so spent in worship paid To whom we hate ! Let us not then pursue By force impossible, by leave obtain'd Unacceptable, though in heaven, our state Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, Free, and to none accountable, preferring Hard liberty before the easy yoke Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear Then most conspicuous, when great things of small, Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse, We can create ; and in what place soe'er Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain, Through labour and endurance. This deep world Of darkness do we dread? how oft amidst Thick clouds and dark doth heaven's all-ruling Sire PARADISE LOST. 23 Choose to reside, his glory unobscured, And with the majesty of darkness round Covers his throne ; from whence deep thunders roai Mustering their rage, and heaven resembles hell ? As he our darkness, cannot we his light Imitate when we please ? this desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold ; Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence ; and what can heaven show more Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piei'cing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper ; which must needs remove The sensible of pain. All things invite To peaceful counsels, and the settled state Of order, how in safety best we may Compose our present evils, with regard Of what we are and were, dismissing quite All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise. He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'd The assembly, as when hollow rocks retain The sound of blustering winds, which all night long Had roused the sen, now with hoarse cadence lull Seafaring men o'erwatch'd, whose bark by chance Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay After the tempest : such applause was heard As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased, Advising peace : for such another field They dreaded worse than hell : so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michael Wrought still within them ; and no less desire To found this nether empire, which might rise, By policy and long process of time, In emulation opposite to heaven. Which when Beelzebub perceived, than whom, Satan except, none higher sat, with grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd A pillar of state : deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat, and public care : And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic though in ruin : sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look Drew audience and attention still as night Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake : Thrones and imperial powers, offspring of heaven, Ethereal virtues ; or these titles now Must we renounce, and changing style be call'd Princes of hell ? for so the popular vote Inclines here to continue, and build up here A growing empire ; doubtless, while we dream, And know not that the K :- \g of Heaven hath doom'd 24 PARADISE LOST. This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt From heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, Under the inevitable curb, reserved His captive multitude : for he, be sure, In height or depth, still first and last will reign Sole King, and of his kingdom lose no part By our revolt, but over hell extend His empire, and with iron sceptre rule Us here, as with his golden those in heaven. What sit we then projecting peace and war? "War hath determined us, and foil'd with loss Irreparable ; terms of peace yet none Vouchsafed or sought ; for what peace will be given To us enslaved, but custody severe, And stripes, and arbitrary punishment Inflicted? and what peace can we return, But to our power hostility and hate, Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow, Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice In doing what we most in suffering feel ? Nor will occasion w; nt, nor shall we need With dangerous expedition to invade Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault, or siege, Or ambush from the deep. What if we find Some easier enterprise ? There is a place If ancient and prophetic fame in heaven Err not, another world, the happy seat Of some new race call'd Man, about this time To be created like to us, though less In power and excellence, but favour'd more Of him who rules above ; so was his will Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath, That shook Heaven's whole circumference, confirm'd. Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn What creatures there inhabit, of what mould Or substance, how endued, and what their power, And where their weakness, how attempted best, By force or subtlety. Though heaven be shut, And heaven's high Arbitrator sit secure In his own strength, this place may lie exposed, The utmost border of his kingdom, left To their defence who hold it : here perhaps Some advantageous act may be achieved By sudden onset, either with hell-fire To waste his whole creation, or possess All as our own, and drive, as we were driven, The puny habitants ; or, if not drive, Seduce them to our party, that their God PARADISE LOST. 25 May prove their foe, and with repenting hand Abolish his own works. This would surpass Common revenge, and interrupt his joy In our confusion, and our joy upraise In his disturbance ; when his darling sons, Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse Their frail original, and faded bliss, Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth Attempting, or to sit in darkness here Hatching vain empires. Thus Beelzebub Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devised By Satan, and in part proposed ; for whence, But from the author of all ill, could spring So deep a malice, to confound the race Of mankind in one root, and earth with hell To mingle and involve, done all to spite The great Creator? but their spite still serves His glory to augment. The bold design Pleased highly those infernal states, and joy Sparkled in all their eyes ; with full assent They vote : whereat his speech he thus renews : Well have ye judged, well ended long debate, Synod of gods, and, like to what ye are, Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep A T ill once more lift us up, in spite of fate, Nearer our ancient seat ; perhaps in view Of those bright confines, whence, with neighbouring arms, And opportune excursion, we may chance Re-enter heaven : or else in some mild zone Dwell, not unvisited of heaven's fair light, Secure, and at the brightening orient beam Purge off this gloom ; the solt delicious air, To heal the scar of these corrosive fires, Shall breathe her balm. But first, whom shall we send In search of this new world? whom shall we find Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss, And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight, Upborne with indefatigable wings, Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive The happy isle? what strength, what art can then Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe Through the strict sentries and stations thick Of angels watching round ? here he had need All circumspection, and we now no less Choice in our suffrage ; for on whom w r e send The weight of all, and our last hope, relies. This said, he sat ; and expectation held His look suspense, awaiting who appear'd To second, or oppose, or undertake The perilous attempt : but all sat mute, <** 26 PARADISE LOST. Pondering the clanger with deep thoughts ; and each In other's countenance read his own dismay, Astonish'd ; none among the choice and prime Of those heaven-warring champions could be found So hardy, as to proffer or accept Alone the dreadful voyage ; till at last Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised Above his fellows, with monarchal pride, Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake : O progeny of heaven, empyreal thrones, With reason hath deep silence and demur Seized us, though undismay'd : long is the way And hard, that out of hell leads up to light ; Our prison strong ; this huge convex of fire, Outrageous to devour, immures us round Ninefold, and gates of burning adamant Barr'd over us prohibit all egress. These pass'd, if any pass, the void profound Of unessential night receives him next Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf. If thence he 'scape into whatever world, Or unknown region, what remains him less Than unknown dangers and as hard escape ? But I should ill become this throne, O peers, And this imperial sovereignty, adorn'd With splendour, arm'd with power, if aught proposed And judged of public moment, in the shape Of difficulty or danger, could deter Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume These royalties, and not refuse to reign. Refusing to accept as great a share Of hazard as of honour, due alike To him who reigns, and so much to him due Of hazard more, as he above the rest High honour'd sits ? Go, therefore, mighty powers, Terror of heaven, though fallen, intend at home, While here shall be our home, what best may ease The present misery, and render hell More tolerable ; if there be cure or charm To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain Of this ill mansion ; intermit no watch Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek Deliverance for us all : this enterprise None shall partake with me. Thus saying, rose The monarch, and prevented all reply ; Prudent, lest from his resolution raised Others among the chief might offer now, Certain to be refused, what erst they fear'd ; And so refused might in opinion stand His rivals, winning cheap the high repute, PARADISE LOST. 27 Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they Dreaded not more the adventure, than his voice Forbidding ; and at once with him they rose : Their rising all at once was as the sound Of thunder heard remote. Toward him they bend With awful reverence prone ; and as a god Extol him equal to the Highest in heaven : Nor fail'd they to express how much they praised, That for the general safety he despised His own ; fur neither do the spirits damn'd Lose all their virtue, lest bad men should boast Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, Or close ambition varnish 'd o'er with zeal. Thus they their doubtful consultations dark Ended, rejoicing in their matchless chief: As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread Heaven's cheerful face, the lowering element Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape snow, or shower j If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet Extend his evening beam, the fields revive, The birds iheir notes renew, and bleating herds Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. O shame to men ! devil with devil damn'd Firm concord holds, men only disagree Of creatures rational, though under hope Of heavenly grace ; and, God proclaiming peace, Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife Among themselves, and levy cruel wars, Wasting the eatth, each other to destroy : As if, which might induce us to accord, Man had not hellish foes enow besides, That day and night for his destruction wait. The Stygian council thus dissolved, and forth In order came the grand infernal peers ; Midst came their mighty paramount, and seem'd Alone the antagonist of heaven, nor less Than hell's dread emperor, with pomp supreme And god-like imitated state : him round A globe of fiery seraphim enclosed With bright emblazonry and horrent arms. Then of their session ended they bid cry With trumpets' regal sound the great result : Toward the four winds four speedy cherubim Put to their mouths the sounding alchemy, By herald's voice explain'd : the hollow abyss Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell With deafening shout return'd them loud acclaim. Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat raised By false presumptuous hope, the ranged powers Disband, and wandering each his several way Pursues, as inclination or sad choice 28 PARADISE LOST. Leads him perplex'd, where he may likeliest find Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain The irksome hours, till his great chief return. Part, on the plain or in the air sublime, Upon the wing or in swift race contend, As at the Olympian games, or Pythian fields ; Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form. As when to warn proud cities war appears Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush To battle in the clouds, before each van Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears Till thickest legions close ; with feats of arms From either end of heaven the welkin burns. Others with vast Typhcean rage more fell Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind : hell scarce holds the wild uproar As when Alcides from CEchalia crown'd With conquest felt the envenom'd robe, and tore Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, And Lichas from the top of CEta threw Into the Euboic sea. Others, more mild, Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes angelical to many a harp Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall By doom of battle ; and complain that fate Free virtue should enthral to force or chance. Their song was partial ; but the harmony, What could it less when spirits immortal sing? Suspended hell, and took with ravishment The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet. For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense, Others apart sat on a hill retired, In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute. And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. Of good and evil much they argued then, Of happiness and final misery, Passion and apathy, and glory and shame, Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy: Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm Pain for a while or anguish, and excite Fallacious hope, or arm the obdured breast With stubborn patience as with triple steel. Another part, in squadrons and gross bands, On bold adventure to discover wide That dismal world, if any clime perhaps Might yield them easier habitation, bend Four ways their flying march, along the banks Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge Into the burning lake their baleful streams ; PARADISE LOST. 29 Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate ; Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep ; Cocytus, named of lamentation loud Heard on the rueful stream ; fierce Phlegethon, Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. Far off from these a slow and silent stream, Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks, Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. Beyond this flood a frozen continent Lies, dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms Of whirlwind and dire hail ; which on firm land Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems Of ancient pile ; all else deep snow and ice ; A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog Betwixt Damiata and mount Casius old, Where armies whole have sunk : the parching air Burns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire. Thither by harpy-footed furies haled, At certain revolutions all the damn'd Are brought ; and feel by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, From beds of raging fire to starve in ice Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round, Periods of time ; thence hurried back to fire. They ferry over this Lethean sound Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment, And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reach The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe, All in one moment, and so near the brink : But fate withstands, and to oppose the attempt Medusa with Gorgonian terror guards The ford, and of itself the water flies All taste of living wight, as once it fled The lip of Tantalus. Tims roving on In confused march forlorn, the adventurous bands, With shuddering horror pale, and eyes aghast, View'd first their lamentable lot, and found No rest. Through many a dark and dreary vale They pass'd, and many a region dolorous, O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death, A universe of death, which God by curse Created evil, for evil only good, Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, Abominable, unutterable, and worse Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceived, Gorgons, ar*i Hydras, and Chimeras dire. 30 PARADISE LOST. Meanwhile the adversary of God and man, Satan, with thoughts inflamed of highest design, Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of hell Explores his solitary flight; sometimes He scours the right-hand coast, sometimes the left ; Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars Up to the fiery concave towering high. As when far off at sea a fleet descried Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds Close sailing from Bengal a, or the isles Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring Their spicy drugs : they on the trading flood Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape Ply, stemming nightly toward the pole : so seem'd Far off the flying fiend. At last appear Hell-bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof, And thrice threefold the gates ; three folds were brass, Three iron, three of adamantine rock, Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire, Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat On either side a formidable shape ; The one seem'd woman to the waist, and fair. But ended foul in many a scaly fold, Voluminous and vast, a serpent arm'd With mortal sting : about her middle round A cry of hell-hounds never ceasing bark'd With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung A hideous peal ; yet, when they list, would creep, If aught disturb'd their noise, into her womb, And kennel there ; yet there still bark'd and howl'd Within unseen. Far less abhorr'd than these Vex'd Scylla, bathing in the sea that parts Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore : Nor uglier follow the night-hag, when call'd In secret riding through the air she comes, Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon Eclipses at their charms. The other shape, If shape it might be call'd, that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb, Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, For each seem'd either ; black it stood as night, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shook a dreadful dart ; what seem'd his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Satan was now at hand, and from his seat The monster moving onward came as fast, With horrid strides ; hell trembled as he strode. The undaunted fiend what this might be admired ; Admired, not fear'd ; God and his Son except, Created thing nought valued he, nor shunn'd : And with disdainful look thus first befran : PARADISE LOST. 3 1 Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, That darest, though grim and terrible, advance Thy miscreated front athwart my way To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass, That be assured without leave ask'd of thee. Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of heaven. To whom the goblin full of wrath replied : Art thou that traitor-angel, art thou he, Who first broke peace in heaven, and faith, till then Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms Drew after him the third part of heaven's sons Conjured against the Highest; for which both thou And they, outcast from God, are here condemn'd To waste eternal days in woe and pain? And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of heaven, Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn t Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, Thy king and lord ? Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before. So spake the grizzly Terror, and in shape, So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold More dreadful and deform. On the other side, Incensed with indignation, Satan stood Unterrified, and like a comet burn'd, That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge In the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head Levell'd his deadly aim ; their fatal hands No second stroke intend, and such a frown Each cast at the other, as when two black clouds, With heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on Over the Caspian ; then stand front to front, Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow To join their dark encounter in mid air : So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell Grew darker at their frown, so match'd they stood ; For never but once more was either like To meet so great a foe : and now great deeds Had been achieved, whereof all hell had rung, Had not the snaky sorceress that sat Fast by hell-gate, and kept the fatal key, Risen, and with hideous outcry rush'd between. O father, what intends thy hand, she cried, Againgt thy only son ? What fury, O son, Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart Against thy father's head ? and know'st for whom. : For him who sits above, and laughs the while At thee ordain'd his drudge, to execute , 32 PARADISE LOST. Whate'er his wrath, which he calls justice, bids ; His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both. She spake, and at her words the hellish pest Forbore ; then these to her Satan return'd : So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange Thou interposest, that my sudden hand Prevented spares to tell thee yet by deeds What it intends ; till first I know of thee, What thing thou art, thus double-form'd, and why, In this infernal vale first met, thou call'st Me father, and that phantasm call'st my son : I know thee not, nor ever saw till now Sight more detestable than him and thee. To whom thus the portress of hell-gate replied : Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem Now in thine eye so foul, once deem'd so fair In heaven ? when at the assembly, and in sight Of all the seraphim with thee combined In bold conspiracy against heaven's King, All on a sudden miserable pain Surprised thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast Threw forth, till on the left side opening wide, Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright, Then shining heavenly fair, a goddess ann'd, Out of thy head I sprung : amazement seized All the host of heaven ; back they recoil'd afraid At first, and call'd me Sin, and for a sign Portentous held me : but familiar grown, I pleased, and with attractive graces won The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing P>ecame enamour'd, and such joy thou took'st With me in secret, that my womb conceived A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose, And fields were fought in heaven ; wherein remain'd_ For what could else ? to our Almighty Foe Clear victory, to our part loss and rout Through all the empyrean : down they fell Driven headlong from the pitch of heaven, down Into this deep, and in the general fall I also ; at which time this powerful key Into my hand was given, with charge to keep These gates for ever shut, which none can pass Without my opening. Pensive here I sat Alone, but long I sat not, till my womb, Pregnant by thee and now excessive grown, Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. At last this odious offspring whom thou seest, Thine own begotten, breaking violent way, Tore through my entrails, that, with fear and pain Pistorted, all my nether shape thus grew PARADfSE LOST. 33 Transformed : but he my inbred enemy Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart Made to destroy : I fled, and cried out Death ; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded Death. I fled, but he pursued, though more, it seems, Inflamed with lust than rage, and swifter far Me overtook, his mother all dismay'd, And, in embraces forcible and foul Engendering with me, of that rape begot These yelling monsters, that with ceaseless cry Surround me, as thou saw'st, hourly conceived And hourly born, with sorrow infinite To me ; for when they list into the womb That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw My bowels, their repast ; then bursting forth Afresh with conscious terrors vex me round, That rest or intermission none I find. Before mine eyes in opposition sits Grim Death, my son and foe, who sets them on, And me his parent would full soon devour For want of other prey, but that he knows His end with mine involved ; and knows that I Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane, Whenever that shall be ; so Fate pronounced. But thou, O father, I forewarn thee, shun His deadly arrow ; neither vainly hope To be invulnerable in those bright arms, Though temper'd heavenly ; for that mortal dint, Save he who reigns above, none can resist. She finish'd, and the subtle fiend his lore Soon learn'd, now milder, and thus answer'd smooth : Dear daughter, since thou claim'st me for thy sire, And my fair son here show'st me, the dear pledge Of dalliance had with thee in heaven, and joys Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change Befallen us, unforeseen, unthought of, know I come no enemy, but to set free, From out this dark and dismal house of pain, Both him and thee, and all the heavenly host Of spirits that, in our just pretences arm'd, Fell with us from on high : from them I go This uncouth errand sole, and one for all Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread The unfounded deep, and through the void immense To search with wandering quest a place foretold Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now Created, vast and round, a place of bliss In the purlieus of heaven, and therein placed A race of upstart creatures, to supply Perhaps our vacant room, though more removed, Lest heaven, surcharged with potent multitude, C 34 PARADISE LOST. Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or aught Than this more secret, now design'd, I haste To know ; and, this once known, shall soon return, And bring ye to the place where thoii and Death Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen Wing silently the buxom air, embalm'd With odours ; there ye shall be fed and fill'd Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey. He ceased, for both seem'd highly pleased, and Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd, and bless'd his maw Destined to that good hour : no less rejoiced His mother bad, and thus bespake her sire : The key of this infernal pit by due, And by command of heaven's all-powerful King, I keep, by him forbidden to unlock These adamantine gates ; against all force Death ready stands to interpose his dart, Fearless to be o'ermatch'd by living might. But what owe I to his commands above, Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, To sit in hateful office here confined, Inhabitant of heaven, and heavenly born, Here, in perpetual agony and pain, With terrors and with clamours compass 1 d round Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed ? Thou art my father, thou my author, thou My being gavest me ; whom should I obey But thee ? whom follow ? thou wilt bring me soon To that new world of light and bliss, among The gods, who live at ease, where I shall reign At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems Thy daughter and thy darling, without end. Thus saying, from her side the fatal key, Sad instrument of all our woe, she took ; And, towards the gate rolling her bestial train, Forthwith the huge portcullis high up drew, Which but herself not all the Stygian powers Could once have moved ; then in the key-hole turns The intricate wards, and every bolt and bar Of massy iron or solid rock with ease Unfastens : on a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook Of Erebus. She open'd, but to shut Excell'd her power ; the gates wide open stood, That with extended wings a banner 'd host Under spread ensigns marching might pass through, With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array ; So wide they stood, and like a furnace-mouth PARADISE LOST. 35 Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. Before their eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark Illimitable ocean, without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, And time and place are lost ; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand : For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mastery, and to battle bring Their embryon atoms ; they around the flag Of each his faction, in their several clans, Light-arm 'd or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow. Swarm populous, unnumber'd as the sands Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil, Levied to side with warring winds, and poise Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere, He rules a moment ; Chaos umpire sits, And by decision more embroils the fray By which he reigns : next him high arbiter Chance governs all. Into this wild abyss, The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave, Of neither sea, nor shore, not air, nor fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mix'd Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more worlds. Into this wild abyss, the wary fiend Stood on the brink of hell, and look'd awhile, Pondering his voyage ; for no narrow frith He had to cross. Nor was his ear less peal'd With noises loud and ruinous, to compare Great things with small, than when Bellona storms, With all her battering engines bent to raze Some capital city ; or less than if this frame Of heaven were falling, and these elements In mutiny had from her axle torn The steadfast earth. At last his sail-broad vans He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke Uplifted spurns the ground ; thence many a league, As in a clouded chair ascending, rides Audacious ; but, that seat soon failing, meets A vast vacuity : all unawares, Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb down he drops Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour Down had been falling, had not by ill chance The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud. Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him As many miles aloft : that fury stay'd, Quench'd in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea, Nor good dry land : nigh founder'd on he fares, 36 PARADISE LOST. Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, I lalf flying ; behoves him now both oar and sail. As when a griffin through the wilderness With winged course o'er hill or moory dale Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd The guarded gold : so eagerly the fiend O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, "With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies. At length a universal hubbub wild, Of stunning sounds and voices all confused, Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear With loudest vehemence : thither he plies, Undaunted, to meet there whatever power Or spirit of the nethermost abyss Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies, Bordering on light ; when straight behold the throne Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread Wide on the wasteful deep ; with him enthroned Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things, The consort of his reign ; and by them stood Orcus and Hades, and the dreaded name Of Demogorgon ; Rumour next, and Chance, And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroil'd, And Discord, with a thousand various mouths. To whom Satan turning boldly, thus : Ye powers And spirits of this nethermost abyss, Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy, With purpose to explore or to disturb The secrets of your realm ; but, by constraint Wandering this darksome desert, as my way Lies through your spacious empire up to light, Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds Confine with heaven ; or, if some other place, From your dominion won, the ethereal King Possesses lately, thither to arrive I travel this profound, direct my course ; Directed, no mean recompense it brings To your behoof, if I that region lost, All usurpation thence expell'd, reduce To her original darkness and your sway, Which is my present journey, and once more Erect the standard there of ancient Night ; Yours be the advantage all, mine the revenge. Thus Satan ; and him thus the Anarch old, With faltering speech and visage incomposed, Answer'd : I know thee, stranger, who thou art, That mighty leading angel, who of late Made head 'gainst heaven's King, though overthrown. PARADISE LOST. 37 I saw and heard ; for such a numerous host Fled not in silence through the frighted deep, With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded ; and heaven-gates Pour'd out by millions her victorious bands Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here Keep residence ; if all I can will serve That little which i.s left so to defend, Encroach'd on still through your intestine broils Weakening the sceptre of old Night : first hell, Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath ; Now lately heaven and earth, another world, Hung o'er my realm, link'd in a golden chain To that side heaven from whence your legions fell : If that way be your walk, you have not far ; So much the nearer danger ; go and speed ; Havoc, and spoil, and ruin are my gain. He ceased ; and Satan stay'd not to reply, But, glad that now his sea should find a shore, With fresh alacrity and force renew'd Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire, Into the wild expanse, and, through the shock Of fighting elements, on all sides round Environ'd, wins his way ; harder beset And more endanger'd, than when Argo pass'd Through Bosphorus betwixt the justling rocks : Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunn'd Charybdis, and by the other whirlpool steer'd. So he with difficulty and labour hard Moved on, with difficulty and labour he ; But he once pass'd, soon after when man fell, Strange alteration ! Sin and Death amain Following his track, such was the will of Heaven, Paved after him a broad and beaten way Over the dark abyss, whose boiling gulf Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length, From hell continued, reaching the utmost orb Of this frail world ; by which the spirits perverse With easy intercourse pass to and fro To tempt or punish mortals, except whom God and good angels guard by special grace. But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and from the walls of heaven Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn : here Nature first begins Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire, As from her outmost works, a broken foe, With tumult less, and with less hostile din, That Satan with less toil and now with ease Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light, And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn ; 38 PARADISE LOST. Or in the emptier waste, resembling air* Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold Far off the empyreal heaven, extended wide In circuit, undetermined square or round, With opal towers and battlements adorn'd Of living sapphire, once his native seat ; And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendant world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude close by the moon. Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge, Accursed, and in a cursed hour, he hies. BOOK III. THE ARGUMENT God, sitting on his throne, sees Satan flying towards this world, then newly created ; shows him to the Son, who sat at his right hand ; foretells the success of Satan in perverting mankind ; clears his own justice and wisdom from all imputation, having created man free, and able enough to have withstood his tempter ; yet declares his purpose of grace towards him, in regard he fell not of his own malice, as did Satan, but by him seduced. The Son of God renders praise 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 ac- cepts 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 choir, 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 wateis above the firmament that flow about it : his passage thence to the orb of the sun ; he finds there Uriel, the regent of that orb ; but first changes himself into the shape of a meaner angel ; and, pretending a zealous desire to behold the new creation, and man whom God had placed here, inquires of him the place of his habitation, and is directed ; alights first on mount Niphates. HAIL, holy Light, offspring of heaven first-born, Or of the eternal co-eternal beam, May I express thee unblamed ? since God is light, And never but in unapproached light Dwelt 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, Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite. Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detain'd PARADISE LOST. 39 In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight Tli rough utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes, than to the Orphean lyre, I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, Taught by the heavenly muse to venture dow The dark descent, and up to reascend, Though hard and rare : thee I revisit safe, And feel thy sovereign vital lamp ; but thou Revist'st not these eyes, that roll in vain To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs, Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, Smit with the love of sacred song ; but chief Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow, Nightly I visit ; nor sometimes forget Those other two equall'd with me in fate, So were I equall'd with them in renown, Blind Thamyris and blind Mceonides, And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old. Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of 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 dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank 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 powers Irradiate ; there plant eyes, all mist from thence Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell Of things invisible to mortal sight. Now had the Almighty Father from above, From the pure empyrean where he sits High throned above all height, bent down his eye, His own works and their works at once to view. About him all the sanctities of heaven Stood thick as stars, and from his sight received Beatitude past utterance ; on his right The radiant image of his glory sat, His only Son ; on earth he first beheld Our two first parents, yet the only two Of mankind, in the happy garden placed, 40 PARADISE LOST. Reaping immortal fruits of ioy and love, Uninterrupted joy, unrivall'd love, In blissful solitude : he then survey'd Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there Coasting the wall of heaven on this side night In the dun air sublime, and ready now To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feet, On the bare outside of this world, that seem'd Firm land embosom'd without firmament, Uncertain which, in ocean or in air. Him God beholding from his prospect high, Wherein past, present, future, he beholds, Thus to his only Son foreseeing spake : Only-begotten Son, seest them what rage Transports our adversary? whom no bounds Prescribed, no bars of hell, nor all the chains Heap'd on him there, nor yet the main abyss Wide interrupt, can hold, so bent he seems On desperate revenge, that shall redound Upon his own rebellious head. And now, Through all restraint broke loose, he wings his way Not far off heaven, in the precincts of light, Directly towards the new-created world, And man there placed, with purpose to essay If him by force he can destroy, or, worse, By some false guile pervert ; and shall pervert For man will hearken to hi: Cozing lies, And easily transgress the sow command, Sole pledge of his obedience : so will fall He and his faithless progeny. Whose fault ? Whose but his own ? Ingrate, he had of me All he could have ; I made him just and right, Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. Such I created all the ethereal powers And spirits, both them who stood and them who fail'd ; Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. Not free, what proof could they have given sincere Of true allegiance, constant faith, or love, Where only what they needs must do appear'd, Not what they would? what praise could they receive? What pleasure I from such obedience paid ? When will and reason, reason also is choice, Useless and vain, of freedom both despoil'd, Made passive both, had served necessity, Not me ? They therefore, as to right belong'd, So were created, nor can justly accuse Their Maker, or their making, or their fate, As if predestination overruled Their will, disposed by absolute decree Or high foreknowledge ; they themselves decreed Their own revolt, not I ; if I foreknew, Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault, PARADISE fi 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 so I form'd them free, and free they must remain, Till they enthral themselves ; I else must change Their nature, and revoke the high decree, Unchangeable, eternal, which ordain'd Their freedom ; they themselves ordain'd their fall. The first sort by their own suggestion fell, Self-tempted, self-depraved : man falls deceived By the other first : man therefore shall find grace, The other none : in mercy and justice both, Through heaven and earth, so shall my glory excel ; But mercy, first and last, shall brightest shine. Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fill'd All heaven, and in the blessed spirits elect Sense of new joy ineffable diffused. Beyond compare the Son of God was seen Most glorious, in him all his Father shone Substantially express'd, and in his face Divine compassion visibly appear'd, Love without end, and without measure grace, Which uttering thus he to his Father spake : O Father, gracious was that word which closed Thy sovereign sentence, that man should find grace ; For which both heaven and earth shall high extol Thy praises, with the innumerable sound Of hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throne Encompass'd shall resound thee ever bless'd. For should man finally be lost, should man, Thy creature late so loved, thy youngest son, Fall circumvented thus by fraucl, though join'd With his own folly ? that be from thee far, That far be from thee, Father, who art judge Of all things made, and judgest only right. Or shall the adversary thus obtain His end, and frustrate thine ? shall he fulfil His malice, and thy goodness bring to nought, Or proud return, though to his heavier doom, Yet with revenge accomplished, and to hell Draw after him the whole race of mankind, By him corrupted ? or wilt thou thyself Abolish thy creation, and unmake, For him, what for thy glory thou hast made ? So should thy goodness and thy greatness both Be question'd and blasphemed without defence. To whom the great Creator thus replied : O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight, Son of my bosom, Son who art alone My word, my wisdom, and effectnr.l might, 42 PARADISE LOST. All hast thou spoken as my tnougnts are, all As my eternal purpose hath decreed : Man shall not quite be lost, but saved who will, Yet not of will in him, but grace in me Freely vouchsafed ; once more I will renew His lapsed powers, though forfeit and enthrall'd By sin to foul exorbitant desires ; Upheld by me, yet once more he shall stand On even ground against his mortal foe ; By me upheld, that he may know how frail His fallen condition is, and to me owe All 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 warn'd Their sinful state, and to appease betimes The incensed Deity, while offer'd grace Invites ; for I will clear their senses dark, What may suffice, and soften stony hearts To pray, repent, and bring obedience due. To prayer, repentance, and obedience due, Though but endeavourd with sincere intent, Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut. And I will place within them as a guide My umpire Conscience, whom if they will hear, Light after light well 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 harden'd, blind be blinded more, That they may stumble on, and deeper fall ; And none but such from mercy I exclude. But yet all is not done ; man disobeying Disloyal breaks his fealty, and sins Against the high supremacy of Heaven, Affecting Godhead, and so losing all, To expiate his treason hath nought left, But to destruction sacred and devote, He with his whole posterity must die. Die he or Justice must ; unless for him Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death. Say, heavenly Powers, where shall we find such love ? VVhich of ye will be mortal to redeem Man's mortal crime, and just the unjust to save? Dwells in all heaven charity so dear ? He ask'd, but all the heavenly choir stood mute, And silence was in heaven : on man's behalf Patron or intercessor none appear'd, Much less that durst upon his own head draw The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set. And now without redemption all mankind PARADISE LOST. 4^ Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe, had not the Son of God, In whom the fulness dwells of love divine, His dearest mediation thus renew'd : Father, thy word is pass'd, man shall find grace ; And shall grace not find means, that finds her way, The speediest of thy winged messengers, To visit all thy creatures, and to all Comes unprevented, unimplored, unsought ? Happy for man, so coming ; he her aid Can 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 leave Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee Freely put off, and for him lastly die Well pleased ; on me let Death wreak all his rage ; Under his gloomy power I shall not long Lie vanquish'd ; thou hast given me to possess Life 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 His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soul For ever with corruption there to dwell : But I shall rise victorious, and subdue My vanquisher, spoiFd of his vaunted spoil , Death his death's wound shall then receive, and stoop Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarm'd. I through the ample air in triumph high Shall lead hell captive, maugre hell, and show The powers of darkness bound. Thou, at the sight Pleased, out of heaven shalt look down and smile, While by thee raised I ruin all my foes, Death last, and with his carcase glut the grave : Then with the multitude of my redeem'd Shall enter heaven long absent, and return, Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud Of anger shall remain, but peace assured And reconcilement ; wrath shall be no more Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire. His words here ended, but his meek aspect Silent yet spake, and breathed immortal love To mortal men, above which only shone Filial obedience ; as a sacrifice Glad to be offer'd, he attends the will Of his great Father. Admiration seized All heaven, what this might mean and whither tend Wondering ; but soon the Almighty thus replied : O thou in heaven and earth the only peace 44 PARADISE LOST. Found out for mankind under wrath, O thou My sole complacence ! well thou know'st how dear To me are all my works, nor man the least, Though last created, that for him I spare Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save, By losing thee awhile, the whole race lost. Thou, therefore, whom thou only canst redeem Their nature also to thy nature join ; And be thyself man among men on earth, Made flesh, when time shall be, of virgin seed, By wondrous birth ; be thou in Adam's room The head of all mankind, though Adam's son. As in him perish all men, so in thee, As from a second root, shall be restored As many as are restored, without thee none. His crime makes guilty all his sons ; thy merit Imputed shall absolve them who renounce Their own both righteous and unrighteous deeds, And live in thee transplanted, and from thee Receive new life. So man, as is most just, Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die, And dying rise, and rising with him raise His brethren, ransomed with his own dear life. So heavenly love shall outdo hellish hpte, Giving to death, and dying to redeem, So dearly to redeem what hellish hate So easily destroy'd, and still destroys In those who, when they may, accept not grace. Nor shalt thou, by descending to assume Man's nature, lessen or degrade thine own. Because thou hast, though throned in highest bliss Equal to God, and equally enjoying God-like fruition, quitted all to save A world from utter loss, and hast been found By merit more than birthright Son of God, Found worthiest to be so by being good, Far more than great or high ; because in thee Love hath abounded more than glory abounds, Therefore thy humiliation shall exalt With thee thy manhood also to this throne , Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt reign Both God and man, Son both of God and man, Anointed universal King ; all power I give thee ; reign for ever, and assume Thy merits ; under thee as head supreme Thrones, princedoms, powers, dominions, I reduce ; All knees to thee shall bow, of them that bide In heaven, or earth, or under earth in hell. When thou, attended gloriously from heaven, Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send The summoning archangels to proclaim Thy dread tribunal : forthwith from all winds LOS?* 45 The living, and forthwith the cited dead Of all past ages, to the general doom Shall hasten ; such a peal shall rouse their sleep. Then, all thy saints assembled, thou shalt judge Bad men and angels ; they arraign' d shall sink Beneath thy sentence ; hell, her numbers full, Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Meanwhile The world shall burn, and from her ashes spring New 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 triumphing, and fair truth Then thou thy regal sceptre shalt lay by, For regal sceptre then no more shall need God shall be all in all. But, all ye gods, Adore him, who to compass all this dies Adore the Son, and honour him as me. No sooner had the Almighty ceased, but all The multitude of angels with a shout, Loud as from numbers without number, sweet As from blest voices, uttering joy, heaven rung With jubilee, and loud hosannas fill'd The eternal regions. Lowly reverent Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground With solemn adoration down they cast Their crowns, inwove with amarant and gold, Immortal amarant, a flower which once In Paradise fast by the Tree of Life Began to bloom, but soon for man's offence To heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows, And flowers aloft shading the fount of life, And where the river of bliss through midst of heaven Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream ; With these that never fade the spirits elect Bind their resplendent locks inwreath'd with beams j Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, Impurpled with celestial roses, smiled. Then crown'd again their golden harps they took, Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet Of charming symphony they introduce Their sacred song, and waken raptures high ; No voice exempt, no voice but well could join Melodious 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 invisible Amidst the glorious brightness, where thou sitt'st Throned inaccessible, but when thou shadest The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud, 46 PARADISE LOST. Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine, Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear ; Yet dazzle heaven, that brightest seraphim Approach 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 cloud Made visible, the Almighty Father shines, Whom else no creature can behold : on thee Impress'd 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 down The aspiring dominations. Thou that day Thy Father's dreadful thunder didst not spare, Nor stop thy flaming chariot-wheels, that shook Heaven's everlasting frame, while o'er the necks Thou drovest of warring angels disarray'd. Back from pursuit thy powers with loud acclaim Thee only extoll'd, Son of thy Father's might, To execute fierce vengeance on his foes, Not so on man ; him, through their malice fallen, Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doom So strictly, but much more to pity incline. No sooner did thy dear and only Son Perceive thee purposed not to doom frail man So strictly, but much more to pity inclined, He, to appease thy wrath, and end the strife Of mercy and justice in thy face discern'd, . Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat Second to thee, offer'd himself to die For man's offence. Oh, unexampled love, Love nowhere to be found less than Divine ! Hail, Son of God, Saviour of men, thy name Shall be the copious matter of my song Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise Forget, nor from thy 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 globe Of this round world, whose first convex divides The luminous inferior orbs, enclosed From chaos and the inroad of darkness old, Satan alighted walks : a globe far off It seem'd, now seems a boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night Starless exposed, and ever-threatening storms Of chaos blustering round, inclement sky ; Save on that side which from the wall of heaven, Though distant far, some small reflection gains Of glimmering air, less vex'd with tempest loud Here walk'd the fiend at large in spacious field. PARADISE LOST. 47 As when a vulture on Imatis bred, Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds. Dislodging from a region scarce of prey To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kids On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams ; But in his way lights on the barreu plains Of Sericana, where Chineses drive With sails and wind their cany waggons light : So on this windy sea of land the fiend Walk'd 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 earth Up hither like aerial vapours flew Of all things transitory and vain, when sin With vanity had fill'cl the works of men : Both all things vain, and all who in vain things Built their fond hopes of glory or lasting fame, Or happiness in this or the other life ; All who have their reward on earth, the fruits Of painful superstition and blind zeal, Nought seeking but the praise of men, here find Fit retribution, empty as their deeds ; All the unaccomplished works of Nature's hand, Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mix'd, Dissolved on earth, fleet hither, and in vain, Till final dissolution, wander here, Not in the neighbouring moon, as some have dreamM j Those argent fields more likely habitants, Translated saints, or middle spirits, hold Betwixt the angelical and human kind. Hither of ill-join'd sons and daughters born First from the ancient world those giants came With many a vain exploit, though then renown'd : The builders next of Babel on the plain Of Sennaar, and still with vain design New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build : Othe v s.came single ; he who to be deem'd A god leap'd fondly into ytna flames, Empedocles, and he who to enjoy Plato's Elysium leap'd into the sea, Cleombrotus, and many more too long, Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars, White, black, and gray, with all their trumpery. Here pilgrims roam, that stray'd so far to seek In 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 fix'd, And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs 48 PARADISE LOST. The trepidation talk'cl, and that first moved : And now Saint Peter at heaven's wicket seems To wait them with his keys, and now at foot Of heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when, lo ! A violent cross-wind from either coast Blows them transverse ten thousand leagues awry Into the devious air ; then might ye see Cowls, hoods, and habits, with their wearers toss'd And flutter'd into rags j then relics, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds : all these upwhirl'd aloft Fly o'er the backside of the world far off, Into a limbo large and broad, since call'd The Paradise of fools, to few unknown Long after, now unpeopled, and untrod. All this dark globe the fiend found as he pass'd, And long he wander'd, till at last a gleam Of dawning light turn'd thitherward in haste His travelled steps ; far distant he descries, Ascending by degrees magnificent Up to the wall of heaven, a structure high, At top whereof, but far more rich appear'd The work as of a kingly palace-gate, With frontispiece of diamond and gold Embellish'd ; thick with sparkling orient gems The portal shone, inimitable on earth By model or by shading pencil drawn. The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw Angels ascending and descending, bands Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled To Padan- Aram in the field of Luz, Dreaming by night under the open sky, And waking cried, This is the gate of heaven. Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood There always, but drawn up to heaven sometimes Viewless, and underneath a bright sea flow'd Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon Who after came from earth sailing arrived, Wafted by angels, or flew o'er the lake, Wrapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds. The stairs were then let down, whether to dare The fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss : Direct against which open'd from beneath, Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise, A passage down to the earth, a passage wide, Wider by far than that of after-times Over mount Sion, and, though that were Over the Promised Land to God so dear, By which, to visit oft those happy tribes, On high behests his angels to and fro Pass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regard, PARADISE LOST. 49 From Paneas, the fount of Jordan's flood, To Beersaba, where the Holy Land Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shore ; So wide the opening seem'd, where bounds were set To 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 view Of all this world at once. As when a scout, Through dark and desert ways with peril gone All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, Which to his eye discovers unaware The goodly prospect of some foreign land First seen, or some renown'd metropolis, With glistering spires and pinnacles adorn'd, Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams ; Such wonder seized, though after heaven seen, The spirit malign ; but much more envy seized At sight of all this world beheld so fair. Round he surveys, and well might, where he stood So high above the circling canopy Of night's extended shade, from eastern point Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears Andromeda far off Atlantic seas, "Beyond the horizon : then from pole to pole He views in breadth, and without longer pause Down right into the world's first region throws His flight precipitant, and winds with ease Through the pure marble air his oblique way Amongst innumerable stars, that shone Stars distant, but nigh hand seem'd other worlds ; Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles, Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old, Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales, Thrice happy isles j'but who dwelt happy there He stay'd not to inquire : above them all The 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 his lordly eye keep distance due, Dispenses light from far ; they, as they move Their starry dance in numbers that compute Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp Turn swift their various motions, or are turn'd By his magnetic beam, that gently warms The universe, and to each inward part With gentle penetration, though unseen, Shoots invisible virtue even to the deep \ T 50 PARADISE LOST. So wondrously was set his station bright. There lands the fiend, a spot like which perhaps Astronomer in the sun's lucent orb Through 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 inform'd With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire ; If metal, part seem'd gold, part silver clear ; If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite, Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone In Aaron's breastplate, and a stone besides Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen ; That stone, or like to that, which here below Philosophers in vain so long have sought, In vain, though by their powerful art they bind Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound In various shapes old Proteus from the sea, Drain'd through a limbec to his native form. What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run Potable gold, when with one virtuous touch The arch-chymic sun, so far from us remote, Produces, with terrestrial humour mix'd, Here in the dark so many precious things Of colour glorious and effect so rare ? Here matter new to gaze the devil met Undazzled, far and wide his eye commands, For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sunshine ; as when his beams at noon Culminate from the Equator, as they now Shot upward still direct, whence no way round Shadow from body, opaque can fall, and the air, Nowhere so clear, sharpen'd his visual ray To objects distant far, whereby ho soon Saw within ken a glorious angel stand, The same whom John saw also in the sun : His back was turn'd but not his brightness hid Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiar Circled his head, nor less his locks behind Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings Lay waving round ; on some great charge employ'd He seem'd, or fix'd in cogitation deep. Glad was the spirit impure, as now in hope To find who might direct his wandering flight To 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 face Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb ^ \ t PARADISE LOST. 51 Suitable grace diffused, so well he feign'd ; Under a coronet his flowing hair In curls on either cheek play'd ; wings he wore Of many a colour'd plume sprinkled with gold ; His habit fit for speed succinct, and held Before his decent steps a silver wand. He drew not nigh unheard ; the angel bright, E'er he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd, Admonished by his ear, and straight was known The archangel Uriel, one of the seven, Who in God's presence nearest to his throne Stand ready at command, and are his eyes That run through all the heavens, or down to the earth Bear his swift errands over moist and dry, O'er sea and land : him Satan thus accosts : Uriel, for thou of those seven spirits that stand In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright, The first art wont his great authentic will Interpreter through highest heaven to bring, Where all his sons thy embassy attend ; And here art likeliest by supreme decree Like honour to obtain, and as his eye To visit oft this new creation round ; Unspeakable desire to see, and know All these his wondrous works, but chiefly man, His chief delight and favour, him for whom All these his works so wondrous he ordain'd, Hath brought me from the choirs of cherubim Alone thus wandering. Brightest seraph, tell In which of all these shining orbs hath man His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none, But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell ; That I may find him, and, with secret gaze Or open admiration, him behold, On whom the great Creator hath bestow'd Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces pour'd ; That both in him and all things, as is meet, The universal Maker we may praise, Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes To deepest hell, and, to repair that loss, Created this new happy race of men To serve him better : wise are all his ways. So spake the false dissembler unperceived ; For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone, By his permissive will, through heaven and earth : And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems ; which now for once beguiled Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held 52 PARADISE LOST. The sharpest-sighted spirit of all in heaven : Who to the fraudulent impostor foul In his uprightness answer thus return'd : Fair angel, thy desire, which tends to know The works of God, thereby to glorify The great Work-Master, leads to no excess That reaches blame, but rather merits praise The more it seems excess, that led thee hither From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps, Contented with report, hear only in heaven : For wonderful indeed are all his works, Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all Had in remembrance always with delight : But what created mind can comprehend Their number, or the wisdom infinite That 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 uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined ; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung. Swift to their several quarters hasted then The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire, And this ethereal quintessence of heaven Flew upward, spirited with various forms, That roll'd orbicular, and turn'd to stars Numberless, 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 side With light from hence, though but reflected, shines ; That place is earth, the seat of man, that light His day, which else as the other hemisphere Night would invade, but there the neighbouring moon, So call that opposite fair star, her aid Timdy interposes, and her monthly round Still ending, still renewing, through mid heaven, With borrow'd light her countenance triform Hence fills and empties to enlighten the earth, And in her pale dominion checks the night. That spot to which I point is Paradise, Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bower : Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires. Thus said, he turn'd, and Satan bowing low. As to superior spirits is wont in heaven, Where honour due and reverence none neglects, Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath, Down from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success, Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel, Nor stay'd, till on Niphates' top he lights. PARADISE LOST. 53 BOOK IV. 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 de- spair ; 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 the 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 resolu- tion 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 trans- gress ; then leaves them awhile 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 afterwards by his furious gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Ev discourse of going to their rest : their bower described ; their evening worship. Gabriel, drawing forth his bands of night-watch to walk the round of Paradise, appoints two strong angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping ; there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel ; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers, prepares resistance, but, hindered by a sign from heaven, flies out of Paradise. OH, for that warning voice, which he, who saw The apocalypse, heard cry in heaven aloud, Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, Came furious down to be revenged on men, Woe to the inhabitants on earth ! that now, While time was, our first parents had been warn'd The coming of their secret foe, and 'scaped, Haply so 'scaped, his mortal snare ; for now Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down, The tempter ere the accuser of mankind, To wreak on innocent frail man his loss Of that first battle, and his flight to hell : Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold, Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast, Begins his dire attempt, which, nigh the birth Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast, And, like a devilish engine, back recoils Upon himself ; horror and doubt distract His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The hell within him, for within him hell lie brings, and round about him, nor from hell One step, no more than from himself, can fly By change of place : now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse ; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue. Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view 54 PARADISE LOST. Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad ; Sometimes towards heaven, and the full-blazing sun, Which now sat high in his meridian tower : Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began : O thou that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion, like the god Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state 1 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 return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none ; nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks ? How due ! yet all his good proved ill in me, And wrought but malice ; lifted up so high I 'sdain'd subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of end less gratitude, So burdensome, still paying, still to owe ; Forgetful what from him I still received, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharged ; what burden then ? Oh, had his powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel, I had stood Then happy ; no unbounded hope had raised Ambition. Yet why not ? some other power As great might have aspired, and me though mean Brawn to his part ; but other powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand ? Thou hadst : whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But 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 will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable ! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell J And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide ; To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. Oh, then, at last relent : is there no place fARADISE LOST. 55 Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? None left but by submission ; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue The Omnipotent. Ay me ! they little know How 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 supreme In misery ; such joy ambition finds. But say I could repent, and could obtain By act of grace my former state ; how soon Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore : ease would racant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall : so should I purchase dear Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my Punisher ; therefore as far From granting he, as I from begging peace : All hope excluded thus, behold instead Of 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 least Divided empire with heaven's King I hold, By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign ; As man ere long and this new world shall know. Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy, and despair, Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'd Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld : For heavenly minds from such distempers foul Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calm, Artificer of fraud ; and was the first That practised falsehood under saintly show, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge. Vet not enough had practised to deceive Uriel once warn'd ; whose eye pursued him down The way he went, and on the Assyrian mount Saw him disfigured, more than could befall Spirit of happy sort : his gestures fierce He mark'd, and mad demeanour, then alone, As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen. So on he fares, and to the border comes 56 PARADISE LOST. Of Eden, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound, the champaign head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access denied ; and overhead up grew Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops The verdurous wall of Paradise up-sprung ; Which to our general sire gave prospect large Into his nether empire neighbouring round. And higher than that wall a circling row Of goodliest trees laden with fairest fruit, Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue Appear'd, with gay enamelled colours mix'd : On which the sun more glad impress'd his beams, Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow, When God hath shower'd the earth ; so lovely seem'd That landscape : and of pure now purer air Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair : now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambique, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest, with such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles : So entertain'd those odorous sweets the fiend Who came their bane, though with them better pleased Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume, That drove him, though enamour'd, from the spouse Of Tobit's so* , and with a vengeance sent From Media post to Egypt, there fast bound. Now to the ascent of that steep savage hill Satan had journey'd on, pensive and slow ; But further way found none, so thick entwined, As one continued brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplex' d All path of man or beast that pass'd that way. One gate there only was, and that look'd east On the other side : which when the arch-felon saw, Due entrance he disdain'd, and in contempt At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within Lights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf, PARADISE LOST. 57 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 cash Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors, Cross-barr'd and bolted fast, fear no assault, Tn 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 life Thereby regain'd, but sat devising death To them who lived ; nor on the virtue thought Of that life-giving plant, but only used For prospect, what well used had been the pledge Of immortality. So little knows Any, but God alone, to value right The good before him, but perverts best things To 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 Paradise Of God the garden was, by him in the east Of Eden planted ; Eden stretch'd her line From Auran eastward to the royal towers Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings, Or where the sons of Eden long before Dwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soil His far more pleasant garden God ordain'd j Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste ; AnH all amid them stood the tree of life, High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold, and next to life Our death, the tree of knowledge, grew fast by, Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill. Southward through Eden went a river large, Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill Pass'd underneath ingulf'd ; for God had thrown That mountain as his garden mould, high raised Upon the rapid current, which, through veins Of porous earth with kindly thirst up-drawn, Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill Water'd the garden ; thence united fell Down 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 realm And country, whereof here needs no account; 58 PARADISE LOST. But rather to tell how, if art could tell, How from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks, Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold, With mazy error under pendent shades Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice art In beds and curious knots, but nature boon Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and 'dale, and plain, Both where the morning sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierced shade Imbrown'd 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, burnish'd with golden rind, Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true, If true, here only, and of delicious taste. Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flock Grazing the tender herb, were interposed, Or palmy hillock, or the flowery lap Of some irriguous valley spread her store, Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose. Another side, umbrageous grots and caves Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant : meanwhile murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake, That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams. The birds their choir apply ; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring. Not that fair field Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis Was gather'd, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world ; nor that sweet grove Of Daphne by Orontes and the inspired Castalian spring might with this Paradise Of Eden strive ; nor that Nyseian isle Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham, Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Lybian Jove, Hid Amalthea and her florid son Young Bacchus from his stepdame Rhea's eye ; Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard, Mount Amara, though this by some supposed True Paradise, under the Ethiop line By Nilus's head, enclosed with shining rock, A whole day's journey high, but wide remote From this Assyrian garden, where the fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kind Of living creatures new to sight and strange. ._ u*c &f fravt- . /fee , &tsxz/. & .**, -, ^ PARADISE LOST. 59 Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honour clad lu naked majesty, seem'd lords of all, And worthy seem'd : for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom placed, Whence true authority in men : though both Not equal, as their sex not equal, seem'd ; For contemplation he and valour form'd, For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; He for God only, she for God in him. His fair large front and eye sublime declared Absolute rule ; and hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad : She as a veil down to the slender waist Her unadorned golden tresses wore Dishevell'd, but in wanton ringlets waved As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied Subjection, but required with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best received, Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet reluctant amorous delay. Nor those mysterious parts were then conceal'd j Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shame Of nature's works, honour dishonourable, Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure, And banish'd from man's life his happiest life, Simplicity and spotless innocence ! So pass'd they naked on, nor shunn'd the sight Of God or angel, for they thought no ill : So hand in hand they pass'd, the loveliest pair That ever since in love's embraces met, Adam the goodliest man of men since born His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve. Under a tuft of shade, that on a green Stood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain side They sat them down, and, after no more toil Of their sweet gardening labour than sufficed To recommend cool zephyr, and made ease More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite More grateful, to their supper-fruits they fell, Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs Yielded them, sidelong as they sat recline On the soft downy bank damask'd with flowers. The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind, Stiil as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream 5 Nor gentle purpose nor endearing smiles Wanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseems Fair couple, link'd in happy nuptial league 60 PARADISE LOST. Alone as they. About them frisking play'd All beasts of the earth, since wild, and of all chase In wood or wilderness, forest or den ; Sporting the lion romp'd, and in his paw Dandled the kid ; bears, tigers, ounces, pards, Gamboll'd before them ; the unwieldy elephant, To make them mirth, used all his might, and wreathed His lithe proboscis ; close the serpent sly Insinuating wove with Gordian twine His braided train, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded ; others on the grass Couch'd, and now fill'd with pasture gazing sat, Or bedward ruminating ; for the sun Declined was hasting now with prone career To the ocean isles, and in the ascending scale Of heaven the stars that usher evening rose : When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarce thus at length fail'd speech recover'd sad : O hell ! what do mine eyes with grief behold ? Into our room of bliss thus high advanced Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, Not spirits, yet to heavenly spirits bright Little inferior ; whom my thoughts pursue With wonder, and could love, so lively shines In them divine resemblance, and such grace The Hand that form'd them on their shape hath pour'd ! Ah, gentle pair, ye little think how nigh Your change approaches, when all these delights Will vanish and deliver ye to woe, More woe, the more your taste is now of joy : Happy, but for so happy ill secured Long to continue ; and this high seat your heaven III fenced for heaven to keep out such a foe As now is enter'd ; yet no purposed foe To you, whom I could pity thus forlorn, Though I unpitied. League with you I seek, And mutual amity, so straight, so close, That I with you must dwell, or you with me Henceforth : my dwelling haply may not please, Like this fair Paradise, your sense ; yet such Accept your 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 receive Your numerous offspring ; if no better place, Thank him who puts me lo'Jl to this revenge On you, who wrong me not, ibr him who wrong'd. And should I at your harmless innocence Melt, as I do, yet public reason just, Honour and empire wi'h revenge enlarged, PARADISE LOST. 61 By conquering this new world, compels me now To do, what else, though damn'd, I should abhor So spake the fiend, and with necessity, The tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds. Then from his lofty stand on that high tree Down he alights among the sportful herd Of those four-footed kinds, himself now one, Now other, as their shape served best his end Nearer to view his prey, and unespied To mark what of their state he more might learn By word or action mark'd : about them round A lion now he stalks with fiery glare, Then as a tiger, who by chance hath spied In some purlieu two gentle fawns at play, Straight couches close, then rising changes, oft His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground, Whence rushing he might surest seize them both Griped in each paw : when Adam, first of men, To first of women Eve thus moving speech, Turn'd him all ear to hear new utterance flow : Sole partner and sole part of all these joys, Dearer thyself than all, needs must the Power That made us, and for us this ample world, Be infinitely good, and of his good As liberal and free as infinite, That raised us from the dust and placed us here In all this happiness, who at his hand Have nothing merited, nor can perform Aught whereof he hath need, he who requires From us no other service than to keep This one, this easy charge, of all the trees In Paradise that bear delicious fruit So various, not to taste that only tree Of 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'st God hath pronounced it death to taste that tree, The only sign of our obedience left Among so many signs of power and rule Conferr'd upon us, and dominion given Over all other creatures that possess Earth, air, and sea. Then let us not think hard One easy prohibition, who enjoy Free leave so large to all things else, and choice Unlimited of manifold delights : But let us ever praise him and extol His bounty, following our delightful task To prune these growing plants, and tend these flewers Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet : To whom thus Eve replied : O thou, for whom And from whom I was form'd flesh of thy flesh, And without whom am to no end, my guide 62 PARADISE LOST. And head, what thou hast said is just and right : For we to him indeed all praises owe, And daily thanks ; I chiefly, who enjoy So far the happier lot, enjoying thee Pre-eminent by so much odds, while thou Like consort to thyself canst nowhere find. That day I oft remember, when from sleep I first awaked, and found myself reposed Under a shade on flowers, much wondering where And what I was, whence thither brought, and how Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound Of waters issued from a cave, and spread Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved, Pure as the expanse of heaven ; I thither went With unexperienced thought, and laid me down On the green bank, to look into the clear Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky. As I bent down to look, just opposite A shape within the watery gleam appear'd Bending to look' on me : I started back, It started back ; but pleased I soon return'd, Pleased it return'd as soon with answering looks Of sympathy and love : there I had fix'd Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire, Had not a voice thus warn'd me, What thou seest, What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself; With thee it came and goes : but follow me, And I will bring thee where no shadow stays Thy coming, and thy soft embraces ; he Whose image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd Mother of human race. What could I do, But follow straight, invisibly thus led ? Till I espied thee, fair indeed and tall, Under a plantain ; yet, methought, less fair, Less winning soft, less amiably mild, Than that smooth watery image ; back I turn'd. Thou following criedst aloud, Return, fair Eve, Whom fliest thou ? whom thou fliest, of him thou art. His flesh, his bone ; to give thee being I lent Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart, Substantial life, to have thee by my side Henceforth an individual solace dear ; Part of my soul, I seek thee, and thee claim, My other half. With that thy gentle hand Seized mine ; I yielded, and from that time see How beauty is excell'd by manly grace, And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. So spake our general mother, and with eyes Of conjugal attraction unreproved, And meek surrender, half-embracing lean'd PARADISE LOST. 63 On our first father ; half her swelling breast Naked met his under the flowing gold Of hex loose tresses hid : he, in delight Both of her beauty and submissive charms, Smiled with superior love, as Jupiter On Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds That shed May flowers, and press'd her matron lip With kisses pure : aside the devil turn'd For envy, yet with jealous leer malign Eyed them askance, and to himself thus plain'd : Sight hateful, sight tormenting ! thus these two Imparadised in one another's arms. The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill Of bliss on bliss, while I to hell am thrust. Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, Among our other torments not the least, Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines. Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd From their own mouths : all is not theirs, it seems ; One fatal tree there stands of knowledge call'd Forbidden them to taste : knowledge forbidden ? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that ? Can it be sin to know ? Can it be death? And do they only stand By ignorance ? Is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith ? O fair foundation laid whereon to build Their ruin ! Hence I will excite their minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, invented with design To keep them low, whom knowledge might exalt Equal with gods ; aspiring to be such, They taste and'die : what likelier can ensue? But first with narrow search I must walk round This garden, and no corner leave unspied ; A chance but chance may lead where I may meet Some wandering spirit of heaven, by fountain side, Or in thick shade retired, from him to draw What further would be learn'd. Live while ye may, Yet happy pair ; enjoy, till I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, But with sly circumspection, and began Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his roam, Meanwhile, in utmost longitude, where heaven With earth and ocean meets, the setting sun Slowly descended, and with right aspect Against the eastern gate of Paradise Levell'd his evening rays : it was a rock Of alabaster, piled up to the clouds, Conspicuous far, winding with one ascent Accessible from earth, one entrance high ; 64 PARADISE LOST. The rest was craggy cliff, that overhung Still as it rose, impossible to climb. Betwixt these rocky pillars Gabriel sat, Chief of the angelic guards, awaiting night ; About him exercised heroic games The unarmed youth of heaven ; but nigh at hand Celestial armoury, shields, helms, and spears, Hung high with diamond flaming, and with golcL Thither came Uriel, gliding through the even On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star In autumn 'thwart the night, when vapours fired Impress the air, and sho\v the mariner From what point of his compass to beware Impetuous winds ; he thus began in haste : Gabriel, to thee thy course by lot hath given Charge and strict watch, that to this happy place No evil thing approach or enter in : This day at height of noon came to my sphere A spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know More of the Almighty's works, and chiefly man, God's latest image : I described his way Bent all on speed, and mark'd his aery gait ; But in the mount that lies from Eden north, Where he first lighted, soon discern'd his looks Alien from heaven, with passions foul obscured : Mine eye pursued him still, but under shade Lost sight of him ; one of the banish'd crew, I fear, hath ventured from the deep to raise New troubles ; him thy care must be to find. To whom the winged warrior thus returned : Uriel, no wonder if thy perfect sight, Amid the sun's bright circle where thou sitt'st, See far and wide : in at this gate none pass The vigilance here placed, but such as come Well known from heaven ; and since meridian hour No creature thence. If spirit of other sort, So minded, have o'erleap'd these earthly bounds On purpose, hard thou know'st it to exclude Spiritual substance with corporeal bar. But if within the circuit of these walks, In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom Thou tell'st, by morrow dawning I shall know. So promised he, and Uriel to his charge Return'd on that bright beam, whose point now raised Bore him slope downward to the sun, now fallen Beneath the Azores ; whither the prime orb, Incredible how swift, had thither roll'd Diurnal, or this less voluble earth, By shorter flight to the east, had left him there, Arraying with reflected purple and gold The clouds that on his western throne attend. Now came still evening on, and twilight gray PARADISE LOST. 65 Had in her sober livery all things clad ; Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nee'.' Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; She all night long her amorous descant sung ; Silence was pleased: now glow'd the firmament With living sapphires; Hesperus that led The starry host rode brightest, till the inocn, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen unvcil'd her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. When Adam thus to Eve : Fair consort, the h 1 * Of night and all things now retired to rest Mind us of like repose, since God hath set Labour and rest, as clay and night, to men Successive, and the timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines Our eyelids : other creatures all day long Rove idle, unemploy'd, and less need rest : Man hath his daily \vcrk of body or mind Appointed, which declares his dignity, And the regard of Heaven on all his ways ; While other animals inactive range, And of their doings God takes no account. To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the east With first approach of light, we must be risen. And at our pleasant labour, to reform Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green, Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown, That mock our scant manuring, and require More hands than ours to lop their wanton gro-u- ; Those blossoms also and those dropping gums, That lie bestrewn unsightly and tmsmooth, Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease : Meanwhile, as nature wills, night bids us rest To whom thus Eve, Avith perfect beauty 'dorn'd : My author and disposer, what thou bidd'st Unargued I obey, so God ordains ; God is thy law, thou mine ; to know no more. Ls woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. With thee conversing I forget all time, .\11 seasons and their change, all please alike. ^ \vcet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night. With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train: Lut neither breath of morn, when she ascends E PARADISE LOST. '\Yiih charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew, nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night \Vith this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet. But wherefore all night long shine these? for whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? To whom our general ancestor replied : Daughter of God and man, accomplish'd Eve, These have their course to finish, round the earth By morrow evening, and from land to land In order, though to nations yet unborn, Ministering light prepared, they set and rise ; Lest total darkness should by night regain Her old possession, and extinguish life In nature and all things, which these soft fires Not only enlighten, but with kindly heat Of various influence foment and warm, Temper or nourish, or in part shed down Their stellar virtue on all kinds that grow On earth, made hereby apter to receive Perfection 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 earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep. All these with ceaseless praise his works behold Both day and night : how often from the steep Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive each to other's note, Singing their great Creator? oft in bands While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds In full harmonic number join'd, their songs Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to heaven. Thus talking hand in hand alone they pass'd On to their blissful bower ; it was a place Chosen by the sovereign Planter, when he framed All things to man's delightful use : the roof Of thickest covert was inwoven shade, Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side Acanthus and each odorous bushy shrub Fenced up the verdant wall, each beauteous flower, Iris all hues, roses, and jessamine Rear'd high their flourisn'd heads between, and wrought Mosaic ; under foot the violet, Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay ftroider'd the ground, more coJour'd than with stone PARADISE LOST, Of costliest emblem : other creature here, Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none ; Such was their awe of man. In shadier bower More sacred and sequester'd, though but feign'd, Pan or Sylvan us never slept ; nor nymph, Nor Faunus haunted. Here in close recess With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs, Espoused Eve deck'd first her nuptial bed, And heavenly choirs the hymenean sung What day the genial angel to our sire Brought her in naked beauty more adorn'd More lovely than Pandora, whom the gods Endow'd with all their gifts, and oh, too like In sad event, when to the unwiser son Of Japhet brought by Hermes she ensnared Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. Thus, at their shady lodge arrived, both stood, Both turn'd, and under open sky adored The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven, Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, And starry pole. Thou also madest the night, Maker Omnipotent, and thou the day, Which we in our appointed work employ'd Have finish'd, happy in our mutual help And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss Ordain'd by thee, and this delicious place For us too targe, where thy abundance wants Partakers, and uncropp'd falls to the ground But thou hast promised from us two a race To fill the earth, who shall with us extol Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep. This said unanimous, and other rites Observing none, but adoration pure Which God likes best, into their inmost bower Handed they went ; and, eased the putting off These troublesome disguises which we wear, Straight side by side were laid ; nor turn'd, I ween, Adam from his fair spouse ; nor Eve the rites Mysterious of connubial love refused : Whatever hypocrites austerely talk Of purity, and place, and innocence, Defaming as impure what God declares Pure, and commands to some, leaves free to all. Our Maker bids increase ; who bids abstain But our destroyer, foe to God and man ? Hail, wedded love, mysterious law, true source Of human offspring, sole propriety In Paradise of all things common else ! By thee adulterous lust was driven from men Among the bestial herds to range ; by thee 68 PARADISE LOST. Founded in reason, loyal, just, ana pure, Relations dear, and all the charities Of father, son, and brother, first were known. Far be it, that I should write thee sin or blame, Or think thee unbefitting holiest place, Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, Whose bed is undefiled and chaste pronounced, Present, or past, as saints and patriarchs used. Here Love his golden shafts employs, here lights His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings, Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought srr.Ue Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendeard, Casual fruition ; nor in court amours. Mix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball, Or serenate, which the starved lover sings To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain. These, lull'd by nightingales, embracing slept, And on their naked limbs the flowery roof Shower' d roses, which the morn repair'd. Sleep on, Blest pair, and oh, yet happiest if ye seek No happier state, and know to know no more. Now had night measured with her shr.^uwy cons Half way up hill this vast sublunar vault, And from their ivory port the cherubim, Forth issuing at the accustom' d hour, stood arm'd To their night watches in warlike parade, When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake : Uzziel, half these draw off, and coast the south With strictest watch ; these other wheel the north ; Our circuit meets full west. As flame they part, Half wheeling to the shield, half to the spear. From these, two strong and subtle spirits he call'd That near him stood, and gave them thus in charge : Ithuviel and Zephon, with winged speed Search through this garden, leave unsearch'd no nook ; But chiefly where those two fair creatures lodge, Now laid perhaps asleep, secure of harm. Phis evening from the sun's decline arrived, Who tells of some infernal spirit seen Hitherward bent, who could have thought ? escapes The bars of hell, on errand bad no doubt : Such, where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring. So saying, on he led his radiant files, Dazzling the moon ; these to the bower direct In search of whom they sought : him there they found, Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve ; Essaying by his devilish art to reach The organs of her fancy, and with them forge Illusions as he list, phantasms, and dreams ; Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint The animal spirits that, from pure blood arise Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise PARADISE LOST. 69 At least distemper'd, discontented thoughts, Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires Blown up with high conceits engendering pride. Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear Touch'd lightly; for no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper, but returns Offeree to its own likeness : up he starts, Discovered and surprised. As when a spark Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid Fit for the tun, some magazine to store Against a rumour'd war, the smutty grain With sudden blaze diffused inflames the air : So started up in his own shape the fiend. Back stepp'd those two fair angels, half amazed So sudden to behold the grisly king ; Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon : Which of those rebel spirits adjudged to hell Comest thou, escaped thy prison ? and transform'd, Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait, Here watching at the head of these that sleep ? Know ye not, then, said Satan, fill'd with scorn, Know ye not me ? ye knew me once no mate For 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 begin Your message, like to end as much in vain ? To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn, Think not, revolted spirit, thy shape the same Or undiminish'd brightness, to be known 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 now Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foul. But come, for thou, be sure, shalt give account To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep This place inviolable, and these from harm. So spake the cherub, and his grave rebuke, Severe in youthful beauty, added grace Invincible : abash'd the devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely ; saw, and pined His loss ; but chiefly to find here observed His lustre visibly impair'd ; yet seem'd Undaunted. 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 do Single against thee wicked, and thence weak. The fiend replied not, overcome with rage ; But, like a proud steed rein'd, went ha'ighty on. 70 PARADISE LOST. Champing his iron curb : to strive or fly He held it vain ; awe from above had quell'd His heart, not else dismay'd. Now drew they nigh The western point, where those half-rounding guards Just met, and closing stood in squadron join'd, Awaiting next command. To whom their chief, Gabriel, from the front thus call'd aloud : O friends, I hear the tread of nimble feet Hasting this way, and now by glimpse discern Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade, And with them comes a third of regal port, But faded splendour wan ; who by his gait And fierce demeanour seems the prince of hell, Nor 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 couch'd. To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake : Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescribed To thy transgressions, and disturb'd the charge Of others, who approve not to transgress By thy example, but have power and right To question thy bold entrance on this place, Employ'd, it seems, to violate sleep, and those Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss ? To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow : Gabriel, thou hadst in heaven the esteem of wise, And such I held thee ; but this question ask'd Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain ? Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, Though thither doom'd ? Thou wouldst thyself, no doubt, And boldly venture to whatever place Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to change Torment with ease, and soonest recompense Dole with delight, which in this place I sought : To thee no reason, who know'st only good, But evil hast not tried : and wilt object His will who bound us ? Let him surer bar His iron gates, if he intends our stay In that dark durance : thus much what was ask'd. The rest is true ; they found me where they say ; But that implies not violence or harm. Thus he in scorn. The warlike angel moved, Disdainfully half smiling, thus replied : O loss of one in heaven to judge of wise, Since Satan fell, whom folly overthrew, And now returns him from his prison 'scaped, Gravely in doubt whether to l.old them wise Or not, who ask what boldness brought him hither Unlicensed from his bounds iu hell prescribed : So wise he judges it to fly from pain. PARADISE LOST. However, and to 'scape his punishment So judge them still, presumptuous, till the wrath, Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight Sevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to hell, Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain Can equal anger infinite provoked. I'.ut wherefore thou alone? wherefore with thee Came not all hell broke loose ? is pain to them Less pain, less to be fled, or thou than they Less hardy to endure ? Courageous chief, The first in flight from pain, haclst thou alleged To thy deserted host this cause of flight, Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. To which the fiend thus answer'd, frowning stern ? Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, Insulting angel, well thou know'st I stood Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid The blasting volley'cl thunder made all speed, And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. But still thy words at random, as before, Argue thy inexperience what behoves, From hard essays and ill successes past, A. faithful leader, not to hazard all Through ways of danger by himself untried. I therefore, I alone, first undertook To wing the desolate abyss, and spy This new-created world, whereof in hell Fame is not silent, here in hope to find Better abode, and my afflicted powers To settle here on earth, or in mid air ; Though for possession put to try once more What thou and thy gay legions dare against ; Whose easier business were to serve their Lord High 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 fust Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, Argues no leader, but a liar traced, Satan, and couldst thou faithful add ? O name, ( ) sacred name of faithfulness profaned ! Faithful to whom ? to thy rebellious crew ? Army of fiends, ht body to fit head : Was this your discipline and faith engaged, Your military obedience, to dissolve Allegiance to the acknowledged Power Supreme ? And thou sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem Patron of liberty, who more than thou Once fawn'd, and cringed, and servilely adored Heaven's awful Monarch? wherefore but in hope To dispossess him, and thyself to reign ? But mark what I areed thee now, Avaunt ; 7-2 PARADISE LOST. Fly thither whence them fledst : if from this hour Within these hallow'cl limits thou appear, Hack to the infernal pit I drag thee chain'd, And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn The facile gates of hell too slightly barr'd. So threaten'd he ; but Satan to no threats Gave heed, but waxing more in rage replied : Then, when I am thy captive, talk of chains, Proud limitary cherub ; but ere then Far heavier load thyself expect to feel From my prevailing arm ; though heaven's King Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, Used to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels In progress through the road of heaven star-paved. While thus he spake, the angelic squadron bright Furn'd fiery red, sharpening in mooned horns Their phalanx, and began to hem him round With ported spears, as thick as when a field Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Jways them ; the careful ploughman doubting stands, Lest on the threshing-floor his hopeful sheaves Prove chaff. On the other side, Satan alarm'd, Collecting all his might, dilated stood, Like Teneriff or Atlas unremoved : His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest Sat horror plumed ; nor wanted in his grasp What seem'd both spear and shield. Now dreadful deeds Might have ensued, nor only Paradise In this commotion, but the starry cope Of heaven perhaps, or all the elements At least had gone to wrack, disturb'd and torn \Vith violence of this conflict, had not soon The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray, Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seen Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign, Wherein all things created first he weigh'd, The pendulous round earth with balanced air In counterpoise ; now ponders all events, Battles, and realms : in these he put two weights, The sequel each of parting and of fight : The latter quick up flew and kick'd the beam : Which Gabriel spying thus bespake the fiend : Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'^t mine : Neither our own but given ; what fo'ly then To boast what arms can do, since thine no more Than Heaven permits, nor mine, though do.ubled now, To trample thee as mire? for proof look up, And read thy lot in yon celestial sign. PARADISE LOST. 73 Where thou art weigh 'd, and shown how li<;ht, how weak, If thou resist. The fiend look'd up, and knew His mounted scale aloft : nor more ; but fled Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night. .BOOK V, THE ARGUMENT. Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream ; he likes it not, yet comforts her ; they come forth to their day-labours ; their morn- ing hymn at the door of their bower. God, to render man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand, who he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradise ; his appear- ance described ; his coming discerned by Adam afar off, sitting at the door of his bower ; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choicest fruits of Paradise, got together by Eve ; their dis- course at table : Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his state, and of his enemy ; relates, at Adam's request, who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his first revolt in heaven, and the occa- sion thereof; how he drew his legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them to rebel with hitn, persuading all but only Abdiel, a seraph, who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him. Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so 'custom'd, for his sleep Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapours bland, which the only sound Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song Of birds on every bough ; so much the more His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek, As through unquiet rest : he, on his side Leaning, half-raised, with looks of cordial love Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces ; then with voice Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus : Awake, My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight, Awake ; the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us ; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet. Such whispering waked her, but with startied eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake : O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, 74 PARADISE LOST. My glory, my perfection, glad I see Thy face and morn return'd ; for I this night, Such night till this I never pass'd, have dream'd, If dream'd, not, as I oft am wont, of thee, Works of day pass'd, or morrow's next design ; But of offence and trouble, which my mind Knew never till this irksome night. Methought Close at mine ear one call'cl me forth to walk With gentle voice ; I thought it* thine : it said, Why sleep'st thou, Eve ? now is the pleasant time, The cool, the silent, save where silence yields To the night- warbling bird, that now awake Tunes sweetest his love-labour' d song ; now reigns Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light Shadowy sets off the face of things ; in vain, If none regard ; heaven wakes with all his eyes, Whom, to behold but thee, nature's desire, In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze. I rose as at thy call, but found thee not ; To find thee I directed then my walk ; And on, methought, alone I pass'd through ways That brought me on a sudden to the tree Of interdicted knowledge ; fair it seem VI, Much fairer to my fancy than by day : And as I wondering look'd, beside it stood One shaped and wing'd like one of those from heaven By us oft seen ; his dewy locks distill'd Ambrosia ; on that tree he also gazed ; And oh, fair plant, said he, with fruit surcharged. Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet, Nor God, nor man ? is knowledge so despised ? Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste ? Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold Longer thy offer'd good ; why else set here? This said, he paused not, but with venturous arm He pluck'd, he tasted ; me damp horror chill'd At such bold words vouch'd with a. deed so bold. But he thus, overjoy'd : O fruit divine, Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropp'd, Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit P'or gods, yet able to make gods of men ; And why not gods of men ; since good, the more Communicated, more abundant grows, The author not impair'd, but honour' d more? Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve, Partake thou also ; happy though thou art, Happier thou mayst be, worthier canst not be ; Taste this, and be henceforth among the gods Thyself a goddess, not to earth confined, But sometimes in the air, as we ; sometime? Ascend to heaven, by merit thine, and see PARADISE LOST. 75 What life the gods live there, and such live thou. So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held, Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part Which he had pluck'd ; the pleasant savoury smell So quicken'd appetite, that I, methought, Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds With him I flew, and underneath beheld The earth outstretch'd immense, a prospect wide And various ; wondering at my flight and change To this high exaltation ; suddenly My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down. And fell asleep ; but oh, how glad I waked To find this but a dream ! Thus Eve her night Related, and thus Adam answer'd sad : Best image of myself, and dearer half, The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep Affects me equally ; nor can I like This uncouth dream, of evil sprung, I fear ; Yet evil whence ? in thee can harbour none, Created pure. But know, that in the soul Are many lesser faculties, that serve Reason as chief : among these, Fancy next Her office holds ; of all external things, Which the five watchful senses represent, She forms imaginations, aery shapes, Which reason joining, or disjoining, frames All what we affirm, or what deny, and call Our knowledge or opinion ; then retires Into her private cell when nature rests. Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakes To imitate her ; I'nit, misjoining shapes, Wild work produces oft, and most in :lreams, 111 matching words and deeds long past or late. Some such resemblances methinks I find Of our last evening's talk in this thy dream, But with addition strange ; yet be not sad : Evil into the mind of God or man May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind ; which gives me hope That what in sleep tho,u didst abhor to dream, Waking thou never wilt consent to do. Be not dishearten 'd, then, nor cloud those looks That wont to be more cheerful and serene Than when fair morning first smiles on the world ; And let us to our fresh employments rise, Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers, That open now their choicest bosom'd smells, Reserved from night, and kept for thee in store. So cheer'd he his fair spouse, and she was cheer'.} ; But silently a gentle tear let fall From either eye, and wiped them with her hair; Two other precious drops that ready stood, 76 PARADISE LOST. Each in their crystal sluice, he, ere they fell, Kiss'd as the gracious signs of sweet remorse, And pious awe that fear'd to have offended. So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste. But first, from under shady arhoroas roof, Soon as they forth were come to open sight Of day-spring and the sun, who, scarce uprisen With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean-brim, Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray, Discovering in wide landscape all the east Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains, Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began Their orisons, each morning duly paid In various style ; for neither various style Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise Their Maker, in fit strains pronounced or sung Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous veise. More tuneable than needed lute or harp To add more sweetness ; and they thus began : These are thy glorious works. Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels ; for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing ; ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fliest, With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, And ye five other wandering fires, that move In mystic dance not without song, resound His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix And nourish all things, let your ceaseless chant; Vary to our great Maker still new praise. PARADISE LOST. 77 Ye mists and exhalations, that now rise From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Author rise, Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, Rising or falling, still advance his praise. His praise, ye winds that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise : Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise j Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail, universal Lord, be bounteous still To give us only good ; and if the night Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts r'irm peace recover'd soon, and wonted calm. On to their morning's rural work they haste, Among sweet dews and flowers, where any row Of fruit-trees overwoody reach'd too far Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check Fruitless embraces ; or they led the vine To wed her elm ; she spoused about him twines Her marriageable arms, and with her brings Her dower, the adopted clusters, to adorn His barren leaves. Them, thus employ 'd, beheld With pity heaven's high King, and to him call'd Raphael, the sociable spirit, that deign'd To travel with Tobias, and secured His marriage with the seven-times-wedded maid. Raphael, said he, thou hear'st what stir on earth Satan, from hell 'scaped through the darksome gulf, Hath raised in Paradise ; and how disturb'd This night the human pair ; how he designs In them at once to ruin all mankind. Go, therefore, half this day as friend with friend Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade Thou fmd'st him from the heat of noon retired, To respite his day-labour with repast, Or with repo.-e ; and such discourse bring on As may advise him of his happy state ; Happiness in his power left free to will, Left to his own free will, his will though free, PARADISE LOST. Yet mutable ; whence warn him to beware He swerve not too secure : tell him withal His danger, and from whom ; what enemy, Late fallen himself from heaven, is plotting now The fall of others from like state of bliss ; By violence ? no ; for that shall be withstood, But by deceit and lies ; this let him know, Lest wilfully transgressing he pretend Surprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd. So spake the Eternal Father, and fulfill'd All justice : nor delay'd the winged saint After his charge received ; but from among Thousand celestial ardours, where he stood Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light Flew through the midst of heaven ; the angelic choir?. On each hand parting, to his speed gave way Through all the empyreal road ; till, at the gate Of heaven arrived, the gate self-opeivd wide On golden hinges turning, as by work Divine the sovereign Architect had framed. From hence no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight, Star interposed, however small he sees, Not unconform to other shining globes, Earth and the garden of God, with cedars crown'd Above all hills. As when by night the glass Of Gahleo, less assured, observes Imagined lands and regions in the moon : Or pilot, from amidst the Cyclades, Delos, or Samos, first appearing, kens A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan Winnows the buxom air ; till, within soar Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems A phcenix, gazed by all, as that sole bird, When, to enshrine his relics in the sun's Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies. At once on the eastern cliff of Paradise He lights ; and to his proper shape returns A seraph wing'd : six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments divine ; the pair that clad Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast With regal ornament ; the middle pair Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold, And colours dipp'd in heaven ; the third his feet Shadow' d from either heel with feather'd mail Sky-tinctured grain. Like Maia's son he stood, And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'd The circuit wide. Straight knew him all the bands Of angels unde- " r atch ; and to his state, PARADISE LOST. 79 And to his message high, in honour rise ; For on some message high they guess'd him bound Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and balm ; A wilderness of sweets ; for Nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss. Him through the spicy forest onward come Adam discern'd, as in the door he sat Of his cool bower, while now the mounted .sjm Shot down direct his fervid rays, to warm Earth's inmost womb, more warmth than Adam needs 5 And Eve within, due at her hour prepared For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please True appetite, and not disrelish thirst Of nectarous draughts between, from milky stream, Berry, or grape, to whom thus Adam call'd : Haste hither, Eve, and worth thy sight beb" ] ' ] Eastward among those trees, what glorious shape Comes this way moving, seems another morn Risen on mid-noon ; some great behest from heaven To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe This day to be our guest. But go with spec' 1 , And what thy stores contain bring forth, pml pour Abundance, fit to honour and receive Our heavenly stranger ; well we may afford Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow From large bestow'd, where nature multiplies Her fertile growth, and by disburdening grows More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare. To whom thus Eve: Adam, earth's hallow'd mouldj Of God inspired, small store will serve, where store All seasons ripe for use hangs on the stalk ; Save what by frugal storing firmness gains To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes. But I will haste, and from each bough and brake, Each plant and juiciest gourd, will pluck such r) ; ^i c c To entertain our angel-guest, as he Beholding shall confess, that here on earth God hath dispensed his bounties as in heaven. So saying, with despatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent What choice to choose for delicacy best, What order, so contrived as not to mix Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste upheld with kindliest chartf- ; Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk Whatever earth, all-bearing mother, yields In India east or west, or middle shore, In Pontus, or the Punic coast, or where 8o PARADISE LOST. Alcinb'us reign 'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat, Rough, or smooth rind, or bearded husk, or shell, She gathers, tribute large, and on the board Heaps with unsparing hand ; for drink the grape She crushes, innoffensive must, and meaths From many a berry, and from sweet kernels press'd vShe tempers dulcet creams, nor these to hold Wants her fit vessels pure ; then strews the ground With rose and odours from the shrub unfumed. Meanwhile our primitive great sire, to meet His god-like guest, walks forth, without more train Accompanied than with his own complete Perfections ; in himself was all his state, More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits On princes, when their rich retinue long Of horses led, and grooms besmear' d with gold, Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape. Nearer his presence Adam, though not awed, Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek, As to a superior nature, bowing low, Thus said : Native of heaven, for other place None can than heaven such glorious shape contain ' Since by descending from the thrones above, Those happy places thou hast deign'd a while To want, and honour these, vouchsafe with us Two only, who yet by sovereign gift possess This spacious ground, in yonder shady bower To rest, and what the garden choicest bears To sit and taste, till this meridian heat Be over, and the sun more cool decline. Whom thus the angelic Virtue answer' d mild : Adam, I therefore came, nor art thou such Created, or such place hast here to dwell, As may not oft invite, though spirits of heaven, To visit thee ; lead on then where thy bower O'ershades ; for these mid-hours, till evening rise, I have at will. So to the sylvan lodge They came, that like Pomona's arbour smiled With flowerets deck'd and fragrant smells ; but Eve Undeck'd, save \vith herself, more lovely fair Than wood-nymph, or the fairest goddess feign'd Of three that in Mount Ida naked strove, Stood to entertain her guest from heaven ; no veil She needed, virtue-proof; no thought infirm Alter'd her check. On whom the angel Hail BestowM, the holy salutation used Long after to bless'd Mary, second Eve. Hail, mother of mankind, whose fruitful womb Shall fill the world more numerous with thy sons, Than with these various fruits the trees of God Have heap'd this table. Raised of grassy turf Their table was. and mossy seats had round, 4*- PARADISE LOST. 81 And on her ample square from side to side All autumn piled, though spring and autumn here Danced hand in hand. A while discourse they hold No fear lest dinner cool, when thus began Our author : Heavenly stranger, please to taste These bounties which our Nourisher, from whom All perfect good unmeasured out descends, To us for food and for delight hath caused The earth to yield ; unsavoury food, perhaps, To spiritual natures ; only this I know, That one celestial Father gives to all. To whom the angel : Therefore what lie gives, Whose praise be ever sung, to man in part Spiritual, may of purest spirits be found No ungrateful food : and food alike those pure Intelligential substances require, As dotn your rational ; and both contain Within them every lower faculty Of sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste, Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate, And corporeal to incorporeal turn. For know, whatever was created needs To be sustain'd and fed ; of elements The grosser feeds t^.e purer ; earth the sea i Earth and the sea feed air ; the air those fhcs Ethereal ; and as lowest first the moon ; Whence in her visage round those spots, unpv^ed Vapours not yet into her substance tura'd. Nor doth the moon no nourishment exhale From her moist continent to higher orbs. The sun, that light imparts to all, receives From all his alimental recompence In humid exhalations, and at even Sups with the ocean. Though in heaven the trees Of life ambrosial fruitage bear, and vines Yield nectar ; though from off the boughs each morn We brush mellifluous dews, and find the ground Cover'd with pearly grain ; yet God hath here Varied his bounty so with new delights, As may compare with heaven ; and to taste Think not I shall be nice. So down they sat, And to their viands fell ; nor seemingly The angel, nor in mist, the common gloss Of theologians ; but with keen despatch Of real hunger, and concoctive heat To transubstantiate : what redounds, transpires Through spirits with ease ; nor wonder, if by fire Of sooty coal the empyric alchymist Can turn, or holds it possible to turn, Metals of drossiest ore to perfect gold, As from the mine. Meanwhile, at table Eve Minister'd naked, and their flowing cups PAR A DISK f.OST. With pleasant liquors crown'd. O innocence Deserving Paradise ! if ever, then, Then had the sons of God excuse to have been Enamour'd at that sight ; but in those hearts Love nnlibidinous reign'd, nor jealousy Was understood, the injured lover's hell. Thus when with meats and drinks they had sufficed, Not burden'd nature, sudden mind arose In Adam, not to let the occasion pass, Given him by this great conference, to know Of things above his world, and of their being Who dwell in heaven, whose excellence he saw Transcend his own so far ; whose radiant forms, Divine effulgence, whose high power so far Exceeded human ; and his wary speech Thus to the empyreal minister he framed : Inhabitant with God, now know I well Thy favour, in this honour done to man, Under whose lowly roof thou hast vouchsafed To enter, and these earthly fruits to taste, Food not of angels, yet accepted so, As that more willingly thou couldst not seem At heaven's high feasts to have fed : yet what compare ? To whom the winged Hierarch replied : O Adam, one Almighty is, from whom All things proceed, and up to him return, If not depraved from good, created all Such to perfection, one first matter all, Indued with various forms, various degrees Of substance, and, in things that live, of life ; But more refined, more spirituous, and pure, As nearer to him placed, or nearer tending, Each in their several active spheres assign'd, Till body up to spirit work, in bounds Proportion'd to each kind. So from the root Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaver More aery, last the bright consummate flower Spirits odorous breathes ; flowers and their fruit, Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublimed, To vital spirits aspire, to animal, To intellectual, give both life and sense, Fancy and understanding ; whence the soul Reason receives, and reason is her being, Discursive or intuitive ; discourse Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours, Differing but in degree, of kind the same. Wonder not, then, what God for you saw good If I refuse not, but convert, as you, To proper substance : time may conic, when men With angels may participate, and find No inconvenient diet, nor too light fare ; And from these corporeal nutriments, perhaps, PARADISE LOST. 83 Your bodies may at last turn all to spirit, Improved by tract of time, and wing'd ascend Ethereal, as we, or may at choice Here or in heavenly paradises dwell j If ye be found obedient, and retain Unalterably firm his love entire. Whose progeny you are. Meanwhile enjoy Your fill what happiness this happy state Can comprehend, incapable of more. To whom the patriarch of mankind replied : O favourable spirit, propitious guest, Well hast thou taught the way that might direct Our knowledge, and the scale of nature set From centre to circumference, whereon, In contemplation of created things, By steps we may ascend to God. But say, \Vhat meant that caution join'd, If ye be found Obedient? Can we want obedience then To him, or possibly his love desert, Who form'd us from the dust and placed us here Full to the utmost measure of what bliss Human desires can seek or apprehend ? To whom the angel : Son of heaven and earth Attend : that thou art happy, owe to God ; That thou continuest such, owe to thyself, That is, to thy obedience ; therein stand. This was that caution given thee ; be advised. God made thee perfect, not immutable ; And good he made thee ; but to persevere He left it in thy power, ordain'd thy will By nature free, not overruled by fate Inextricable, or strict necessity : Our voluntary service he requires, Not our necessitated ; such with him Finds no acceptance, nor can find ; for how Can hearts, not free, be tried whether they serve Willing or no, who will but what they must By destiny, and can no other choose? Myself and all the angelic host, that stand In sight of God enthroned, our happy state Hold, as you yours, while our obedience holds ; On other surety none ; freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not ; in this we stand or fall. And some are fallen, to disobedience fallen, And so from heaven to deepest hell : O fall From what high state of bliss into what woe ! To whom our great progenitor : Thy words Attentive, and with more delighted ear, Divine instructor, I have heard, than when Cherubic songs by night from neighbouring hills Ae'real music send : nor knew I not 84 PARADISE LOST. To be both will and deed created free; Yet that we never shall forget to love Our Maker, and obey him whose command Single is yet so just, my constant thoughts Assured me, and still assure ; though what thou tell'st Hath pass'd in heaven, some doubt within me move, But more de-ire to hear, if thou consent, The full relation, which must needs be strange, Worthy of sacred silence to be heard ; And we have yet large day, for scarce the sun Hath finish'd half his journey, and scarce begins His other half in the great zone of heaven. Thus Adam made request, and Raphael, After short pause, assenting thus began : High matter thou enjoinest me, O prime of men, Sad task and hard ; for how shall I relate To human sense the invisible exploits Of warring spirits ? how without remorse The ruin of so many, glorious once And perfect while they stood ? how last unfold The secrets of another world, perhaps Not lawful to reveal ? yet for thy good, This is dispensed ; and what surmounts the reach Of human sense I shall delineate so, By likening spiritual to corporal forms, As may express them be>t ; though what if earth Be but the shadow of heaven, and things therein Each to other like, more than on earth is thought ? As yet this world was not, and Chaos wild Reign'd where these heavens now roll, where earth now rests Upon her centre poised ; when on a day, For time, though in eternity, applied To motion, measures all things durable By present, past, and future ; on such day As heaven's great year brings forth, the empyreal host Of angels, by imperial summons call'd, Innumerable before the Almighty's throne Forthwith from all the ends of heaven appear'd ; Under their hierarchs in orders bright Tea thousand thousand ensigns high advanced, Standards and gonfalons 'twixt van and rear Stream in the air, and for distinction serve Of hierarchies, of orders, and degrees ; Or in their glittering tissues bear imblazed Holy memorials, acts of zeal and love Recorded eminent. Thus when in orbs Of circuit inexpressible they stood, Orb within orb, the Father infinite, By whom in bliss embosom'd sat the Son, Amidst, as from a flaming mount, whose top Brightness had made invisible, thus spake : PARADISE LOST. Hear, all ye angels, progeny of light, Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers, Hear my decree, which unrevoked shall stand. This day! have begot whom I declare My only Son, and on this holy hill Him have anointed, whom ye now behold At my right hand ; your head I him appoint ; And by myself have sworn to him shall bow All knees in heaven, and shall confess him Lord. Under his great vicegerent reign abide United, as one individual soul, For ever happy : him who disobeys Me disobeys, breaks union, and, that day Cast out from God and blessed vision, falls Into utter darkness, deep ingulf 'd, his place Ordain' d without redemption, without end. / So spake the Omnipotent, and with his words All seem'd well pleased ; all seem'd, but were not all. That day, as other solemn days, they spent In song and dance about the sacred hill ; Mystical dance, which yonder starry sphere Of planets and of fix'd in all her wheels Resembles nearest, mazes intricate, Eccentric, intervolved, yet regular Then most, when most irregular they seem ; And in their motions harmony divine So smoothes her charming tones, that God's own ear Listens delighted. Evening now approach'd, For we have also our evening and our morn, We ours for change delectable, not need ; Forthwith from dance to sweet repast they turn Desirous, all in circles as they stood, Tables are set, and on a sudden piled With angels' food, and rubied nectar flows, In pearl, in diamond, and massy gold, Fruit of delicious vines, the growth of heaven. On flowers reposed and with fresh flowerets crown' d, They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet Quaff immortality and joy, secure Of surfeit where full measure only bounds Excess, before the all-bounteous King, who shower'd With copious hand, rejoicing in their joy. Now when ambrosial night with clouds exhaled From that high mount of God, whence light and shade Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed To grateful twilight, for night comes not there In darker veil, and roseate dews disposed All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest, Wide over all the plain, and wider far Than all this globous earth in plain outspread, Such are the courts of God, the angelic throng, Dispersed in bands and fdes, their camp cxlesi i 86 PARADISE LOST. By living streams among the trees oflife, Pavilions numberless, and sudden rear'd, Celestial tabernacles, where they slept Fann'd with cool winds, save those who in their course Melodious hymns about the sovereign throne Alternate all night long. But not so waked Satan, so call him now, his former name Is heard no more in heaven ; he of the first, If not the first archangel, great in power, In favour and pre-eminence, yet fraught With envy against the Son of God, that day Honour'd by his great Father, and proclaitn'd Messiah King anointed, could not bear Through pride that sight, and thought himself impair'd. Deep malice thence conceiving and disdain, Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour, Friendliest to sleep and silence, he resolved With all his legions to dislodge, and leave Unworshipp'd, unobey'd, the throne supreme, Contemptuous, and his next subordinate Awakening, thus to him in secret spake : Sleep'st thou, companion dear ? What sleep can close Thy eyelids ? and rememberest what decree Of yesterday so late hath pass'd the lips Of heaven's Almighty ? Thou to me thy thoughts Was wont, I mine to thee was wont to impart ; Both waking we were one ; how then can now Thy sleep dissent ? New laws thou seest imposed ; New laws from him who reigns new minds may raise In us who serve, new counsels, to debate What doubtful may ensue ; more in this place To titter is not safe. Assemble thou, Of all those myriads which we lead, the chief ; Tell them, that by command, ere yet dim night Her shadowy clouds withdraws, I am to haste, And all who under me their banners wave, Homeward with flying march, where we possess The quarters of the north, there to prepare Fit entertainment to receive our King, The Great Messiah, and his new commands, Who speedily through all the hierarchies Intends to pass triumphant, and give laws. So spake the false archangel, and infused Bad influence into the unwary breast Of his associate ; he together calls, Or several one by one, the regent powers, Under him regent ; tells, as he was taught, That the Most High commanding, now ere night, Now ere dim night had disencumber'd heaven, The great hierarchal standard was to move ; Tells the suggested cause, and casts between Ambiguous words and jealousies, to sound PARADISE LOST. Or taint integrity : but all obey'd The wonted signal and superior voice Of their great potentate ; for great indeed His name, and high was his degree in heaven ; His countenance, as the morning-star that guides The starry flock, allured them, and with lies Drew after him the third part of heaven's host. Meanwhile the Eternal Eye, whose sight discern? Abstrusest thoughts, from forth his holy mount, And from within the golden lamps that burn Nightly before him, saw without their light Rebellion rising ; saw in whom, how spread Among the sons of morn, what multitudes Were banded to oppose his high decree ; And, smiling, to his only Son thus said : Son, thou in whom my glory I behold In full resplendence, heir of all my might, Nearly it now concerns us tc be sure Of our omnipotence, and with what arms We mean to hold what anciently we claim Of deity or empire ; such a foe Is rising, who intends to erect his throne Equal to ours, throughout the spacious north ; Nor so content, hath in his thought to try In battle, what our power is, or our right. Let us advise, and to this hazard draw With speed what force is left, and all employ In our defence ; lest unawares we lose This our high place, our sanctuary, our hill. To whom the Son, with calm aspect and clear Light'ning divine, ineffable, serene, Made answer : Mighty Father, thou thy foes Justly hast in derision, and secure Laugh'st at their vain designs and tumults vain, Matter to me of glory, whom their hate Illustrates, when they see all regal power Given me to quell their pride, and in event Know whether I be dextrous to subdue Thy rebels, or be found the worst in heaven. So spake the Son : but Satan, with his powers, Far was advanced on winged speed ; a host Innumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dew-drops, which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower. Regions they pass'd, the mighty regencies Of seraphim, and potentates, and thrones, In their triple degrees ; regions to which All thy dominion, Adam, is no more Than what this garden is to all the earth, And all the sea, from one entire globose Stretch'd into longitude ; which having pass'd, At length into the limits of the north 88 PARADISE LOST. They came, and Satan to his royal scat High on a hill, far blazing, as a mount Raised on a mount, with pyramids and towers From diamond quarries hewn, and rocks of gold, The palace of great Lucifer ; so call That structure in the dialect of men Interpreted, which not long after he, Affecting all equality with God, In imitation of that mount whereon Messiah was declared in sight of heaven, The Mountain of the Congregation call'd ; For thither he assembled all his train, Pretending, so commanded to consult About the great reception of their King, Thither to come, and with calumnious art Of counterfeited truth thus held their ears : Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers, If these magnific titles yet remain Not merely titular, since by decree Another now hath to himself engross'd All power, and us eclipsed under the name Of King anointed, for whom all this haste Of midnight march and hurried meeting here, This only to consult how we may best, With what may be devised of honours new, Receive him, coming to receive from us Knee-tribute yet unpaid, prostration vile ! Too much to one, but double how endured, To one, and to his image now proclaim'd ? But what if better counsels might erect Our minds, and teach us to cast off this yoke? Will ye submit your necks, and choose to bend The supple knee ? Ye will not, if I trust To know ye right, or if ye know yourselves Natives and sons of heaven, possess'd before By none ; and if not equal all, yet free, Equally free ; for orders and degrees Jar not with liberty, but well consist. Who can in reason then or right assume Monarchy over such as live by right His equals, if in power and splendour less, In freedom equal? or can introduce Law and edict on us, who without law Err not ? much less for this to be our Lord, And look for adoration to the abuse Of those imperial titles, which assert Our being ordain'd to govern, not to serve ? Thus far his bold discourse without control Had audience, when among the seraphim Abdiel, than whom none with more zeal adored The Deity, and divine commands obey'd, NH- PARADISE LOST. 89 Stood up, and in a flame of zeal severe The current of his fury thus opposed : Oh, argument blasphemous, false, and proud ! Words which no ear ever to hear in heaven Expected, least of all from thee, ingratc, In place thyself so high above thy peers. Canst thou with impious obloquy condemn The just decree of God, pronounced and sworn, That to his only Son, by right endued With regal sceptre, every soul in heaven Shall bend the knee, and in that honour due Confess him rightful king? Unjust, thou say'st, Flatly unjust, to bind with laws the free, And equal over equals to let reign, One over all with unsucceeded power. Shalt thou give law to God? shalt thou dispute With him the points of liberty, who made Thee what thou art, and form'd the powers of heaven Such as he pleased, and circumscribed their being? Yet, by experience taught, we know how good, .And of our good, and of our dignity How provident he is ; how far from thought To make us less, bent rather to exalt Our happy state, under one head more near United. But to grant it thee unjust, That equal over equals monarch reign : Thyself, though great and glorious, dost thou count, Or all angelic nature join'd in one, Equal to him begotten Son ? by whom As by his word the mighty Father made All things, even thee, and all the spirits of heaven By him created in their bright degrees, Crown'd them with glory, and to their glory named Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers, Essential powers, nor by his reign obscured, But more illustrious made, since he the head One of our number thus reduced becomes, His laws our laws, all honour to him done Returns our own. Cease then this impious rage, And tempt not these ; but hasten to appease The incensed Father, and the incensed Son, While pardon may be found in time besought. So spake the fervent angel ; but his zeal None seconded, as out of season judged, Or singular and rash ; whereat rejoiced The apostate, and more haughty thus replied : That we were form'd then say'st thou? and the work Of secondary hands, by task transferr'd From Father to his Son? strange point and new ! Doctrine which we would know whence learn'd : who saw When this creation was? remembcrcst thou Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being? 90 PARADISE LOST. We know no time when we were not as now ; Know none before us, self-begot, self-raised By our own quickening power, when fatal course Had circled his full orb, the birth mature Of this our native heaven, ethereal sons. Our puissance is our own ; our own right hand Shall tench us highest deeds, by proof to try "Who is our equal : then thou shalt behold Whether by supplication we intend Address, and to begird the Almighty throne Beseeching or besieging. This report, These tidings carry to the anointed King; And fly, ere evil intercept thy flight. He said, and, as the sound of waters deep, Hoarse murmur echoed to his words applause Through the infinite host ; nor less for that The flaming seraph fearless, though alone Encompass'd round with foes, thus answer'd bold : O alienate from God, O spirit accursed, Forsaken of all good, I see thy fall Determined, and thy hapless crew involved In this perfidious fraud, contagion spread Both of thy crime and punishment. Henceforth No more be troubled how to quit the yoke Of God's Messiah ; those indulgent laws Will not be now vouchsafed ; other decrees Against thee are gone forth without recall ; That golden sceptre which thou didst reject Is now an iron rod, to bruise and break Thy disobedience. Well thou didst advise ; Yet not for thy advice or threats I fly These wicked tents devoted ; lest the wrath Impendent, raging into sudden flame, Distinguish not ; for soon expect to feel His thunder on thy head, devouring fire. Then who created thee lamenting learn, When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know. So spake the seraph Abdiel, faithful found, Among the faithless faithful only he ; Among innumerable false unmoved, Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified, His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; Nor number nor example with him wrought To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind, Though single. From amidst them forth he pass'd, Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustain'd Superior, nor of violence fear'd aught ; And with retorted scorn his back he turn'd On those proud towers to swift destruction doom'd. PARADISE LOST. 9' BOOK VI. THE ARGUMENT. Raphael continues to relate how Michael and Gabriel were sent forth to battle against Satan and his angels. The first fight described : Satan and his powers retire under night : he calls a council ; invents devilish engines, which, in the second day's fight, put Michael and his angels to some dis- order ; but they at length pulling up mountains, overwhelmed both the force and machines of Satan ; yet, the tumult not so ending, God, on the third day, sends Messiah his Son, for whom he had reserved the glory of that victory. He, in the power of his Father, coming to the place, and causing all his legions to stand still on either side, with his chariot and thunder driving into the midst of his enemies, pursues them, unable to resist, towards the wall of heaven : which opening, they leap down with horror and confusion into the place of punishment prepared for them in the deep. Messiah returns with triumph to his Father. ALL night the dreadless angel unpursued Through heaven's wide champaign held his way, till morn, Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand Unbarr'd the gates of light. There is a cave Within the mount of God, fast by his throne, Where light and darkness in perpetual round Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through heaven Grateful vicissitude, like day and night ; Light issues forth, and at the other door Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour To veil the heaven, though darkness there might well Seem twilight here ; and now went forth the Morn Such as in highest heaven, array'd in gold Empyreal, from before her vanish'd night, Shot through with orient beams ; when all the plain Cover'd with thick embattled squadrons bright, Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds, Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view. War he perceived, Avar in procinct, and found Already known what he for news had thought To have reported : gladly then he mix'd Among those friendly powers, who him received With joy and acclamations loud, that one, That of so many myriads fallen yet one Return'd not lost. On to the sacred hill They led him high applauded, and present Before the seat supreme ; from whence a voice, From 'midst a golden cloud, thus mild was heard : Servant of God, well done ; well hast thou fought The better fight, who single hast maintain'd Against revolted multitudes the cause Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms ; And for the testimony of truth hast borne Universal reproach, far worse to bear PARADISE LOST. y To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds Judged thee perverse. The easier conquest now Remains thee ; aided by this host of friends, Back on thy foes more glorious to return Than scorn'd thou didst depart ; and to subdue r>y force, who reason for their law refuse, Right reason for their law, and for their King Messiah, who by right of merit reigns. Go, Michael, of celestial armies prince ; And thou, in military prowess next, Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons Invincible ; lead forth my armed saints By thousands and by millions ranged for fight, Equal in number to that godless crew Rebellious ; them with fire and hostile arms Fearless assault ; and, to the brow of heaven Pursuing, drive them out from God and bliss Into their place of punishment, the gulf Of Tartarus, which ready opens wide His fiery chaos to receive their fall. So spake the Sovereign Voice, and clouds began To darken all the hill, and smoke to roll In dusky wreaths, reluctant flames, the sign Of wrath awaked : nor with less dread the loud Ethereal trumpet from on high 'gan blow : At which command the powers militant, That stood for heaven, in mighty quadrate join'd Of union irresistible, moved on In silence their bright legions, to the sound Of instrumental harmony, that breath'd Heroic ardour to adventurous deeds, Under their godlike leaders, in the cause Of God and his Messiah. On they move Indissolubly firm ; nor obvious hill, Nor straitening vale, nor wood, nor stream, divides Their perfect ranks ; for high above the ground Their march was, and the passive air upbore Their nimble tread. As when the total kind Of birds, in orderly array on wing, Came summon'd over Eden to receive Their names of thee ; so over many a tract Of heaven they march'd, and many a province wide, Tenfold the length of this terrene. At List Far in the horizon to the north appear'd From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretch'd In battailous aspect, and nearer view Bristled with upright beams innumerable Of rigid spears, and helmets throng'd, and shields Various, with boastful argument portray'd, The banded powers of Satan hasting on With furious expedition ; for they ween'd PARADISE LOST. 93 That self-same day, by fight or by surprise, To win the mount of God, and on his throne To set the envier of his state, the proud Aspirer ; but their thoughts proved fond and vain In the mid-way. Though strange to us it seem'd At first, that angel should with angel war, And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet So oft in festivals of joy and love Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire, Hymning the Eternal Father ; but the shout Of battle now began, and rushing sound Of onset ended soon each milder thought. High in the midst, exalted as a god, The apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat, Idol of majesty divine, enclosed "With flaming cherubim and golden shields ; Then lighted from her gorgeous throne, for now 'Twixt host and host but narrow space was left, A dreadful interval, and front to front Presented stood in terrible array Of hideous length : before the cloudy van, On the rough edge of battle ere it join'd, Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced, Came towering, arm'd in adamant and gold ; Abdiel that sight endured not, where he stood Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds, And thus his own undaunted heart explores : O Heaven ! that such resemblance of the Highest Should yet remain, where faith and realty Remain not ; wherefore should not strength and might There-fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove Where boldest, though to sight unconquerable ? His puissance, trusting in the Almighty's aid, I mean to try, whose reason I have tried Unsound and false ; nor is it aught but just That he, who in debate of truth hath won, Should win in arms, in both disputes alike Victor ; though brutish that contest and foul, When reason hath to deal with force ; yet so Most reason is that reason overcome. So pondering, and from his arm'd peers Forth stepping opposite, half-way he met His daring foe, at this prevention more Incensed, and thus securely him defied : Proud, art thou met ? thy hope was to have reach'd The height of thy aspiring unopposed, The throne of God unguarded, and his side Abandon'd, at the terror of thy power Or potent tongue ; fool! not to think how vain Against the Omnipotent to rise in arms ; Who out of smallest things could without end Have raised incessant armies to defeat PARADISE LOST. Thy folly ; or, with solitary hand Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow Unaided could have finish 'd thee, and whelm'd Thy legions under darkness : but thou seest All are not of thy train ; there be, who faith Prefer and piety to God ; though then To thee not visible, when I alone Seem'd in thy world erroneous to dissent From all ; my sect thou seest ; now learn too late How few sometimes may know, when thousands err. Whom the grand foe, with scornful eye askance, Thus answer'd : 111 for thee, but in wish'd hour Of my revenge, first sought for thou return'st From flight, seditious angel, to receive Thy merited reward, the first essay Of this right hand provoked, since first that tongue, Inspired with contradiction, durst oppose, A third part of the gods, in synod met Their deities to assert ; who, while they feel Vigour divine within them, can allow Omnipotence to none. But well thou comest Before thy fellows, ambitious to win From me some plume, that thy success may show Destruction to the rest ; this pause between, Unanswer'd lest thou boast, to let thee know, At first I thought that liberty and heaven To heavenly souls had been all one ; but now I see that most through sloth had rather serve, Ministering spirits, train'd up in feast and song : Such hast thou arm'd, the minstrelsy of heaven, Servility with freedom to contend, As both their deeds compared this day shall prove. To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern replied : Apostate, still thou err'st, nor end wilt find Of erring, from the path of truth remote : Unjustly thou depravest it with the name Of servitude, to serve whom God ordains, Or Nature ; God and Nature bid the same, When he who rules is worthiest, and excels Them whom he governs. This is servitude, To serve the unwise, or him who hath rebell'd Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthrall'd ; Yet lewdly darest our ministering upbraid. Reign thou in hell, thy kingdom, let me serve In heaven God ever-bless'd, and his divine Behests obey, worthiest to be obey'd ; Yet chains in hell, not realms, expect : meanwhile, From me return'd as erst thou saidst, from flight, This greeting on thy impious crest receive. So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell XIX PARADISE LOST. 95 On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield, Such ruin intercept : ten paces huge lie back recoil'd ; the tenth on bended knee His massy spear upstay'd ; as if on earth Winds underground, or waters, forcing way Side-long, had push'd a mountain from his scat, Half sunk with all his pines. Amazement seized The rebel thrones, but greater rage to see Thus foil'd their mightiest ; ours joy fill'd, and shout, Presage of victory, and fierce desire Of battle : whereat Michael bid sound The archangel trumpet ; through the vast of heaven It sounded, and the faithful armies rung Hosanna to the Highest : nor stood at gaze The adverse legions, nor less hideous join'd The horrid shock. Now storming fury rose And clamour, such as heard in heaven till now Was never ; arms on armour clashing bray'd Horrible discord, and the madding wheels Of brazen chariots raged ; dire was the noise Of conflict ; overhead the dismal hiss Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew, And flying vaulted either host with fire. So under fiery cope together rush'd Both battles main, with ruinous assault And inextinguishable rage. All heaven Resounded, and had earth been then, all earth Had to her centre shook. What wonder? when Millions of fierce encountering angels fought On either side, the least of whom could wield These elements, and arm him with the force Of all their regions : how much more of power, Army against army numberless to raise Dreadful combustion warring ; and disturb, Though not destroy, their happy native seat ; Had not the Eternal King Omnipotent, From his strong hold of heaven, high overruled And limited their might ; though number'd such, As each divided legion might have seem'd A numerous host ; in strength each armed hand A legion ; led in fight, yet leader seem'd Each warrior single as in chief, expert When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway Of battle, open when, and when to close The ridges of grim war ; no thought of flight, None of retreat, no unbecoming deed That argued fear ; each on himself relied, As only in his arm the moment lay Of victory. Deeds of eternal fame Were done, but infinite ; for wide was spread That war, and various ; sometimes on firm grouiu. 96 PARADISE LOST. A standing fight ; then, soaring on main wing, Tormented all the air ; all air seem'd then Conflicting fire. Long time in even scale The battle hung; till Satan, who that day Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms No equal, ranging through the dire attack Of fighting seraphim confused, at length Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd Squadrons at once ; with huge two-handed sway Brandish'd aloft, the horrid edge came down Wide-wasting ; such destruction to withstand He hasted, and opposed the rocky orb Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, A vast circumference. At his approach The great archangel from his warlike toil Surceased ; and glad, as hoping here to end Intestine war in heaven, the arch-foe subdued Or captive dragg'd in chains, with hostile frown And visage all inflamed, first thus began : Author of evil unknown till thy revolt, Unnamed in heaven, now plenteous, as thou seest These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all, Though heaviest by just measure on thyself And thy adherents : how hast thou disturb'd Heaven's blessed peace, and into nature brought Misery, uncreated till the crime Of thy rebellion ? how hast thou instill'd Thy malice into thousands, once upright And faithful, now proved false ? But think not here To trouble holy rest ; heaven casts thee out From all her confines. Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war. Hence then, and evil go with thee along, Thy offspring, to the place of evil, hell ; Thou and thy wicked crew ! there mingle broils, Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom, Or some more sudden vengeance, wing'd from Cod, Precipitate thee with augmented pain. So spake the prince of angels ; to whom thus The adversary : Nor think thou with wind Of aery threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not. Hast thou turn'd the least of these To flight? or if to fall, but that they rise Unvanquish'd ; easier to transact with me That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with tlirca's To chase me hence? Err not that so shall end The strife which thou call'st evil, but we style The strife of glory ; which we mean to win, Or turn this heaven itself into the hell Thou fablest ; here however to dwell free, If not to reign : meanwhile thy utmost for And join him named Almighty to thy aid, PARADISE LOS7. 97 I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh. They ended parle, and both address'd for fight Unspeakable ; for who, though with the tongue Of angels, can relate, or to what things Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift Human imagination to such height Of godlike power? for likest gods they seem'd, Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms, Fit to decide the empire of great heaven Now waved their fiery swords, and in the air Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields Blazed opposite, while Expectation stood In horror ; from each hand with speed retired Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng, And' left large field, unsafe within the wind Of such commotion ; such as, to set forth Great things by small, if, Nature's concord broke, Among the constellations war were sprung, Two planets, rushing from aspect malign Of fiercest opposition, in mid sky Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound Together both, with next to almighty arm Uplifted imminent, one stroke they aim'd That might determine, and not need repeat, As not of power, at once ; nor odds appear'd In might or swift prevention ; but the sword Of Michael, from the armoury of God, Was given him temper'd so, that neither keen Nor solid might resist that edge : it met The sword of Satan with steep force to smite Descending, and in half cut sheer ; nor stay'd, But with swift wheel reverse, deep entering, shared All his right side ; then Satan first knew pain, And writhed him to and fro convolved ; so sore The griding sword with discontinuous wound Pass'd through him ; but the ethereal substance dosed. Not long divisible ; and from the gash A stream of nectarous humour issuing flow'd Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may bleed, And all his armour stain'd erewhile so bright. Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run I5y angels many and strong, who interposed Defence, while others bore him on their shields Back to his chariot ; where it stood retired From off the files of war : there they him laid Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame, To find himself not matchless, and his pride Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath His confidence to equal God in power Yet soon lie heal'd ; for spirits that live throughout Vital in every part, not as frail man To entrails, heart or head, livor or reins. , 98 PARADISE LOST. Cannot but by annihilating die ; Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound Receive, no more than can the fluid air : All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear, All intellect, all sense ; and as they please They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare. Meanwhile, in other parts, like deeds deserved Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought, And with fierce ensigns pierced the deep array Of Moloch, furious king, who him defied, And at his chariot-wheels to drag him bound Threaten'd, nor from the Holy One of heaven Refrain'd his tongue blasphemous ; but anon, Down cloven to the waist, with shatter'd arms^ And uncouth pain fled bellowing. On each wir.g, Uriel and Raphael, his vaunting foe, Though huge, and in a rock of diamond arm'd, Vanquish'd Adramelech and Asmadai, Two potent thrones, that to be less than gods Disdain'd, but meaner thoughts learn'd in their flight, Mangled with ghastly wounds through plate and mail. Nor stood unmindful Abdiel to annoy The atheist crew, but with redoubled blow Ariel, and Arioch, and the violence Of Ramiel scorch'd and blasted, overthrew. I might relate of thousands, and their names Eternise here on earth ; but those elect Angels, contented with their fame in heaven, Seek not the praise of men ; the other sort, In might though wondrous, and in acts of war, Nor of renown less eager, yet by doom Cancell'd from heaven and sacred memory, Nameless in dark oblivion let them dwell. For strength from truth divided and from just, Illaudable, nought merits but dispraise And ignominy ; yet to glory aspires Vain-glorious, and through infamy seeks fame ; Therefore eternal silence be their doom. And now, their mightiest quell'd, the battle swerved. With many an inroad gored ; deformed rout Enter'd, and foul disorder ; all the ground With shiver'd armour strown, and on a heap Chariot and charioteer lay overturn'd, And fiery foaming steeds ; what stood, recoil'd, O'erwearied, through the faint Satanic host, Defensive scarce ; or with pale fear surprised, Then first with fear surprised, and sense of pain Fled ignominious, to such evil brought By sin of disobedience ; till that hour Not liable to fear, or flight, or pain. Far otherwise the inviolable saints. PARADISE LOST. 99 In cubic phalanx firm, advanced entire, Invulnerable, impenetrably arm'd ; Such high advantages their innocence Gave them above their foes, not to have sinn'd, Not to have disobey'd ; in fight they stood Unwearied, unbbnoxious to be pain'd l!y wound, though from their place by violence movrd. Now Wight her course began, and, over heaven Inducing darkness, grateful trace imposed, And silence on the odious din of war : Under her cloudy covert both retired, Victor and vanquish'd. On the foughten field Michael and his angels prevalent Encamping placed in guard their watches round Cherubic waving fires : on the other part, Satan with his rebellious disappear'd, Far in the dark dislodged ; and, void of rest, His potentates to council call'd by night ; And in the midst thus undismayed began : Oh, now in danger tried, now known in arms Not to be overpower'd, companions dear, Found worthy not of liberty alone, Too mean pretence, but, what we more affect, Honour, dominion, glory, and renown ; Who have sustain'd one day in doubtful fight, And if one day, why not eternal days? What heaven's Lord had powerfullest to send Against us from about his throne, and judged Sufficient to subdue us to his will, But proves not so : then fallible, it seems, Of future we may deem him, though till now Omniscient thought. True is, less firmly arm'd, Some disadvantage we endured and pain, Till now not known, but known, as soon contemn'd ; Since now we find this our empyreal form Incapable of mortal injury, Imperishable ; and, though pierced with wound, Soon closing, and by native vigour heal'd. Of evil then so small as easy think The remedy ; perhaps more valid arms, Weapons more violent, when next we meet, May serve to better us, and worse our foes, Or equal what between us made the odds, Tn nature none : if other hidden cause Left them superior, while we can preserve Unhurt our minds and understanding sound, Due search and consultation will disclose. lie sat ; and in the assembly next upstood Nisroch, of principalities the prime ; As one he stood escaped from cruel fight, Sore toil'd, his riven arms to havoc hewn ; And, cloudy in aspect, thus answering spake ; roo PARADISE LOST. Deliverer from new lords, leader to free Enjoyment of our rights as gods ; yet hard For gods, and too unequal work we find Against unequal arms to fight in pain, Against unpain'd, impassive ; from which evil Ruin must needs ensue, for what avails Valour or strength, though matchless, quell'd with pain, "Which all subdues, and makes remiss the hands Of mightiest ? Sense of pleasure we may well Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine, But live content, which is the calmest life : But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive overturns All patience. He who therefore can invent With what more forcible we may offend Our yet un wounded enemies, or arm Ourselves with like defence, to me deserves No less than for deliverance what we owe. Whereto, with look composed, Satan replied ? Not uninvented that, which thou aright Believest so main to our success, I bring : Which of 'us who beholds the bright surface Of this ethereous mould whereon we stand. This continent of spacious heaven, adorn'd With plant, fruit, flower ambrosial, gems, and gold, Whose eye so superficially surveys These things, as not to mind from whence they grow, Deep under ground, materials dark and crude, Of spiritous and fiery spume, till touch 'd With heaven's ray, and temper'd, they shoot forth So beauteous, opening to the ambient light ? These in their dark nativity the deep Shall yield us; pregnant with infernal flame, Which into hollow engines long and round Thick-ramm'd, at the other bore with touch of fire Dilated and infuriate, shall send forth From far with thundering noise among our foes Such implements of mischief, as shall dash To pieces, and o'erwhelm whatever stands Adverse, that they shall fear we have disarm'd The Thunderer of his only dreaded bolt. Nor long shall be our labour ; yet, ere dawn, Kffect shall end our wish. Meanwhile revive ; Abandon fear ; to strength and counsel join'd Think nothing hard, much less to be despair'd. He ended, and his words their drooping cheer Enlighten'd, and their languished hope revived. The invention all admired, and each, how he To be the inventor miss'd, so easy it seem'd Once found, which yet un found most would have thought Impossible : yet haply of thy race In future days, if malice should abound, PARADISE LOST. 101 Some one, intent on mischief, or inspired With devilish machination, might devise Like instrument to plague the sons of men For sin, on war and mutual slaughter bent. Forthwith from council to the work they flew None arguing stood ; innumerable hands Were ready, in a moment up they turn'd Wide the celestial soil, and saw beneath The originals of nature in their crude Conception ; sulphurous and nitrous foam They found, they mingled, and with subtle art Concocted and adjusted they reduced To blackest grain, and into store convey'd. Part hidden veins digg'd up, nor hath this earth Entrails unlike, of mineral and stone, Whereof to found their engines and their balls Of missive ruin ; part incentive reed Provide, pernicious with one touch to fire. So all ere day-spring, under conscious night Secret, they finish'd, and in order set, With silent circumspection unespied. Now when fair morn orient in heaven appear'd Up rose the victor-angels, and to arms The matin trumpet sung : in amis they stood Of golden panoply, refulgent host, Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills Look'd round, and scouts each coast light-armed scour Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, Where lodged, or whither fled ; or if for fight, In motion or in halt ; him soon they met Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow But firm battalion : back with speediest sail Zophiel, of cherubim the swiftest wing, Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried : Arm, warriors, arm for fight, the foe at hand, Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit. This day, fear not his flight ; so thick a cloud He comes, and settled in his face I see Sad resolution and secure : let each His adamantine coat gird well, and each Fit well his helm, gripe fast his orbed shield, Borne even or high ; for this day will pour down, If I conjecture aught, no drizzling shower, But rattling storm of arrows barb'd with fire. So warn'd he them, aware themselves, and soon In order, quit of all impediment ; Instant without disturb they took alarm, And onward move embattled ; when, behold, Not distant far with heavy pace the foe . Approaching gross and huge, in hollow cube Training his devilish enginery, impaled On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, f lot PARADISE LOST. To hide the fraud. At interview both stood Awhile ; but suddenly at head appeared Satan, and thus was heard commanding loud : Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold, That all may see, who hate us, how we seek Peace and composure, and with open breast Stand ready to receive them, if they like Our overture, and turn not back perverse ; But that I doubt ; however witness heaven, Heaven witness thou anon, while we discharge Freely our part : ye who appointed stand Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch What we propound, and loud that all may hear So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce Had ended, when to right and left the front Divided, and to either flank retired : Which to our eyes discover'd, new and strange, A triple mounted row of pillars, laid On wheels, for like to pillars " N ost they seemM, Or hollow'd bodies made of OUK or fir, With branches lopt, in wood or mountain fell'd, Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouths With hideous orifice gaped on us wide, Portending hollow truce ; at each behind A seraph stood, and in his hand a reed Stood waving tipt with fire ; while we suspense Collected stood within our thoughts amused ; Not long, for sudden all at once their reeds Put forth, and to a narrow vent applied With nicest touch. Immediate in a flame, But soon obscured with smoke, all heaven appear'd, From those deep-throated engines belch'd, whose roar EmbowelTd with outrageous noise the air, And all her entrails tore, disgorging foul Their devilish glut, chain'd thunderbolts and hail Of iron globes, which on the victor host Levell'd with such impetuous fury smote, That whom they hit, none on their feet might stand, Though standing else as rocks ; but down they fell By thousands, angel on archangel roll'd, The sooner for their arms ; unarm'd they might Have easily as spirits evaded swift By quick contraction or remove ; but now Foul dissipation followed arid forced rout ; Nor served it to relax their serried files. What should they do ? if on they rush'd, repulse Repeated, and indecent overthrow Doubled, would render them yet more despised, And to their foes a laughter ; for in view Stood rank'd of seraphim another row, In posture to displode their second tire Of thunder : back defeated to return PARADISE LOST. 103 They woise abhorr'd. Satan beheld their plight, And to his mates thus in derision call'd : O friends, why come not on these victors proud ? Erewhile they fierce were coming, and when we, To entertain them fair with open front And breast (what could we more?) propounded terms Of composition, straight they changed their minds, Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell, As they would dance ; yet for a dance they seem'd Somewhat extravagant and wild, perhaps For joy of offer'd peace : but I suppose, If our proposals once again were heard, We should compel them to a quick result. To whom thus Belial, in like gamesome mood : Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight, Of hard contents, and full of force urged home Such as we might perceive amused them all, And stumbled many ; who receives them right, Had need from head to foot well understand ; Not understood, this gift they have besides, They show us when our foes walk not upright. So they among themselves in pleasant vein Stood scoffing, heighten' d. in their thoughts beyond All doubt of victory ; Eternal Might To match with their inventions they presumed So easy, and of his thunder made a scorn, And all his host derided, while they stood Awhile in trouble ; but they stood not long ; Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose. Forthwith, behold the excellence, the power Which God hath in his mighty angels placed ! Their arms away they threw, and to the hills, For earth hath this variety from heaven Of pleasure situate in hill and dale, Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they flew ; From their foundations loosening to and fro They pluck'd the seated hills with all their load, Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops Uplifting bore them in their hands. Amaze, Be sure, and terror seized the rebel host, When coming towards them so dread they saw The bottom of the mountains upward turn'd ; Till on those cursed engines triple row They saw them whelm'd, and all their confidence Under the weight of mountains buried deep ; Themselves invaded next, and on their heads Main promontories flung, which in the air Came shadowing, and oppress'd whole legions arm'd ; Their armour helped their harm, crush'd in and bruised Into their substance pent, which wrought them pain Implacable, and many a dolorous groan, io 4 PARADISE LOST. Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind Out of such prison, though spirits ofpure.it light, Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. The rest in imitation to like arms Betook them, and the neighbouring hills up to re ; So hills amid the air encountered hills, HuiTd to and fro with jaculation dire, That under ground they fought in dismal shade ; Infernal noise ! war seem'd a civil game To this uproar ; horrid confusion heap'd Upon confusion rose. And now all heaven Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread, Had not the Almighty Father, where he sits Shrined in his sanctuary of heaven secure, Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen This tumult, and permitted all, advised ; That his great purpose he might so fulfil, To honour his anointed Son avenged Upon his enemies, and to declare All power on him transferrYl : whence to his Son, The assessor of his throne, he thus began : Effulgence of my glory, Son beloved, Son, in whose face invisible is beheld Visibly what by Deity I am, And in whose hand what by decree I do, Second Omnipotence, two days are past, Two days, as we compute the days of heaven, Since Michael and his powers went forth to tame These disobedient ; sore hath been their fight, As likeliest was, when two such foes met arm'd ; For to themselves I left them, and thou know'st, Equal in their creation they were form'd, Save what sin hath impair'd, which yet hath wrought Insensibly, for I suspend their doom ; Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last Endless, and no solution will be found. War wearied hath perform'd what war can do, And to disorder'd rage let loose the reins, With mountains as with weapons arm'd, which makes Wild work in heaven and dangerous to the main. Two days are therefore past, the third is thine ; For thee I have ordain'd it, and thus far Have suffer'd, that the glory may be thine Of ending this great war, since none but thou Can end it. Into thee such virtue and grace Immense I have transfused, that all may know In heaven and hell thy power above compare, And tliis perverse commotion govern'd thus, To manifest thee worthiest to be Heir Of all things, to be Heir and to be King By sacred unction, thy deserved right. Go then, thou Mightiest, in thy Father's might ; PARADISE LOST 105 Ascend my chariot, guide the rapid wheels That shake heaven's basis, bring forth all my war My bow and thunder, my almighty arms Gird on, and sword upon thy puissant thigh ; Pursue these sons of darkness, drive them out From all heaven's bounds into the utter deep ; There let them learn, as likes them, to despise God and Messiah his anointed King. He said, and on his Son with rays direct Shone full, he all his Father full express'd Ineffably into his face received ; And thus the filial Godhead answering spake : O Father, O Supreme of heavenly thrones, First, Highest, Holiest, Best, thou always seekst To glorify thy Son ; I always thee, As is most just ; this I my glory account, My exaltation, and my whole delight, That thou in me well pleased declarest thy will Fulfill'd, which to fulfil is all my bliss. Sceptre, and power, thy giving, I assume, And gladlier shall resign, when in the end Thou shalt be all in all, and I in thee For ever, and in me all whom thou lovest : But whom thou hatest, I hate, and can put on Thy terrors, as I put thy mildness on, Image of thee in all things ; and shall soon, Arm'd with thy might, rid heaven of these rebell'd, To their prepared ill mansion driven down, To chains of darkness and the undying worm ; That from thy just obedience could revolt, Whom to obey is happiness entire. Then shall thy saints unmix'd, and from the impure Far separate, circling thy holy mount Unfeigned hallelujahs to thee sing, Hymns of high praise, and I among them chiet. So said, he, o'er his sceptre bowing, rose From the right hand of glory where he sat ; And the third sacred morn began to shine, Dawning through heaven : forth rush'd with whirlwind sound The chariot of Paternal Deity, Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn, Itself instinct with spirit, but convoy'd By four cherubic shapes ; four faces each Had wondrous, as with stars their bodies all And wings were set with eyes, with eyes the wheels Of beryl, and careering fires between ; Over their heads a crystal firmament, Whereon a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure Amber, and colours of the showery arch. He, in celestial panoply all arm'd Of radiant U rim-work divinely wrought, 1 06 PARADISE LOST. Ascended ; at his right hand Victory Sat eagle-wing' cl ; beside him hung his bow And quiver with three-bolted thunder stored ; And from about him fierce effusion roll'd Of smoke, and bickering flame, and sparkles dire. Attended with ten thousand thousand saints, He onward came ; far off his coming shone, And twenty thousand, I their number heard, Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen. He on the wings of cherub rode sublime, On the crystalline sky, in sapphire throned, Illustrious far and wide ; but by his own First seen, them unexpected joy surprised, When the great ensign of Messiah blazed, Aloft by angels borne, his sign in heaven ; Under whose conduct Michael soon reduced His army, circumfused on either wing, Under their Head embodied all in one. Before him Power Divine his way prepared ; At his command the uprooted hills retired Each to his place, they heard his voice and went Obsequious ; heaven his wonted face renew'd, And with fresh flowerets hill and valley smiled. This saw his hapless foes, but stood obdured, And to rebellious fight rallied their powers Insensate, hope conceiving from despair. In heavenly spirits could such perverseness dwell ? But to convince the proud what signs avail, Or wonders move the obdurate to relent ? They, harden'd more by what might most reclaim, Grieving to see his glory, at the sight Took envy, and, aspiring to his height, Stood re-embattled fierce, by force or fraud Weening to prosper, and at length prevail Against God and Messiah, or to fall In universal ruin last ; and now To final battle drew, disdaining flight, Or faint retreat ; when the great Son of God To all his host on either hand thus spake : Stand still in bright array, ye saints, here stand, Ye angels arm'd, this day from battle rest ; Faithful hath been your warfare, and of God Accepted, fearless in his righteous cause ; And as ye have received, so have ye done Invincibly ; but of this cursed crew The punishment to other hand belongs ; Vengeance is his, or whose he sole appoints ; Number to this day's work is not ordain'd, Nor multitude ; stand only and behold God's indignation on these godless pour'd By me ; not you, but me they have despised, Vet envied ; against me is all their rage, ' PARADISE LOST. 107 Because the Father, to whom in heaven supreme Kingdom, and power, and glory appertain, Math honour'd me according to his will. Therefore to me their doom he hath assign'd ; That they may have their wish, to try with me I n battle which the stronger proves, they all, Or I alone against them ; since by strength They measure all, of other excellence Not emulous, nor care who them excels ; Nor other strife with them do I vouchsafe. So spake the Son, and into terror changed His countenance, too severe to be beheld, And full of wrath bent on his enemies. At once the four spread out their starry wings With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs Of his fierce chariot roll'd, as with the sound Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. He on his impious foes right onward drove, Gloomy as night ; under his burning wheels The steadfast empyrean shook throughout, All but the throne itself of God. Full soon Among them he arrived ; in his right hand Grasping ten thousand thunders, which he sent Before him, such as in their souls infix'd Plagues : they astonish'd all resistance lost, All courage ; down their idle weapons dropp'd ; O'er shields, and helms, and helmed heads he rode Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate, That wish'd the mountains now might be again Thrown on them as a shelter from his ire. Nor less on either side tempestuous fell His arrows, from the fourfold visaged four, Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels Distinct alike with multitude of eyes ; One spirit in them ruled, and every eye Glared lightning, and shot forth pernicious fire Among the accurst, that wither'd all their strength. And of their wonted vigour left them drain'd, Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fallen. Yet half his strength he put not forth, but check'd His thunder in mid volley; for he meant Not to destroy, but root them out of heaven. The overthrow he raised, and as a herd < )f goats or timorous flock together throng'd Drove them before him thunder-struck, pursued With terrors and with furies to the bounds And crystal wall of heaven, which opening wide Roll'd inward, and a spacious gap disclosed Into the wasteful deep ; the monstrous sight Struck them with horror backward ; but far worse Urged them behind ; headlong themselves they threw Down from the verge of heaven ; eternal wrath 1 08 PARADJSE LOST. Burn'd after them to the bottomless pit. Hell heard the unsuflerable noise ; hell saw Heaven ruining from heaven, and would have fled Affrighted ; but strict fate had cast too deep Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound. Nine days they fell ; confounded Chaos roar'd, And felt tenfold confusion in their fall Through his wild anarchy ; so huge a rout Encumber'd him with ruin : hell at last Yawning received them whole, and on them closed, Hell their fit habitation, fraught with fire Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain. Disburden'd heaven rejoiced, and soon repair'd Her mural breach, returning whence it roll'd. Sole Victor, from the expulsion of his foes, Messiah his triumphal chariot turn'd : To meet him all his saints, who silent stood Eye-witnesses of his almighty acts, With jubilee advanced ; and as they went, Shaded with branching palm, each order bright Sung triumph, and him sung victorious King, Son, Heir, and Lord, to him dominion given, Worthiest to reign : he celebrated rode Triumphant through mid heaven, into the courts And temple of his mighty Father throned On high ; who into glory him received, Where now he sits at the right hand of bliss. Thus measuring things in heaven by things on earth, At thy request, and that thou mayst beware By what is past, to thee I have reveal'd What might have else to human race been hid ; The discord which befell, and war in heaven Among the angelic powers, and the deep fall Of those, too high aspiring, who rebell'd With Satan ; he who envies now thy state, Who now is plotting how he may seduce Thee also from obedience, that with him Bereaved of happiness thou mayst partake His punishment, eternal misery, Which would be all his solace and revenge, As a despite done against the Most High, Thee once to gain companion of his woe. But listen not to his temptations, warn Thy weaker ; let it profit thee to have heard By terrible example the reward Of disobedience ; firm they might have stood, Yet fell ; remember, and fear to transgress PARADISE LOST. 109 BOOK VII THE ARGUMENT. Raphael, at the request of Adam, relates how and wherefore tms world was first created ; that God, after the expelling of Satan and his angels out of heaven, declared his pleasure to create another world, and other creatures to dwell therein ; sends his Son with glory and attendance of angels to perform the work of creation in six days : the angels celebrate with hymns the performance thereof, and his reascension into heaven. DESCEND from heaven, Urania, by that name If rightly thou art call'd, whose voice divine Following, above the Olympian hill I soar, Above the flight of Pegasean wing. The meaning, not the name, I call : for thou Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top Of old Olympus dwellest, but heavenly-born, Before the hills appear'd, or fountain flow'd, Thou with Eternal Wisdom didst converse, Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play In presence of the Almighty Father, pleased With thy celestial song. Up led by thee Into the heaven of heavens I have presumed, An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, Thy tempering. With like safety guided down, Return me to my native element ; Lest from this flying steed unrein'd, as once Bellerophon, though from a lower clime, Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall Erroneous, there to wander and forlorn. Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound, Within the visible diurnal sphere ; Standing on earth, nor rapt above the pole, More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days, On evil days though fallen and evil tongues, In darkness, and with dangers compass'd round And solitude ; yet not alone, while thou Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or when morn Purples the east. Still govern thou my song, Urania, and fit audience find, though few. But drive far off the barbarous dissonance Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears To rapture, till the savage clamour drown'd Both harp and voice ; nor could the muse defend Her son. So fail not thou, who thee implores ; For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream. Say, goddess, what ensued when Raphael, The affable archangel, had forewarn'd Adam by dire example to beware no PARADISE LOST. Apostasy, by what befell in heaven To those apostates, lest the like befall In Paradise to Adam or his race, Charged not to touch the interdicted tree, If they transgress, and slight that sole command, So easily obey'd, amid the choice Of all tastes else to please their appetite, Though wandering. lie with his consorted Eve The story heard attentive, and was fill'd With admiration and deep muse, to hear Of things so high and strange, things to their thought So unimaginable as hate in heaven, And war so near the peace of God in bliss With such confusion : but the evil soon Driven back redounded as a flood on those From whom it sprung, impossible to mix With blessedness. Whence Adam soon repeal'd The doubts that in his heart arose ; and now Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know What nearer might concern him, how this world Of heaven and earth conspicuous first began, When and whereof created, for what cause, What within Eden, or without, was done Before his memory, as one whose drought Yet scarce allay'd still eyes the current stream, Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites, Proceeded thus to ask his heavenly guest : Great things, and full of wonder in our ears, Far differing from this world, thou hast reveal'd, Divine interpreter, by favour sent Down from the empyrean to forewarn Us timely of what might else have been our loss, Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach j For which to the infinitely Good we owe Immortal thanks, and his admonishment Receive with solemn purpose to observe Immutably his sovereign will, the end Of what we are. But since thou hast vouchsafed Gently for our instruction to impart Things above earthly thought, which yet concern'd Our knowing, as to highest Wisdom seem'd, Deign to descend now lower, and relate What may no less perhaps avail us known, How first began this heaven which we behold Distant so high, with moving fires adorn'd Innumerable, and this which yields or fills All space, the ambient air wide interfused Embracing round this florid earth, what cause Moved the Creator in his holy rest Through all eternity so late to build In chaos, and the work begun, how soon Absolved, if un forbid thou mayest unfold PARADISE LOST. in What we not to explore the secrets ask Of liis eternal empire, but the more To magnify his works, the more we know. And the great light of day yet wants to run Much of his race though steep, suspense in heaver Held by thy voice, thy potent voice, he hears, And longer will delay to hear thce tell His generation, and the rising birth Of nature from the unapparent deep : Or if the star of evening and the moon Haste to thy audience, night with her will bring Silence, and sleep listening to thee will watch ; Or we can bid his absence, till thy song End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine. Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought ; And thus the godlike angel answer'd mild : - This also thy request with caution ask'd Obtain ; though to recount almighty works What words or tongue of seraph can suffice, Or heart of man suffice to comprehend? Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve To glorify the Maker, and infer Thee also happier, shall not be withheld Thy hearing, such commission from above I have received, to answer thy desire Of knowledge within bounds ; beyond abstain To ask, nor let thine own inventions hope Things not reveal'd, which the invisible King, Only omniscient, hath suppress'd in night, To none communicable in earth or heaven : Enough is left besides to search and know. But knowledge is as food, and needs no less Her temperance over appetite, to know In measure what the mind may well contain, Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind. Know then, that after Lucifer from heaven, So call him, brighter once amidst the host Of angels, than that star the stars among, Fell with his flaming legions through the deep Into his place, and the great Son return'd Victorious with his saints, the Omnipotent Eternal Father from his throne beheld Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake : At least our envious foe hath fail'd, who thought All like himself rebellious, by whose aid This inaccessible high strength, the seat Of Deity supreme, us dispossess'd, He tmsted to have seized, and into fraud Drew many, whom their place knows here no more ; Yet far the greater part have kept, I see, Their station, heaven yet populous retains ri2 PARADISE LOST. Number sufficient to possess her realms Though wide, and this high temple to frequent With ministeries due and solemn rites. But, lest his heart exalt him in the harm Already done, to have dispeopled heaven, My damage fondly deem'd, I can repair That detriment, if such it be, to lose Self-lost, and in a moment will create Another world, out of one man a race Of men innumerable, there to dwell, Not here, till by degrees of merit raised, They open to themselves at length the way Up hither, under long obedience tried, And earth be changed to heaven, and heaven to earth, One kingdom, joy and union without end. Meanwhile, inhabit lax, ye powers of heaven, And thou, my Word, begotten Son, by thee This I perform ; speak thou, and be it done. My overshadowing Spirit and might with thee I send along ; ride forth, and bid the deep Within appointed bounds be heaven and earth ; Boundless the deep, because I Am who fill Infinitude, nor vacuous the space. Though I uncircumscribecl myself retire, And put not forth my goodness, which is free To act, or not, necessity and chance Approach not me, and what I will is fate. So spake the Almighty, and to what he spake His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect. Immediate are the acts of God, more swift Than time or motion, but to human ears Cannot without process of speech be told, So told as earthly notion can receive. Great triumph and rejoicing were in heaven, When such was heard declared the Almighty's will ; Glory they sung to the Most High, good-will To future men, and in their dwellings peace ; Glory to him, whose just avenging ire Had driven out the ungodly from his sight And the habitations of the just ; to him Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordain'd Good out of evil to create, instead Of spirits malign a better race to bring Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse His good to worlds and ages infinite. So sang the hierarchies : Meanwhile the Son On his great expedition now appear'd, Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crown VI Of majesty divine, sapience and love Immense, and all his Father in him shone. About his chariot numberless were pour'd Cherub and seraph, potentates and thrones, PARADISE LOST. 113 And virtues, winged spirits, and chariots wing'd, From the armoury of God, where stand of old Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged Against a solemn day, harness'd at hand, Celestial equipage ; and now came forth Spontaneous, for within them spirit lived, Attendant on their Lord : heaven open'd wide Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound ! On golden hinges moving, to let forth The King of Glory, in his powerful Word And Spirit coming to create new worlds. On heavenly ground they stood, and from the shore They view'd the vast immeasurable abyss Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, Up from the bottom turn'd by furious winds And surging waves, as mountains, to assault Heaven's height, and with the centre mix the pole. Silence, ye troubled waves, and thou deep, peace, Said then the omnific Word, your discord end. Nor stay'd ; but, on the wings of cherubim Uplifted, in paternal glory rode Far into Chaos and the world unborn ; For Chaos heard his voice. Him all his train Follow'd in bright procession to behold Creation, and the wonders of his might. Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and in his hand He took the golden compasses, prepared In God's eternal store, to circumscribe This universe, and all created things. One foot he centred, and the other turn'd Round through the vast profundity obscure, And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds, This be thy just circumference, O world. Thus God the heaven created, thus the earth, Matter unform'd and void. Darkness profound Cover'd the abyss ; but on the watery calm His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread, And vital virtue infused and vital warmth Throughout the fluid mass, but downward purged The black, tartareous, cold, infernal dregs, Adverse to life : then founded, then conglobed Like things to like ; the rest to several place Disparted, and between spun out the air, And earth self-balanced on her centre hung. Let there be light, said God, and forthwith light Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure, Sprung from the deep, and from her native east To journey through the aery gloom began, Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun Was not ; she in a cloudy tabernacle Sojourn'd the while. God saw the light was good ; And light from darkness by tV-e hemisphere H ii 4 PARADISE LOST. Divided : light the day, and darkness night, He named. Thus was the first day even and morn : Nor pass'd uncelebrated, nor unsung By the celestial choirs, when orient light Exhaling first from darkness they beheld, Birth-day of heaven and earth ; with joy and shout The hollow universal orb they fill'd, And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning praised God and his works, Creator him they sung, Both when first evening was, and when first morn. Again, God said, Let there be firmament Amid the waters, and let it divide The waters from the waters ; and God made The firmament, expanse of liquid pure, Transparent, elemental air, diffused In circuit to the uttermost convex Of this great round ; partition firm and sure, The waters underneath from those above Dividing ; for as earth, so he the world Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule Of Chaos far removed, lest fierce extremes Contiguous might distemper the whole frame : And heaven he named the firmament : so even And morning chorus sung the second day. The earth was form'd, but, in the womb as yet Of waters embryon immature involved, Appear'd not ; over all the face of earth Main ocean flow'd, not idle, but with warm Prolific humour softening all her globe Fermented the great mother to conceive, Satiate with genial moisture, when God said, Be gather'd now, ye waters ui.uer heaven, Into one place, and let dry land appear. Immediately the mountains huge appear Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky. So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep, Capacious bed of waters : thither they Hasted with glad precipitance, uproll'd As drops on dust conglobing from the dry ; Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct, For haste ; such flight the great command impress'd On the swift floods ; as armies at the call Of trumpet, for of armies thou hast heard, Troop to their standard, so the watery throng, Wave rolling after wave, where way they found ;. If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain, Soft ebbing ; nor withstood them rock or hill, But they, or under ground, or circuit wide With serpent error wandering, found their way, PARADISE LOST. 1 15 And on the washy oose deep channels wore, Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry, All but within those banks, where rivers now Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train. The dry land earth, and the great receptacle Of congregated waters he call'd seas ; And saw that it was good, and said, Let the earth Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed, And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind, Whose seed is in herself upon the earth. He scarce had said, when the bare earth, till then Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorn'd, Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad Her universal face with pleasant green ; Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower'd Opening their various colours, and made gay Her bosom smelling sweet ; and, these scarce blown, Forth flourish'd thick the clustering vine, forth crept The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed Embattled in her field ; and the humble shrub, And bush with frizzled hair implicit : last Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemm'd Their blossoms : with high woods the hills were crown'd ; With tufts the valleys and each fountain side ; With borders long the rivers : that earth now Seem'd like to heaven, a seat where gods might dwell, Or wander with delight, and love to haunt Her sacred shades ; though God had yet not rain'd Upon the earth, and man to till the ground None was ; but from the earth a dewy mist Went up and water'd all the ground, and each Plant of the field ; which, ere it was in the earth, God made, and every herb, before it grew On the green stem. God saw that it was good : So even and morn recorded the third day. Again the Almighty spake : Let there be lights High in the expanse of heaven to divide The day from night ; and let them be for signs, For seasons, and for days, and circling years ; And let them be for lights, as I ordain Their office in the firmament of heaven To give light on the earth ; and it was so. And God made two great lights, great for their use To man, the greater to have rule by day, The less by night, altern ; and made the stars, And set them in the firmament of heaven To illuminate the earth, and rule the day In their vicissitude, and rule the night, And light from darkness to divide. God saw, Surveying his great work, that it was good : For of ceJestial bodies first the sun, 116 PARADISE LOS'i. A mighty sphere, he framed, unlightsome first, Though of ethereal mould ; therTform'd the moon Globose, and every magnitude of stars, And sow'd with stars the heaven thick as a field. Of light by far the greater part he took, Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed In the sun's orb, made porous to receive And drink the liquid light, firm to retain Her gather'd beams, great palace now of light. Hither, as to their fountain, other stars Repairing, in their golden urns draw light, And hence the morning planet gilds her horns ; By tincture or reflection they augment Their small peculiar, though from human sight So far remote, with diminution seen. First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, Regent of day, and all the horizon round Invested with bright rays, jocund to run His longitude through heaven's high road ; the gray Dawn and the Pleiades before him danced, Shedding sweet influence. Less bright the moon, But opposite in levell'd west was set His mirror, with full face borrowing her light From him, for other light she needed none In that aspect, and still that distance keeps Till night ; then in the east her turn she shines, Revolved on heaven's great axle, and her reign With thousand lesser lights dividual holds, With thousand thousand stars, that then appear'd Spangling the hemisphere : then first adorn'd With their bright luminaries, that set and rose, Glad evening and glad morn crown'd the fourth day. And God said, Let the waters generate Reptile with spawn abundant, living soul : And let fowl fly above the earth, with wings Display'd on the open firmament of heaven. And God created the great whales, and each Soul living, each that crept, which plenteously The waters generated by their kinds ; And every bird of wing after his kind ; And saw that it was good, and bless'd them, saying, Be fruitful, multiply, and in the seas, And lakes, and running streams, the waters fill ; And let the fowl be multiplied on the earth. Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay, With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft Bank the mid sea : part single, or with mate, Graze the sea-weed their pasture, and through groves Of coral stray, or sporting with quick glance Show to the sun their waved coats dropt with gold ; PARADISE LOST. 117 Or in their pearly shells at ease attend Moist nutriment, or under rocks their food In jointed armour watch : on smooth the seal And bended dolphins play ; part, huge of bulk, Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait, Tempest the ocean : there Leviathan, Ilugest of living creatures, on the deep Stretch'd like a promontory, sleeps or swims, And seems a moving land, and at his gills Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea. Meanwhile the tepid caves, and fens, and shores, Their brood as numerous hatch from the egg, that soon Bursting with kindly rupture forth disclosed Their callow young ; but feather'd soon and fledge, They summ'd their pens, and soaring the air sublime With clang despised the ground, under a cloud In prospect : there the eagle and the stork On cliffs and cedar tops their eyries build : Part loosely wing the region, part more wise In common ranged in figure wedge their way, Intelligent of seasons, and set forth Their aery caravan, high over seas Flying, and over lands, with mutual wing Easing their flight ; so steers the prudent crane Her annual voyage, borne on winds ; the air Floats, as they pass, fann'd with unnumber'd plumes. From branch to branch the smaller birds with song Solaced the woods, and spread their painted wings Till even ; nor then the solemn nightingale Ceased warbling, but all night tuned her soft lays : Others on silver lakes and rivers bathed Their downy breast ; the swan, with arched neck Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows Her state with oary feet ; yet oft they quit The dank, and rising on stiff pennons tower The mid aerial sky. Others on ground Walk'd firm ; the crested cock, whose clarion sounds The silent hours, and the other, whose gay train Adorns him, colour'd with the florid hue Of rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thus With fish replenish'd, and the air with fowl, Evening and morn solemnised the fifth day. The sixth, and of creation last, arose With evening harps and matin, when God said, Let the earth bring forth soul living in her kind, Cattle and creeping things, and beast of the earth, Each in their kind. The earth obey'd, and straight Opening her fertile womb teem'd at a birth Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms, Limb'd and full-grown. Out of the ground up rose As from his lair the wild beast, where he wons In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den ; nS PARADISE LOST. Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walk'd ; The cattle in the fields and meadows green : Those rare and solitary, these in flocks Pasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung. The grassy clouds now calved, now half appeared The tawny lion, pawing to get free His hinder parts, then springs as broke from bonds, And rampant shakes his brindcd mane ; the ounce, The libbard, and the tiger, as the mole Rising, the crumbled earth above them threw In hillocks ; the swift stag from under ground Bore up his branching head ; scarce from his mould Behemoth, biggest born of earth, upheaved His vastness ; fleeced the flocks and bleating rose, As plants ; ambiguous between sea and land The river horse and scaly crocodile. At once came forth whatever creeps the ground, Insect or worm ; those waved their limber fans For wings, and smallest lineaments exact In all the liveries deck'd of summer's pride, With spots of gold and purple, azure and green : These as a line their long dimension drew, Streaking the ground with sinuous trace ; not all Minims of nature ; some of serpent kind, Wondrous in length and corpulence, involved Their snaky folds and added wings. First crept The parsimonious emmet, provident Of future, in small room large heart enclosed, Pattern of just equality perhaps Hereafter, joined in her popular tribes Of commonalty : swarming next appear'd The female bee, that feeds her husband drone Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells With honey stored : the rest are numberless, And thou their natures know'st, and gavest them names. Needless to thee repeated ; nor unknown The serpent, subtlest beast of all the field, Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes And hairy mane terrific, though to thee Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. Now heaven in all her glory shone, and roll'd Her motions, as the great First Mover's hand First wheel'd their course ; earth in her rich nttire Consummate lovely smiled ; air, water, earth, By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was walk'd Frequent ; and of the sixth day yet remain'd ; There wanted yet the master-work, the end Of all yet done ; a creature, who not prone And brute as other creatures, but endued With sanctity of reason, might erect His stature, and upright with front serene Govern the rest, self-knowing ; and from thence PARADISE LOST. 119 Magnanimous to correspond with heaven ; But grateful to acknowledge whence his good Descends ; thither with heart, and voice, and eyes Directed in devotion, to adore And worship God supreme, who made him chief Of all his works : therefore the Omnipotent Eternal Father, for where is not he Present ? thus to his Son audibly spake : Let us make now man in our image, man In our similitude, and let them rule Over the fish and fowl of sea and air, Beast of the field, and over all the earth, And every creeping thing that creeps the ground. This said, he form'd thee, Adam, thee, O man, Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breath'd The breath of life ; in his own image he Created thee, in the image of God Express, and thou becamest a living soul. Male he created thee, but thy consort Female for race ; then bless'd mankind, and said, Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth, Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold O ver fish of the sea, and fowl of the air, And every living thing that moves on the earth. Wherever thus created, for no place Is yet distinct by name, thence, as thou know'st, He brought thee into this delicious grove, This garden, planted with the trees of God, Delectable both to behold and taste ; And freely all their pleasant fruit for food Gave thee ; all sorts are here that all the earth yields, Variety without end ; but of the tree, Which tasted works knowledge of good and evil, Thou mayest not ; in the day thou eatst thou diest ; Death is the penalty imposed, beware, And govern well thy appetite, lest Sin Surprise thee, and her black attendant, Death. Here finish'd he, and all that he had made View'd, and behold all was entirely good ; So even and morn accomplish'd the sixth day : Yet not, till the Creator from his work Desisting, though unwearied, up return'd, Up to the heaven of heavens, his high abode, Thence to behold this new-created world, The addition of his empire, how it show'd In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair, Answering his great idea. Up he rode, Follow'd with acclamation and the sound Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned Angelic harmonies : the earth, the air Resounded, thou rememberest, for thou heardst, The heavens and all the constellations rung, 720 rARADISE LOST. The planets in their station listening stood, While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung, Open, ye heavens, your living doors ; let in The great Creator, from his work return'd Magnificent, his six clays' work, a world : Open, and henceforth oft ; for God will deign To visit oft the dwellings of just men Delighted, and with frequent intercourse Thither will send his winged messengers On errands of supernal grace. So sung The glorious train ascending : He through heaven, That open'd wide her blazing portals, led To God's eternal house direct the way, A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold, And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear Seen in the galaxy, that milky way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars. And now on earth the seventh Evening arose in Eden, for the sun Was set, and twilight from the east came on, Forerunning night ; when at the holy mount Of heaven's high-seated top, the imperial throne Of Godhead, fix'd for ever firm and sure, The Filial Power arrived, and sat him down With his great Father ; for he also went Invisible, yet stay'd, such privilege Hath Omnipresence, and the work ordain'd, Author and end of all things, and from work Now resting, bless'd and hallow'd the seventh day, As resting on that day from all his work, But not in silence holy kept ; the harp Had work, and rested not ; the solemn pipe And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop, All sounds on fret by string or golden wire, Temper'd soft tunings, intermix'd with voice Choral or unison : of incense clouds Fuming from golden censers hid the mount. Creation and the six days' acts they sung, Great are thy works, Jehovah, infinite Thy power ; what thought can measure thee, or tongue Relate thee ? greater now in thy return Than from the giant angels; thee that day Thy thunders magnified ; but to create Is greater than created to destroy. Who can impair thee, Mighty King, or bound Thy empire ? easily the proud attempt Of spirits apostate, and their counsels vain, Thou hast repell'd ; while impiously they thought Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw The number of thy worshippers. Who seeks To lessen thee, against his purpose serves PARADISE LOST. i2l To manifest the more thy might : his evil Thou usest, and from thence Greatest more good. Witness this new-made world, another heaven, From heaven-gate not far, founded in view /On the clear hyaline, the glassy sea ; Of amplitude almost immense, with stars Numerous, and every star perhaps a world fit destined habitation ; but thou knowest Their seasons : among these the seat of men, F.arth, with her nether ocean circumfused, Their pleasant dwelling-place. Thrice happy men, And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanced, Created in his image, there to dwell And worship him ; and in reward to rule Over his works, on earth, in sea, or air, And multiply a race of worshippers Holy and just : thrice happy, if they know Their happiness, and persevere upright. So sung they, and the empyrean rung "With hallelujahs : thus was Sabbath kept. And thy request think now fulfill'd, that ask'd How first this world and face of things began, And what before thy memory was done From the beginning, that posterity Inform'd by thee might know. If else thou seek'st Aught, not surpassing human measure, say. BOOK VIII. THE ARGUMENT. Adam inquires concerning celestial motions, is doubtfully answered, and ex- horted to search rather things more worthy of knowledge. Adam assents ; and, still desirous to detain Raphael, relates to him what he remembered since his own creation ; his placing in Paradise ; his talk with God con- cerning solitude and fit society ; his first meeting and nuptials with Eve ; his discourse with the angel thereupon ; who, after admonitions repeated, departs. THE angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear j Then, as new-waked, thus gratefully replied : What thanks sufficient, or what recompense Equal, have I to render thee, divine Historian, who thus largely hast allay'd The thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsafed This friendly condescension to relate Things else by me unsearchable, now heard With wonder, but delight, and, as is due, With glory attributed to the high Creator ? Something yet of doubt remains. 122 PARADISE LOST. Which only thy solution can resolve. When I behold this goodly frame, this world, Of heaver and earth consisting, and compute Their magnitudes ; this earth, a spot, a grain, An atom, with the firmament compared And all her number'd stars, that seem to roll Spaces incomprehensible, for such Their distance argues, and their swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot, One day and night, in all their vast survey Useless besides ; reasoning, I oft admire, How nature wise and frugal could commit Such disproportions, with superfluous hand So many nobler bodies to create, Greater, so manifold, to this one use, For aught appears, and on their orbs impose Such restless revolution day by day Repeated, while the sedentary earth, That better might with far less compass move, Served by more noble than herself, attains Her end without least motion, and receives, As tribute, such a sumless journey brought Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light ; Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails. So spake our sire, and by his countenance seem'd Entering on studious thoughts abtruse ; which Eve Perceiving where she sat retired in sight, With lowliness majestic from her seat, And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers, To visit how they prosper'tl, bud and bloom, Her nursery ; they at her coming sprung, And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew. Yet went she not, as not with such discourse Delighted, or not capable her ear Of what was high : such pleasure she reserved. Adam relating, she sole auditress ; Her husband the relater she preferr'd Before the angel, and of him to ask Chose rather ; he, she knew, would intermix Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses, from his lip Not words alone pleased her. Oh, when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd ? With goddess-like demeanour forth she went, Not unattended, for on her as queen A pomp of winning graces waited still, And from about her shot darts of desire Into all eyes, to wish her still in sight. And Raphael now, to Adam's doubt proposed, Benevolent and facile thus replied : PARADISE LOST. 123 To ask or search I blame thee not, for heaven Is as the book of God before thee set, Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years. This to attain, whether heaven move or earth, Imports not, if thou reckon right ; the rest From man' or angel the great Architect Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought Rather admire ; or, if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric of the heavens Hath left to their disputes ; perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions wide Hereafter, when they come to model heaven And calculate the stars ; how they will wield The mighty frame ; how build, unbuild, contrive, To save appearances ; how gird the sphere With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er, Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb. Already by thy reasoning this I guess, Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest That bodies bright and greater should not serve The less not bright, nor heaven such journeys run, Earth sitting still, when she alone receives The benefit. Consider first, that great Or bright infers not excellence : the earth, Though, in comparison of heaven, so small, Nor glistering, may of solid good contain More plenty than the sun that barren shines, Whose virtue on itself works no effect, But in the fruitful earth ; there first received, His beams, inactive else, their vigour find. Yet not to earth are those bright luminaries Officious, but to thee, earth's habitant. And for the heaven's wide circuit, let it speak The Maker's high magnificence, who built So spacious, and his line stretch'd out so far, That man may know he dwells not in his own : An edifice too large for him to fill, Lodged in a small pariition, and the rest Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known. The swiftness of those circles attribute, Though numberless, to his omnipotence, That to corporeal substances could add Speed almost spiritual : me thou thinkst not slow, Who since the morning hour set out from heaven Where God resides, and ere mid-day arrived In Eden, distance inexpressible By numbers that have name. But this I urge, Admitting motion in the heavens, to show 1 nvalid that which thee to doubt it moved ; Not that I so affirm, though so it seem 124 PARADISE LOST. To thee who hast thy dwelling here on earth. God, to remove his ways from human sense, Placed heaven from earth so far, that earthly sight, If it presume, might err in things too high, And no advantage gain. What if the sun Be centre to the world, and other stars, By his attractive virtue and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds? Their wandering course now high, now low, then hid, Progressive, retrograde, or standing still, In six thou seest ; and what if, seventh to these, The planet earth, so steadfast though she seem, Insensibly three different motions move ? Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe, Moved contrary with thwart obliquities, Or save the sun his labour, and that swift Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed, Invisible else above all stars, the wheel Of day and night ; which needs not thy belief, If earth industrious of herself fetch day Travelling east, and with her part averse From the sun's beam meet night, her other part Still luminous by his ray. What if that light, Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air, To the terrestrial moon be as a star Enlightening her by day, as she by night This earth ? reciprocal, if land be there. Fields and inhabitants. Her spots thou seest As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce Fruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eat Allotted there ; and other suns perhaps With their attendant moons thou wilt descry, Communicating male and female light, Which two great sexes animate the world, Stored in each orb perhaps with some that live. For such vast room in nature unpossess'd By living soul, desert and desolate, Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far Down to this habitable, which returns Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. But whether thus these things, or whether not, Whether the sun, predominant in heaven, Rise on the earth, or earth rise on the sun, He from the east his flaming road begin ; Or she from west her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle, while she paces even, And bears thee soft with the smooth air along. Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid ; Leave them to God above, him serve and fear. Of other creatures, as him pleases best, PARADISE LOST. 125 Wherever placed, let him dispose ; joy thou In what he gives to thee, this Paradise And thy fair Eve ; heaven is for thee too high To know what passes there ; be lowly wise : Think only what concerns thee and thy being ; Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition, or degree, Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd Not of earth only, but of highest heaven To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, replied ! How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure Intelligence of heaven, angel serene. And, freed from intricacies, taught to live The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts To interrupt the sweet of life, from which God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares, And not molest us, unless we ourselves Seek them with wandering thoughts, and notions vain. But apt the mind or fancy is to rove Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end ; Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn, That not to know at large of things remote From use, obscure and subtle, but to know That which before us lies in daily life, Is the prime wisdom ; what is more, is fume, Or emptiness, or fond impertinence, And renders us, in things that most concern, Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek. Therefore from this high pitch let us descend A lower flight, and speak of things at hand Useful, whence haply mention may arise Of something not unseasonable to ask By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign 'd. Thee I have heard relating what was done Ere my remembrance : now, hear me relate My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard ; And day is not yet spent ; till then thou seest How subtly to detain thee I devise, Inviting thee to hear while I relate, Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply : For while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven, And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear Than fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirst And hunger both, from labour, at the hour Of sweet repast ; they satiate, and soon fill, Though pleasant ; but thy words, with grace divine Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety. To whom thus Raphael answer'd heavenly meek : Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men, Nor tongue ineloquent ; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd, Inward and outward both, his image fair : 126 PARADISE LOST. Speaking or mute, all comeliness and grace Attends thce ; and each word, each motion forms. Nor less think we in heaven of thee on earth Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire Gladly into the ways of God with man ; For God we see hath honour'd thce, and set On man his equal love. Say therefore on ; For I that day was absent, as befell, Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure, Far on excursion toward the gates of hell, Squared in full legion, such command we had, To see that none thence issued forth a spy, Or enemy, while God was in his work ; Lest he, incensed at such eruption bold, Destruction with creation might have mix'd. Not that they durst without his leave attempt, But us he sends upon his high behests For state, as sovereign King, and to inure Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut The dismal gates, and barricadoed strong ; But long ere our approaching heard within Noise, other than the sound of dance or song, Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. Glad we return'd up to the coasts of light Ere Sabbath evening : so we had in charge. But thy relation now ; for I attend, Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine. So spake the godlike power, and thus our sire : For man to tell how human life began Is hard ; for who himself beginning knew ? Desire with thee still longer to converse Induced me. As new waked from soundest sleep Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid, In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed. Straight toward heaven my wondering eyes I turn'd. And gazed awhile the ample sky, till, raised By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet : about me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams ; by these, Creatures that lived, and moved, and walk'd, or flew ; Birds on the branches warbling ; all things smiled, With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflow'd. Myself I then perused, and limb by limb Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran With supple joints, as lively vigour led : But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not : to speak I tried, and forthwith spake ; My tongue obey'd, and readily could name Whate'er I saw. Thou sun, said I, fair light, PARADISE LOS'i . 127 And thou enlighten'd earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here? Not of myself, by some great Maker then, In goodness and in power pre-eminent : Tell me, how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that I am happier than I know. While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither. From where I first drew air, and first beheld This happy light, when answer none return'd, On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers, Pensive I sat me down ; there gentle sleep First found me, and with soft oppression seized My drowsed sense, untroubled, though I thought I then was passing to my former state Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve : When suddenly stood at my head a dream, Whose inward apparition gently moved My fancy to believe I yet had being, And lived : one came, methought, of shape divine, And said, Thy mansion wants thee, Adam ; rise, First man, of men innumerable oidain'd First father, call'd by thee, I come thy guide To the garden of bliss, thy seat prepared. So saying, by the hand he took me raised, And over fields and waters, as in air Smooth sliding without step, last led me up A woody mountain ; whose high top was plain, A circuit wide, enclosed, with goodliest trees Planted, with walks, and bowers, that what I saw Of earth before scarce pleasant seem'd. Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to the eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat ; whereat I waked, and found Before mine eyes all real, as the dream 1 lad lively shadow'd. H ere had new begun My wandering, had not he, who was my guide Up hither, from among the trees appear'd, Presence Drvine. Rejoicing, but with awe, In adoration at his feet I fell ;3ubmiss : He rear'd me, and, whom thou soughtst I am, Said mildly, Author of all this thou seest Above, or round about thee, or beneath. This Paradise I give thee, count it thine To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat : Of every tree that in the garden grows Eat freely with glad heart ; fear here no dearth But of the tree whose operation brings Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set 128 PARADISE LOST. The pledge of thy obedience and thy failh Amid the garden by the Tree of Life, Remember what. I warn thee, shun to taste, And shun the bitter consequence : for know, The day thou eatst thereof, my sole command Transgress'd, inevitably thou shalt die ; From that day mortal, and this happy state Shalt lose, expell'cl from hence into a world Of woe and sorrow. Sternly he pronounced The rigid interdiction, which resounds Yet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choice Not to incur ; but soon his clear aspect Return'd, and gracious purpose thus renew'd : Not only these fair bounds, but all the earth To thee and to thy race I give ; as lords Possess it, and all things that therein live, Or live in sea, or air ; beast, fish, and fowl. In sign whereof each bird and beast behold After their kinds ; I bring them to receive From, thee their names, and pay thee fealty With low subjection ; understand the same Of fish within their watery residence, Not hither summon'd, since they cannot change Their element to draw the thinner air. As thus he spake, each bird and beast behold Approaching two and two ; these cowering low With blandishment, each bird stoop'd on his wing. I named them as they pass'd, and understood Their nature, with such knowledge God endued My sudden apprehension ; but in these I found not what me thought I wanted still ; And to the heavenly vision thus presumed : Oh by what name, for thou above all these, Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher, Surpasses! far my naming, how may I Adore thee, Author of this universe, And all this good to man, for whose well-being So amply, and with hands so liberal, Thou hast provided all things ? but with me I see not who partakes. In solitude What happiness, who can enjoy alone, Or, all enjoying, what contentment find ? Thus I presumptuous ; and the vision bright, As with a smile more brighten'd, thus replied : What call'st thou solitude ? Is not the earth With various living creatures and the air Replenish'd, and all these at thy command To come and play before thee ? Knowest thou not Their language and their ways? They also know, And reason not contemptibly ; with these Find pastime, and bear rule ; thy realm is large. So spake the Universal Lord, and seem'd '<6tr , PARADISE LOST. 12$ So ordering. I, with leave of speech implored, And ?mmble deprecation, thus replied : Let not my words offend thee, heavenly Power, My Maker, be propitious while I speak. I last thou not made me here thy substitute, And these inferior far beneath me set? Among unequals what society Can sort, what harmony, or true delight? Which must be mutual, in proportion due Given and received ; but in disparity, The one intense, the other still remiss, Cannot well suit with either, but soon prove Tedious alike ; of fellowship I speak Such as I seek, fit to participate All rational delight, wherein the brute Cannot be human consort: they rejoice Each with their kind, lion with lioness ; So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined ; Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl, So well converse, nor with the ox the ape; Worse then can man with beast, and least of all. Whereto the Almighty answer'd, not displeased : A nice and subtle happiness I see Thou to thyself proposest, in the choice Of thy associates, Adam, and wilt taste No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary. What thinkst thou then of me, and this my state? Seem I to thee sufficiently possess'd Of happiness, or not, who am alone From all eternity? for none I know Second to me or like, equal much less. I low have I then with whom to hold converse, Save with the creatures which I made, and those To me inferior, infinite descents Beneath what other creatures are to thee ? He ceased ; I lowly answer'd : To attain The height and depth of thy eternal ways All human thoughts come short, Supreme of things ! Thou in thyself art perfect, and in thee Is no deficvence found : not so is man, But in degree, the cause of his desire, By conversation with his like, to help Or solace his defects. No need that thou Shouldst propagate, already infinite, And through all numbers absolute, though one ; But man by number is to manifest His single imperfection, and beget Like of his like, his image multiplied, In unity defective, which requires Collateral love, and dearest amity. Thou in thy secrecy, although alone. Best with thyself accompanied, seekst hot 130 rARADISE LOST. vSocial communication ; yet so pleased C'anst raise thy creature to what height thou wn f . Of union or communion, deified ; I by conversing cannot these erect From prone, nor in their ways complacence find. Thus I emboklen'd spake, and freedom used Permissive, and acceptance found ; which gain'd This answer from the gracious Voice Divine : Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleased, And find thee knowing not of beasts alone, Which thou hast rightly named, but of thyself, Expressing well the spirit within thee free, My image, not imparted to the brute ; Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for thee Good reason was thou freely shouldst dislike, And be so minded still : I, ere thou spakest, Knew it not good for man to be alone, And no such company as then thou sawest Intended thee, for trial only brought, To see how thou coulclst judge of fit and meet. What next I bring shall please thee, be assured, Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self, Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire. He ended, or I heard no more ; for now My earthly by his heavenly overpower'd, Which it had long stood under, strain'd to the height In that celestial colloquy sublime, As with an object that excels the sense, Dazzled, and spent, sunk down, and sought repair Of sleep, which instantly fell on me, call'd By nature as in aid, and closed mine eyes. Mine eyes he closed, but open left the cell Of fancy, my internal sight, by which Abstract as in a trance methought I saw, Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape Still glorious before whom awake I stood ; Who stooping open'd my left side, and took From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm, And life-blood streaming fresh ; wide was the wound, But suddenly with flesh fill'd up and heal'd. The rib he form'd and fashion'd with his hands ; Under his forming hands a creature grew Man-like, but different sex, so lovely fair, That what seem'd fair in all the world, seem'd now Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contain'd, And in her looks, whicu from that time infused Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before, And into all things from her air inspired The spirit of love and amorous delight. She disappear'd, and left me dark ; I waked To find her, or for ever to deplore Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure. PARADISE LOST. 131 When out of hope, behold her, not far off, Such as I saw her in my dream, adorn'd With what all earth or heaven could bestow To make her amiable : on she came, Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen, And guided by his voice, nor uninform'd Of nuptial sanctity and marriage rites : Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love. I overjoy' d could not forbear aloud : This turn hath made amends ; thou hast fulfilled Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign Giver of all things fair, but fairest this Of all thy gifts, nor enviest. I now see Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself Before me. Woman is her name, of man Extracted ; for this cause he shall forego Father and mother, and to his wife adhere ; And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul. She heard me thus, and, though divinely brought, Yet innocence and virgin modesty, I ler virtue, and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won, Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired, The more desirable, or, to say all, Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, Wrought in her so, that seeing me she turn'd : I follow'd her, she what was honour knev And with obsequious majesty approved My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bowo I led her blushing like the mom : all heaven, And happy constellations on that houi Shed their selectest influence ; the earth Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill ; Joyous the birds ; fresh gales and gentle airs Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub, Disporting, till the amorous bird of night Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening star On his hill-top to light the bridal lamp. Thus I have told thee all my state, and brought My story to the sum of earthly bliss, Which I enjoy, and must confess to find In all things else delight indeed, but such As, used or not, works in the mind no change, Nor vehement desire ; these delicacies I mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers, Walks, and the melody of birds : but here Far otherwise, transported I behold, Transported touch ; here passion first I felt, Commotion strange, in all enjoyments else Superior and unmoved, here only weak 132 PARADISE LOST. Against the charm of beauty's powerful gh Or nature fail'cl in me, and left some part lance, part Not proof enough such object to sustain ; Or from my side subducting took perhaps More than enough ; at least on her bestow'd Too much of ornament, in outward show Elaborate, of inward less exact. For well I understand, in the prime end Of nature, her the inferior, in the mind And inward faculties, which most excel ; In outward also her resembling less His image who made both, and less expressing The character of that dominion given O'er other creatures : yet, when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best All higher knowledge in her presence falls Degraded ; wisdom in discourse with her Loses discountenanced, and like folly shows : Authority and reason on her wait, As one intended first, not after made Occasionally ; and, to consummate all, Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat Build in her loveliest, and create an awe About her, as a guard angelic placed. To whom the angel, with contracted brow : Accuse not Nature ; she hath done her part, Do thou but thine, and be not diffident Of wisdom ; she deserts thee not, if thou Dismiss not her, when most thou needst her nigh, By attributing overmuch to things Less excellent, as thou thyself perceivest. For what admirest thou, what transports thee so ? An outside? fair, no doubt, and worthy well Thy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love, Not thy subjection : weigh with her thyself; Then value : ofttimes nothing profits more Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right Well managed ; of that skill, the more thou knowest, The more she will acknowledge thee her head And to realities yield all her shows ; Made so adorn for thy delight the more, So awful, that with honour thou mayest love Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise. But if the sense of touch, whereby mankin rl Is propagated, seem such dear delight Beyond all other, think the same vouchsafed To cattle and each beast ; which would not be To them made common and divulged, if aught Therein enjoy'd were worthy to subdue fly PARADISE LOST. 133 The soul of man, or passion in him move. What higher in her society thou findst Attractive, human, rational, love still ; In loving thou dost well, in passion not, Wherein true love consists not. Love refines The thoughts, and heart enlarges ; hath his seat In reason, and is judicious ; is the scale By which to heavenly love thou mayest ascend, Not sunk in carnal pleasure ; for which cause Among the beasts no mate for thee was found. To whom thus half abash'd Adam replied : Neither her outside form'd so fair, nor aught In procreation common to all kinds, Though higher of the genial bed by far, And with mysterious reverence I deem, So much delights me, as those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies that daily flow From all her words and actions, mix'd Avith love And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd Union of mind, or in us both one soul ; Harmony to behold in wedded pair More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. Yet these subject not ; I to thee disclose What inward thence I feel, not therefore foil'd, Who meet with various objects, from the sense Variously representing ; yet still free Approve the best, and follow what I approve. To love thou blamest me not, for love, thou sayest, Leads up to heaven, is both the way and guide ; Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask : Love not the heavenly spirits, and how their love Express they, by looks only, or do they mix Irradiance, virtual or immediate touch? To whom the angel, with a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, love's proper hue, Answer'd : Let it suffice thee that thou knowest Us happy, and without love no happiness. Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy'st, And pure thou wert created, we enjoy In eminence, and obstacle find none Of membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bars Easier than air witli air, if spirits embrace, Total they mix, union of pure with pure Desiring ; nor restrain'd conveyance need As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul. But I can now no more ; the parting sun, Beyond the earth's green cape and verdant isles Hesperian, sets, my signal to depart. Be strong, live happy, and love, but, first of all, Him whom to love is to obey, and keep His great command ; take heed lest passion sway Thy judgment to do aught, which else free-will 134 PARADISE LOST. Would not admit ; thine, and of all thy sons, The weal or woe in thee is placed ; beware. I in thy persevering shall rejoice, And all the blest : stand fast ; to stand or fall Free in thine own arbitrament it lies ; Perfect within, no outward aid require, And all temptation to transgress repel. So saying, he arose ; whom Adam thus Follow'd with benediction. Since to part, Go, heavenly guest, ethereal messenger, Sent from whose sovereign goodness I adore ! Gentle to me and affable hath been Thy condescension, and shall be honour'd ever With grateful memory : thou to mankind Ue good and friendly still, and oft return. So parted they, the angel up to heaven From the thick shade, and Adam to his bower. BOOK IX. THE ARGUMENT. Satan, having compassed the earth, with meditated guile returns as a mist by night into Paradise, and enters into the serpent sleeping. Adam and Eve in the morning go forth to their labours, which Eve proposes to divide in several places, each labouring apart : Adam consents not, alleging the danger, lest that enemy, of whom they were forewarned, should attempt her found alone : Eve, loth to be thought not circumspect or firm enough, urges her going apart, the rather desirous to make trial of her strength : Adam at last yields ; the serpent finds her alone ; his subtle approach, first gazing, then speaking, with much flattery extolling Eve above all other creatures. Eve, wondering to hear the serpent speak, asks how he attained to human speech and such understanding not till now ; the serpent answers, that by tasting of a certain tree in the garden he attained both to speech and reason, till then void of both : Eve requires him to bring her to that tree, and finds it to be the tree of knowledge forbidden ; the serpent, now grown bolder, with many wiles and arguments, induces her at length to eat ; she, pleased with the taste, deliberates awhile whether to impart thereof to Adam, or not ; at last brings him of the fruit, relates what per- suaded her to eat thereof: Adam, at first amazed, but perceiving her lost, resolves, through vehemence of love, to perish with her, and extenuating the trespass eats also of the fruit : the effects thereof in them both ; they seek to cover their nakedness ; then fall to variance and accusation of one another. No more of talk where God or angel guest With man, as with his friend, familiar used To sit indulgent, and with him partake Rural repast, permitting him the while Venial discourse unblamed. I now must change Those notes to tragic ; foul distrust, and breach Disloyal, on the part of man, revolt And disobedience : on the part of heaven, Now alienated, distance and distaste, Anger, and just rebuke, and judgment given, PARADISE LOST. 135 That brought into this world a world of wee ; Sin and her shadow death, and misery, Death's harbinger. Sad task, yet argument Not less but more heroic than the wrath Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued, Thrice fugitive, about Troy wall ; or rage Of Turnus for Lavinia disespoused, Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long Perplex'd the Greek and Cytherea's son ; If answerable style I can obtain Of my celestial patroness, who deigns Her nightly visitation unimplored, And dictates to me slumbering, or inspires Easy my unpremeditated verse : Since first this subject for heroic song Pleased me, long choosing and beginning late ; Not sedulous by nature to indite Wars, hitherto the only argument Heroic deem'd, chief mastery to dissect With long and tedious havoc fabled knights In battles feign'd ; the better fortitude Of patience and heroic martyrdom Unsung ; or to describe races and games, Or tilting furniture, emblazoned shields, Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds , Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights At joust and tournament ; then marshall'd feast Served up in hall with sewers and seneschals ; The skill of artifice or office mean, Not that which justly gives heroic name To person or to poem. Me, of these Nor skill'd nor studious higher argument Remains, sufficient of itself to raise That name, unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years, damp my intended wing Depress'd ; and much they may, if all be mine, Not hers, who brings it nightly to my ear. The sun was sunk, and after him the star Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring Twilight upon the earth, short arbiter 'Twixt day and night ; and now from end to end Night's hemisphere had veil'd the horizon round ; When Satan, who late fled before the threats Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improved In meditated fraud and malice, bent On man's destruction, maugre what might hap Of heavier on himself, fearless return'd. l>y night he fled, and at midnight return'd From compassing the earth, cautious of day, Since Uriel, regent of the Hin, descried His entrance, and forewarn'd the cherubim That kept their watch ; thence full of anguish driven, 136 PARADISE LOST. The space of seven continued nights he rode With darkness, thrice the equinoctial line He circled, four times cross'd the car of night From pole to pole, traversing each colure ; On the eighth return'd, and, on the coast averse From entrance or cherubic watch, by stealth Found unsuspected way. There was a place, Now not, though sin, not time, first wrought the change, Where Tigris at the foot of Paradise Into a gulf shot under ground, till part Rose up a fountain by the Tree of Life : In with the river sunk, and with it rose Satan Involved in rising mist ; then sought Where to lie hid ; sea he had search 'd and land From Eden over Pontus, and the pool Mceotis, up beyond the river Ob ; Downward as far antarctic ; and in length West from O routes to the ocean barr'd At Darien ; thence to the land where flows Ganges and Indus : thus the orb he roam'd With narrow search ; and with inspection deep Consider'd every creature, which of all Most opportune might serve his wiles, and found The serpent subtlest beast of all the field. Him after long debate, irresolute, Of thoughts revolved, his final sentence chose Fit vessel, fittest imp of fraud, in whom To enter, and his dark suggestions hide From sharpest sight ; for in the wily snake Whatever sleights none would suspicious mark, As from his wit and native subtlety Proceeding, which in other beasts observed Doubt might beget of diabolic power Active within, beyond the sense of brute. Thus he resolved, but first, from inward grief, His bursting passion into plaints thus pour'd : O earth, how like to heaven, if not preferr'd More justly, seat worthier of gods, as built With second thoughts, reforming what was old ! For what god after better worse would build ? Terrestrial heaven, danced round by other heaven? That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps, Light above light, for thee alone, as seems, In thee concentring all their precious beams Of sacred influence. As God in heaven Is centre, yet extends to all, so thou Centring receivest from all those orbs : in thee, Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth Of creatures animate with gradual life Of growth, sense, reason, all summ'd up in man. With what delight could I have walk'd thee round, LUST. 137 If I could joy in aught, s\vect interchange Of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plain-;, Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crown'd, Rocks, dens, and caves ! But I in none of these Find place or refuge ; and the more I see Pleasures about me, so much more I feel Torment within me, as from the hateful siege Of contraries ; all good to me becomes Bane, and in heaven much worse would be my s!ale. But neither here seek I, no, nor in heaven, To dwell, unless by mastering heaven's Supreme , Nor hope to be myself less miserable By what I seek, but others to make such As I, though thereby worse to me redound : For only in destroying I find ease To my relentless thoughts ; and, him destroy'd, Or won to what may work his utter loss, For whom all this was made, all this will soon Follow, as to him link'd in weal or woe, In woe then ; that destruction wide may range. To me shall be the glory sole among The infernal powers, in one day to have marr'd What he, Almighty styled, six nights and days Continued making, and who knows how long Before had been contriving, though perhaps Not longer than since I in one night freed From servitude inglorious well nigh half The angelic name, and thinner left the throng ( )f his adorers. He, to be avenged, And to repair his numbers thus impair'd, Whether such virtue spent of old now fail'd More angels to create, if they at least Are his created, or to spite us more, Determined to advance into our room A creature form'd of earth, and him endow, Exalted from so base original, With heavenly spoils, our spoils : what he decreed He effected ; man he made, and for him built Magnificent this world, and earth his seat, Him lord pronounced, and, O indignity ! Subjected to his service angel wings, And flaming ministers, to watch and tend Their earthly charge. Of these the vigilance I dread, and to elude, thus wrapp'd in mist Of midnight vapour, glide obscure, and pry In every bush and brake, where hap may nnd The serpent sleeping, in whose mazy folds To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. O foul descent ! that I, who erst contended With gods to sit the highest, am now const rain'd Into a beast, and, mix'd with bestial slime, This essence to incarnate and imbrute, : 3 S PARADISE LOST. That to the height of Deity aspired ! ]>ut what will not ambition and revenge Descend to? "Who aspires must down as lo\v As high he soar'd, obnoxious first or last To basest things. Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils : Let it ; I reck not, so it light well aim'd, Since higher I fall short, on him who next Provokes my envy, this new favourite Of heaven, this man of clay, son of despite, Whom, us the more to spite, his Maker raised From dust : spite then with spite is best repaid. So saying, through each thicket dank or dry, Like a black mist low creeping, he held on His midnight search, where soonest he might find The serpent : him, fast sleeping, soon he found In labyrinth of many a round self-roll'd, His head the midst, well stored with subtle wiles : Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den, Nor nocent yet, but on the grassy herb, Fearless unfear'd he slept. In at his mouth The devil enter'd, and his brutal sense, In heart or head, possessing soon inspired With act intelligential ; but his sleep Disturb'd not, waiting close the approach of morn. Mow, when as sacred light began to dawn In Eden on the humid flowers, that breath'd Their morning incense, when all things that breathe From the earth's great altar send up silent praise To the Creator, and his nostrils fill With grateful smell, forth came the human pair And join'd their vocal worship to the choir Of creatures wanting voice; that done, partake The season, prime for sweetest scents and airs ; Then commune, how that day they best may ply Their growing work ; for much their work outgrew The hands' dispatch of two, gardening so wide ; And Eve first to her husband thus began : Adam, well may we labour still to dress This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower, Our pleasant task enjoin'd ; but, till more hands Aid us, the work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint ; what we by day Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, One night or two with wanton growth derides, Tending to wild. Thou therefore now advise, Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present ; Let us divide our labours ; thou where choice Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind The woodbine round this arbour, or direct The clasping ivy where to climb, while I In yonder spring of roses intermix'd PARADISE LOST. With myrtle find what to redress till noon : For while so near each other thus all day Our task we choose, what wonder if so near Looks intervene and smiles, or object new Casual discourse draw on ; which intermits Our day's work, brought to little, though begun Early, and the hour of supper comes unearn'd ? To whom mild answer Adam thus return'd : Sole Eve, associate sole, to me beyond Compare above all living creatures dear, Well hast thou motion'd, well thy thoughts employ 'd, How we might best fulfil the work which here God hath assign'd us, nor of me shall pass Unpraised ; for nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote. Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposed Labour, as to debar us when we need Refreshment, whether food, or talk between, Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse Of looks and smiles ; for smiles from reason flow, To brute denied, and are of love the food ; Love not the lowest end of human life. For not to irksome toil, but to delight, He made us, and delight to reason join'd. These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide As we need walk, till younger hands ere long Assist us : but if much converse perhaps Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield : For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urges sweet return. But other doubt possesses me, lest harm Befall thee sever'd from me ; for thou know'st What hath been warn'd us, what malicious foe, Envying our happiness, and of his own Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame By sly assault ; and somewhere nigh at hand Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find His wish and best advantage, us asunder, Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each To other speedy aid might lend at need ; Whether his first design be to withdraw Our fealty from God, or to disturb Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss Enjoy'd by us excites his envy more ; Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side That gave thee being, still shades thee and protects. The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures. To whom the virgin majesty of Eve, i 4 o rARADISE LOST. As one who loves, and some nnkindness meets, With sweet austere composure thus replied : Offspring of heaven and earth, and all earth's lord, That such an enemy we have, who seeks Our ruin, both by thee inform'd I learn, And from the parting angel overheard, As in a shady nook I stood behind, Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers. But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore clcubt To God or thee, because we have a foe May tempt it, I expected not to hear. His violence thou fear'st not, being such As we, not capable of death or pain, Can either not receive, or can repel. His fraud is then thy fear, which plain infers Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced : Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast, Adam, misthought of her to thee so dear ? To whom with healing words Adam replied : Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve, For such thou art, from sin and blame entire; Not diffident of thee, do I dissuade Thy absence from my sight ; but to avoid The attempt itself, intended by our foe. For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses The tempted with dishonour foul, supposed Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation. Thou thyself, with scorn And anger, would st resent the offer' cl wrong, Though ineffectual found : misdeem not then, If such affront I labour to avert From thee alone, which on us both at once The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare, Or daring, first on me the assault shall light. Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn ; Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce Angels, nor think superfluous others' aid. I from the influence of thy looks receive Access in every virtue, in thy sight More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were Of outward strength ; while shame, thou looking on. Shame to be overcome or over-reach'd, Would utmost vigour raise, and raised unite. Why shouldst not thou like sense within tliee feel When I am present, and thy trial choose With me, best witness of thy virtue tried ? So spake domestic Adam in his care And matrimonial love ; but Eve, who thought Less attributed to her faith sincere, Thus her reply with accent sweet renew'd : Jf this be our condition, thus to dwell PARADISE LOST. 141 In narrow circuit straiten'd by a foe, Subtle or violent, we not endued Single with like defence, wherever met, How are we happy, still in fear of harm ? But harm precedes not sin : only our foe Tempting affronts us with his foul esteem Of our integrity : his foul esteem Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns Foul oh himself; then wherefore shunn'd or fcar'd By us? who rather double honour gain From his surmise proved false, find peace within, Favour from Heaven, our witness, from the event. And what is faith, love, virtue, unessay'd Alone, without exterior help sustain'd ? Let us not then suspect our happy state Left so imperfect by the Maker wise, As not secure to single or combined. Frail is our happiness, if this be so, And Eden were no Eden thus exposed. To whom thus Adam fervently replied : O woman, best are all things as the will Of God ordain'd them ; his creating hand Nothing imperfect or deficient left Of all that he created, much less man, Or aught that might his happy state secure, Secure from outward force. Within himself The danger lies, yet lies within his power : Against his will he can receive no harm. But God left free the will, for what obeys Reason is free, and reason he made right, But bid her well beware, and still erect, Lest, by some fair appearing good surprised, She dictate false, and misinform the will To do what God expressly hath forbid. Not then mistrust, but tender love, enjoins, That I should mind thee oft, and mind thou me. Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve, Since reason not impossibly may meet Some specious object by the foe suborn'd, And fall into deception unaware, Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warn'd Seek not temptation then, which to avoid Were better, and most likely, if from me Thou sever not : trial will come unsought. Wouldst thou approve thy constancy ? approve First thy obedience ; the other who can know, Not seeing thee attempted, who attest ? But if thou think trial unsought may find Us both securer than thus warn'd thou seem'st, Go ; for thy stay, not free, absents thee more ; Go in thy native innocence, rely 142 PARADISE LOST. On what thou hast of virtue, summon all, For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine. So spake the patriarch of mankind, but Eve Persisted, yet submiss, though last, replied : "With thy permission then, and thus forewarn'd, Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning words Touch'd only, that our trial, when least sought, May find us both perhaps far less prepared, The willinger I go, nor much expect A foe so proud will first the weaker seek ; So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse. Thus saying, from her husband's hand her hand Soft she withdrew ; and like a wood-nymph light, Oread or Dryad, or of Delia's train, Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self In gait surpass'd and goddess-like deport, Though not as she with bow and quiver arm VI, But with such gardening tools as art, yet rude, Guiltless of fire, had form'd, or angels brought. To Pales, or Pomona, thus adorn'd, Likest she seem'd ; Pomona, when she fled Vertumnus, or to Ceres in her prime, Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove. Her long with ardent look his eye pursued Delighted, but during more her stay. Oft he to her his charge of quick return Repeated, she tc- him as oft engaged To be return'd Vy noon amid the bower, And all things in best order to invite Noontide repast, or afternoon's repose. O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve, Of thy presumed return ! event perverse ! Thou never from that hour in Paradise Foundst either sweet repast, or sound repose 1 Such ambush, hid among sweet flowers and shades, Waited with hellish rancour imminent To intercept thy way, or send thee back Despoil'd of innocence, of faith, of bliss ! For now, and since first break of dawn, the fiend, Mere serpent in appearance, forth was come, And on his quest, where likeliest he might find The only two of mankind, but in them The whole included race, his purposed prey. In bower and field he sought, where any tuft Of grove or garden-plot more pleasant lay, Their tendance or plantation for delight ; By fountain or by shady rivulet lie sought them both, but wish'd his hap might find Eve separate ; he wish'd, but not with hope Of what so seldom chanced, when to his wish, Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies, Veil'd in a. cloud of fragrance, where she stood, PARADISE LOST. 143 Half spied, so thick the roses blushing round About her glow'd, oft stooping to support Each flower of slender stalk, whose head, though gay Carnation, purple, azure, or speck'd with gold, Hung drooping unsustain'd ; them she upstays Gently with myrtle band, mindless the while. 1 terself, though fairest unsupported flower, From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh. Nearer he drew, and many a walk traversed Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm ; Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen Among thick- woven arborets and flowers Fmborder'd on each bank, the hand of Eve : Spot more delicious than those gardens feign VI Or of revived Adonis, or renown'd Alcinous, host of old Laertes' son ; Or that, not mystic, where the sapient king Held dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse. Much he the place admired, the person more : As one who, long in populous city pent, Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farms Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight ; The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound ; If chance with nymph-like step fair virgin pass, What pleasing seem'd, for her now pleases more, She most, and in her look sums all delight : Such pleasure took the serpent to behold This flowery plat, the sweet recess of Eve Thus early, thus alone : her heavenly form Angelic, but more soft and feminine, Her graceful innocence, her every air Of gesture or least action, overawed His malice, and with rapine sweet bereaved His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought. That space the evil one abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remain'd Stupidly good, of enmity disarm'd, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge ; But the hot hell that always in him burns, Though in mid heaven, soon ended his delight, And tortures him now more, the more he sees Of pleasure not for him ordain'd : then soon Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites : Thoughts, whither have ye led me, vith what sweet Compulsion thus transported, to forget What hither brought us? hate, not love, nor hope Of Paradise for hell, hope here to taste Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy, >r* J44 PARADISE LOST. Save what is in destroying, other joy To me is lost. Then let me not let pass Occasion which now smiles ; behold alone The woman opportune to all attempts, Her husband, for I view far round, not nigh, Whose higher intellectual more I slum, And strength, of courage haughty, and of limb Heroic built, though of lerrestial mould ; Foe not infonnidable, exempt from wound, I not ; so much hath hell debased, and pain Enfeebled me, to what I was in heaven. She fair, divinely fair, fit love for gods ! Not terrible, though terror be in love And beauty, not approach 'd by stronger hate, Hate stronger under show of love well feign'd ; The way which to her ruin now I tend. So spake the enemy of mankind, enclosed In serpent, inmate bad, and toward Eve Address'd his way, not with indented wave, Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear, Circular base of rising folds, that tower'd Fold above fold a. surging maze, his head Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes ; With burnish'd neck of verdant gold, erect Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass Floated redundant ; pleasing was his shape, And lovely ; never since of serpent-kind Lovelier, not those that in Illyria changed Hermione and Cadmus, or the god In Epidaurus ; nor to which transform'd Ammonian Jove or Capitol ine was seen ; He with Olympias, this with her who bore Scipio the height of Rome. With tract oblique At first, as one who sought access, but fear'd To interrupt, sidelong he works his way. As when a ship by skilful steersman wrought Nigh river's mouth or foreland, where the wind Veers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail ; So varied he, and of his tortuous train CuiTd many a wanton wreath in sight of Eve, To lure her eye ; she busied heard the sound Of rustling leaves, but minded not, as used To such disport before her through the field, From every beast, more duteous at her c::ll, Than at Circean call the herd disguised, lie, bolder now, uncall'd before her stood ; But as in gaze admiring : oft he bow'd His turret crest, and sleek enamelled neck, Fawning, and lick'd the ground whereon she trod. His gentle dumb expression lurn'd at length The eye of Eve to mark his play ; he, glad Of her attention gain'd, with serpent tongue fe- PARADISE LOST. 145 Organic, or impulse of vocal air, His fraudulent temptation thus began : Wonder not, sovereign mistress, if perhaps Thou canst, who art sole wonder, much le^s arm Thy looks, the heaven of mildness, with disdain, Displeased that I approach thee thus, and gaze Insatiate, I thus single, nor have fear'd Thy awful brow, more awful thus retired. Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair, Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine Ity S'ft> an d thy celestial beauty adore, With ravishment beheld ! there best beheld Where universally admired ; but here, In this enclosure wild, these beasts among, Beholders rude, and shallow to discern Half what in thee is fair, one man except, Who sees thee ? and what is one ? who shouldst be seen A goddess among gods, adored and served By angels numberless, thy daily train. So glozed the tempter, and his proem tuned ; Into the heart of Eve his words made way, Though at the voice much marvelling : at length, Not unamazed, she thus in answer spake : What may this mean? Language of man pronounced By tongue of brute, and human sense express'd ? The first at least of these I thought denied To beasts, whom God on their creation-day Created mute to all articulate sound ; The latter I demur, for in their looks Much reason, and in their actions, oft appears. Thee, serpent, subtlest beast of all the field I knew, but not with human voice endued ; Redouble then this miracle, and say, How earnest thoa speakable of mute, and how To me so friendly grown above the rest Of brutal kind, that daily are in sight? Say, for such wonder claims attention due. To whom the guileful tempter thus replied : Empress of this fair world, resplendent Eve, Easy to me it is to tell thee all What thou command'st, and right thou shouldst be obey'J : I was at first as other beasts that graze The trodden herb, of abject thoughts and low, As was my food, nor aught but food discern'd, Or sex, ami apprehended nothing high : Till on a day roving the field, I chanced A goodly tree far distant to behold Laden with fruit of fairest colours mix'd, Ruddy and gold : I nearer drew to gaze ; When from the boughs a savoury odour blown, Grateful to appetite, more pleased my sense Than smell of sweetest fennel, or the teats K I 4 6 PARADISE LOST. Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at even, Unsuck'd of lamb or kid, that tend their play. To satisfy the sharp desire I had Of tasting those fair apples, I resolved Not to defer ; hunger and thirst at once, Powerful persuaders, quicken'd at the scent Of that alluring fruit, urged me so keen. About the mossy trunk I wound me soon, For high from ground the branches would require Thy utmost reach or Adam's : round the tree All other beasts that saw with like desire, Longing and envying, stood, but could not reach. Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill I spared not ; for such pleasure till that hour At feed or fountain never had I found. Sated at length, ere long I might perceive Strange alteration in me, to degree Of reason in my inward powers, and speech Wanted not long, though to this shape retain'd. Thenceforth to speculations high or deep I turn'd my thoughts, and with capacious mind Consider'd all things visible in heaven, Or earth, or middle, all things fair and good ; But all that fair and good in thy divine Semblance, and in thy beauty's heavenly ray, United I beheld ; no fair to thine Equivalent or second, which compell'd Me thus, though importune perhaps, to come And gaze, and worship thee, of right declared Sovereign of creatures, universal dame ! So talk'd the spirited sly snake ; and Eve, Yet more amazed, unwary thus replied : Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in doubt The virtue of that fruit, in thee first proved : But say, where grows the tree ? from hence ho\v far ' For many are the trees of God that grow In Paradise, and various, yet unknown To us, in such abundance lies our choice, As leaves a gceater store of fruit untouch'd, Still hanging incorruptible, till men Grow up to their provision, and more hands Help to disburden nature of her birth. To whom the wily adder, blithe and glad : Empress, the way is ready, and not long ; Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat, Fast by a fountain, one small thicket past Of blowing myrrh and balm : if thou accept My conduct, I can bring thee thither soon. Lead then, said Eve. He leading swiftly rcll'd In tangles, and made intricate seem straight, To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joy PARADISE LOST. 147 Brightens his crest. As when a wandering fire, Compact of unctuous vapour, which the night Condenses, and the cold environs round, Kindled through agitation to a flame. Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends, Hovering and blazing with delusive light, Misleads the amazed night-wanderer from his way To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool, There swallow'd up and lost, from succour far ; So glister'd the dire snake, and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the tree Of prohibition, root of all our woe ; Which, when she saw, thus to her guide she spake : Serpent, we might have spared our coming hither, Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess The credit of whose virtue rest with thee, Wondrous indeed, if cause of such effects ! But of this tree we may not taste nor touch, God so commanded ; and left that command Sole daughter of his voice ; the rest, we live Law to ourselves, our reason is our law. To whom the tempter guilefully replied : Indeed ! hath God then said that of the fruit Of all these garden trees ye shall not eat, Yet lords declared of all in earth or air ? To whom thus Eve, yet sinless : Of the fruit Of each tree in the garden we may eat, But of the fruit of this fair tree amidst The garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat Thereof, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die. She scarce had said, though brief, when now more bold The tempter, but with show of zeal and love To man, and indignation at his wrong, New part puts on, and, as to passion moved, Fluctuates disturb'd, yet comely, and in act Raised, as of some great matter to begin. As when of old some orator, renown'd. In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence Flourish'd, since mute, to some great cause address'd, Stood in himself collected, while each part, Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue ; Sometimes in height began, as no delay Of preface brooking, through his zeal of right ; So standing, moving, or to height upgrown, The tempter all impassion'd thus began : O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving plant, Mother of science, now I feel thy power Within me clear, not only to discern Things in their causes, but to trace the Mays Of highest agents, deem'd, however, wise, ^ueen of this universe, do not believe Those rigid threats of death ; ye shall not die PARADISE LOST. How should ye? by the fruit ? it gives you life To knowledge : by the Threatener ? look on me, Me who have touch'd and tasted, yet both live, And life more perfect have attain'd than fate Meant me, by venturing higher than my lot. Shall that be shut to man, which to the beast Is open ? or will God incense his ire For such a petty trespass, and not praise Rather your dauntless virtue, whom the pain Of death denounced, whatever thing death be, Deterr'd not from achieving what might lead To happier life, knowledge of good and evil ? Of good, how just ? of evil, if what is evil Be real, why not known, since easier shunn'd ? God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just ; Not just, not God ; not fear'd then, nor obey'd : Your fear itself of death removes the fear. Why then was this forbid ? Why but to awe, Why but to keep ye low and ignorant, His worshippers ; he knows that in the day Ye eat thereof, your eyes that seem so clear, Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be then Open'd and clear'd, and ye shall be as gods, Knowing both good and evil as they know. That ye should be as gods, since I as man, Internal man, is but proportion meet ; I, of brute, human ; ye, of human, gods. So ye shall die perhaps, by putting off Human, to put on gods ; death to be wish'd, Though threaten'd, which no worse than this can bring. And what are gods, that man may not become As they, participating godlike food ? The gods are first, and that advantage use On our belief, that all from them proceeds. I question it, for this fair earth I see, Warm'd by the sun, producing every kind ; Them, nothing : if they all things, who enclosed Knowledge of good and evil in this tree, That whoso eats thereof forthwith attains Wisdom without their leave ? and wherein lies The offence, that man should thus attain to know ? What can your knowledge hurt him, or this tree Impart against his will, if all be his? Or is it envy ? and can envy dwell In heavenly breasts? These, these and many more Causes import your need of this fair fruit. Goddess humane, reach then, and freely taste. He ended ; and his words, replete with guile, Into her heart too easy entrance won : Fix'd on the fruit she gazed, which to behold Might tempt alone, and in her ears the sound Yet rung of his persuasive words, impregn'd \ PARADISE LOST. I49 With reason, to her seeming, and with truth : Meanwhile the hour of noon drew on, and waked An eager appetite, raised by the smell So savoury of that fruit, which with desire, Inclinable now grown to 'ouch or taste, Solicited her longing eye ; yet first Pausing awhile, thus to herself she mused : Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits, Though kept from man, and worthy to be admired, Whose taste, too long forborne, at first essay Gave elocution to the mute, and taught The tongue, not made for speech, to speak thy praise. Thy praise he also who forbids thy use Conceals not from us, naming thee the Tree Of Knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil; Forbids us then to taste, but his forbidding Commends thee more, while it infers the good By thee communicated, and our want : For good unknown sure is not had, or had And yet unknown is as not had at all. In plain then, what forbids he but to know, Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise ? Such prohibitions bind not. But if death Bind us with after-bands, what profits then Our inward freedom ? In the day we eat Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die. How dies the serpent ? he hath eaten and lives, And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns, Irrational till then. For us alone Was death invented ? or to us denied This intellectual food, for beasts reserved ? For beasts it seems : yet that one beast which first Hath tasted envies not, but brings with joy The good befallen him, author unsuspect, Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile. What fear I then ? rather what know to fear Under this ignorance of good and evil, Of God or death, of law or penalty? Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine, Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste, Of virtue to make wise : what hinders then To reach, and feed at once both body and mind. J So saying, her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she ate ! Earth felt the wound, and Nature, from her seat Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe, That all was lost. Back to the thicket slunk The guilty serpent, and well might, for Eve, Intent now wholly on her taste, nought else Regarded, such delight till then, as seem'd, In fruit she never tasted, whether true Or fancied so, through expectation high 153 PARADISE LOST. Of knowledge ; nor was godhead from her thought. Greedily she engorged without restraint, And knew not eating death : satiate at length, And heightened as with wine, jocund and boon, Thus to herself she pleasingly began : O sovereign, virtuous, precious of all trees In Paradise, of operation blest To sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed, And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end Created ; but henceforth my early care Ts'ot without song, each morning, and due praise, Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease Of thy full branches offer'd free to all ; Till dieted by thee I grow mature In knowledge, as the gods, who all things know ; Though others envy what they cannot give ; For had the gift been theirs, it had not here Thus grown. Experience, next to thee I owe, I3est guide ; not following thee, I had remain' d In ignorance ; thou open'st wisdom's way, And givest access, though secret she retire. And I perhaps am secret ; heaven is high, High and remote to see from thence distinct Each thing on earth ; and other care perhaps May have diverted from continual watch Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies About him. But to Adam in what sort Shall I appear? shall I to him make known As yet my change, and give him to partake Full happiness with me, or rather not, Uut keep the odds of knowledge in my power Without copartner? so to acid what wants In female sex, the more to draw his love, And render me more equal ; and perhaps, A thing not undesirable, sometimes Superior ; for inferior who is free? This may be well : but what if God have seen, And death ensue ? then I shall be no more, And Adam, wedded to another Eve, Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct ; A death to think ! Confirm'd then I resolve, Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe ; So dear I love him, that with him all deaths 1 could endure ; without him live no life. So saying, from the tree her step she turn'd, Hut first low reverence done, as to the power That dwelt within, whose presence had infused Into the plant sciential sap, derived From nectar, drink of gods. Adam the while, Waiting desirous her return, had wove Of choicest flowers a garland to adorn Her tresses, and her rural labours crown, PARADISE LOST. 151 As reapers oft are wont their harvest queen. Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and ne\v Solace in her return, so long deiay'd ; Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill, Misgave him ; he the faltering measure felt ; And forth to meet her went, the way she took That morn when first they parted. By the Tree Of Knowledge he must pass, there he her met, Scarce from the tree returning ; in her hand A bough of fairest fruit that downy smiled, New gather'd, and ambrosial smell diffused. To him she hasted, in her face excuse Came prologue, and apology too prompt, "Which with bland words at will she thus address'd : Hast thou not wonder'd, Adam, at my stay? Thee I have miss'd, and thought it long, deprived Thy presence, agony of love till now Not felt, nor shall be twice, for never more Mean I to try, what rash untried I sought, The pain of absence from thy sight. But strange Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear : This tree is not, as we are told, a tree Of danger tasted, nor to evil unknown Opening the way, but of divine effect To open eyes, and make them gods who ta.-te ; And hath been tasted such. The serpent, wise, Or not restrain'd as we, or not obeying, Hath eaten of the fruit, and is become Not dead, as we are threaten'd, but thenceforth Endued with human voice and human sense, Reasoning to admiration, and with me Persuasively hath so prevail'd, that I Have also tasted, and have also found The effects to correspond ; opener mine eyes, Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart, And growing up to godhead ; which for thee Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise. For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss ; Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon. Thou therefore also taste, that equal lot May join us, equal joy, as equal love ; Lest thou, not tasting, different degree Disjoin us, and I then too late renounce Deity for thee, when fate will not permit. Thus Eve, with countenance blithe, her story told ; But in her cheek distemper flushing glow'd. On the other side, Adam, soon as he heard The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed, Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax'd ; From his slack hand the garland wreathed for Eve Down dropp'd, and all the faded roses shcl ; 152 PARADISE LOST. Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length First to himself he inward silence broke : O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd "Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet ! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lo>t, Defaced, deflower'd, and now to death devote? Rather how hast thou yielded to transgress The strict forbiddance? how to violate The sacred fruit forbidden ? Some cursed fraud Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown, And me with thee hath ruin'd ; for with thee Certain my resolution is to die: How can I live without thee? how forego Thy sweet converse and love so dearly join'd, To live again in these wild woods forlorn ? Should God create another Eve, and I Another rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart : no, no, I feel The link of nature draw me : flesh of flesh, Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe. So having said, as one from sad dismay Recomforted, and after thoughts disturb'd, Submitting to what seem'd remediless, Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turn'd : Bold deed thou hast presumed, adventurous Eve, And peril great provoked, who thus hast dared, Had it been only coveting to eye That sacred fruit, sacred to abstinence, Much more to taste it under ban to touch. But past, who can recall, or done, undo ? Xot God omnipotent, nor fate, yet so Perhaps thou shall not die, perhaps the fact Is not so heinous now, foretasted fruit, Profaned first by the serpent, by him first Made common and unhallow'd ere our taste ; Nor yet on him found deadly, he yet lives, Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live as man Higher degree of life, inducement strong To us, as likely tasting to attain Proportional ascent, which cannot be But to be gods, or angels, demigods. Nor can I think that God, Creator wise, Though threatening, will in earnest so destroy' d Us his prime creatures, dignified so high, Set over all his works, which in our fall, For us created, needs with us must fail, Dependent made ; so God shall uncreate, Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour lose, Not well conceived of God, who, though his power PARADISE LOST. 153 Creation could repeat, yet would be loth Us to abolish, lest the adversary Triumph and say : Fickle their state whom God Most favours, who can please him long? Me first He ruin'd, now mankind ; whom will he next? Matter of scorn, not to be given the foe. However, I with thee have fix'd my lot, Certain to undergo like doom ; if death Consort with thee, death is to me as life ; So forcible within my heart I feel The bond of nature draw me to my own, My own in thee, for what thou art is mine ; Our state cannot be sever'd, we are one, One flesh ; to lose thee were to lose myself. So Adam ; and thus Eve to him replied : glorious trial of exceeding love, Illustrious evidence, example high, Engaging me to emulate, but, short Of thy perfection, how shall I attain, Adam ; from whose dear side I boast me sprung, And gladly of our union hear thee speak, One heart, one soul in both ; whereof good proof This day affords, declaring thee resolved, Rather than death, or aught than death more dread, Shall separate us link'd in love so dear, To undergo with me one guilt, one crime, If any be, of tasting this fair fruit, Whose virtue, for of good still good proceeds, Direct, or by occasion, hath presented This happy trial of thy love, which else So eminently never had been known. Were it I thought death menaced would ensue This my attempt, I would sustain alone The worst, and not persuade thee, rather die Deserted, than oblige thee with a fact Pernicious to thy peace, chiefly assured Remarkably so late of thy so true, So faithful love unequall'd ; but I feel Far otherwise the event, not death, but life Augmented, open'd eyes, new hopes, new joys, Taste so divine, that what of sweet before 1 lath touch'd my sense, flat seems to this, and harsh. On my experience, Adam, freely taste, And fear of death deliver to the winds. So saying, she embraced him, and for joy Tenderly wept, much won that he his love Had so ennobled, as of choice to incur Divine displeasure for her sake, or death. In recompense, for such compliance bad Such recompense best merits, from the bough She gave him of that fair enticing fruit With liberal hand : he scrupled not ^ <* 154 PARADISE LOST. Against his better knowledge, not deceived, But fondly overcome with female charm. Earth trembled from her entrails, as again In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan, Sky lower'd, and, muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completing of the mortal sin Original ; while Adam took no thought, Eating his fill, nor Eve to iterate Her former trespass fear'd, the more to soothe Him with her loved society, that now, As with new wine intoxicated both, They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel Divinity within them breeding wings Wherewith to scorn the earth : but that false fruit Far other operation first display'd, Carnal desire inflaming ; he on Eve Began to cast lascivious eyts, she him As wantonly repaid ; in lujf they burn ; Till Adam thus 'gan Eve to dalliance move Eve, now I see thou art exact of taste, And elegant, of sapience no small part, Since to each meaning savour we apply, And palate call judicious ; I the praise Yield thee, so well this day thou hast purvey'd. Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstain'd From this delightful fruit, nor known till now True relish, tasting. If such pleasure be In things to us forbidden, it might be wisli'd, For this one tree had been forbidden ten ; But come, so well refresh'd, now let us play, As meet is, after such delicious fare ; For never did thy beauty, since the day I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorn'd With all perfections, so inflame my sense With ardour to enjoy thee, fairer now Than ever, bounty of this virtuous tree. So said he, and forbore not glance or toy Of amorous intent, well understood Of Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire. Her hand he seized ; and to a shady bank, Thick overhead with verdant roof embower'd, He led her, nothing loth ; flowers were the couch, Pansies, and violets, and asphodel, And hyacinth, earth's freshest, softest lap. There they their fill of love and love's disporf Took largely, of their mutual guilt the seal. The solace of their sin, till dewy sleep Oppress'd them, wearied with their amorous play. Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit, That, with exhilarating vapour bland, About their spirits had play'd, and inmost powers Made err, was now exhaled, and grosser sleep, . . ^ PARADISE LOST. 155 Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams Encumber'd, now had left them, up they rose As from unrest ; and, each the other viewing, Soon found their eyes how open'd, and their mind?; How darken'd ; innocence, that as a veil Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone ; Just confidence, and native righteousness, And honour from about them ; naked left To guilty shame, he cover'd, but his robe Uncover'd more. So rose the Danite strong, Herculean Samson, from the harlot-lap Of Philistian Delilah, and waked Shorn of his strength; they, destitute and bare Of all their virtue ; silent, and in face Confounded, long they sat, as stricken mute ; Till Adam, though not less than Eve abash'd, At length gave utterance to these words constraint : O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear To that false worm, of whomsoever taught To counterfeit man's voice, true in our fall, False in our promised rising; since our eyes Open'd we find indeed, and find we know Both good and evil, good lost, and evil got ; Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know ; Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity, Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd, And in our faces evident the signs Of foul concupiscence; whence evil store, Even shame, the last of evils; of the first Be sure then. How shall I behold the face Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy And rapture so oft beheld ? those heavenly shapes Will dazzle now this earthly, with their blaze Insufferably bright. O might I here In solitude live savage, in some glade Obscured, where highest woods, impenetrable To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad And brown as evening ! cover me, ye pines, Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs Hide me, where I may never see them more ! But let us now, as in bad plight, devise What best may, for the present, serve to hide The parts of each from other, that seem most To shame obnoxious, and unseemlie.^t seen ; Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves together sew'6, And girded on our loins, may cover round Those middle parts, that this new-comer, Shame, There sit not, and reproach us as unclean. So counsell'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood ; there soon they chose The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, ; 156 PARADISE LOST. But such as at this clay to Indians known In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Brandling so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother-tree, a pillar'cl shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between ; There oft the Indian herdsman shunning heat Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds At loopholes cut through thickest shade. Those leaves They gather'd broad, as Amazonian targe, And, with what skill they had, together sew'd To gird their waist ; vain covering, if to hide Their guilt and dreaded shame ! O how unlike To that first naked glory ! Such of late Columbus found the American so girt With feather'd cincture, naked else and wild \mong the trees on isles and woody shores. Thus fenced, and, as they thought, their shame in part Cover'd, but not at rest or ease of mind, They sat them down to weep ; nor only tears Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore Their inward state of mind, calm region once, And full of peace, now tost and turbulent : For understanding ruled not, and the will Heard not her lore, both in subjection now To sensual appetite, who from beneath Usurping over sovereign reason claim'd Superior sway : from thus distemper'd breast Adam, estranged in look and alter'd style, Speech intermitted thus to Eve renewed : Would thou hadst hearken'd to my words, and stay'd With me, as I besought thee, when that strange Desire of wandering this unhappy morn I know not whence possess'd thee ; we had then Remain'd still happy, not, as now, despoil'd Of all our good, shamed, naked, miserable. Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe ; when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail. To whom, soon moved with touch of blame, thus E\c : What words have pass'd thy lips, Adam, severe? Imputest thou that to my default, or will Of wandering, as thou call'st it, which who knows But might as ill have happen'd thou being by, Or to thyself, perhaps? Hadst thou been there, Or here the attempt, thou couldst not have discern'd Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake ; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. Was I to have never parted from thy side ? PARADISE LOST. 157 As good have grown there still a lifeless rib. Being as I am, why didst not thou, the head Command me absolutely not to go, Going into such danger, as thou saidst ? Too facile then thou didst not much gainsay, Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me. To whom, then first incensed, Adam replied : Is this the love, is this the recompence Of mine to thee, ungrateful Eve, express'd Immutable when thu u wert lost, not I, Who might have lived and joy'd immortal bliss, Yet willingly chose rather death with thee? And am I now upbraided, as the cause Of thy transgressing ? Not enough severe, It seems, in thy restraint : what could I more? I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold The danger, and the lurking enemy That lay in wait ; beyond this had been force ; And force upon free-will hath here no place. But confidence then bore thee on, secure Either to meet no danger, or to find Matter of glorious trial ; and perhaps I also err'd in overmuch admiring What seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought No evil durst attempt thee ; but I rue The error now, which is become my crime, And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befall Him who, to worth in women overtrusting, Lets her will rule ; restraint she will not brook, And, left to herself, if evil thence ensue, She first his weak indulgence will accuse. Thus they in mutual accusation spent The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning, And of their vain contest appear'd no end. BOOK X. THE ARGUMENT. Man's transgression known, the guardian angels forsake Paradise, and return up to heaven to approve their vigilance, and are approved, God declaring that the entrance of Satan could not be by them prevented. He sends his Son to judge the transgressors ; who descends, and gives sentence accord- ingly ; then in pity clothes them both, and reascends. Sin and Death, sitting till then at the gates of hell, by wondrous sympathy feeling the suc- cess of Satan in this new world, and the sin by man there committed, resolve to sit no longer confined in hell, but to follow Satan their sire up to the place of mau : to make the way easier from hell to this world to and fro, they pave a broad highway, or bridge, over Chaos, according to the track that Satan first made ; then, preparing for earth, they meet him, 158 PARADISE LOST. proud of his success, returning to hell ; their mutual gratulation. Satan arrives at Pandemonium ; in full assembly relates with boasting his success against man ; instead of applause, is entertained with a general hiss by all his audience, transformed, with himself also, suddenly into serpents, according to his doom given in Paradise ; then, deluded with a show of the forbidden tree springing up before them, they, greedily reaching t~> take of the fruit, chew dust and bitter ashes. The proceedings of Sin and Death ; God foretells the final victory of his Son over them, and the renewing of all things ; but for the present commands his angels to make several altera- tions in the heavens and elements. Adam, more and more perceiving his fallen condition, heavily bewails, rejects the condolement of Eve ; she per- sists, and at length appeases him : then, to evade the curse likely to fall on their offspring, proposes to Adam violent ways, which he approves not ; but, conceiving better hope, puts her in mind of the late promise made them, that her seed should be revenged on the serpent, and exhorts her \\ith him to seek peace of the offended Deity, by repentance and supplica* tion. MEANWHILE the heinous and despiteful act Of Satan done in Paradise, and how He in the serpent had perverted Eve, Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit, Was known in heaven ; for what can 'scape the eye Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just, Hinder'd not Satan to attempt the mind Of man, with strength entire, and freewill arm'd, Complete to have discover'd and repulsed Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend. For still they knew, and ought to have still remember'd The high injunction not to taste that fruit, \Vhoever tempted ; which they not obeying Incurr'd, what could they less ? the penalty, And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall. Up into heaven from Paradise in haste The angelic guards ascended, mute and sad For man ; for of his state by this they knew, Much wondering how the subtle fiend had stolen Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news From earth arrived at heaven-gate7"displeased All were who heard ; dim sadness did not spare That time celestial visages, yet mix'd With pity violated not their bliss. About the new-arrived in multitudes The ethereal people ran, to hear and know How all befell : they towards the throne supreme Accountable made haste to make appear With righteous plea their utmost vigilance, And easily approved ; when the Most High, Eternal Father, from his secret cloud Amidst, in thunder utter'd thus his voice : Assembled angels, and ye powers return'cl From unsuccessful charge, be not dismay'd, Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth, Which your sincerest care could not prevent, Foretold so lately what would come to pass, PARADISE LOST. 159 When first this tempter cross'd the gulf from hell. I told ye then he should prevail, and speed On his bad errand, man should be seduced And flatter'd out of all, believing lies Against his Maker ; no decree of mine Concurring to necessitate his fall, Or touch with lightest moment of impulse His free-will, to her own inclining left In even scale. But fallen he is, and now What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass On his transgression, death denounced that day ? Which he presumes already vain and void, Because not yet inflicted, as he fear'd, By some immediate stroke ; but soon shall find Forbearance no acquittance ere day end. Justice shall not return as bounty scorn'd. But whom send I to judge them ? whom but thee, Vicegerent Son ? To thee I have transferr'd All judgment, whether in heaven, or earth, or hell. Easy it may be seen that I intend Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee, Man's Friend, his Mediator, his design'd Both Ransom and Redeemer voluntary, And, destined Man himself, to judge man fallen. So spake the Father, and, unfolding bright Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son Blazed forth unclouded deity ; he full Resplendent all his Father manifest Express'd, and thus divinely answer'd mild : Father Eternal, thine is to decree ; Mine, both in heaven and earth, to do thy will Supreme, that thou in me thy Son beloved Mayst ever rest well pleased. I go to judge On earth these thy transgressors ; but thou know'st, Whoever judged, the worst on me must light, When time shall be, for so I undertook Before thee, and, not repenting, this obtain Of right, that I may mitigate their doom On me derived ; yet I shall temper so Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most Them fully satisfied, and thee appease. Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none Are to behold the judgment, but the judged, Those two ; the third best absent is conclemn'd, Convict by flight, and rebel to all la\v, Conviction to the serpent none belongs. Thus saying, from his radiant seat he rose Of high collateral glory : him thrones and powers, Princedoms and dominations ministrant Accompanied to heaven-gate, from whence Eden and all the coast in prospect lay. Down he descended straight j the speed of gods 1 60 PARADISE LOS 7: Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes wingM, Now was the sun in western cadence low From noon, and gentle airs, due at their hour, To fan the earth no\v waked, and usher in The evening cool, when he from wrath more cool Came, the mild Judge and Intercessor both, To sentence man : the voice of God they heard Now walking in the garden, by soft winds Drought to their ears, while clay declined ; they heard, And from his presence hid themselves among The thickest trees, both man and wife, till God Approaching thus to Adam call'd aloud : Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meet My coming seen far off? I miss thee here, Not pleased, thus entertain'd with solitude, Where obvious duty ere while appear'd unsought : Or come I less conspicuous, or what change Absents thee, or what chance detains ? Come forth ! He came, and with him Eve, more loth, though first To offend, discountenanced both, and discomposed. Love was not in their looks, either to God Or to each other, but apparent guilt, And shame, and perturbation, and despair, Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answer'd brief: I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice Afraid, being naked, hid myself. To whom The gracious Judge without revile replied : My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd, But still rejoiced ; how is it now become So dreadful to thee ? That thou art naked, who Hath told thee ? Hast thou eaten of the tree Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat ? To whom thus Adam sore beset replied : heaven ! in evil strait this day I stand Before my Judge, either to undergo Myself the total crime, or to accuse My other self, the partner of my life ; Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, 1 should conceal, and not expose to blame By my complaint ; but strict necessity Subdues me, and calamitous constraint, Lest on my head both sin and punishment, However insupportable, be all Devolved : though, should I hold my peace, yet thou Wouldst easily detect what I conceal. This woman, whom thou madest to be my help, And gavest me as thy perfect gift, so good, So fit, so acceptable, so divine, That from her hand I could suspect no ill, And what she did. whatever in itself, PARADISE LOST. l6l Her doing seem'cl to justify the deed ; She gave me of the tree, and I did eat. To whom the sovereign Presence thus replied : Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey Before his voice ? or was she made thy guide, Superior, or but equal, that to her Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place Wherein God set thee above her, made of thee, And for thee, whose perfection far excell'd Hers in all real dignity ? Adorn'd She was indeed, and lovely to attract Thy love, not thy subjection ; and her gifts Were such as under government well seem'd, Unseemly to bear rule, which was thy part And person, hadst thou known thyself aright. So having said, he thus to Eve in few : Say, woman, what is this which thou hast done ? To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelm'd, Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied : The serpent me beguiled, and I did eat. Which when the Lord God heard, without delay To judgment he proceeded on the accused Serpent, though brute, unable to transfer The guilt on him who made him instrument Of mischief, and polluted from the end Of his creation ; justly then accursed, As vitiated in nature : more to know Concern'd not man, since he no further knew, Nor alter'd his offence ; yet God at last To Satan, first in sin, his doom applied, Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best ; And on the serpent thus his curse let fall : Because thou hast done this, thou art accursed Above all cattle, each beast of the field ; Upon thy belly grovelling thou shalt go, And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life. Between thee and the woman I will put Enmity, and between thine and her seed ; Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel. So spake this oracle, then verified When Jesus, son of Mary, second Eve, Saw Satan fall like lightning down from heaven, Prince of the air ; then, rising from his grave, Spoil'd principalities and powers, triumph'd In open show, and, with ascension bright, Captivity led captive through the air, The realm itself of Satan, long usurp'd, Whom he shall tread at last under our feet ; Even he who now foretold his fatal bruise ; And to the woman thus his sentence turn'd : Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply PARADISE LOST. liy thy conception ; children thou shalt bring In sorrow forth, and to thy husband's will Thine shall submit ; he over thee shall rule. On Adam last thus judgment he pronounced : Because thou hast hearken'd to the voice of thy wife, And eaten of the tree concerning which I charged thee, saying : Thou shalt not eat thereof, Cursed is the ground for thy sake, thou in sorrow Shalt eat thereof all the days of thy life ; Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth Unbid, and thou shalt eat the herb of the field In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, Till thou return unto the ground ; for thou Out of the ground wast taken ; know thy birth, For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return. So judged he man, both Judge and Saviour sent ; And the instant stroke of death, denounced that day, Removed far off; then pitying how they stood Before him, naked to the air, that now Must suffer change, disdain'd not to begin Thenceforth the form of servant to assume, As when he wash'd his servants' feet, so now, As father of his family, he clad Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain, Or, as the snake, with youthful coat repaid ; And thought not much to clothe his enemies. Nor he their outward only with the skins Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness Arraying, cover'd from his Father's sight. To him with swift ascent he up return'd, Into his blissful bosom reassumed In glory as of old ; to him appeased All, though all-knowing, what had past with man Recounted, mixing intercession sweet. Meanwhile, ere thus was sinn'd and judged on earth, Within the gates of hell sat Sin and Death, In counterview within the gates, that now Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame Far into Chaos, since the fiend pass'd through, Sin opening, who thus now to Death began : O son, why sit we here, each other viewing Idly, while Satan, our great author, thrives In other worlds, and happier seat provides For us his offspring dear? It cannot be But that success attends him ; if mishap, Ere this he had return'd, with fury driven By his avengers, since no place like this Can fit his punishment, or their revenge. Methinks I feel new strength within me rise, Wings growing, and dominion given me large, Beyond this deep ; whatever draws me on, PARADISE LOST. 163 Or sympathy, or some connatural force, Powerful at greatest distance to unite With secret amity things of like kind By secretest conveyance. Thou my shade Inseparable must with me along ; For Death from Sin no power can separate. But lest the difficulty of passing back Stay his return perhaps over this gulf Impassable, impervious, let us try Adventurous work, yet to thy power and mine Not unagreeable, to found a path Over this main from hell to that new world Where Satan now prevails, a monument Of merit high to all the infernal host, Easing their passage hence, for intercourse, Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead. Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn By this new-felt attraction and instinct. Whom thus the meagre shadow answer'd soon : Go whither fate and inclination strong Lead thee ; I shall not lag behind, nor err, The way thou leading, such a scent I draw Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste The savour of death from all things there that live ; Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid. So saying, with delight he snuff d the smell Of mortal change on earth. As when a flock Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote, Against the day of battle, to a field, Where armies lie encamp'd, come flying, lured With scent of living carcases design'd For death, the following day, in bloody fight : So scented the grim feature, and upturn'd His nostril wide into the murky air Sagacious of his quarry from so far. Then both, from out hell-gates, into the waste Wide anarchy of Chaos, damp and dark, Flew diverse ; and with power, their power was great, Hovering upon the waters, what they met Solid or slimy, as in raging sea Toss'd up and down, together crowded drove From each side shoaling towards the mouth of hell. As when two polar winds, blowing adverse Upon the Cronian sea, together drive Mountains of ice, that stop the imagined way Beyond Petsora eastward, to the rich Cathaian coast. The aggregated soil Death with his mace petrific, cold and dry, As with a trident smote, and fix'd as firm As Delos, floating once ; the rest his look Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move, 1 64 PARADISE LOST. And with asphaltic siime, broad as the gate, Deep to the roots of hell the gather'd beach They fasten 'd, and the mole immense wrought on Over the foaming deep high arch'd, a bridge Of length prodigious, joining to the wall Immovable of this now fenceless world, Forfeit to death ; from hence a passage broad, Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to hell. So, if great, things to small may be compared, Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke, From Susa, his Memnonian palace high, Came to the sea ; and, over Hellespont Bridging his way, Europe with Asia join'd, And scourged with many a stroke the indignant waves. Now had they brought the work by wondrous art Pontifical, a ridge of pendent rock, Over the vex'd abyss, following the track Of Satan to the self-same place, where he First lighted from his wing, and landed safe From out of Chaos, to the outside bare Of this round world : with pins of adamant And chains they made all fast, too fast they made And durable ; and now in little space The confines met of empyrean heaven And of this world, and, on the left hand, hell With long reach interposed ; three several ways In sight to each of these three places led. And now their way to earth they had descried, To Paradise first tending, when, behold, Satan in likeness ot an angel bright Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steering His zenith, while the sun in Aries rose : Disguised he came ; but those his children dear Their parent soon disccrn'd, though in disguise. He, after Eve seduced, unminded slunk Into the wood fast by, and, changing shape, To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded Upon her husband, saw their shame that sought Vain covertures ; but when he saw descend The Son of God to judge them, terrified He fled, not hoping to escape, but shun The present, fearing guilty what his wrath Might suddenly inflict ; that past, return'd By night, and listening where the hapless pair Sat in their sad discourse and various plaint, Thence gather'd his own doom, which understood Not instant, but of future time, with joy And tidings fraught, to hell he now return'd, And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot Of this new wondrous pontifice, unhoped Met who to meet him came, his offspring dear. PARADISE LOST. <3reat joy was at their meeting, and at sight Of fhat stupendous bridge his joy increased. Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair Enchanting daughter, thus the silence broke : O parent, these are thy magnific deeds, Thy trophies, which thou vievv'st as not thine own ; Thou art their author and prime architect P"or I no sooner in my heart divined, My heart, which by a secret harmony Still moves with thine, join'd in connection sweet, That thou on earth hadst prosper'd, which thy looks Now also evidence, but straight I felt, Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt That I must after thee, with this thy son, Such fatal consequence unites us three. Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure Detain from following thy illustrious track. Thou hast achieved our liberty, confined Within hell-gates till now ; thou us empower'd To fortify thus far, and overlay, With this portentous bridge, the dark abyss. Thine now is all this world, thy virtue hath won What thy hands builded not, thy wisdom gain'd With odds what war hath lost, and fully avenged Our foil in heaven ; here thou shalt monarch reign. There didst not ; there let him still victor sway, As battle hath adjudged, from this new world Retiring, by his own doom alienated, And henceforth monarchy with thee divide Of all things, parted by the empyreal bounds. His quadrature, from thy orbicular world, Or try thee now more dangerous to his throne. Whom thus the prince of darkness answer'd glad : Fair daughter, and thou son and grandchild both, High proof ye now have given to be the race Of Satan, for I glory in the name, Antagonist of heaven's Almighty King, Amply have merited of me, of all The infernal empire, that so near heaven's door Triumphal with triumphal act have met, Mine with this glorious work, and made one realm Hell and this world, one realm, one continent Of easy thoroughfare. Therefore, while I Descend through darkness on your road with ease To my associate powers, them to acquaint With these successes, and with them rejoice, You two this way, among these numerous orbs All yours, right down to Paradise descend ; There dwell and reign in bliss, thence on the earth Dominion exercise and in the air, Chiefly on man. sole lord of all declared ; 166 PARADISE LOST. Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill. My substitutes I send ye, and create Plenipotent on earth, of matchless might Issuing from me : on your joint vigour now My hold of this new kingdom all depends, Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit. If your joint power prevail, the affairs of hell No detriment need fear ; go, and be strong. So saying, he dismiss'd them ; they with speed Their course through thickest constellations held, Spreading their bane ; the blasted stars look'd wan, And planets, planet-struck, real eclipse Then suffered. The other way Satan went down The causeway to hell-gate : on either side Disparted Chaos over built exclaim'd, And with rebounding surge the bars assail'd, That scorn'd his indignation. Through the gate Wide open and unguarded, Satan pass'd, And all about found desolate ; for those Appointed to sit there had left their charge, Flown to the upper world ; the rest were all Far to the inland retired, about the walls Of Pandemonium, city and proud seat Of Lucifer, so by allusion call'd, Of that bright star to Satan paragon'd. There kept their watch the legions, while the grand In council sat, solicitous what chance Might intercept their emperor sent, so he Departing gave command, and they observed. As when the Tartar from his Russian foe By Astracan over the snowy plains Retires, or Bactrian Sophi from the horns Of Turkish crescent leaves all waste beyond The realm of Aladule in his retreat To Tauris or Casbeen ; so these, the late Heaven-banish'd host, left desert utmost hell Many a dark league, reduced in careful watch Round their metropolis, and now expecting Each hour their great adventurer from the search Of foreign worlds : he through the midst unmark'd, In show plebeian angel militant Of lowest order, pass'd ; and from the door Of that Plutonian hall invisible Ascended his high throne, which, under state Of richest texture spread, at. the upper end Was placed in regal lustre. Down a while He sat, and round about him saw unseen : At last as from a cloud his fulgent head And shape star-bright appear'd, or brighter, clad With what permissive glory since his fall Was left him, or false glitter. All amazed At that so sudden blaze, the Stygian throng PARADISE LOST. 167 Bent their aspect, and whom they wish'd beheld, Their mighty chief return' d : loud was the acclaim. Forth rush'd in haste the great consulting peers, Raised from their dark divan, and with like joy Congratulant approach'd him, who with hand Silence, and with these words attention, won : Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers. For in possession such, not only of right, I call ye and declare ye now, return'd Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth Triumphant out of this infernal pit Abominable, accursed, the house of woe, And dungeon of our tyrant : now possess, As lords, a spacious world, to our native heaven Little inferior, by my adventui'e hard, With peril great, achieved. Long were to tell What I have done, what suffer'd, with what pain Voyaged the unreal, vast, unbounded deep Of horrible confusion, over which, By Sin and Death a broad way now is paved To expedite your glorious march ; but I Toil'd out my uncouth passage, forced to ride The untractable abyss, plunged in the womb Of unoriginal Night and Chaos wild, That, jealous of their secrets, fiercely opposed My journey strange, with clamorous uproar Protesting fate supreme ; thence, how I found The new-created world, which fame in heaven Long had foretold, a. fabric wonderful, Of absolute perfection, therein man, Placed in a Paradise, by our exile Made happy : him by fraud I have seduced From his Creator ; and, the more to increase Your wonder, with an apple ; he thereat Offended, worth your laughter, hath given up Both his beloved man and all his world To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, Without our hazard, labour, or alarm, To range in, and to dwell, and over man To rule, as over all he should have ruled. True is, me also he hath judged, or rather Me not, but the brute serpent, in whose shape Man I deceived : that which to me belongs Is enmity, which he will put between Me and mankind ; I am to bruise his heel ; His seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head. A world who would not purchase with a bruise, Or much more grievous pain ? Ye have the account Of my performance ; what remains, ye gods, But up and enter now into full bliss? So having said, a while he stood, expecti.ig Their universal shout and high applause 1 63 PARADISE LOST. To fill his car, when, contrary, he hears On all sides, from innumerable tongues, A dismal universal hiss, the sound Of public scorn; he wonder'd, but not long Had leisure, wondering at himself now more ; His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare, His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining Each other, till supplanted down he fell A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, Reluctant, but in vain, a greater Power Now ruled him, punish'd in the shape he sinn'd, According to his doom. He would have spoke, But hiss for hiss return'd with forked tongue To forked tongue, for now were all transform'd Alike, to serpents all, as accessories To his bold riot : dreadful was the din Of hissing through the hall, thick-swarming now With complicated monsters head and tail, Scorpion, and asp, and amphisbaena dire, Cerastes horn'd, hydrus, and ellops drear, And dipsas ; not so thick swarm'd once the soil Bedropp'd with blood of Gorgon, or the isle Ophiusa ; but still greatest he the midst, Now dragon, grown larger than whom the sun Engender'd in the Pythian vale on slime, Huge Python, and his power no less he seem'd Above the rest still to retain. They all Him follow'd, issuing forth to the open field, Where all yet left of that revolted rout Heaven-fallen in station stood or just array, Sublime with expectation when to see In triumph issuing forth their glorious chief, They saw, but other sight instead, a crowd Of ugly serpents ; horror on them fell, And horrid sympathy ; for what they saw, They felt themselves now changing : down their arms, Down fell both spear and shield, down they as fast, And the dire hiss renew'd, and the dire form Catch'd by contagion, like in punishment, As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meanl Turn'd to exploding hiss, triumph to shame, Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There stood A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change, His will who reigns above, to aggravate Their penance, laden with fair fruit, like that Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve Used by the tempter ; on that prospect strange Their earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining For one forbidden tree a multitude New risen, to work them further woe or shame : Yet, parch'd with scalding thirst and hunger fiero- Though to delude them sent, could not abstain, But on they rolTd in heaps, and up the trees Climbing, sat thicker than the snaky locks That curl'd Megsera. Greedily they pluck 'd The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed ; This more delusive, not the touch, but taste Deceived ; they, fondly thinking to zJlay Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit Chew'd bitter ashes, which the offended taste With spattering noise rejected : oft they essay'd, Hunger and thirst constraining, drugg'd as oft, With hatefulest disrelish writhed their jaws With soot and cinders filFd ; so oft they fell Into the same illusion, not as man Whom they triumph'd once lapsed. Thus were they plagued And worn with famine long, and ceaseless his, Till their lost shape, permitted, they resumed, Yearly enjoin'd, some say, to undergo This annual humbling certain number'd days, To dash their pride and joy for man seduced. However, some tradition they dispersed Among the heathen of their purchase get, And fabled how the serpent, whom they call'd Ophion with Eurynome, the wide Encroaching Eve perhaps, had first the rule Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven And Ops, ere yet Dictcean Jove was born. Meanwhile in Paradise the hellish pair Too soon arrived, Sin there in power before Once actual, now in body, and to dwell Habitual habitant ; behind her Death, Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet On his pale horse ; to whom Sin thus began : Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death, What think'st thou of our empire now, though earn'd With travail difficult, not better far Than still at hell's dark threshold to have sat watch Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half-starved? Whom thus the sin-born monster answer'd soon : To me, who with eternal famine pine, Alike is hell, or paradise, or heaven, There best, where most with ravin I may meet ; W T hich here, though plenteous, all too little seems To stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corps. To whom the incestuous mother thus replied : Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers Feed first, on each beast next, and fish, and fowl, No homely morsels, and whatever thing The scythe of Time mows down, devour unspared, Till I, in man residing, through the race, 170 PARADISE LOST. His thoughts, his looks, words, actions, all infect, And season him thy last and sweetest prey. This said, they both betook them several way-, Both to destroy, or unimmortal make All kinds, and for destruction to mature Sooner or later ; which the Almighty seeing, From his transcendent seat the saints among, To those bright orders utter'd thus his voice : See with what heat these dogs of hell advance To waste and havoc yonder world, which I So fair and good created, and had still Kept in that state, had not the folly of man Let in these wasteful furies, who impute Folly to me ; so doth the prince of hell And his adherents, that with so much ease I suffer them to enter and possess A place so heavenly ; and, conniving, seem To gratify my scornful enemies, That laugh, as if, transported with some fit Of passion, I to them had quitted all, At random yielded up to their misrule ; And know not that I call'd and drew them thither My hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth, AVhich man's polluting sin with taint hath shed On what was pure ; till, crammed and gorged, nigh burst AVith suck'd and glutted offal, at one sling Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son, Both Sin, and Death, and yawning grave, at last Through Chaos hurl'd, obstruct the mouth of hell For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. Then heaven and earth renew'd shall be made pure To sanctity that shall receive no stain : Till then the curse pronounced on both precedes. He ended, and the heavenly audience loud Sung hallelujah, as the sound of seas, Through multitude that sung : Just are thy ways, Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works; Who can extenuate thee? Next, to the Son, Destined Restorer of mnnkind, by whom New heaven and earth shall to the ages rise, Or down from heaven descend. Such was their song, \Ylrile the Creator, calling forth by name His mighty angels, gave them several charge, As sorted best with present things. The sun Had first his precept so to move, so shine, As might affect the earth with cold and heat Scarce tolerable, and from the north to call * Decrepit winter ; from the south to bring Solstitial summer's heat. To the blank moon Her office they prescribed, to the other five Their planetary motions and aspects In textile, square, and trine, and opposite, PARADISE LOST. Of noxious efficacy, and when to join In synod unbenign, and taught the fix'd Their influence malignant when to shower, Which of them rising with the sun, or falling, Should prove tempestuous. To the winds they set Their corners, when with bluster to confound Sea, air, and shore ; the thunder when to roll With terror through the dark aerial hall. Some say, he bid his angels turn askance The poles of earth, twice ten degrees and more, From the'sun's axle ; they with labour push'd Oblique the centric globe : some say, the sun Was bid turn reins from the equinoctial road Like distant breadth to Taurus with the seven Atlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins, Up to the Tropic Crab ; thence down amain By Leo, and the Virgin, and the Scales, As deep as Capricorn, to bring in change Of seasons to each clime; else had the spring Perpetual smiled on earth with vernant flowers, Equal in days and nights, except to those Beyond the polar circles ; to them day Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun, To recompense his distance, in their sight Had rounded still the horizon, and not known Or east or west, which had forbid the snow From cold Estotiland, and south as far Beneath Magellan. At that tasted fruit The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turn'd His course intended ; else, how had the world Inhabited, though sinless, more than now Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? These changes in the heavens, though slow, produced Like change on sea and land, sidereal blast, Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot, Corrupt and pestilent. Now, from the north Of Norumbega and the Samoed shore, Bursting their brazen dungeon, arm'd with ice, And snow, and hail, and stormy gust, and flaw, Boreas, and Qecias, and Argestes loud, And Thrascias rend the woods, and seas upturn ; With adverse blast upturns them from the south Notus, and Afer, black with thunderous clouds From Sierra Leone ; thwart of these as fierce Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds, Eurus and Zephyr with their lateral noise, Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began Outrage from lifeless things ; but Discord first, Daughter of Sin, among the ii rational Death introduced through fierce antipathy : Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl, And fish with fish ; to graze the herb all leaving T 172 PARADISE LOST. Devour'd each other ; nor stood much in awe Of man, but fled him, or, with countenance grim, Glared on him passing. These were from without The growing miseries, which Adam saw Already in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, To sorrow abandon'd, but worse felt within, And, in a troubled sea of passion tost, Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint : O miserable of happy ! is this the end Of this new glorious world, and me so late The glory of that glory, who now become Accursed of blessed? Hide me from the face Of God, whom to behold was then my height Of happiness. Yet well, if lit re would end The misery ; I deserved it, and would bear My own deservings ; but this will not serve ; All that I eat, or drink, or shall beget, Is propagated curse. O voice once heard Delightfully, Increase and multiply, Now death to hear ! for what can I increase Or multiply, but curses on my head ? Who of all ages to succeed, but, feeling The evil on him brought by me, will cuise My head ? Ill fare our ancestor impure, For this we may thank Adam ; but his thanks Shall be the execration ; so besides Mine o\vn that bide upon me, all from me Shall with a fierce reflux on me redound, On me, as on their natural centre, light Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes ! Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man ? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me, or here place In this delicious garden ? As my will Concurr'd not to my being, it were but right And equal to reduce me to my dust, Desirous to resign, and render back All I received, unable to periorm Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold The good I sought not. To the loss of that, Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added The sense of endless woe;? Inexplicable Thy justice seems ; yet, to say truth, too late I thus contest ; then should have been refused Those terms, whatever, when they were proposed. Thou didst accept them ; wilt thou enjoy the good, Then cavil the conditions? and, though God Made thee without thy leave, what if thy son Prove disobedient, and reproved retort, Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not ; Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee ,>-jjL PARADISE LOST. 17 3 That proud excuse ? yet him not thy election, But natural necessity begot. God made thee of choice his own, and of his own To serve him, thy reward was of his grace, Thy punishment then justly is at his will. Be it so, for I submit, his doom is fair, That dust I am, and shall to dust return : O welcome hour whenever ! Why delays His hand to execute what his decree Fix'd on this day ? Why do I overlive ? Why am I mock'd with death, and lengthened out To deathless pain ? How gladly would I meet Mortality my sentence, and be earth Insensible ! How glad would lay me down, As in my mother's lap ? There I should rest, And sleep secure ; his dreadful voice no more Would thunder in my ears ; no fear of worse To me and to my offspring would torment me With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die, Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of man, Which God inspired, cannot together perish With this corporeal clod ; then, in the grave, Or in some other dismal place, who knows But I shall die a living death? O thought Horrid, if true ! Yet why ? It was but breath Of life that sinn'd ; what dies but what had life And sin? The body properly hath neitl.er All of me then shall die ; let this appease The doubt, since human reach no further knows, For though the Lord of all be infinite, Is his wrath also ? Be it, man is not so, But mortal doom'd. How can he exercise Wrath without end on man whom death must end ? Can he make deathless death? That were to make Strange contradiction, which to God himself Impossible is held, as argument Of weakness, not of power. Will he draw out, For anger's sake, finite to infinite In punish'd man, to satisfy his rigour Satisfied never? That were to extend His sentence beyond dust and nature's law, By which all causes else according still To the reception of their matter act, Not to the extent of their own sphere. But say That death be not one stroke, as I supposed, Bereaving sense, but endless misery From this day onward, which I feel begun Both in me, and without me, and so last To perpetuity. Ah, me ! that fear Comes thundering back with dreadful revolution On my defenceless head ; both death and I 174 PARADISE LOST. Are found eternal, and incorporate both ; Nor I on my part single, in me all Posterity stands cursed. Fair patrimony That I must leave ye, sons ! O were I able To waste it all myself, and leave ye none ! So disinherited, how would ye bless Me, now your curse ! Ah ! why should all mankind, For one man's fault, thus guilders be condemned, If guiltless? But from me what can proceed, But all corrupt, both mind and will depraved, Not to do only, but to will the same With me? How can they then acquitted stand In sight of God ? Him after all disputes Forced I absolve : all my evasions vain And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still But to my own conviction : first and last On me, me only, as the source and spring Of all corruption, all the blame lights due ; So might the wrath ! Fond wish ! couldst thou support That burden, heavier than the earth to bear, Than all the world much heavier, though divided With that bad woman ? Thus what thou desirest, And what thou fear'st, alike destroys all hope Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable Beyond all past example and future, To Satan only like both crime and doom. conscience ! into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driven me, out of which 1 fmd no way, from deep to deeper plunged ! Thus Adam to himself lamented loud Through the still night, not now, as ere man fell, Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black aii Accompanied, with damps and dreadful gloom, Which to his evil conscience represented All things with double terror. On the ground Outstretch'd he lay, on the cold ground, and oft Cursed his creation, death as oft accused Of tardy execution, since denounced The day of his offence. Why comes not death, Said he, with one thrice acceptable stroke To end me ? Shall truth fail to keep her word, Justice divine not hasten to be just ? But death comes not at call, justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers With other echo late I taught your shades To answer, and resound far other song. Whom thus afflicted, when sad Eve beheld, Desolate where she sat, approaching nigh, Soft words to his fierce passion she essay'd ; But her with stern regard he thus repell'd: Out of my sight, thou serpent ! That name best PARADISE LOST. 17 S Befits thee with him leagued, thyself as i'alse And hateful ; nothing wants, but that thy shape, Like his, and colour serpentine, may show Thy inward fraud, to warn all creatures from thee Henceforth, lest that too heavenly form, pretended To hellish falsehood, snare them. But for thee I had persisted happy, had not thy pride And wandering vanity, when least was safe, Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd Not to be trusted, longing to be seen, Though by the devil himself, him overweening To over-reach ; but, with the serpent meeting, Fool'd and beguiled ; by him thou, I by thee, To trust thee from my side, imagined wise, Constant, mature, proof against all assaults And understood not all was but a show Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister from me drawn; Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found. Oh ! why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heaven With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind? This mischief had not then befallen, And more that shall befall, innumerable Disturbances on earth through female snares, And straight conjunction with this sex: for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake, Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain Through her perverseness ; but shall see her gain'd By a far worse, or, if she love, withheld By parents, or his happiest choice too late Shall meet, already link'd and wedlock-bound To a fell adversary, his hate or shame; Which infinite calamity shall cause To human life, and household peace confound. He added not, and from her turn'd ; but Eve, Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing, And tresses all disorder'd, at his feet Fell humble, and, embracing them, besought His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint: Forsake me not thus, Adam ; witness, Heaven, What love sincere and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, Unhappliy deceived ! Thy suppliant I beg, and clasp thy knees ; bereave me not Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, i?o PARADISE LOST. Thy counsel, in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay ; forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two let there be peace, both joining, As join'd in injuries, one enmity Against a foe by doom express assign'd us, That cruel serpent. On me exercise not Thy hatred for this misery befallen, On me already lost, me than thyself More miserable. Both have sinn'd, but thou Against God only, I against God and thee, And to the place of judgment will return, There with my cries importune Heaven, that all The sentence, from thy head removed, may light On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe, Me, me only, just object of his ire! She ended, weeping, and her lowly plight, Immovable till peace obtained from fault Acknowledged and deplored, in Adam wrought Commiseration ; soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late, and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress, Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, His counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid ; As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon : Unwary and too desirous as before, So now, of what thou know'st not, who desirest The punishment all on thyself; alas, Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part, And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If prayers Could alter high decrees, I to that place \Vould speed before thee, and be louder heard, That on my head all might be visited, Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven, To me committed, and by me exposed. But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten Each other's burden in our share of woe ; Since this day's death denounced, if aught I sec, Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil, A long day's dying to augment our pain, And to our seed, O hapless seed ! derived. To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied : Adam, by sad experiment I know How little weight my words with thee can find Found so erroneous, thence by just event Found so unfortunate ; nevertheless, Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place PARADISE LOST. 177 Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart, Living or dying, from thee I will not hide What thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen, Tending to some relief of our extremes, Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable, As in our evils, and of easier choice. If care of our descent perplex us most, Which must be born to certain woe, devour'd By Death at last, and miserable it is To be to others cause of misery, Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring Into this cursed world a woeful race, That after wretched life must be at last Food for so foul a monster, in thy power It lies, yet ere conception to prevent The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. Childless thou art, childless remain : so Death Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two Be forced to satisfy his ravenous maw. But if thou judge it hard and difficult. Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain From love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet, And, with desire to languish without hope, Before the present object languishing "With like desire, which would be misery, And torment less than none of what we dread, Then both ourselves and seed at once to free From what we fear for both, let us make short, Let us seek Death, or, he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves. Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die, the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy ? She ended here, or vehement despair Broke off the rest ; so much of death her thoughts Had entertain'd, as dyed her cheeks with pale. But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd, To better hopes his more attentive mind Labouring had raised, and thus to Eve replied .- Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems To argue in thee something more sublime And excellent than what thy mind contemns ; But self-destruction therefore sought refutes That excellence thought in thee, and implies, Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret For loss of life and pleasure overloved Or if thou covet death, as utmost end Of misery, so thinking to evade The penalty pronounced, doubt not but God Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire than so M 1 7 8 PARADISE LOST. To be forestall'd ; much more I fear lest death So snatch'd will not exempt us from the pain We are by doom to pay ; rather, such acts Of contumacy will provoke the Highest To make death in us live : then let us seek Some safer resolution, which methinks I have in view, calling to mind with heed Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise The serpent's head : piteous amends, unless Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe, Satan, who in the serpent hath contrived Against us this deceit. To crush his head Would be revenge indeed ; which will be lost By death brought on ourselves, or childless days Resolved, as thou proposes! ; so our foe Shall 'scape his punishment ordain'd, and we Instead shall double ours upon our heads. No more be mention'd then of violence Against ourselves, and wilful barrenness, That cuts us off from hope, and savours only Rancour and pride, impatience and despite, Reluctance against God, and his just yoke Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild And gracious temper he both heard and judged Without wrath or reviling ; we expected Immediate dissolution, which we thought Was meant by death that day, when, lo ! to thee Pains only in child-bearing were foretold, And bringing forth, soon recompensed with joy, Fruit of thy womb. On me the curse aslope Glanced on the ground, with labour I must earn My bread ; what harm ? Idleness had been worse ; My labour will sustain me ; and, lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath unbesought provided, and his hands Clothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged. How much more, if we pray him, will his ear Be open, and his heart to pity incline, And teach us further by what means to shun The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow, Which now the sky with various face begins To show us in this mountain, while the winds Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks Of these fair-spreading trees, which bids us seek Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish Our limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal star Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams Reflected may with matter sere foment, Or, by collision of two bodies, grind The air aUrite to fire, as late the clouds Justling, or push'd with winds rude in their shock, Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame driven dow: PARADISE LOST. 179 Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine, And sends a comfortable heat from far, Which might supply the sun. Such fire to use, And what may else be remedy or cure To evils which our own misdeeds have wroughc, He will instruct us praying, and of grace Beseeching him, so as we need not fear To pass commodiously this life, sustain'd By him with many comforts, till we end In dust, our final rest and native home What better can we do, than, to the place Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall Before him reverent, and there confess Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meek ? Undoubtedly he will relent and turn From his displeasure, in whose look serene, When angry most he seem'd and most severe. What else but favour, grace, and mercy shone ? So spake our father penitent, nor Eve Felt less remorse : they forthwith to the place Repairing where he judged them prostrate fell Before him reverent, and both confess'd Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd, with tears Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meek. BOOK XI THE ARGUMENT The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first parents now re- penting, and intercedes for them : God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise ; sends Michael with a band of cherubim to dispossess them ; but first to reveal to Adam future things : Michael's coming down. Adam shows to Eve certain ominous signs ; he discerns Michael's approach ; goes out to meet him : the angel denounces their departure. Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits : the angel leads him up to a high hill ; sets before him in vision what shall hap- pen till the flood. THUS they in lowliest plight repentant stood Praying, for from the mercy-seat above Prevenient grace descending had removed The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breath'd Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer Inspired, and wing'd for heaven with speedier flight Than loudest oratory : yet their port I So PARADISE LOST. Not of mean suitors, nor important less Seem'd their petition, than when the ancient pair, In fables old, less ancient yet than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine Of Themis stood devout. To heaven their prayers Flew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious winds Blown vagabond or frustrate : in they pass'd Dimensionless through heavenly doors ; then clad With incense, where the golden altar fumed, By their great Intercessor, came in sight Before the Father's throne : them the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began : See, Father, what first-fruits on earth are sprung From thy implanted grace in man, these sighs And prayers, which, in this golden censer mix'd With incense, I thy priest before thee bring, Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed Sown with contrition in his heart, than those Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees Of Paradise could have produced, ere fallen From innocence. Now therefore bend thine ear To supplication ; hear his sighs, though mute ; Unskilful with what words to pray, let me Interpret for him, me his Advocate And propitiation ; all his works on me Good or not good ingraft ; my merit those Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay. Accept me, and in me from these receive The smell of peace toward mankind, let him live Before thee reconciled, at least his days Number'd, though sad, till death his doom, which I To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse, To better life shall yield him, where with me All my redeem'd may dwell in joy and bliss ; Made one with me as I with thee am one. To whom the Father, without cloud, serene : All thy request for man, accepted Son, Obtain, all thy request was my decree : But, longer in that Paradise to dwell The law I gave to nature him forbids : Those pure immortal elements, that know No gross, no unharmonious mixture foul, Eject him, tainted now, and purge him off, As a distemper, gross to air as gross, And mortal food, as may dispose him best For dissolution wrought by sin, that first Distemper'd all things, and of incorrupt Corrupted. I at first with two fair gifts Created him endow'd, with happiness And immortality : that fondly lost, This other served but to eternise woe. PARADISE LQ3T. 181 Till I provided death ; so death becomes His final remedy, and after life Tried in sharp tribulation, and refined By faith and faithful works, to second life, Waked in the renovation of the just, Resigns him up with heaven and earth renew'd. But let us call to synod all the blest Through heaven's wide bounds ; from them I will not hide My judgments, how with mankind I proceed, As how with peccant angels late they saw, And in their state, though firm, stood more confirm'd. He ended, and the Son gave signal high To the bright minister that watch'd ; he blew His trumpet, heard in Oreb since perhaps When God descended, and perhaps once more To sound at general doom. The angelic blast Fill'd all the regions : from their blissful bowers Of Amarantine shade, fountain or spring, By the waters of life, where'er they sat In fellowships of joy, the sons of light Hasted, resorting to the summons high, And took their seats ; till, from his throne supreme, The Almighty thus pronounced his sovereign will : O sons, like one of us man is become To know both good and evil, since his taste Of that defended fruit ; but let him boast His knowledge of good lost, and evil got ; Happier, had it sufficed him to have known Good by itself, and evil not at all. He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite, My motions in him, longer than they move, His heart I know how variable and vain Self-left. Lest therefore his now bolder hand Reach also of the Tree of Life, and eat. And live for ever, dream at least to live For ever, to remove him I decree, And send him from the garden forth to till The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil. Michael, this my behest have thou in charge, Take to thee from among the cherubim Thy choice of flaming warriors, lest the fiend, Or in behalf of man, or to invade Vacant possession, some new trouble raise ; Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God Without remorse drive out the sinful pair, From hallow'd ground the unholy, and denounce To them, and to their progeny, from thence "Perpetual banishment. Yet, lest they faint At the sad sentence rigorously urged, For I behold them soften'd, and with tears Bewailing their excess, all terror hide. If patiently thy bidding they obey, 182 PARADISE LOST. Dismiss them not disconsolate ; reveal To Adam what shall come in future days, As I shall thee enlighten ; intermix My covenant in the woman's seed renew'd ; So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace : And on the east side of the garden place, Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs, Cherubic watch, and of a sword the flame Wide- waving, all approach far off to fright, And guard all passage to the Tree of Life ; Lest Paradise a receptacle prove To spirits foul, and all my trees their prey, With whose stolen fruit man once more to delude. He ceased ; and the archangel ic power prepared For swift descent, with him the cohort bright Of watchful cherubim ; four faces each Had, like a double Janus ; all their shape Spangled with eyes more numerous than those Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drouse, Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile, To re-salute the world with sacred light, Leucothea waked, and with fresh dews embnlm'd The earth, when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found Strength added from above, new hope to spring Out of despair, joy, but with fear yet link'd ; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renew'd : Eve, easily may faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy from heaven descends ' I Jut that from us aught should ascend to heaven So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God high-blest, or to incline his will, Hard to belief may seem ; yet this will prayer, Or one hhort sigh of human breath, upborne Even to the seat of God. For since I sought By prayer the offended Deity to appease, Kneel'd, and before him humbled all my heart, Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his ear ; persuasion in me grew That I was heard with favour ; peace return* d Home to my breast, and to my memory His promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe ; Which, then not minded in dismay, yet now Assures me that the bitterness of death Is past, and we shall live. Whence, hail to thee, Eve, rightly call'd mother of all mankind, Mother of all things living, since by thcc Man is to live, and all things live for man. To whom thus Eve, with sad demeanour, meek : 111 worthy I such title should belong To me, transgressor, who, for thee ordain'd PARADISE LOST. 183 A help, became thy snare : to me reproach Rather belongs, distrust, and all dispraise : But infinite in pardon was my Judge, That I, who first brought death on all, am graced The source of life ; next favourable thou, Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsafest, Far other name deserving. But the field To labour calls us now with sweat imposed, Though after sleepless night ; for see, the morn, All unconcern'd with our unrest, begins Her rosy progress smiling ; let us forth; I never from thy side henceforth to stray, Where'er our day's work lies, though now enjoin'd Laborious, till day droop ; while here we dwell, What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks? Here let us live, though in fallen state, content. So spake, so wish'd much-humbled Eve ; but fate Subscribed not. Nature first gave signs, impress'd On bird, beast, air ; air suddenly eclipsed After short blush of morn ; nigh in her sight The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tower, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove; Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, First hunter then, pursued a gentle brace, Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind ; Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. Adam observed, and, with his eye the chase Pursuing, not unmoved to Eve thus spake : O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, Which Heaven by these mute signs in nature shows Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn Us, haply too secure of our discharge From penalty, because from death released Some days ; how long, and what till then our life, Who knows? or more than this, that we are dust, And thither must return and be no more? Why else this double object in our sight Of flight pursued in the air, and o'er the ground, One way the self-same hour? Why in the east Darkness ere day's mid-course, and morning light More orient in yon western cloud, that draws O'er the blue firmament a radiant white, And slow descends, with something heavenly frauglv.? lie err'd not, for by this the heavenly bands Down from a sky of jasper lighted now In Paradise, and on a hill made halt ; A glorious apparition, had not doubt And carnal fear that day dimm'd Adam's eye. Not that more glorious, when the angels met Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw The field pavilion'd with his guardians bright ; Nor that which on the flaming mount appear'd i4 P4RAD2SE LOST. In Dothan, cover'd with a camp of fire, Against the Syrian king, who, to surprise One man, assassin-like had levied \var, War unproclaim'd. The princely hierarch In their bright stand there left his powers to seize Possession of the garden ; he alone, To find where Adam shelter'd, took his way, Not unperceived of Adam, who to Eve, Wlii lc the great visitant approach'd, thus spake: Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps Of us will soon determine, or impose New laws to be observed ; for I descry. From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill, One of the heavenly host, and by his gait None of the meanest, some great potentate, Or of the thrones above, such majesty Invests him coming ; yet not terrible, That I should fear, nor sociably mild, As Raphael, that I should much confide, But solemn and sublime, whom, not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire. He ended ; and the archangel soon drew nigh. Not in his shape celestial, but as man Clad to meet man ; over his lucid arms A military vest of purple flow'd, Livelier than Melibrean, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old In time of truce ; Iris had dipp'd the woof; I lis starry helm unbuckled show'd him prime In manhood where youth ended ; by his side, As in a glistering zodiac, hung the sword, Satan's dire dread, and in his hand the spear. Adam bow'd low, he kingly from his state Inclined not, but his coming thus declared : Adam, Heaven's high behest no preface needs : Sufficient that thy prayers are heard, and death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seizure many days, Given thee of grace, wherein thou mayst repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done Mayst cover : well may then thy Lord appeased Redeem thee quite from death's rapacious claim ; But longer in this Paradise to dwell Permits not ; to remove thee I am come, And send thee from the garden forth, to till The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil He added not ; for Adam, at the news Heart-struck, with chilling gripe of sorrow stood That all his senses bound ; Eve, who unseen Yet all had heard, with audible lament Discover'd soon the place of her retire : O unexpected stroke, worse than of death ! PARADISE LOST. I8 5 Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both. O flowers That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount ? Thee lastly, nuptial bower, by me adorn'd With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee How shall I part, and whither wander down Into a lower \\ orld, to this obscure And wild ? how shall we breathe in other air Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits? Whom thus the angel interrupted mild : Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign What justly thou hast lost ; nor set thy heart, Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine : Thy going is not lonely, with thee goes Thy husband, him to follow thou art bound ; Where he abides, think there thy native soil. Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scatter'd spirits return'd, To Michael thus his humble words address'd : Celestial, whether among the thrones, or named Of them the highest, for such of shape may seem Prince above princes, gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us ; what besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes ; all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate, Nor knowing us, nor known ; and if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries. But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth ; Therefore to his great bidding I submit. This most afflicts me, that departing hence As from his face I shall be hid, deprived His blessed countenance ; here I could frequent, With worship, place by place, where he vouchsafed Presence Divine, and to my sons relate, On this mount he appear'd, under this tree PARADISE LOST. Stood visible, among these pines his voice I heard, here with him at this fountain talk'd : So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory Or monument to ages, and thereon Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowers. In yonder nether world where shall I seek His bright appearances, or footstep trace? For though I fled him angry, yet, recall'd To life prolong'd and promised race, I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory, and far off his steps adore. To whom thus Michael, with regard benign: Adam, thou know'st heaven his, and all the earth, Not this rock only; his omnipresence fills Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, Fomented by his virtual power, and warm'd : All the earth he gave thee to possess and rule, No despicable gift ; surmise not then His presence to these narrow bounds confined Of Paradise or Eden ; this had been Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread All generations, and had hither come From all the ends of the earth, to celebrate And reverence thee, their great progenitor. But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down To dwell on even ground now with thy sons : Yet doubt not but in valley and in plain God is as here, and will be found alike Present, and of his presence many a sign Still following thee, still compassing thee round With goodness and paternal love, his face Express, and of his steps the track divine. Which that thou mayst believe, and be confirm'd Ere thou from hence depart, know, I am sent To show thee what .shall come in future days To thee and to thy offspring ; good with bad Expect to hear, supernal grace contending With sinfulness of men ; thereby to learn True patience, and to temper joy with fear And pious sorrow, equally inured By moderation either state to bear, Prosperous or adverse : so shalt thou lead Safest thy life, and best prepared endure Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend This hill ; let Eve, for I have drench'd her eyes, Here sleep below, while thou to foresight wakest, As once thou slept'st, while she to life was form'd. To whom thus Adam gratefully replied : Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path Thou lead'st me, and to the hand of Heaven submit, PARADISE LOST. 187 However chastening, to the evil turn My obvious breast, arming to overcome By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, If so I may attain. So both ascend In the visions of God. It was a hill, Of Paradise the highest, from whose top The hemisphere of earth, in clearest ken, Stretch'd out to the amplest reach of prospect, lay Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round, Whereon, for different cause, the tempter set Our second Adam in the wilderness, To show him all earth's kingdoms and their glory. His eye might there command wherever stood City of old or modern fame, the seat Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, And Samarcand by Oxus, Temir's throne, To Paquin of Sincean kings, and thence To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul, Down to the golden Chersonese, or where The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since In H Ispahan, or where the Russian Czar In Moscow, or the Sultan in Bizance, Turchestan-born ; nor could his eye not ken The empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco, and the less maritime kings, Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south ; Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount, The kingdoms of Almanzor, Fez, and Sus, Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen ; Or Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway The world : in spirit perhaps he also saw Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume, And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoiled Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons Call El Dorado. But to nobler sights Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed, Which that false fruit, that promised clearer sight, Had bred ; then purged with euphrasy and rue The visual nerve, for he had much to see ; And from the well of life three drops instill'd. So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, Even to the inmost seat of mental sight, That Adam, now enforced to close his eyes, Sunk down, and all his spirits became entranced ; But him the gentle angel by the hand Soon raised, and his attention thus recall'd : Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold The effects which thy original crime hath wrought i88 PARADISE OST. In some to spring from thee, who never touch'd The accepted tree, nor with the snake conspired, Nor sinn'd thy sin ; yet from that sin derive Corruption, to bring forth more violent deeds. His eyes he open'd, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves New-reap'd ; the other part, sheep-walks and folds ; In the midst an altar as the land-mark stood, Rustic, of grassy sward ; thither anon A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought First-fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf, Uncull'd, as came to hand ; a shepherd next More meek came with the firstlings of his flock, Choicest and best ; then sacrificing laid The inwards and their fat, with incense strew'd, On the cleft wood, and all due rites perform'd : His offering soon propitious fire from heaven Consumed with nimble glance, and grateful steam ; The other's not, for his was not sincere : Whereat he inly raged, and, as they talk'd, Smote him into the midriff with a stone That beat out life ; he fell, and deadly pale Groan' d out his soul with gushing blood effused. Much at that sight was Adam in his heart Dismay'd, and thus in haste to the angel cried : O teacher, some great mischief hath befallen To that meek man, who well had sacrificed ; Is piety thus and pure devotion paid ? To whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied : These two are brethren, Adam, and to come Out of thy loins ; the unjust the just hath slain, For envy that his brother's offering found From Heaven acceptance ; but the bloody fact Will be avenged, and the other's faith approved Lose no reward, though here thou see him die. Rolling in dust and gore. To which our sire : Alas, both for the deed and for the cause ! But have I now seen death ? Is this the way I must return to native dust ? O sight Of terror, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel ! To whom thus Michael : Death thou hast seen In his first shape on man ; but many shapes Of death, and many are the ways that lead To his grim cave, all dismal ; yet to sense More terrible at the entrance than within Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die, By fire, flood, famine, by intemperance more In meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew Before thee shall appear ; that thou mayst know What misery the inabstinence of Eve 1 A L PARADISE LOST. 189 Shall bring on men. Immediately a place Before his eyes appear'd. sad, noisome, dark, A lazar-hotise it seem'd, wherein were laid Numbers of all diseased, all maladies Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. Dire was the tossing, deep the groans ; Despair Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch ; And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invoked With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. Sight so deform what heart of rock could long Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept, Though not of woman born ; compassion quell'd His best of man, and gave him up to tears A space, till firmer thoughts restrain'd excess, And, scarce recovering words, his plaint rcnew'd : miserable mankind, to what fall Degraded, to what wretched state reserved ! Better end here unborn. Why is life given To be thus wrested from us ? rather why Obtruded on us thus ? who, if we knew What we receive, would either not accept Life offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down, Glad to be so dismissal in peace. Can thus The image of God in man, created once So goodly and erect, though faulty since. To such unsightly sufferings be debased Under inhuman pains? Why should not man, Retaining still Divine similitude In part, from such deformities be free, And for his Maker's image sake exempt ? Their Maker's image, answer'd Michael, then Forsook them, when themselves they vilified To serve ungovern'd appetite, and took His image whom they served, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. Therefore so abject is their punishment, Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own, Or, if his likeness, by themselves defaced, While they pervert pure nature's healthful rules To loathsome sickness, worthily, since they God's image did not reverence in themselves. 1 yield it just, said Adam, and submit. But is there yet no other way, besides , I3C PARADISE LOST. These painful passages, how we may come To death, and mix with our connatural dust ? There is, said Michael, if thou well observe Th rule of not too much, by temperance taught In wnat thou eat'st and drink'st, seeking from thence Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return : So mayst thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with case Gather'd, not harshly pluck'd. for death mature. This is old age ; but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To wither'd, weak, and gray ; thy senses then Obtuse all taste of pleasure must forego To what thou hast, and for the air of youth Hopeful and cheerful in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry, To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life. To whom our ancestor : Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong Life much, bent rather how I may be quit Fairest and easiest of this cumbrous charge, Which I must keep till my appointed day Of rendering up, and patiently attend My dissolution. Michael replied : Nor love thy life, nor hate ; but what thou livest Live well, how long or short permit to Heaven : And now prepare thee for another sight. He look'd, and saw a spacious plain, whereon Were tents of various hue ; by some were herds Of cattle grazing ; others, whence the sound Of instruments that made melodious chime Was heard, of harp and organ ; and who moved Their stops and chords was seen ; his volant touch ; Instinct through all proportion? low and high, Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue. In other part stood one who, at the forge Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brass Had melted, whether found where casual fire Had wasted woods on mountain or in vale, Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot To some cave's mouth, or whether wash'd by stream From underground ; the liquid ore he drain'd Into fit moulds prepared ; from which he form'd First his own tools ; then, what might else be wrought Fusil or graven in metal. After these, But on the hither side, a different sort From the high neighbouring hills, which was their Feat Down to the plain descended ; by their guise Just men they seem'd, and all their study bent To worship God aright, and know his works Not hid, nor those things last, which might preserve PARADISE LOST. 191 Freedom and peace to men : they on the plain Long had not walk'd, when from the tents behold A bevy of fair women, richly gay In gems and wanton dress ; to the harp they sung Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on : The men, though grave, eyed them, and let their eyes Rove without rein, till, in the amorous net Fast caught, they liked, and each his liking chose : And now of love they treat, till the evening star, Love's harbinger, appear'd ; then all in heat They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke Hymen, then first to marriage rites invoked ; With feast and music all the tents resound. Such happy interview and fair event Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flowers, And charming symphonies attach'd the heart Of Adam, soon inclined to admit delight, The bent of nature, which he thus express'd : True opener of mine eyes, prime angel bless'd, Much better seems this vision, and more hope Of peaceful days portends, than those two past ; Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse, Here nature seems fulfill'd in all her ends. To whom thus Michael : Judge not what is best By pleasure, though to nature seeming meet, Created, as thou art, to nobler end Holy and pure, conformity divine. Those tents, thou saw'st so pleasant, were the tents Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race Who slew his brother ; studious they appear Of arts that polish life, inventors rare, Unmindful of their Maker, though his Spirit Taught them, but they his gifts acknowledged none. Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget ; For that fair female troop thou saw'st, that seem'd Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, Yet empty of all good wherein consists Woman's domestic honour and chief praise ; Bred only and completed to the taste Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye. To these that sober race of men, whose lives Religious titled them the sons of God, Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles Of these fair atheists ; and now swim in joy, Erelong to swim at large ; and laugh, for which The world erelong a world of tear; must weep. To whom thus Adam, of short joy bereft : O pity and shame, that they, who to live well Enter'd so fair, should turn aside to tread Paths indirect, or in the midway faint ! 192 PARADISE LOST. But still I see the tenor of man's woe Holds on the same, from woman to begin. From man's effeminate slackness it begins. Said the angel, who should better hold his pirice By wisdom and superior gifts received. But now prepare thee for another scene. He look'd, and sa\v wide territory spread Before him, towns, and rural works between, Cities of men with lofty gates and towers, Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war, Giants of mighty bone, and bold emprise ; Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, Single, or in array of battle ranged, Both horse and foot, nor idly mustering stood ; One way a band select from forage drives A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine, From a fat meadow-ground ; or fleecy flock, Ewes and their bleating lambs, over the plain, Their booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly, But call in aid, which makes a bloody fray. With cruel tournament the squadrons join ; Where cattle pastured late, now scatter'd lies With carcases and arms, the ensanguined field Deserted. Others to a city strong Lay siege, encamp'd, by battery, scale, and mine, Assaulting ; others from the wall defend With dart and javelin, stones and sulphurous fire ; On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds. In other part the scepter'd heralds call To council in the city gates ; anon Gray-headed men and grave, with warriors mix'd, Assemble, and harangues are heard ; but soon In factious opposition ; till at last Of middle age one rising, eminent In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong, Of justice, of religion, truth and peace, And judgment from above ; him old and young Exploded, and had seized with violent hands, Had not a cloud descending snatch'd him thence Unseen amid the throng : so violence Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law, Through all the plain, and refuge none was found. Adam was all in tears, and to his guide Lamenting turn'd full sad : O what are these ? Death's ministers, not men, who thus deal death Inhumanly to men, and multiply Ten thousand-fold the sin of him who slew His brother ; for of whom such massacre Make tl.ey but of their brethren, men of men ? But who was that just man, whom had not Heaven Rescued, had in his righteousness been lost? To whom thus Michael : These are the product .PARADISE LOST. 193 Of those ill-mated marriages thou saw'st ; Where good with bad were match'd, who of themselves Abhor to join ; and by imprudence mix'd Produce prodigious births of body or mind. Such were these giants, men of high renown ; Fur in those days might only shall be admired, And valour and heroic virtue call'd. To overcome in battle, and subaue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory, and for glory done Of triumph to be styled great conquerors, Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods, Destroyers rightlier call'd, and plagues of men. Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth, And what most merits fame in silence hid. But he, the seventh from thee, whom thou beheld'st The only righteous in a world perverse, And therefore hated, therefore so beset "With foes, for daring single to be just, And utter odious truth, that God would come To judge them with his saints ; him the Most High Wrapt in a balmy cloud with winged steeds Did, as thou saw'st, receive, to walk with God High in salvation and the climes of bliss, Exempt from death ; to show thee what reward Awaits the good, the rest what punishment ; Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold. He look'd, and saw the face of things quite changed ; The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar ; All now was turn'd to jollity and game, To luxury and riot, feast and dance, Marrying or prostituting as befell, Rape or adultery, where passing fair Allured them ; thence from cups to civil broils. At length a reverend sire among them came, And of their doings great dislike declared, And testified against their ways ; he oft Frequented their assemblies, whereso met, Triumphs, or festivals, and to them preach'd Conversion and repentance, as to souls In prison under judgments imminent : But all in vain : which, when he saw, he ceased Contending, and removed his tents far off: Then, from the mountain hewing timber tall, Began to build a vessel of huge bulk, Measured by cubit, length, and breadth, and height, Smear'd round with pitch, and in the side a door Contrived, and of provisions laid in large For man and beast : when, lo, a wonder strange ! Of every beast, and bird, and insect small, Came sevens, and pairs, and enter'd in, as taught 194 PARADISE LOST. Their order : last, the sire and his three sons With their four wives ; and God made fast the door. Meanwhile, the south wind rose, and, with black wings Wide hovering, all the clouds together drove From under heaven ; the hills to their supply Vapour, and exhalation, dusk and moist, Sent up amain. And now the thicken'd sky Like a dark ceiling stood ; down rush'd the rain Impetuous, and continued till the earth No more was seen ; the floating vessel swum Uplifted ; and secure with beaked prow Rode tilting o'er the waves, all dwellings else Flood overwhelm'd, and them, with all their pomp, Deep under water roll'd ; sea cover'd sea, Sea without shore, and in their palaces, Where luxury late reign'd, sea-monsters whelp'd And stabled ; of mankind, so numerous late, All left in one small bottom swum embark'd. How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold The end of all thy offspring, end so sad, Depopulation ! Thee another flood, Of tears and sorrow a flood, thee also drown'd, And sunk thee as thy sons; till, gently rear'd By the angel, on thy feet thou stood'st at last, Though comfortless, as when a father mourns His children, all in view destroy 'd at once ; And scarce to the angel utteredst thus thy plaint : O visions ill foreseen ! better had I Lived ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only, each day's lot Enough to bear ; those now, that were dispensed The burden of many ages, on me light At once, by my foreknowledge gaining birth Abortive, to torment me, ere their being, With thought that they must be. Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall Him or his children ; evil, he may be sure, Which neither his foreknowing can prevent, And he the future evil shall no less In apprehension than in substance feel, Grievous to bear: but that care now is past, Man is not whom to warn ; those few escaped Famine and anguish will at last consume, Wandering that watery desert. I had hope, When violence was ceased, and war on earth, All would have then gone well ; peace would have crown'd With length of happy days the race of man 5 But I was far deceived ; for now I see Peace to corrupt, no less than war to waste. How comes it thus ? unfold, celestial guide, And whether here the race of man will end. To whom thus Michael : Those whom last thou saw's' PARADISE LOST. 195 In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they First seen in acts of prowess eminent, And great exploits, but of true virtue void, Who, having spilt much blood, and done much waste, Subduing nations, and achieved thereby Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey, Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth, Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and pride Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. The conquer'd also, and enslaved by war. Shall with their freedom lost all virtue lose, And fear of God, from whom their piety feign'd In sharp contest of battle found no aid Against invaders ; therefore, cool'd in zeal, Thenceforth shall practise how to live secure, Worldly, or dissolute, on what their lords Shall leave them to enjoy, for the earth shall bear More than enough, that temperance may be tried : So all shall turn degenerate, all depraved, Justice and temperance, truth and faith forgot ; One man except, the only son of light In a dark age, against example good. Against allurement, custom, and a world Offended ; fearless of reproach and scorn, Or violence, he of their wicked ways Shall them admonish, and before them set The paths of righteousness, how much more safe And full of peace, denouncing wrath to come On their impenitence ; and shall return Of them derided, but of God observed The one just man alive ; by his command Shall build a wondrous ark, as thou beheld'st, To save himself and household from amidst A world devote to universal wreck. No sooner he with them of man and beast Select for life shall in the ark be lodged, And shelter'd round, but all the cataracts Of heaven set open on the earth shall pour Rain day and night, all fountains of the deep Broke up shall heave the ocean to usurp Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise Above the highest hills : then shall this mount Of Paradise by might of waves be moved Out of his place, push'd by the horned flood, With all h : s verdure spoil'd, and trees adrift, Down the great river to the opening gulf, And there take root, an island salt and bare, The haunt of seals, and ores, and sea-mews' clang ; To teach thee that God attributes to place No sanctity, if none be thither brought By men who there frequent, or therein dwell. And now what further sMll ensue, behold. 196 PARADISE LOST. He look'd, and saw the ark hull on the flood, Which now abated, for the clouds were fled, Driven by a keen north wind, that, blowing dry, Wrinkled the face of deluge, as decay'd ; And the clear sun on his wide watery glass Gazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, As after thirst, which made their flowing shrink From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopt His sluices, as the heaven his windows shut. The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground Fast on the top of some high mountain fix'd. And now the tops of hills as rocks appear ; With clamour thence the rapid currents drive Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, And after him, the surer messenger, A dove, sent forth once and again to spy Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light ; The second time returning, in his bill An olive leaf he brings, pacific sign : Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark The ancient sire descends with all his train ; Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout, Grateful to Heaven, over his head beholds A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a bow Conspicuous with three listed colours gay, Betokening peace from God, and covenant new. Whereat the heart of Adam, erst so sad, Greatly rejoiced, and thus his joy broke forth : O thou, who future things canst represent As present, heavenly instructor, I revive At this last sight, assured that man shall live With all the creatures, and their seed preserve. Far less I now lament for one whole world Of wicked sons destroy'd, than I rejoice For one man found so perfect and so just, That God vouchsafes to raise another world From him, and all his anger to forget. But say, what mean those colour'd streaks in heaven, Distended as the brow of God appeased ? Or serve they as a flowery verge to bind The fluid skirts of that same watery cloud, Lest it again dissolve and shower the earth ? To whom the archangel : Dextrously thou aim'st ; So willingly doth God remit his ire, Though late repenting him of man depraved, Grieved at his heart, when looking down he saw The whole earth fill'd with violence, and all flesh Corrupting each their way ; yet, those removed, Such grace shall one just man find in his sight, That he relents, not to blot out mankind, PARADISE LOST. And makes a covenant never to destroy The earth again by flood, nor let the sea Surpass his bounds, nor rain to drown the world, With man therein or beast ; but when he brings Over the earth a cloud, will therein set His triple-colour'd bow, whereon to look, And call to mind his covenant : day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost, Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new, Both heaven and earth, wherein the just shall dwell. BOOK XII. THE ARGUMENT. The angel Michael continues from the flood to relate what shall succeed ; then, in the mention of Abraham, comes by degrees to explain who that seed of the woman shall be, which was promised Adam and Eve in the fall : his incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension ; the state of the church till his second coming. Adam, greatly satisfied, and recomforted by these relations and promises, descends the hill with Michael ; wakens Eve, who all this while had slept, but with gentle dreams composed to quietness of mind and submission. Michael in either hand leads them out of Paradise, the fiery sword waving behind them, and the cherubim taking their stations to guard the place. As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed, so here the archangel paused Betwixt the world destroy'd and world restored, If Adam aught perhaps might interpose ; Then with transition sweet new speech resumes : Thus thou hast seen one world begin and end ; And man as from a second stock proceed. Much thou hast yet to see ; but I perceive Thy mortal sight to fail ; objects divine Must needs impair and weary human sense : Henceforth what is to come I will relate, Thou therefore give due audience, and attend : This second source of men, while yet but few, And while the dread of judgment past remains Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity, With some regard to what is just and righ Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace, Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop, Corn, wine, and oil ; and, from the herd, or flock, Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid, With large wine-offerings pour'd, and sacred feast, Shall spend their days in joy unblamed, and dwell Long time in peace, by families and tribes, Under paternal rule, till one shall rise, Of proud ambitious heart, who not content With fair equality, fraternal state, Will arrogate dominion undeserved PARADISE LOST. Over his brethren, and quite dispossess Concord and law of nature from the earth ; Hunting, and men, not beasts, shall be his game, With war and hostile snare such as refuse Subjection to his empire tyrannous. A mighty hunter thence he shall be styled Before the Lord, as in despite of heaven, Or from heaven claiming second sovereignty ; And from rebellion shall derive his name, Though of rebellion others he accuse. He with a crew, whom like ambition joins With him or under him to tyrannise, Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge Boils out from under ground, the mouth of hell : Of brick and of that stuff they cast to build A city and tower, whose top may reach to heaven, And get themselves a name, lest far dispersed In foreign lands their memory be lost, Regardless whether good or evil fame. But God, who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks, To mark their doings, them beholding soon, Comes down to see their city, ere the tower Obstruct heaven-towers, and in derision sets Upon their tongues a various spirit, to rase Quite out their native language, and instead To sow a jangling noise of words unknown. Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud Among the builders, each to other calls Not understood, till hoarse, and all in rage, As mock'd they storm ; great laughter -was in heaven,. And looking down, to see the hubbub strange And hear the din ; thus was the building left Ridiculous, and the work Confusion named. Whereto thus Adam, fatherly displeased : O execrable son ! so to aspire Above his brethren, to himself assuming Authority usurp'd, from God not given. He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl, Dominion absolute ; that right we hold By his donation ; but man over men He made not lord ; such title to himself Reserving, human left from human free. But this usurper his encroachment proud Stays not on man ; to God his tower intends Siege and defiance. Wretched man ! what focd Will he convey up thither to sustain Himself and his rash army, where thin air Above the clouds will pine his entrails gross, And famish him of breath, if not of bread ? To whom thus Michael : Justly thus abhorr'st PARADISE LOST. 199 That son, who on the quiet state of men Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue Rational liberty; yet know withal, Since thy original lapse, true liberty Is lost, which always with right reason dwells Twinn'd, and from her hath no dividual being. Reason in man obscured, or not obey'd, Immediately inordinate desires, And upstart passions, catch the government From reason, and to servitude reduce Man, till then free. Therefore, since he permits Within himself unworthy powers to reign Over free reason, God in judgment just Subjects him from without to violent lords, Who oft as undeservedly enthral His outward freedom. Tyranny must be, Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse. Yet sometimes nations will decline so low From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong, But justice, and some fatal curse annex'd, Deprives them of their outward liberty, Their inward lost. Witness the irreverent son Of him who built the ark, who, for the shame Done to his father, heard this heavy curse, Servant of servants on his vicious race. Thus will this latter, as the former world, Still tend from bad to worse, till God at last. Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw His presence from among them, and avert His holy eyes ; resolving from thenceforth To leave them to their own polluted ways r And one peculiar nation to select From all the rest, of whom to be invoked, A nation from one faithful man to spring : Him on this side Euphrates yet residing Bred up in idol-worship. O that men, Canst thou believe? should be so stupid grown, While yet the patriarch lived, who 'scaped the flood, As to forsake the living God, and fall To worship their own work in wood and stone For gods ! yet him God the Most High vouchsafes To call by vision from his father's house, His kindred, and false gods, into a land Which he will show him, and from him will raise A mighty nation, and upon him shower His benediction so, that in his seed All nations shall be bless'd ; he straight obeys, Not knowing to what land, yet firm believes. I see him, but thou canst not, with what faith He leaves his gods, his friends, and native soil Ur of Chaldea, passing now the ford To Haran, after him a cumbrous trai^ 200 PARADISE LOST. Of herds, and flocks, and numerous servitude ; Not wandering poor, but trusting all his wealth With God, who call'd him, in a land unknown. Canaan he now attains, I see his tents Pitch'd about Sechem, and the neighbouring plain Of Moreh ; there by promise he receives Gift to his progeny of all that land ; From Hamath northward to the desert south, Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed, From Hermon east to the great western sea, Mount Hermon, yonder sea, each place behold In prospect, as I point them ; on the shore Mount Carmel ; here the double-founted stream Jordan, true limit eastward : but his sons Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills. This ponder, that all nations of the earth Shall in his seed be blessed ; by that seed Is meant thy great Deliverer, who shall bruise The serpent's head ; whereof to thee anon Plainlier shall be reveal'd. This patriarch bless'd, Whom faithful Abraham due time shall call, A son, and of his son a grandchild, leaves, Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown. The grandchild, with twelve sons increased, departs From Canaan, to a land hereafter call'd Egypt, divided by the river Nile ; See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths Into the sea. To sojourn in that land He comes, invited by a younger son In time of dearth ; a son, whose worthy deeds Raise him to be the second in that realm Of Pharaoh : there he dies, and leaves his race Growing into a nation, and, now grown Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests Too numerous ; whence of guests he makes them slaves Inhospitably, and kills their infant males : Till by two brethren, those two brethren call Moses and Aaron, sent from God to claim His people from enthralment, they return, With glory and spoil, back to their promised land. But first the lawless tyrant, who denies To know their God, or message to regard, Must be compel I'd by signs and judgments dire ; To blood unshed the rivers must be turn'd; Frogs, lice, and flies, must all his palace fill With loathed intrusion, and fill all the land ; His cattle must of rot and murrain die ; Botches and blains must all his flesh emboss, And all his people ; thunder mix'd with hail, Hail mix'd with fire, must rend the Egyptian sky, And wheel on the earth, devouring where it rolls \ 4W PARADISE LOST. 201 What ii devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain, A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green Darkness must overshadow all his bounds, Palpable darkness, and blot out three days ; Last, with one midnight-stroke, all the first-born Of Egypt must lie dead. Thus with ten wounds This river-dragon tamed at length submits To let his sojourners depart, and oft Humbles his stubborn heart ; but still as ice More harden'd after thaw, till, in his rage Pursuing whom he late dismiss'd, the sea Swallows him with his host, but them lets pass As on dry land between two crystal walls, A.wed by the rod of Moses so to stand Divided, till his rescued gain their shore . Such wondrous power God to his saint will lend, Though present in his angel, who shall go Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire, By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire, To guide them in their journey, and remove Behind them, while the obdurate king pursues : All night he will pursue, but his approach Darkness defends between till morning watch ; Then through the fiery pillar and the cloud God looking forth will trouble all his host, And craze their chariot-wheels : when, by command, Moses once more his potent rod extends Over the sea ; the sea his rod obeys j On their embattled ranks the waves return, And overwhelm their war. The race elect Safe towards Canaan from the shore advance Through the wild desert, not the readiest way Lest entering on the Canaanite alarm'd, War terrify them inexpert, and fear Return them back to Egypt, choosing rather Inglorious life with servitude ; for life, To noble and ignoble, is more sweet Untrain'd in arms, where rashness leads not on. This also shall they gain by their delay In the wide wilderness, there they shall found Their government, and their great senate choose Through the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordain'cu God, from the mount of Sinai, whose gray top Shall tremble, he descending, will himself In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets' sound, Ordain them laws ; part, such as appertain To civil justice ; part, religious rites Of sacrifice, informing them, by types And shadows, of that destined Seed to bruise The serpent, by what means he shall achieve Mankind's deliverance. But the voice of God -H** 202 PARADISE LOST. To mortal ear is dreadful : they beseech That Moses might report to them his will, And terror cease; he grants what they besought, Instructed that to God is no access Without mediator, whose high office now Moses in figure bears, to introduce One greater, of whose day he shall foretell, And all the prophets in their age the times Of great Messiah shall sing. Thus, laws and rites Establish'd, such delight hath God in men Obedient to his will, that he vouchsafes Among them to set up his tabernacle, The Holy One with mortal men to dwell. By his prescript a sanctuary is framed Of cedar, overlaid with gold, therein An ark, and in the ark his testimony. The records of his covenant, over these A mercy-seat of gold between the wings Of two bright cherubim ; before him burn Seven lamps, as in a zodiac, representing The heavenly fires ; over the tent a cloud Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night, Save when they journey, and at length they come.. Conducted by his angel, to the land Promised to Abraham and his seed. The rest Were long to tell, how many battles fought, How many kings destroy'd, and kingdoms won ; Or how the sun shall in mid heaven stand still A day entire, and night's due course adjourn. Man's voice commanding, Sun in Gibeon stand And thou moon in the vale of Ajaion, Fill Israel overcome ; so call the third From Abraham, son of Isaac, and from him His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win. Here Adam interposed : O sent from heaven, Enlightener of my darkness, gracious things Thou hast reveal'd, those chiefly which concern Just Abraham and his seed : now first I find Mine eyes true opening, and my heart much eased, Erewhile perplex'd with thoughts what would becoir Of me and all mankind ; but now I see His day, in whom all nations shall be blest ; Favour unmerited by me, who sought Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means. This yet I apprehend not, why to those Among whom God will deign to dwell on earth, So many and so various laws are given? So many laws argue so many sins Among them ; how can God with such reside ? To whom thus Michael : Doubt not but that siu Will reign among them, as of thee begot ; And therefore was law given them, to evince -<: > , PARADISE LOST. Their natural pravity, by stirring up Sin against law to fight ; that when they see Law can discover sin, but not remove, Save by those shadowy expiations weak, The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude Some blood more precious must be paid for man ; Just for unjust, that in such righteousness, To them by faith imputed, they may find Justification towards God, and peace Of conscience, which the law by ceremonies Cannot appease, nor man the moral part Perform, and, not performing, cannot live. So law appears imperfect, and but given With purpose to resign them, in full time, Up to a better covenant, disciplined From shadowy types to truth ; from flesh to spirit ; From imposition of strict laws to free Acceptance of large grace ; from servile fear To filial ; works of law to works of faith. And therefore shall not Moses, though of God Highly beloved, being but the minister Of law, his people into Canaan lead ; But Joshua, whom the Gentiles Jesus call, His name and office bearing, who shall quell The adversary serpent, and bring back, Through the world's wilderness, long-vvander'd man Safe to eternal Paradise of rest. Meanwhile they, in their earthly Canaan placed, Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins National interrupt their public peace, Provoking God to raise them enemies, From whom as oft he saves them penitent, By judges first, then under kings ; of whom The second, both for piety renown'd And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive Irrevocable, that his regal throne For ever shall endure ; the like shall sing All prophecy, that of the royal stock Of David, so I name this king, shall rise A Son, the woman's seed to thee foretold, Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trust All nations, and to kings foretold, of kings The last, for of his reign shall be no end. But first, a long succession must ensue, And his next son, for wealth and wisdom famed, The clouded ark of God, till then in tents Wandering, shall in a glorious temple enshrine. Such follow him, as shall be register'd Part good, part bad, of bad the longer scroll ; Whose foul idolatries, and other faults, Heap'd to the popular sum, will so incense God, as to leave them, and expose their land, 204 PARADISE LOST, Their city, his temple, and his holy ark, With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey To that proud city, whose high walls thou saw'st Left in confusion, Babylon thence call'd. There in captivity he lets them dwell The space of seventy years, then brings them back, Remembering mercy and his covenant sworn To David, stablish'd as the days of heaven. Return'd from Babylon by leave of kings, Their lords, whom God disposed, the house of God They first re-edify, and for a while In mean estate live moderate, till, grown In wealth and multitude, factious they grow : But first among the priests dissension springs, Men who attend the altar, and should most Endeavour peace : their strife pollution brings Upon the temple itself ; at last they seize The sceptre, and regard not David's sons \ Then lose it to a stranger, that the true Anointed King Messiah might be born Barr'd of his right ; yet at his birth a star, Unseen before in heaven, proclaims him come. \nd guides the eastern sages, who inquire His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold His place of birth a solemn angel tells To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night ; They gladly thither haste, and by a choir Of squadron'd angels hear his carol sung. A Virgin is his mother, but his sire The power of the Most Hi^h ; ht shall ascend The throne hereditary, and bound his reign With earth's wide bounds, his glory with the heavens. He ceased, discerning Adam, with such joy Surcharged, as had like grief been dew'd in tears, Without the vent of words, which these he breath'd : O prophet of glad tidings, finisher Of utmost hope ! now clear I understand What oft my steadiest thoughts have search'd in vr.in, Why our great Expectation should be call'd The seed of woman : Virgin Mother, hail, High in the love of Heaven, yet from my loins Thou shalt proceed, and from thy womb the Son Of God Most High ; so God with man unites. Needs must the serpent now his capital bruise Expect with mortal pain : say where and when Their fight, what stroke shall bruise the Victor's heel. To whom thus Michael : Dream not of their fight, As of a duel, or the local wounds Of head or heel : not therefore joins the Son Manhood to Godhead, with more strength to foil Thy enemy ; nor so is overcome Satan, whose fall from heaven, a deadlier bruise, PARADISE LOST. 205 Disabled not to give thee thy death's wound ; Which he, who comes thy Saviour, shall recure, Not by destroying Satan, but his works In thee, and in thy seed : nor can this be, But by fulfilling that which thou didst want, Obedience to the law of God, imposed On penalty of death, and suffering death, The penalty to thy transgression due, And due to theirs, which out of thine will grow : So only can high justice rest appaid. The law of God exact he shall fulfil, Both by obedience and by love, though love Alone fulfil the law ; thy punishment He shall endure, by coming in the flesh To a reproachful life and cursed death, Proclaiming life to all who shall believe In his redemption, and that his obedience Imputed becomes theirs by faith, his merits To save them, not their own, though legal, works. For this he shall live hated, be blasphemed, Seized on by force, judged, and to death condemn'd, A shameful and accursed, nail'd to the cross By his own nation, slain for bringing life : But to the cross he nails thy enemies, The law that is against thee, and the sins Of all mankind, with him there crucified, Never to hurt them more who rightly trust In this his satisfaction. So he dies, But soon revives, death over him no power Shall long usurp ; ere the third dawning light, Return, the stars of morn shall see him rise Out of his grave, fresh as the dawning light, Thy ransom paid, which man from death redeems, His death for man, as many as offer'd life Neglect not, and the benefit embrace By faith not void of works. This godlike act Annuls thy doom, the death thou shouldst have died, In sin for ever lost from life ; this act Shall bruise the head of Satan, crush his strength, Defeating Sin and Death, his two main arms, And fix far deeper in his head their stings, Than temporal death shall braise the Victor's heel, Or theirs whom he redeems, a death, like sleep, A gentle wafting to immortal life. Nor after resurrection shall he stay Longer on earth than certain times to appear To his disciples, men who in his life Still follow'd him ; to them shall leave in charge To teach all nations what of him they learn'd And his salvation ; them who shall believe Baptizing in the profluent stream, the sign Of washing them from guilt of sin to life 206 PARADISE LOST. Pure, and in mind prepared, if so befall. For death, like that which the Redeemer died. All nations they shall teach ; for, from that day, Not only to the sons of Abraham's loins Salvation shall be preach'd, but to the sons Of Abraham's faith wherever through the world ; So in his seed all nations shall be blest. Then to the heaven of heavens he shall ascend "With victory, triumphing through the air Over his foes and thine ; there shall surprise The serpent, prince of air, and drag in chains Through all his realm, and there confounded leave; Then enter into glory, and resume His seat at God's right hand, exalted high Above all names in heaven ; and thence shall come, When this world's dissolution shall be ripe, With glory and power, to judge both quick and dead, To judge the unfaithful dead, but to reward His faithful, and receive them into bliss, Whether in heaven or earth ; for then the earth Shall all be Paradise, far happier place Than this of Eden, and far happier days. So spake the Archangel Michael, then paused, As at the world's great period ; and our sire, Replete with joy and wonder, thus replied : O goodness infinite, goodness immense ! That all this good of evil shall produce, And evil turn to good ; more wonderful Than that which by creation first brought forth Light out of darkness ! full of doubt I stand, Whether I should repent me now of sin By me done and occasion'd, or rejoice Much more, that much more good thereof shall spring. To God more glory, more good-will to men From God, and over wrath grace shall abound. But scy, if our Deliverer up to heaven Must reascend, what will betide the few, His faithful, left among the unfaithful herd, The enemies of truth ? Who then shall guide His people, who defend ? Will they not deal Worse with his followers than with him they dealt? Be sure they will, said the angel ; but from heaven lie to his own a Comforter will send, The promise of the Father, who shall dwell His Spirit within ihem, and the law of faith, Working through love, upon their hearts shall write, To guide them in all truth, and also arm With spiritual armour, able to resist Satan's assaults, and quench his fiery darts ; What man can do against them, not afraid, Though to the death, against such cruelties With inward consolations recompensed, PARADISE LOST. 20") And oft supported so as shall amaze Their proudest persecutors : for the Spirit, Pour'd first on his apostles, whom he sends To evangelize the nations, then on all Baptized, shall them with wondrous gifts endue, To speak all tongues, and do all miracles, As did their Lord before them. Thus they win Great numbers of each nation to receive With joy the tidings brought from heaven : at length, Their ministry perform'd, and race well run, Their doctrine and their story written left, They die ; but in their room, as they forewarn, Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves, Who all the sacred mysteries of heaven To their own vile advantages shall turn Of lucre and ambition, and the truth With superstitions and traditions taint, Left only in those written records pure, Though not but by the Spirit understood. Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names, Places, and titles, and with these to join Secular power, though feigning still to act By spiritual, to themselves appropriating The Spirit of God, promised alike and given To all believers ; and from that pretence Spiritual laws by carnal powers shall force On every conscience ; laws which none shall find Left them cnroll'd, or what the Spirit within Shall on the heart engrave. What will they then But force the Spirit of Grace itself, and bind His consort Liberty? What but unbuild His living temples, built by faith to stand, Their own faith, not another's ? for on earth Who against faith and conscience can be heard Infallible? Yet many will presume : Whence heavy persecution shall arise On all who in the worship persevere Of spirit and truth ; the rest, far greater part, Will deem in outward rites and specious forms Religion satisfied ; truth shall retire Bestuck with slanderous darts, and works of faith Rarely be found. So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning till the day Appear of respiration to the just, And vengeance to the wicked, at return Of him so lately promised to thy aid, The woman's Seed, obscurely then foretold, Now ampler known thy Saviour and thy Lord, Last in the clouds from heaven to be reveal'd In glory of the Father, to dissolve Satan with his perverted world, then raise - 208 PARADISE LOST, From the conflagrant mass, purged and refined, New heavens, new earth, ages of endless date. Founded in righteousness, and peace, and love, To bring forth fruits, joy and eternal bliss. He ended ; and thus Adam last replied : How soon hath thy prediction, Seer blest, Measured this transient world, the race of time, Till time stand fix'd ! Beyond is all abyss, Eternity, whose end no eye can reach. Greatly instructed I shall hence depart, Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill Of knowledge, what this vessel can contain ; Beyond which was my folly to aspire. Henceforth, I learn that to obey is best, And love with fear the only God, to walk As in his presence, ever to observe His providence, and on him sole depend, Merciful over all his works, with good Still overcoming evil, and by small Accomplishing great things, by things deem'd weak Subverting worldly strong, and worldly wise By simply meek ; that suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life ; Taught this by his example, whom I now Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest. To whom thus also the angel last replied : This having learn'd, thou hast attain'd the sum Of wisdom ; hope no higher, though all the stars Thou knew'st by name, and all the ethereal powers, All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works, Or works of God in heaven, air, earth, or sea, And all the riches of this world enjoyedst, And all the rule, one empire ; only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable ; add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance ; add love, By name to come call'd charity, the soul Of all the rest ; then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A paradise within thee, happier far. Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation ; for the hour precise Exacts our parting hence ; and, see ! the guards, By me encamp'd on yonder hill, expect Their motion, at whose front a flaming sword, In signal of remove, waves fiercely round. We may no longer stay : go, waken Eve ; Her also I with gentle dreams have calm'd, Portending good, and all her spirits composed To meek submission : thou, at season fit, Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard j Chiefly, what may concern her faith to know, PARADISE LOST. 209 The great deliverance by her seed to come, For by the woman's seed, on all mankind ; That ye may live, which will be many days. Both in one faith unanimous, though sad With cause for evils past, yet much more cheer'd With meditation on the happy end He ended, and they both descend the hill ; Descended, Adam to the bower, wnere Eve Lay sleeping, ran before, but found her waked ; And thus with words not sad she him received : Whence thou return'st, and whither went'st I know ; For God is also in sleep, and dreams advise, Which he hath sent propitious some great good Presaging, since, with sorrow and heart's distress Wearied, I fell asleep : but now lead on ; In me is no delay ; with thee to go Is to stay here ; without thee here to stay Is to go hence unwilling ; thou to me Art all things under heaven, all places thou. Who for my wilful crime art banish'd hence This further consolation yet secure I carry hence ; though all by me is lost, Such favour I unworthy am vouchsafed, By me the promised Seed shall all restore. So spake our mother Eve ; and Adam heard, Well pleased, but answer'd not ; for now, too nigh The archangel stood ; and from the other hill To their fix'd station, all in bright array, The cherubim descended, on the ground Gliding meteorous, as evening mist, Risen from a river, o'er the marish glides, And gathers ground fast at the labourer's heel, Homeward returning. High in front advanced, The brandish'd sword of God before them blazed, Fierce as a comet ; which, with torrid heat, And vapour as the Libyan air adust, Began to parch that temperate clime ; whereat In either hand the hastening angel caught Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast To the subjected plain ; then disappear'd. They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate With dreadful faces throng'd and fiery arms. Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon ; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide. They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way. 210 PARADISE LOST. APPENDIX TO PARADISE LOST. Mr. Milton 's Agreement with Mr. Symonsfor Paradise Lost, dated 2.1th April, 1667. These presents, made the 27th day of April, 1667, between John Milton, gentleman, of the one part, and Samuel Symons, printer, of the other part, witness That the said John Milton, in considera- tion of five pounds to him now paid by the said Samuel Symons, and other the considerations herein mentioned, hath given, granted, and assigned, and by these presents doth give, grant, and assign unto the said Samuel Symons, his executors and assignees, All that book, copy, or manuscript of a Poem entitled Paradise Lost, or by whatsoever other title or name the same is or shall be called or distinguished, now lately licensed to be printed, together with the full benefit, profit, and advantage thereof, or which shall or may arise thereby. And the said John Milton, for him, his ex- ecutors and administrators, doth covenant with the said Samuel Symons, his executors and assignees, that he and they shall at all times hereafter have, hold, and enjoy the same and all impressions thereof accordingly, without the let or hindrance of him, the said John Milton, his executors or assignees, or any person or persons by his or their consent or privity. And that he, the said John Milton, his executors or administrators, or any other by his or their means or consent, shall not print or cause to be printed, or sell, dispose or publish the said book or manuscript, or any other book or manuscript of the same tenor or subject, without the consent of the said Samuel Symons, his executors or assignees : In considera- tion whereof the said Samuel Symons, for him, his executors and administrators, doth covenant with the said John Milton, his execu- tors and assignees, well and truly to pay unto the said John Milton, his executors and administrators, the sum of five pounds of lawful English money at the end of the first impression, which the said Samuel Symons, his executors or assignees, shall make and pub- lish of the said copy or manuscript, which impression shall be ac- counted to be ended when thirteen hundred books of the said whole copy or manuscript imprinted shall be sold and retailed off to particular reading customers. And shall also pay other five' pounds unto the said John Milton, or his assignees, at the end of the second impression, to be accounted as aforesaid : and five pounds more at the end of the third impression, to be in like man- ner accounted. And that the said three first impressions shall not exceed fifteen hundred books or volumes of the said whole copy or manuscript, apiece. And further, that he, the said Samuel Symons, and his executors, administrators, and assignees, shall be ready to make oath before a Master in Chancery concerning his or their knowledge and belief of or concerning the truth of the disposing and selling the said books by retail, as aforesaid, whereby the said Mr. Milton is to be entitled to his said money from time to time, upon every reasonable request in that behalf; or, in default thereof. PARADISE LOST. 211 shall pay the said five pounds agreed to be paid upon every im- pression, as aforesaid, as if the same were due, and for and in lieu thereof. In witness whereof, the said parties have to this writing indented, interchangeably set their hands and seals the day and year first above written. JOHN MILTON. (Seal.) Sealed and delivered in ) John Fisher. the presence of us, \ Benjamin Greene, servant to Mr. Milton. April 26, 1669. Received then of Samuel Symons five pounds, being the second five pounds to be paid mentioned in the covenant. I say, received by me, JOHN MILTON. Witness, Edmund Upton. I do hereby acknowledge to have received of Samuel Symons, Citizen and Stationer of London, the sum of eight pounds, which is in full payment for all my right, title, or interest, which I have or ever had in the copy of a Poem entitled Paradise Lost, in twelve books, in 8vo, by John Milton, gentleman, my late husband. Witness my hand, this 2ist day of December 1680. ELIZABETH MILTON. Witness, William Yopp, Ann Yopp. Know all men by these presents, that I, Elizabeth Milton, of London, widow, late wife of John Milton, of London, gentle- man, deceased, have remissed, released, and for ever quit claim and by these presents do remiss, release, and for ever quit claim unto Samuel Symons, of London, printer, his heirs, executors, and administrators, all and all manner of action and actions, cause and causes of action, suits, bills, bonds, writings, obligatory debts, dues, duties, accounts, sum and sums of money, judgments, execution, extents, quarrels, sither in law or equity, controversies and demands, and all and every other matter, cause, and thing whatsoever which against the said Samuel Symons I ever had, and which I, my heirs, executors, or administrators shall or may have claim and challenge or demand for or by reason or means of any matters, cause, or thing whatsoever from the beginning of the world unto the day of these presents. In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal the twenty-ninth day of April, in the thirty-third year of the reign of our Sovereign Lord Charles, by the grace of God, of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, king, defender of the faith, and A.D. 1681. ELIZABETH MILTON. Signed and deliveied in the presence of Jos. Leigh, Wm. Wilkins. ' f PARADISE REGAINED. BOOK J. I, WHO erewhile the happy garden sung, By one man's disobedience lost, now sing Recover'd Paradise to all mankind, By one man's firm obedience fully tried Through all temptation, and the tempter foil'd In all his wiles, defeated, and repulsed, And Eden raised in the waste wilderness. Thou Spirit, who ledd'st this glorious eremite Into the desert, his victorious field, Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire, As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute, And bear through height or depth of nature's bounds, With prosperous wing full summ'd, to tell of deeds Above heroic, though in secret done, And unrecorded left through many an age, Worthy to have not remain'd so long unsung. Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried Repentance, and heaven's kingdom nigh at hand To all baptized : to his great baptism flock'd With awe the regions round, and with them came From Nazareth, the son of Joseph deem'd To the flood Jordan ; came, as then obscure, Unmark'd, unknown ; but him the Baptist soon Descried, divinely warn'd, and witness bore As to his worthier, and would have resigned To him his heavenly office, nor was long His witness unconfirm'd : on him baptized Heaven open'd, and in likeness of a dove The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice From heaven pronounced him his beloved Son. Xff PARADISE KEGAIXED. 213 That heard the adversary, who, roving still About the world, at that assembly famed Would not be last, and, with the voice divine Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man, to whom Such high attest was given, a while survey'd With wonder ; then, with envy fraught and rage, Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air To council summons all his mighty peers, Within thick clouds, and dark, ten-fold involved, A gloomy consistory ; and them amidst, With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake : O ancient powers of air, and this wide world, For much more willingly I mention air, This our old conquest, than remember hell, Our hated habitation ; well ye know How many ages, as the years of men, This universe we have possess'd, and ruled In manner at our will, the affairs of earth, Since Adam and his facile consort Eve Lost Paradise, deceived by me, though since With dread attending when that fatal wound Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve Upon my head ; long the decrees of Heaven Delay, for longest time to him is short ; And now, too soon for us, the circling hours This dreaded time have compass'd, wherein we Must bide the stroke of that long-threaten'd wound, At least, if so we can, and, by the head Broken, be not intended all our power To be infringed, our freedom, and our being, In this fair empire won of earth and air : For this ill news I bring, the woman's Seed, Destined to this, is late of woman born ; His birth to our just fear gave no small cause, But his growth now to youth's full flower, displaying All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve Things highest, greatest, multiplies my fear. Before him a great prophet, to proclaim His coming, is sent harbinger, who all Invites, and in the consecrated stream Pretends to wash off sin, and fit them, so Purified, to receive him pure, or rather To do him honour as their King : all come, And he himself among them was baptized, Not thence to be more pure, but to receive The testimony of Heaven, that who he is Thenceforth the nations may not doubt. I saw The prophet do him reverence ; on him, rising Out of the water, heaven above the clouds Unfold her crystal doors, thence on his head A perfect dove descend, whate'er it meant, And out of heaven the sovereign voice I heard, 214 PARADISE REGAINED. This is my Son beloved, in him am pleased. His mother then is mortal, but his sire, He who obtains the monarchy of heaven ; And what will he not do to advance his Son ? His first-begot we know, and sore have felt, When his fierce thunder drove us to the deep ; Who this is we must learn, for man he seems In all his lineaments, though in his face The glimpses of his Father's glory shine. Ye see our danger on the utmost edge Of hazard, which admits no long debate, But must with something sudden be opposed, Not force, but well-couch'd fraud, well-woven snares, Ere in the head of nations he appear, Their King, their Leader, and Supreme on earth. I, when no other durst, sole undertook The dismal expedition to find out And ruin Adam, and the exploit perform'd Successfully ; a calmer voyage now Will waft me ; and the way, found prosperous once, Induces best to hope of like success. He ended, and his words impression left Of much amazement to the infernal crew, Distracted and surprised with deep dismay At these sad tidings ; but no time was then For long indulgence to their fears or grief. Unanimous they all commit the care And management of this main enterprise To him their great dictator, whose attempt At first against mankind so well had thrived In Adam's overthrow, and led their march From hell's deep- vaulted den to dwell in light, Regents, and potentates, and kings, yea, gods, Of many a pleasant realm and province wide. So to the coast of Jordan he directs His easy steps, girded with snaky wiles, Where he might likeliest find this new-declared, This man of men, attested Son of God, Temptation and all guile on him to try ; So to subvert whom he suspected raised To end his reJgn on earth so long enjoy'd : But contrary unweeting he fulfill'd The purposed counsel, pre-ordain'd and fix'd, Of the Most High, who, in full frequence bright Of angels, thus to Gabriel smiling spake : Gabriel, this clay by proof thou shalt behold, Thou and all angels conversant on earth With man or men's affairs, how I begin To verify that solemn message late, On which I sent thee to the virgin pure In Galilee, that she should bear a son, Great in renown, and call'd the Son of God ; PARADISE REGAINED. Then told'st her, doubting ho\v these things could be To her a virgin, that on her should come The Holy Ghost, and the Power of the Highest O'ershadow her. This man born, and now upgrown, To show him worthy of his birth divine And high prediction, henceforth I expose To Satan ; let him tempt and now essay I lis utmost subtlety, because he boasts And vaunts of his great cunning to the throng Of his apostasy ; he might have learnt Less overweening, since he fail'd in Job, Whose constant perseverance overcame Whate'er his cruel malice could invent. He now shall know I can produce a man Of female seed, far abler to resist All his solicitations, and at length All his vast force, and drive him back to helJ, Winning by conquest what the first man lost By fallacy surprised. But first I mean To exercise him in the wilderness ; There he shall first lay down the rudiments Of his great warfare, ere I send him forth To conquer Sin and Death, the two grand foes, By humiliation and strong sufferance. His weakness shall o'ercome Satanic strength, And all the world, and mass of sinful flesh ; That all the angels and ethereal powers, They now, and men hereafter, may discern, From what consummate virtue I have chose This perfect man, by merit call'd my Son, To earn salvation for the sons of men. So spake the eternal Father, and all heaven Admiring stood a space, then into hymns Burst forth, and in celestial measures moved, Circling the throne and singing, while the hand Sung with the voice, and this the argument : Victory and triumph to the Son of God, Now entering his great duel, not of arms, But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles. The Father knows the Son ; therefore secure Ventures his filial virtue, though untried, Against whate'er may tempt, whate'er seduce, Allure, or terrify, or undermine. Be frustrate, all ye stratagems of hell. And, devilish machinations, come to nought ! So they in heaven their odes and vigils tuned : Meanwhile, the Son of God, who yet some days Lodged in Bethabara, where John baptized, Musing and much revolving in his breast, How best the mighty work he might begin Of Saviour to mankind, and which way first Publish his god-like office, now mature, 215 216 PARADISE REGAINED. One day forth walk'd alone, the Spirit leading, And his deep thoughts, the better to converse With solitude, till, far from track of men, Thought following thought, and step by step led on, He enter'd now the bordering desert wild, And, with dark shades and rocks environ'd round, His holy meditations thus pursued : Oh, what a multitude of thoughts at once Awaken'd in me swarm, while I consider What from within I feel myself, and hear What from without comes often to my ears, * 111 sorting with my present state compared ! When I was yet a child, no childish play To me was pleasing, all my mind was set Serious to learn and know, and thence to do What might be public good ; myself I thought Born to that end, born to promote all truth, All righteous things ; therefore, above my years, The law of God I read, and found it sweet, Made it my whole delight, and in it grew To such perfection, that, ere yet my age Had measured twice six years, at our great feast I went into the temple, there to hear The teachers of our law, and to propose What might improve my knowledge or their own, And was admired by all ; yet this not all To which my spirit aspired, victorious deeds Flamed in my heart, heroic acts, one while To rescue Israel from the Roman yoke, Then to subdue and quell o'er all the earth Brute violence and proud tyrannic power, Till truth were freed, and equity restored : Yet held it more humane, more heavenly, first By winning words to conquer willing hearts, And make persuasion do the work of fear ; At least to try, and teach the erring soul, Not wilfully misdoing, but unaware Misled ; the stubborn only to subdue, These growing thoughts my mother soon perceiving, By words at times cast forth, inly rejoiced, And said to me apart, High are thy thoughts, O Son, but nourish them, and let them soar To what height sacred virtue and true worth Can raise them, though above example high ; By matchless deeds express thy matchless Sire, For know, thou art no Son of mortal man, Though men esteem thee low of parentage, Thy Father is the eternal King, who rules All heaven and earth, angels and sons of men ; A messenger from God foretold thy birth Conceived in me a virgin ; he foretold Thou shouldst be great, arid sit on David's throne, PARADISE REGAINED. 217 And of thy kingdom there should be no end. At thy nativity, a glorious choir Of angels in the fields of Bethlehem sung To shepherds, watching at their folds by night, And told them the Messiah now was born, Where they might see him, and to thee they came, Directed to the manger where thou layest, For in the inn was left no better room. A star, not seen before, in heaven appearing, Guided the wise men thither from the east, To honour thee with incense, myrrh, and gold, By whose bright course led on they found the place, Affirming it thy star, new-graven in heaven, By which they knew the King of Israel born. Just Simeon and prophetic Anna, warn'd By vision, found thee in the temple, and spake, Before the altar and the vested priest, Like things of thee to all that present stood. This having heard, straight I again revolved The law and prophets, searching what was writ Concerning the Messiah, to our scribes Known partly, and soon found of whom they spake I am ; this chiefly, that my way must lie Through many a hard essay, even to the death, Ere I the promised kingdom can attain, Or work redemption for mankind, whose sins' Full weight must be transferr'd upon my head. Yet, neither thus dishearten'd nor dismay'd, The time prefix'd I waited, when, behold, The Baptist, of whose birth I oft had heard, Not knew by sight, now come, who was to come Before Messiah, and his way prepare ! I, as all others, to his baptism came, Which I believed was from above ; but he Straight knew me, and with loudest voice proclaim'd Me him, for it was shown him so from heaven, Me him whose harbinger he was ; and first Refused on me his baptism to confer, As much his greater, and was hardly won : But, as I rose out of the laving stream, Heaven open'd her eternal doors, from whence The Spirit descended on me like a dove; And last, the sum of all, my Father's voice, Audibly heard from heaven, pronounced me his, Me his beloved Son, in whom alone He was well pleased ; by which I knew the time Now full, that I no more should live obscure, But openly begin, as best becomes The authority which I derived from heaven. And now by some strong motion I am led *Into this wilderness, to what intent * : 218 PARADISE REGAINED. I learn not yet ; perhaps, I need not know. For what concerns my knowledge God reveals. So spake our Morning Star, then in his rise, And looking round on every side beheld A pathless desert, dusk with horrid shades ; The way he came not having mark'd, return Was difficult, by human steps untrod ; And he still on was led, but with such thoughts Accompanied of things past and to come Lodged in his breast, as well might recommend Such solitude before choicest society. Full forty days he pass'd, whether on hill Sometimes, anon in shady vale, each night Under the covert of some ancient oak Or cedar, to defend him from the dew, Or harbour'd in one cave, is not reveal'd ; Nor tasted human food, nor hunger felt Till those days ended, hunger'd then at last Among wild beasts : they at his sight grew mild, Nor sleeping him nor waking harm'd ; his walk The fiery serpent fled, and noxious worm, The lion and fierce tiger glared aloof. But now an aged man, in rural weeds, Following, as seem'd, the quest of some stray ewe, Or wither'd sticks to gather, which might serve Against a winter's day, when winds blow keen, To warm him wet return'd from field at eve, He saw approach, who first with curious eye Perused him, then with words thus utter'd spake : Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place, So far from path or road of men, who pass In troop or caravan ? for single none Durst ever, who return'd, and dropt not here His carcase, pined with hunger and with drought. I ask the rather, and the more admire, For that to me thou seem'st the man, whom late Our new baptizing prophet at the ford Of Jordan honour'd so, and call'd thee Son Of God ; I saw and heard, for we sometimes, Who dwell this wild, constrain'd by want, come forth To town or village nigh, nighest is far, Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear, What happens new ; fame also finds us out. To whom the Son of God : Who brought me hither Will bring me hence ; no other guide I seek. By miracle he may, replied the swain, What other way I see not, for we here Live on tough roots and stubs, to thirst inured More than the camel, and to drink go far, Men to much misery and hardship born. But, if thou be the Son of God, command That out of these hard stones be made thee bread, PARADISE REGAINED. 219 So shall them save thyself, and us relieve With food, whereof we wretched seldom taste. He ended, and the Son of God replied : Think'st thou such force in bread ? Is it not written, For I discern thee other than thou seem'st, Man lives not by bread only, but each word Proceeding from the mouth of God, who fed Our fathers here with manna ? in the mount Moses was forty days, nor ate, nor drank ; And forty days Elijah without food Wander'd this barren waste, the same I now. Why dost thou then suggest to me distrust, Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art ? Whom thus answer'd the arch-fiend, now undisguised j Tis true, I am that spirit unfortunate, Who, leagued with millions more in rash revolt, Kept not my happy station, but was driven With them from bliss to the bottomless deep ; Yet to that hideous place not so confined By rigour unconniving, but that oft, Leaving my dolorous prison, I enjoy Large liberty, to round this globe of earth, Or range in the air, nor from the heaven of heavens Hath he excluded my resort sometimes. I came among the sons of God, when he Gave up into my hands Uzzean Job, To prove him, and illustrate his high worth ; And when to all his angels he proposed To d/aw the proud king Ahab into fraud, That he might fall in Ramoth, they demurring, I undertook that office, and the tongues Of all his flattering prophets glibb'd with lies To his destruction, as I had in charge ; For what he bids I do. Though I have lost Much lustre of my native brightness, lost To be beloved of God, I have not lost To love, at least contemplate and admire, What I see excellent in good, or fair, Or virtuous ; I should so have lost all sense. What can be then less in me than desire To see thee, and approach thee, whom I know Declared the Son of God, to hear attent Thy wisdom, and behold thy godlike deeds ? Men generally think me much a foe To all mankind : why should I ? they to me Never did wrong or violence ; by them I lost not what I lost, rather by them I gain'd what I have gain'd, and with them dwell. Copartner in these regions of the world, If not disposer ; lend them oft my aid, Oft my advice by presages, and signs, And answers, oracles, portents, and dreams, ju. : 220 PARADISE REGAINED, Whereby they may direct their future life. Envy they say excites me thus to gain Companions of my misery and woe. At first it may be ; but long since with woe Nearer acquainted, now I feel by proof, That fellowship in pain divides not smart, Nor lightens aught each man's peculiar load. Small consolation then, were man adjoin'd : This wounds me most, what can it less? that man, Man fallen, shall be restored ; I never more. To whom our Saviour sternly thus replied : Deservedly thou grievest, composed of lies From the beginning, and in lies wilt end, Who boast release from hell, and leave to come Into the heaven of heavens. Thou comest, indeed, As a poor miserable captive thrall Comes to the place where he before had sat Among the prime in splendour, now deposed, Ejected, emptied, gazed, unpitied, shunn'd, A spectacle of ruin, or of scorn, To all the host of heaven. The happy place Imparts to thee no happiness, no joy, Rather inflames thy torment, representing Lost bliss, to thee no more communicable, So never more in hell than when in heaven. But thou art serviceable to heaven's King. Wilt thou impute to obedience what thy fear Extorts, or pleasure to do ill excites ? What but thy malice moved thee to misdeem Of righteous Job, then cruelly to afflict him With all inflictions ? but his patience won. The other service was thy chosen task, To be a liar in four hundred mouths ; For lying is thy sustenance, thy food. Yet thou pretend' st to truth ; all oracles By thee are given, and what confessed more true Among the nations ? that hath been thy craft, By mixing sc mewhat true to vent more lies. But what have been thy answers ? what but dark, Ambiguous, and with double sense deluding, Which they who ask'd have seldom understood, And, not well understood, as good not known? Who ever, by consulting at thy shrine, Return'd the wiser, or the more instruct To fly or follow what concern'd him most, And run not sooner to his fatal snare ? For God hath justly given the nations up To thy delusions ; justly, since they fell Idolatrous. But when his purpose is Among them to declare his providence To thee not known, whence hast thou then thy truth, But from him or his angels president jf> PARADISE REGAINED. 221 In every province? who, themselves disdaining To approach thy temples, give thee in command What to the smallest tittle thou shalt say To thy adorers ? thou with trembling fear, Or like a fawning parasite, obey'st ; Then to thyself ascribest the truth foretold. But this thy glory shall be soon retrench'd ; No more shall thou by oracling abuse The Gentiles ; henceforth oracles are ceased. And thou no more, with pomp and sacrifice, Shalt be inquired at Delphos or elsewhere, At least in vain, for they shall find thee mute. God hath now sent his living oracle Into the world to teach his final will, And sends his Spirit of truth henceforth to dwell In pious hearts, and inward oracle To all truth requisite for men to know. So spake our Saviour ; but the subtle fiend, Though inly stung with anger and disdain, Dissembled, and this answer smooth return'd : Sharply thou hast insisted on rebuke, And urged me hard with doings, which not will, Put misery, hath wrested from me ; where Easily canst thou find one miserable, And not enforced ofttimes to part from truth ; If it may stand him more in stead to lie, Say and unsay, feign, flatter, or abjure ? But thou art placed above me, thou art Lord ; From thee I can, and must, submiss, endure Check or reproof, and glad to 'scape so quit. Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk, Smooth on the tongue discoursed, pleasing to the ear, And tunable as sylvan pipe or song ; What wonder then if I delight to hear Her dictates from thy mouth ? Most men admire Virtue, who follow not her lore : permit me To hear thee when I come, since no man comes, And talk at least, though I despair to attain. Thy Father, who is holy, wise, and pure, Suffers the hypocrite or atheous priest To tread his sacred courts, and minister About his altar, handling holy things, Praying or vowing, and vouchsafed his voice To Balaam reprobate, a prophet yet Inspired ; disdain not such access to me. To whom our Saviour, with unalter'd brow : Thy coming hither, though I know thy scope, I bid not, or forbid ; do as thou find'st Permission from above ; thou canst not more He added not ; and Satan, bowing low His gray dissimulation, disappear V* 222 PARADISE REGAINED. Into thin air diffused : for now began Night with her sullen wings to double-shade The desert ; fowls in their clay nests were couch'd ; And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam. : BOOK II. MEANWHILE the new-baptized, who yet remained At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen Him whom they heard so late expressly call'd Jesus, Messiah, Son of God declared, And on that high authority had believed, And with him talk'd, and with him lodged ; I mean Andrew and Simon, famous after known, With others, though in holy writ not named, Now missing him, their joy so lately found, So lately found, and so abruptly gone, Began to doubt, and doubted many days And, as the days increased, increased their doubt ; Sometimes they thought he might be only shown, And for a time caught up to God, as once Moses was in the mount, and missing long ; And the great Tishbite, who on fiery wheels Rode up to heaven, yet once again to come. Therefore, as those young prophets then with care Sought lost Elijah, so in each place these Nigh to Bethabara ; in Jericho The city of palms, ^non, and Salem old, Machaerus, and each town or city wall'd On this side the broad lake Gennezaret, Or in Peraea ; but return'd in vain. Then on the bank of Jordan, by a creek, Where winds with reeds and osiers whispering play, Plain fishermen, no greater men them call, Close in a cottage low together got, Their unexpected loss and plaints outbreathed Alas, from what high hope to what relapse Unlook'd for are we fallen ! our eyes beheld Messiah certainly now come, so long Expected of our fathers ; we have heard His words, his wisdom full of grace and truth. Now, now, for sure, deliverance is at hand, The kingdom shall to Israel be restored ; Thus we rejoiced, but soon our joy is turn'd Into perplexity and new amaze : For whither is he gone ? what accident Hath wrapt him from us ? will he now retire After appearance, and again prolong * Our expectation ? God of Israel, PARADISE REGAINED. 223 Send thy Messiah forth, the time is come ; Behold the kings of the earth, how they oppress Thy chosen, to what height their power unjust They have exalted, and behind them cast All fear of thee. Arise and vindicate Thy glory, free thy people from their yoke. But let us wait ; thus far he hath perform'd, Sent his Anointed, and to us reveal'd him, By his great prophet, pointed at and shown In public, and with him we have conversed ; Let us be glad of this, and all our fears Lay on his providence ; he will not fail, Nor will withdraw him now, nor will recall, Mock us with his blest sight, then snatch him hence ; Soon we shall see our hope, our joy, return. Thus they, out of their plaints, new hope resume To find whom at the first they found unsought : But, to his mother Mary, when she saw Others return'd from baptism, not her Son, Nor left at Jordan, tidings of him none, Within her breast though calm, her breast though pure, Motherly cares and fears got head, and raised Some troubled thoughts, which she in sighs thus clad : Oh, what avails me now that honour high To have conceived of God, or that salute, Hail, highly favour' d, among women blest While I to sorrows am no less advanced, And fears as eminent, above the lot Of other women, by the birth I bore, In such a season born, when scarce a shed Could be obtain'd to shelter him or me From the bleak air ! a stable was our warmth, A manger his : yet soon enforced to fly Thence into Egypt, till the murderous king Were dead, who sought his life, and missing fill'd With infant blood the streets of Bethlehem ; From Egypt home return'd, in Nazareth Hath been our dwelling many years ; his life Private, unactive, calm, contemplative, Little suspicious to any king ; but now Full grown to man, acknowledged, as I hear, By John the Baptist, and in public shown, Son own'd from heaven by his Father's voice ; I look'd for some great change : to honour ? no, But trouble, as old Simeon plain foretold, That to the fall and rising he should be Of many in Israel, and to a sign Spoken against, that through my very soul A sword shall pierce. This is my favour'd lot, My exaltations to afflictions high ! Afflicted I may be, it seems, and blest ; I will not argue that, nor will repine. 224 PARADISE REGAINED. But where delays he now? some great intent Conceals him. When twelve years he scarce had seen, I lost him, but so found, as well I saw He could not lose himself ; but went about His Father's business. What he meant I mu?ed, Since understand. Much more his absence now Thus long to some great purpose he obscures. But I to wait with patience am inured ; My heart hath been a storehouse long of things And sayings laid up, portending strange events. Thus Mary, pondering oft, and oft to mind Recalling what remarkably had pass'd Since first her salutation heard, with thoughts Meekly composed awaited the fulfilling : The while her Son, tracing the desert wild, Sole, but with holiest meditations fed, Into himself descended, and at once All his great work to come before him set ; How to begin, how to accomplish best His end of being on earth, and mission high : For vSatan, with sly preface to return, Had left him vacant, and with speed was gone Up to the middle region of thick air, Where all his potentates in council sat ; There, without sign of boast, or sign of joy, Solicitous and blank he thus began : Princes, heaven's ancient sons, ethereal throne? Demonian spirits now, from the element Each of his reign allotted, rightlier call'd Powers of fire, air, water, and earth beneath, So may we hold our place, and these mild seats Without new trouble ; such an enemy Is risen to invade us, who no less Threatens than our expulsion down to hell ; I, as I undertook, and with the vote Consenting in full frequence, was empower'd, Have found him, view'd him, tasted him, but find Far other labour to be undergone Than when I dealt with Adam, first of men, Though Adam by his wife's allurement fell, However to this man inferior far, If he be man by mother's side at least, With more than human gifts from heaven adorn'd, Perfections absolute, graces divine, And amplitude of mind to greatest deeds. Therefore I am return'd, lest confidence Of my success with Eve in Paradise Deceive ye to persuasion over-sure Of like succeeding here ; I summon all Rather to be in readiness, with hand Or counsel to assist ; lest I, who erst Thought none my equal, now be over-match'd. PARADISE REGAINED. So spake the old serpent doubting, and from all With clamour was assured their utmost aid At his command ; when from amidst them lose Belial, the dissolutest spirit that fell, The sensualest, and after Asmodai The fleshliest incubus, and thus advised : Set women in his eye, and in his walk, Among daughters of men the fairest found , Many are in each region passing fair As ihe noon sky; more like to goddesses Than mortal creatures, graceful and discreet Expert in amorous arts, enchanting tongues Persuasive, virgin majesty with mild And sweet allay'd, yet terrible to approach, Skill'd to retire, and in retiring draw Hearts after them, tangled in amorous nets. Such object hath the power to soften and tame Severest temper, smooth the rugged'st brow, Enerve, and with voluptuous hope dissolve, Draw out with credulous desire, and lead At will the manliest, resolutest breast, As the magnetic hardest iron draws. Women, when nothing else, beguiled the heart Of wisest Solomon, and made him build, And made him bow, to the gods of his wives. To whom quick answer Satan thus return' d : Belial, in much uneven scale thou weighest All others by thyself; because of old Thou thyself doat'st on womankind, admiring Their shape, their colour, and attractive grace, None are, thou think'st, but taken with such toys. Before the flood thou, with thy lusty crew, False titled sons of God, roaming the earth, Cast wanton eyes on the daughters of men, And coupled with them, and begot a race. Have we not seen, or by relation heard, In courts and regal chambers how thou lurk'st In wood or grove by mossy fountain-side, In valley or green meadow, to way-lay Some beauty rare, Calisto, Clymene, Daphne, or Semele, Antiopa, Or Amymone, Syrinx, many more Too long, then lay'st thy scapes on names adored, Apollo, Neptune, Jupiter, or Pan, Satyr, or Fawn, or Sylvan? But these haunts Delight not all ; among the sons of men, How many have with a smile made small account Of beauty and her lures, easily scorn'd All her assaults, on worthier things intent ! Remember that Pelican conqueror, A youth, how all the beauties of the East lie slightly view'd, and slightly overpass'd ; 225 PARADISE REGAINED. How he, surnamed of Africa, dismiss'd In his prime youth the fair Iberian maid. For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full Of honour, wealth, high fare, aimed not beyond Higher design than to enjoy his state ; Thence to the bait of women lay exposed : But he, whom we attempt, is wiser far Than Solomon, of more exalted mind, Made and set wholly on the accomplishment Of greatest things ; what woman will you find, Though of this age the wonder and the fame, On whom his leisure will vouchsafe an eye Of fond desire ? Or should she, confident, As sitting queen adored on beauty's throne, Descend with all her winning charms begirt To enamour, as the zone of Venus once Wrought that effect on Jove, so fables tell ; How would one look from his majestic brow, Seated as on the top of virtue's hill, Discountenance her despised, and put to rout All her array ; her female pride deject, Or turn to reverent awe ? for beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive. Cease to admire, and all her plumes Fall flat, and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd. Therefore with manlier objects we must try His constancy, with such as have more show Of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise ; Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd ; Or that which only seems to satisfy Lawful desires of nature, not beyond ; And now I know he hungers where no food Is to be found, in the wide wilderness : The rest commit to me ; I shall let pass No advantage, and his strength as oft essay. He ceased, and heard their grant in loud acclaim ; Then forthwith to him takes a chosen band Of spirits, likest to himself in guile, To be at hand, and at his beck appear, If cause were to unfold some active scene Of various persons, each to know his part ; Then to the desert takes with these his flight ; Where still, from shade to shade, the Son of God, After forty days' fasting had remain'd, Now hungering first, and to himself thus said : Where will this end ? four times ten days I've pass'd Wandering this woody maze, and human food Nor tasted, nor had appetite : that fast To virtue I impute not, or count part Of what I suffer here. If nature need not, Or God support nature without repast, ' PARADISE REGAINED. 227 Though needing, what praise is it to endure ? But now I feel I hunger, which declares Nature hath need of what she asks ; yet God Can satisfy that need some other way, Though hunger still remain : so it remain Without this body's wasting, I content me, And from the sting of famine fear no harm, Nor mind it, fed with better thoughts, that feed Me, hungering, more to do my Father's will. It was the hour of night, when thus the Son Communed in silent walk, then laid him down Under the hospitable covert nigh Of trees thick interwoven ; there he slept, And dream'd, as appetite is wont to dream, Of meats and drinks, nature's refreshment sweet : Him thought, he by the brook of Cherith stood, And saw the ravens with their horny beaks Food to Elijah bringing, even and morn, Though ravenous, taught to abstain from what they brought. He saw the prophet also, how he fled Into the desert, and how there he slept Under a juniper ; then how, awaked, He found his supper on the coals prepared, And by the angel was bid rise and eat, And eat the second time after repose, The strength whereof sufficed him forty days ; Sometimes that with Elijah he partook, Or as a guest with Daniel at his pulse. Thus wore out night, and now the herald lark Left his ground -nest, high towering to descry The mom's approach, and greet her with his song As lightly from his grassy couch up rose Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream ; Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting waked. Up to a hill anon his steps he rear'd, From whose high top to ken the prospect round, If cottage were in view, sheep-cote, or herd ; But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote none he saw, Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove, With chant of tuneful birds resounding loud ; Thither he bent his way, determined there To rest at noon, and enter'd soon the shade High roof 'd, and walks beneath, and alleys brown, That open'd in the midst a woody scene ; Nature's own work it seem'd, nature taught art, And, to a superstitious eye, the haunt Of wood-gods and wood-nymphs ; he view'd it round, When suddenly a man before him stood, Not rustic as before, but seemlier clad, As one in city, or court, or palace bred, And with fair speech these words to him address'd : With ranted leave officious I return, PARADISE REGAINED. But much more wonder that the Son of God In this wild solitude so long should bide, Of all things destitute, and, well I know, Not without hunger. Others of some note As story tells, have trod this wilderness ; The fugitive bond-woman, with her son, Outcast Nebaioth, yet found here relief By a providing angel ; all the race Of Israel here had famish'd, had not God Rain'd from heaven manna ; and that prophet bold, Native of Thebez, wandering here, was fed Twice by a voice inviting him to eat. Of thee these forty days none hath regard, Forty and more deserted here indeed. To whom thus Jesus : What concludest thou hence? They all had need ; I, as thou seest, have none. How hast thou hunger then ? Satan replied. Tell me, if food were now before thee set, Wouldst thou not eat ? Thereafter as I like The giver, answer' d Jesus. Why should that Cause thy refusal ? said the subtle fiend. Hast thou not right to all created things ? Owe not all creatures by just right to thee Duty and service, nor to stay till bid, But tender all their power ? Nor mention 1 Meats by the law unclean, or offer'd first To idols, those young Daniel could refuse ; Nor proffer'd by an enemy, though who Would scruple that, with want oppress'd ? Behold, Nature ashamed, or, better to express, Troubled that thou shouldst hunger, hath purvey'd From all the elements her choicest store, To treat thee as beseems, and as her Lord, With honour ; only deign to sit and eat. He spake no dream ; for, as his words had end, Our Saviour, lifting up his eyes, beheld, In ample space under the broadest shade, A table richly spread, in regal mode, With dishes piled, and meats of noblest sort And savour, beasts of chase, or fowl of game, In pastry built, or from the spit, or boil'd, Gris-amber-steam'd ; all fish from sea or shore, Freshet or purling brook, of shell or fin, Arid exquisitest name, for which was drain'd Pontus, and Lucrine bay, and Afric coast. Alas ! how simple, to these cates compared, Was that crude apple that diverted Eve ! And at a stately sideboard by the wine That fragrant smell diffused, in order stood Tall stripling youths rich clad, of fairer hue Than Ganymede or Hylas ; distant more Under the trees now tripp'd, now solemn stood, PARADISE REGAINED. 229 Nymphs of Diana's train, and Naiades, With fruits and flowers from Amalthea's horn, And ladies of the Hesperides, that seem'd Fairer than feign'd of old, or fabled since Of fairy damsels met in forest wide By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, Lancelot, or Pelleas, or Pellenore, And all the while harmonious airs were heard Of chiming strings or charming pipes, and winds Of gentlest gale Arabian odours fann'd From their soft wings and Flora's earliest smells. Such was the splendour, and the tempter now His invitation earnestly renew'd : What doubts the Son of God to sit and eat ? These are not fruits forbidden ; no interdict Defends the touching of these viands pure ; Their taste no knowledge works, at least of evil, But life preserves, destroys life's enemy, Hunger, with sweet restorative delight All these are spirits of air, and woods, and springs, Thy gentle ministers, who come to pay Thee homage, and acknowledge thee their lord ; What doubt'st thou, Son of God? sit down and eat, To whom thus Jesus temperately replied : Saidst thou not that to all things I had right? And who withholds my power that right to use? Shall I receive by gift, what of my own, W r hen and where likes me best, I can command ? I can at will, doubt not, as soon as thou, Command a table in this wilderness, And call swift flights of angels ministrant, Array'd in glory, on my cup to attend ; Why shouldst thou then obtrude this diligence, In vain, where no acceptance it can find ? And with my hunger what hast thou to do ? Thy pompous delicacies I contemn, And count thy specious gifts no gifts, but guiles To whom thus answer'd Satan, malcontent : That I have also power to give, thou seest ; Tf of that power I bring thee voluntary What I might have bestow'd on whom I pleased, And rather opportunely in this place Chose to impart to thy apparent need, Why shouldst thou not accept it ? but I see What I can do or offer is suspect ; Of these things others quickly will dispose, Whose pains have earn'd the far-fet spoil. With that Both table and provision vanish'd quite With sound of harpies' wings and talons heard ; Only the importune tempter still remain'd, And with these words his temptation pursued : By hunger, that each other creature tames, 230 PARADISE REGAINED. Thou art not to be harm'd, therefore not moved ; Thy temperance invincible besides, For no allurement yields to appetite, And all thy heart is set on high designs, High actions ; but wherewith to be achieved ? Great acts require great means of enterprise ; Thou art unknown, unfriended, low of birth, A carpenter thy father known, thyself Bred up in poverty and straits at home, Lost in a desert here, and hunger-bit : Which way, or from what hope, dost thou aspire To greatness ? whence authority derivest ? What followers, what retinue canst thou gain ? Or at thy heels the dizzy multitude, Longer than thou canst feed them on thy cost ? Money brings honour, friends, conquest, and realms. What raised Antipater the Edomite, And his son Herod placed on Judah's throne, Thy throne, but gold, that got him puissant friends ? Therefore, if at great things thou wouldst arrive, Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap, Not difficult, if thou hearken to me ; Riches are mine, fortune is in my hand ; They whom I favour thrive in wealth amain, While virtue, valour, wisdom, sit in want. To whom thus Jesus patiently replied: Yet weath, without these three, is impotent To gain dominion, or to keep it gain'd. Witness those ancient empires of the earth, In height of all their flowing wealth dissolved. But men endued with these have oft attain'd, fn lowest poverty, to highest deeds ; Gideon and Jephtha, and the shepherd lad, Whose offspring on the throne of Judah sat So many ages, and shall yet regain That seat, and reign in Israel without end. Among the heathen, for throughout the world To me is not unknown what hath been done Worthy of memorial, canst thou not remember Quintius, Fabricius, Curius, Regulus? For I esteem those names of men so poor, Who could do mighty things, and could contemn Riches, though offer' d from the hands of kings. And what in me seems wanting, but that I May also in this poverty as soon Accomplish what they did, perhaps, and more? Extol not riches then, the toil of fools, The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare, more apt To slacken virtue, and abate her edge, Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise. What, if with like aversion I reject Riches and realms? yet not, for that a crown, PARADISE REGAINED. Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns, Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights To him who wears the regal diadem, When on his shoulders each man's burden lies ; For therein stands the office of a king, His honour, virtue, merit, and chief praise, That for the public all this weight he bears. Yet he, who reigns within himself, and rules Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king ; Which every wise and virtuous man attains ; And who attains not, ill aspires to rule Cities of men, or headstrong multitudes, Subject himself to anarchy within, Or lawless passions in him, which he serves. But to guide nations in the way of truth By saving doctrine, and from error lead, To know, and knowing worship God aright, Is yet more kingly; this attracts the soul, Governs the inner man, the nobler part ; That other o'er the body only reigns, And oft by force, which, to a generous mind, So reigning, can be no sincere delight. Besides, to give a kingdom hath been thought Greater and nobler done, and to lay down Far more magnanimous than to assume. Riches are needless then, both for themselves, And for thy reason why they should be sought, To gain a sceptre, oftest better miss'd. BOOK III. So spake the Son of God, and Satan stood Awhile as mute, confounded what to say, What to reply, confuted, and convinced Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift; At length, collecting all his serpent wiles, With soothing words renew'd, him thus accosts: I see thou know'st what is of use to know, What best to say canst say, to do canst do ; Thy actions to thy words accord, thy words To thy large heart give utterance due, thy heart Contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape. Should kings and nations from thy mouth consult, Thy counsel would be as the oracle Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems On Aaron's breast ; or tongue of seers old, Infallible : or wert thou sought to deeds That might require the array of war, thy skill Of conduct would be such, that all the world Could not sustain thy prowess, or subsist 232 PARADISE REGAINED. In battle, though against thy few in arms. These god-like virtues wherefore dost thou hide, Affecting private life, or more obscure In savage wilderness? wherefore deprive All earth her wonder at thy acts, thyself The fame and glory, glory the reward That sole excites to high attempts, the flame Of most erected spirits, most temper'd pure Ethereal, who all pleasures else despise, All treasures and all gain esteem as dross, And dignities and powers, all but the highest? Thy years are ripe, and over-ripe ; the son Of Macedonian Philip had ere these Won Asia, and the throne of Cyrus held At his dispose ; young Scipio had brought down The Carthaginian pride ; young Pompey quell'd The Pontic king, and in triumph had rode. Yet years, and to ripe years judgment mature, Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment. Great Julius, whom now all the world admires, The more he grew in years, the more inflamed With glory, wept that he had lived so long Inglorious : but thou yet art not too late. To whom our Saviour calmly thus replied: Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth For empire's sake, nor empire to affect For glory's sake, by all thy argument. For what is glory but the blaze of fame, The people's praise, if always praise unmix'd? And what the people but a herd confused, A miscellaneous rabble, who extol Things vulgar, and, well weigh'd, scarce worth the praise? They praise and they admire they know not what, And know not whom, but as one leads the other ; And what delight to be by such extoll'd, To live upon their tongues, and be their talk, Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise ? His lot who dares be singularly good. The intelligent among them and the wise Are few, and glory scarce of few is raised. This is true glory and renown, when God, Looking on the earth, with approbation marks The just man, and divulges him through heaven To all his angels, who with true applause Recount his praises. . Thus he did to Job, When, to extend his fame through heaven and earth, As thou to thy reproach mayst well remember, He ask'd thee, Hast thou seen my servant Job? Famous he was in heaven, on earth less known ; Where glory is false glory, attributed To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame. They err who count it glorious to subdue * * PARADISE REGAINED. 233 By conquest far and wide, to overrun Large countries, and in field great battles win, Great cities by assault : what do these worthies, But rob, and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote, Made captive, yet deserving freedom more Than those their conquerors, who leave behind Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove, And all the flourishing works of peace destroy, Then swell with pride, and must be titled gods, Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers, Worshipp'd with temple, priest, and sacrifice? One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other; Till conqueror Death discovers them scarce men, Rolling in brutish vices, and deform'd, Violent or shameful death their due reward. But if there be in glory aught of good, It may by means far different be attain'd, Without ambition, war, or violence ; By deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent, By patience, temperance. I mention still Him, whom thy wrongs, with saintly patience borne, Made famous in a land and times obscure ; Who names not now with honour patient Job? Poor Socrates, who next more memorable ? By what he taught and sufTer'd for so doing, For truth's sake suffering death unjust, lives now Equal in fame to proudest conquerors.' / Yet if for fame and glory aught be done, Aught suffer'd ; if young African for fame His wasted country freed from Punic rage, The deed becomes unpraised, the man at least, And loses, though but verbal, his reward. Shall I seek glory then, as vain men seek, Oft not deserved? I seek not mine, but his Who sent me, and thereby witness whence I am. To whom the tempter, murmuring, thus replied: Think not so slight of glory, therein least Resembling thy great Father: he seeks glory, And for his glory all things made, all things Orders and governs ; nor content in heaven By all his angels glorified, requires Glory from men, from all men, good or bad, Wise or unwise, no difference, no exemption ; Above all sacrifice or hallow'd gift Glory he requires, and glory he receives Promiscuous from all nations, Jew, or Greek, Or barbarous, nor exception hath declared; From us, his foes pronounced, glory he exacts. To whom our Saviour fervently replied : And reason, since his word all things produced, Though chiefly not for glory as prime end, "- *34 PARADISE REGAINED. But to show forth his goodness, and impart His good communicable to every soul Freely ; of whom what could he less expect Than glory and benediction, that is, thanks, The slightest, easiest, readiest, recompense From them who could return him nothing else, And, not returning that, would likeliest render Contempt instead, dishonour, obloquy ? Hard recompense, unsuitable return For so much good, so much beneficence ! But why should man seek glory, who of his own Hath nothing, and to whom nothing belongs But condemnation, ignominy, and shame? Who, for so many benefits received, Turn'd recreant to God, ingrat? and false, And so of all true good himself despoil'd ; Yet, sacrilegious, to himself would take That which to God alone of right belongs : Yet so much bounty is in God, such grace, That who advance his glory, not their own, Them he himself to glory will advance. So spake the Son of God ; and here again Satan had not to answer, but stood struck With guilt of his own sin, for he himself, Insatiable of glory, had lost all ; Yet of another plea bethought him soon : Of glory, as thou wilt, said he, so deem, Worth or not worth the seeking, let it pass. But to a kingdom thou art born, ordain'd To sit upon thy father David's throne, By mother's side thy father ; though thy right Be now in powerful hands, that will not part Easily from possession won with arms. Judea now, and all the Promised Land, Reduced a province under Roman yoke, Obeys Tiberius ; nor is always ruled With temperate sway : oft have they violated The temple, oft the law, with foul affronts, Abominations rather, as did once Antiochus ; and think'st thou to regain Thy right by sitting still, or thus retiring? So did not Maccabeus : he indeed Retired unto the desert, but with arms ; A.nd o'er a mighty king so oft prevail'd, That by strong hand his family obtain'd, Though priests, the crown, and David's throne usurp'd, With Modin and her suburbs once content. If kingdom move thee not, let move thee zeal And duty ; zeal and duty are not slow ; But on occasion's forelock watchful wait. They themselves rather are occasion best, Zeal of thy father's house, duty to free PARADISE REGAINED. 235 Thy country from her heathen servitude. So shall thou best fulfil, best verify The prophets old, who sung thy endless reign ; The happier reign the sooner it begins ; Reign then ; what canst thou better do the while? To whom our Saviour answer thus return'd : All things are best fulfill'd in their due time, And time there is for all things, Truth hath said : If of my reign prophetic writ hath told, That it shall never end, so, when begin, The Father in his purpose hath decreed ; lie, in whose hand all times and seasons roll. "What, if he hath decreed that I shall first Be tried in humble state and things adverse, By tribulations, injuries, insults, Contempts, and scorns, and snares, and violence, Suffering, abstaining, quietly expecting, Without distrust or doubt, that he may know What I can suffer, how obey ? Who best Can suffer, best can do ; best reign, who first Well hath obey'd ; just trial, ere I merit My exaltation without change or end. But what concerns it thee when I begin My everlasting kingdom ? Why art thou Solicitous ? What moves thy inquisition ? Know'st thou not that my rising is thy fall, And my promotion will be thy destruction ? To whom the tempter, inly rack'd, replied : Let that come when it comes ; all hope is lost Of my reception into grace ; what worse ? For where no hope is left, is left no fear : If there be worse, the expectation more Of worse torments me than the feeling can, I would be at the worst, worst is my port, My harbour, and my ultimate repose ; The end I would attain, my final good. My error was my error, and my crime My crime ; whatever for itself condemn'd, And will alike be punish'd, whether thou Reign or reign not ; though to that gentle brow Willingly I could fly, and hope thy reign, From that placid aspect and meek regard, Rather than aggravate my evil state, Would stand between me and thy father's ire, Whose ire I dread more than the fire of hell, A shelter, and a kind of shading cool Interposition, as a summer's cloud. If I then to the worst that can be haste, Why move thy feet so slow to what is best, Happiest both to thyself and all the world, That thou who worthiest art shouldst be their king? Perhaps thou linger' st in deep thoughts detain'd PARADISE REGAINED. Of the enterprise so hazardous and high : No wonder, for, though in thee be united What of perfection can in man be found, Or human nature can receive, consider, Thy life hath yet been private, most part spent At home, scarce view'd the Galilean towns, And once a year Jerusalem, few clays' Short sojourn ; and what thence couldst thou observe ? The world thou hast not seen, much less her glory, Empires, and monarchs, and their radiant courts, Best school of best experience, quickest insight In all things that to greatest actions lead. The wisest, unexperienced, will be ever Timorous and loth, with novice modesty, As he who seeking asses found a kingdom, Irresolute, unharcly, unadventurous : But I will bring thee where thou soon shalt quit Those rudiments, and see before thine eyes The monarchies of the earth, their pomp and state, Sufficient introduction to inform Thee, of thyself so apt, in regal arts And regal mysteries, that thou mayst know How best their opposition to withstand. With that, such power was given him then, he took The Son of God up to a mountain high. It was a mountain, at whose verdant feet A spacious plain, outstretch'd in circuit wide, Lay pleasant ; from his side two rivers flow'd, The one winding, the other straight, and left between Fair champaign with less rivers intervein'd, Then meeting join'd their tribute to the sea ; Fertile of corn the glebe, of oil, and wine ; With herds the pastures throng'd, with flocks the \\' s } Huge cities and high tower'd, that well might seem The seats of mightiest monarchs, and so large The prospect was, that here and there was room For barren desert, fountainless and dry. To this high mountain top the tempter brought Our Saviour, and new train of words began : Well have we speeded, and, o'er hill and dale, Forest, and field, and flood, temples, and towers, Cut shorter many a league ; here thou behold'st Assyria and her empire's ancient bounds, Araxes, and the Caspian lake, thence on As far as Indus east, Euphrates west, And oft beyond ; to south the Persian bay, And inaccessible the Arabian drought : Here Nineveh, of length within her wall Several days' journey, built by Ninus old, Of that first golden monarchy the seat, And seat of Saltnanassar, whose success Israel in long captivity still mourns ; PARADISE REGAINED. 237 There Babylon, ttie wonder of all tongues, As ancient, but rebuilt by him who twice Judah and all thy father David's house Led captive, and Jerusalem laid waste, Till Cyrus set them free ; Persepolis His city there thou seest, and Bactra there ; Ecbatana her structure vast there shows, And Hecatompylos her hundred gates; There Susa by Choaspes' amber stream, The drink of none but kings ; of later fame, Built by Emathian, or by Parthian hands, The great Seleucia, Nisibis, and there Artaxata, Teredon, Ctesiphon, Turning with easy eye thou mayst behold. All these the Parthian, now some ages past, By great Arsaces led, who founded first That empire, under his dominion holds, From the luxurious kings of Antioch won. And just in time thou comest to have a view Of his great power ; for now the Parthian king In Ctesiphon hath gather'd all his host Against the Scythian, whose incursions wild Have wasted Sogdiana ; to her aid He marches now in haste ; see, though from far, His thousands, in what martial equipage They issue forth, steel bows and shafts their arms, Of equal dread in flight or in pursuit ; All horsemen in which fight they most excel ; See how in warlike muster they appear, In rhombs, and wedges, and half-moons, and wings. He look'd, and saw what numbers numberless The city gates outpouf d, light-armed troops In coats of mail and military pride ; In mail their horses clad, yet fleet and strong, Prancing their riders bore, the flower and choice Of many provinces from bound to bound ; From Arachosia, from Candaor east, And Margiana to the Hyrcanian cliffs Of Caucasus, and dark Iberian dales, From Atropatia and the neighbouring plains Of Adiabene, Media, and the south Of Susiana, to Balsara's haven. He saw them in their forms of battle ranged, How quick they wheel'd, and flying behind them shot Sharp sleet of arrowy showers against the face Of their pursuers, and overcame by flight ; The field all iron cast a gleaming brown : Nor wanted clouds of foot, nor, on each horn, Cuirassiers all in steel for standing fight, Chariots, or elephants endorsed with towers Of archers, nor of labouring pioneers A multitude with spades and axes arm'd 23S PARADISE REGAINED. To lay hills plain, fell woods, or valleys fill, Or, where plain was, raise hill, or overlay With bridges rivers proud, as with a yoke ; Mules after these, camels, and dromedaries, And waggons fraught with utensils of war. Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp, When Agrican, with all his northern powers, Besieged Albracca, as romances tell, The city of Gallaphrone, from thence to win The fairest of her sex, Angelica, His daughter, sought by many prowest knights, Both Paynim, and the peers of Charlemain. Such and so numerous was their chivalry ; At sight whereof the fiend yet more presumed, And to our Saviour thus his words renew'd : That thou mayst know I seek not to engage Thy virtue, and not every way secure On no slight grounds thy safety, hear and mark To what end I have brought thee hither, and shown All this fair sight ; thy kingdom, though foretold By prophet or by angel, unless thou Endeavour, as thy father David did, Thou never shalt obtain ; prediction still In all things, and all men, supposes means, Without means used, what it predicts revokes. But say thou wert possess'd of David's throne By free consent of all, none opposite, Samaritan or Jew ; how couldst thou hope Long to enjoy it quiet and secure, Between two such enclosing enemies, Roman and Parthian ? Therefore one of these Thou must make sure thy own, the Parthian first By my advice, as nearer, and of late Found able by invasion to annoy Thy country, and captive lead away her kings, Antigonus, and old Hyrcanus bound, Maugre the Roman. It shall be my task To render thee the Parthian at dispose ; Choose which thou wilt, by conquest or by league. By him thou shalt regain, without him not, That which alone can truly reinstall thee In David's royal seat, his true successor, Deliverance of thy brethren, those ten tribes, Whose offspring in his territory yet served, In Habor, and among the Medes dispersed ; Ten sons of Jacob, two of Joseph, lost Thus long from Israel, serving, as of old Their fathers in the land of Egypt served, This offer sets before thee to deliver. These if from servitude thou shalt restore To their inheritance, then, nor till then, Thou on the throne of David in full glory, PARADISE REGAINED. 239 From Egypt to Euphrates, and beyond, Shalt reign, and Rome or Caesar not need fear. To whom our Saviour answer'd thus, unmoved : Much ostentation vain of fleshly arm, And fragile arms, much instrument of war Long in preparing, soon to nothing brought, Before mine eyes thou hast set ; and in my ear Vented much policy, and projects deep Of enemies, of aids, battles, and leagues, Plausible to the world, to me worth nought. Means I must use, thou sayest, prediction else Will unpredict and fail me of the throne. My time, I told thee, and that time for thee Were better farthest off, is not yet come ; When that comes, think not thou to find me slack On my part aught endeavouring, or to need Thy politic maxims, or that cumbersome Luggage of war there shown me, argument Of human weakness rather than of strength. My brethren, as thou call'st them, those ten tribes, I must deliver, if I mean to reign David's true heir, and his full sceptre sway To just extent over all Israel's sons. But whence to thee this zeal, where was it then For Israel, or for David, or his throne, When thou stoodst up his tempter to the pride Of numbering Israel, which cost the lives Of threescore and ten thousand Israelites By three days' pestilence ? Such was thy zeal To Israel then, the same that now to me. As for those captive tribes, themselves were they Who wrought their own captivity, fell off From God to worship calves, the deities Of Egypt, Baal next, and Ashtaroth, And all the idolatries of heathen round, Besides their other worse than heathenish crimes Nor in the land of their captivity Humbled themselves, or penitent besought The God of their forefathers ; but so died Impenitent, and left a race behind Like to themselves, distinguishable scarce From Gentiles, but by circumcision vain, And God with idols in their worship join'd. Should I of these the liberty regard, Who, freed as to their ancient patrimony, Unhumbled, unrepentant, unreform'd, Headlong would follow ; and to their gods perhaps Of Bethel and of Dan? No, let them serve Their enemies, who serve idols with God. Yet he at length, time to himself best known, Remembering Abraham, by some wondrous call May bring them back repentant and sincere, 240 PARADISE REGAINED. And at their passing cleave the Assyrian flood, While to their native land with joy they haste, As the Red Sea and Jordan once he cleft, When to the Promised Land their fathers pass'd j To his due time and providence I leave them. So spake Israel's true King, and to the fiend Made answer meet, that made void all his wiles. So fares it when with truth falsehood contends. BOOK IV. PERPLEX'D and troubled at his bad success, The tempter stood, nor had what to reply, Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric That sleek'd his tongue, and won so much on Eve, So little here, nay lost ; but Eve was Eve, This far his overmatch, who, self-deceived And rash, beforehand had no better weigh'd The strength he was to cope with, or his own ; But as a man, who had been matchless held In cunning, over-reach'd where least he thought, To salve his credit, and for very spite, Still will be tempting him who foils him still, And never cease, though to his shame the more ; Or as a swarm of flies in vintage time, About the wine-press where sweet must is pour'd, Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound ; Or surging waves against a solid rock, Though all to shivers dash'd, the assault renew, Vain battery, and in froth or bubbles end ; So Satan, whom repulse upon repulse Met ever, and to shameful silence brought, Yet gives not o'er, though desperate of success, And his vain, importunity pursues. He brought our Saviour to the western side Of that high mountain, whence he might behold Another plain, long, but in breadth not wide, Wash'd by the southern sea, and on the north To equal length back'd with a ridge of hills, That screen'd the fruits of the varth, and seats of men, From cold septentrion blasts ; thence in the midst Divided by a river, of whose banks On each side an imperial city stood, With towers and temples proudly elevate On seven small hills, with palaces adorn'd, Porches, and theatres, baths, aqueducts, Statues, and trophies, and triumphal arcs, Gardens, and groves presented to his eyes, PARADISE REGAINED 241 Above the height of mountains Interposed : By what strange parallax or optic skill Of vision, multiplied through air, or glass Of telescope, were curious to inquire j And now the tempter thus his silence broke : The city which thou seest no other deem Than great and glorious Rome, queen of the earth, So far renown'd, and with the spoils enrich'd Of nations ; there the capitol thou seest Above the rest lifting his stately head On the Tarpeian rock, her citadel Impregnable, and there Mount Palatine, The imperial palace, compass huge, and high The structure, skill of noblest architects, With gilded battlements conspicuous far, Turrets, and terraces, and glittering spires. Many a fair edifice besides, more like Houses of gods, so well I have disposed My aery microscope, thou mayest behold Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs, Carved work, the hand of famed artificers In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold. Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and see What conflux issuing forth, or entering in. Praetors, proconsuls to their provinces Hasting, or on return, in robes of state ; Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power, Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings ; Or embassies from regions far remote, In various habits, on the Appian road, Or on the Emilian, some from farthest south, Syene, and where the shadow both way falls, Meroe, Nilotic isle, and more to west, The realm of Bocchus to the Blackmoor sea ; From the Asian kings, and Parthian, among these, From India, and the Golden Chersonese, And utmost Indian isle Taprobane, Dusk faces with white silken turbans wreath'd ; From Gallia, Gades, and the British west, Germans, and Scythians, and Sarmatians, north Beyond Danubius to the Tauric pool. All nations now to Rome obedience pay, To Rome's great emperor, whose wide domain, In ample territory, -wealth, and power, Civility of manners, arts, and arms, And long renown, thou justly mayest prefer Before the Parthian ; these two thrones except, The rest are barbarous, and scarce worth the sight, Shared among petty kings too far removed. These having shown thee, I have shown thee ail The kingdoms of the world, and all their glory. This emperor hath no son, and now is eld, Q - _, 2 t : PARADISE REGAINED. ( )ld and lascivious, and from Rome retired To Caprcrc, an island small but strong On the Campanian shore, with purpose there His horrid lusts in private to enjoy, Committing to a wicked favourite All public cares, and yet of him suspicious, Hated of all, and hating. With what ease, Endued with regal virtues as thou art, Appearing and beginning noble deeds, Mightst thou expel this monster from his throne, Now made a sty, and, in his place ascending, A victor people free from servile yoke ? And with my help thou mayest ; to me the power Is given, and by that right I give it thee. Aim therefore at no less than all the \vorld, Aim at the highest, without the highest attained Will be for thee no sitting, or not long, On David's throne, be prophesied what will. To whom the Son of God unmoved replied : Nor doth this grandeur and majestic show Of luxury, though call'd magnificence, More than of arms before, allure mine eye, Much less my mind j though thou shouldst add to tell Their sumptuous gluttonies and gorgeous feasts On citron tables or Atlantic stone, For I have also heard, perhaps have read, Their wines of Setia, Gales, and Falerne, Chios, and Crete, and how they quaff in gold, Crystal and myrrhine cups emboss'd with gems And studs of pearl, to me shouldst tell who thirst And hunger still. Then embassies thou show'st From nations far and nigh. What honour that, But tedious waste of time to sit and hear So many hollow compliments and lies, Outlandish flatteries! 1 then proceed'st to talk Of the emperor, how easily subdued, How gloriously ; I shall, thou sayest, expel A brutish monster ; what if I withal Expel a devil who first made him such? Let his tormentor conscience find him out ; For him I was not sent, nor yet to free That people, victor once, now vile and base, Deservedly made vassal, who, once just, Frugal, and mild, and temperate, conquer'd well, But govern ill the nations under yoke, Peeling their provinces, exhausted all But lust and rapine ; first ambitious grown Of triumph, that insulting vanity; Then cruel, by their sports to blood inured Of fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still, And from the daily scene effeminate. 4^ ' : * PARADISE REGAINED. 243 What wise and valiant man would seek to free These thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved? Or could of inward slaves make outward free? Know, therefore, when my season comes to sit On David's throne, it shall be like a tree Spreading and overshadowing all the earth ; Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash All monarchies besides throughout the world, And of my kingdom there shall be no end. Means there shall be to this, but what the means Is not for thee to know, nor me to tell. To whom the tempter impudent replied : I see all offers made by me how slight Thou valuest, because offer'd, and rejectest ; Nothing will please the difficult and nice, Or nothing more than still to contradict. On the other side know also thou, that I On what I offer set as high esteem, Nor what I part with mean to give for nought All these which in a moment thou beholdst, The kingdoms of the world to thee I give ; For, given to me, I give to whom I please, No trifle ; yet with this reserve, not else, On this condition, if thou wilt fall down, * And worship me as thy superior lord, Easily done, and hold them all of me ; For what can less so great a gift deserve ? Whom thus our Saviour answer'd with disdain : I never liked thy talk, thy offers less, Now both abhor, since thou hast dared to utter The abominable terms, impious condition ; But I endure the time, till which expired, Thou hast permission on me. It is written, The first of all commandments, Thou shalt worship The Lord thy God, and only him shalt serve ; And darest thou to the Son of God propound To worship thee accursed, now more accursed For this attempt, bolder than that on Eve, And more blasphemous ? which expect to rue. The kingdoms of the world to thee were given, Permitted rather, and by thee usurp'd, Other donation none thou canst produce. If given, by whom but by the King of kings, God over all Supreme ? If given to thee, By thee how fairly is the Giver now Repaid ? But gratitude in thee is lost Long since. Wert thou so void of fear or shame, As offer them to me, the Son of God, To me my own, on such abhorred pact, That I fall down and worship thee as God ? Get thee behind me ; plain thou now appearest That evil one, Satan for ever damn'd. 244 PARADISE REGAINED. To whom the fiend, with fear abash 'd, replied : Be not so sore offended, Son of God, Though sons of God both angels are and men, If I, to try whether in higher sort Than these thou bear'st that title, have proposed What both from men and angels I receive, Tetrarchs of fire, air, flood, and on the earth Nations besides from all the quarter'd winds, God of this world invoked, and world beneath ; Who then thou art, whose coming is foretold To me so fatal, me it most concerns. The trial hath indamaged thee no way, Rather more honour left and more esteem ; Me nought advantaged, missing what I aim'd Therefore let pass, as they are transitory, The kingdoms of this world ; I shall no more Advise thee ; gain them as thou canst, or not And thou thyself seem'st otherwise inclined Than to a worldly crown, addicted more To contemplation and profound dispute, As by that early action may be judged, When, slipping from thy mother's eye, thou went'st Alone into the temple, there wast found Amongst the gravest rabbis disputant On points and questions fitting Moses' chair, Teaching, not taught ; the childhood shows the man, As morning shows the day. Be famous then By wisdom ; as thy empire must extend, So let extend thy mind o'er all the world In knowledge, all things in it comprehend : All knowledge is not couch' d in Moses' law, The Pentateuch, or what the prophets wrote ; The Gentiles also know, and write, and teach To admiration, led by nature's light ; And with the Gentiles much thou must converse, Ruling them by persuasion, as thou mean'st ; Without their learning how wilt thou with them, Or they with thee, hold conversation meet ? How wilt thou reason with them ? how refute Their idolisms, traditions, paradoxes? Error by his own arms is best evinced. Look once more, ere we leave this specular mount, Westward, much nearer by south-west, behold, Where on the ^Egean shore a city stands, Built nobly, pure the air, and light the soil ; Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence, native to famous wits, Or hospitable, in her sweet recess, City or suburban, studious walks and shades ; See there the olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick- warbled notes the summer long ; There flowery hill Hymettus, with the sound Of bees' industrious murmur, oft invites To studious musing ; there Ilissus rolls His whispering stream ; within the walls then view The schools of ancient sages ; his who bred Great Alexander to subdue the world, Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next : There thou shalt hear and learn the secret power Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit By voice or hand, and various-measured verse, yEolian charms and Dorian lyric odes, And his who gave them breath, but higher sung, Blind Melesigenes, thence Homer call'd, Whose poem Phoebus challenged for his own. Thence what the lofty grave tragedians taught In chorus or iambic, teachers best Of moral prudence, with delight received In brief sententious precepts, while they treat Of fate, and chance, and change in human life ; High actions and high passions best describing. Thence to the famous orators repair, Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence Wielded at will that fierce democracy, Shook the arsenal, and fulmined over Greece, To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne : To sage philosophy next lend thine ear, From heaven descended to the low-roofd house Of Socrates ; see there his tenement, Whom well inspired the oracle pronounced Wisest of men ; from whose mouth issued forth Mellifluous streams, that water'd all the schools Of Academics, old and new, with those Surnamed Peripatetics, and the sect Epicurean, and the Stoic severe ; These here revolve, or, as thou likest, at home, Till time mature thee to a kingdom's weight ; These rules will render thee a king complete Within thyself, much more with empire join'd. To whom our Saviour sagely thus replied : Think not but that I know these things, or think I know them not ; not therefore am I short Of knowing what I ought : he who receives Light from above, from the fountain of light, No other doctrine needs, though granted tnie ; But these are false, or little else but dreams, Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm. The first and wisest of them all profess'd To know this only, that he nothing knew ; The next to fabling fell, and smooth conceits ; A third sort doubted all things, though plain sense; Others in virtue placed felicity, But virtue join'd with riches and long life ; A ,>-jju< 246 PARADISE REGAINED. In corporal pleasure he, and careless ease ; The Stoic last, in philosophic pride, By him call'd virtue ; and his virtuous man, Wise, perfect in himself, and all possessing, Equal to God, oft shames not to prefer, As fearing God nor man, contemning all Wealth, pleasure, pain or torment, death and life, Which, when he lists, he leaves, or boasts he can, For all his tedious talk is but vain boast, Or subtle shifts conviction to evade. Alas ! what can they teach and not mislead, Ignorant of themselves, of God much more, And how the world began, and how man fell, Degraded by himself, on grace depending ? Much of the soul they talk, but all awry, And in themselves seek virtue, and to themselves All glory arrogate, to God give none ; Rather accuse him under usual names, Fortune and Fate, as one regardless quite Of mortal things. Who therefore seeks in these True wisdom, finds her not, or by delusion Far worse, her false resemblance only meets, An empty cloud. However, many books Wise men have said are wearisome ; who reads Incessantly, and to his reading brings not A spirit and judgment equal or superior, And what he brings, what need he elsewhere seek ? Uncertain and unsettled still remains, Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself, Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys, And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge As children gathering pebbles on the shore. Or if I would delight my private hours With music or with poem, where so soon As in our native language can I find That solace ? All our law and story strew'd With hymns, our psalms with artful terms inscribed, Our Hebrew songs and harps in Babylon, That pleased so well our victor's ear, declare That rather Greece from us these arts derived ; 111 imitated, while they loudest sing The vices of their deities and their own In fable, hymn, or song, so personating Their gods ridiculous, and themselves past shamt. Remove their swelling epithets, thick laid As varnish on a harlot's cheek, the rest, Thin sown with aught of profit or delight, Will far be found unworthy to compare With Sion's songs, to all true tastes excelling, Where God is praised aright, and godlike men, The holiest ot holies, and his saints ; Such are from God inspired, not such from thce, PARADISE REGAINED. 247 Unless where moral virtue is express'd By light of nature not in all quite lost. Their orators thou then extoll'st, as those The top of eloquence, statists indeed And lovers of their country, as may seem ; But herein to our prophets far beneath, As men divinely taught, and better teaching The solid rules of civil government, In their majestic unaffected style, Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. In them is plainest taught, and easiest learnt, What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so, What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat ; These only with our law best form a king. So spake the Son of God ; but Satan, now, Quite at a loss, for all his darts were spent, Thus to our Saviour with stern brow replied : Since neither wealth, nor honour, arms, nor arts, Kingdom, nor empire pleases thee, nor aught By me proposed in life contemplative Or active, tended on by glory or fame, What dost thou in this world ? The Wilderness For thee is fittest place ; I found thee there, And thither will return thee ; yet remember What I foretell thee, soon thou shalt have cause To wish thou never hadst rejected thus Nicely or cautiously my offer'd aid, Which would have set thee in short time with ease On David's throne, or throne of all the world, Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season, When prophecies of thee are best fulfill'd. Now contrary, if I read aught in heaven, Or heaven write aught of fate, by what the stars, Voluminous, or single characters, In their conjunction met, give me to spell, Sorrows, and labours, opposition, hate, Attend thee, scorns, reproaches, injuries, Violence, and stripes, and lastly cruel death ; A kingdom they portend thee, but what kingdom, Real or allegoric, I discern not ; Nor when, eternal sure, as without end, Without beginning ; for no date prefix'd Directs me in the starry rubric set. So saying, he took, for still he knew his power Not yet expired, and to the wilderness Brought back the Son of God, and left him there, Feigning to disappear. Darkness now rose, As daylight sunk, and brought in lowering night, Her shadowy offspring, unsubstantial both, Privation mere of light and absent day. Our Saviour, meek and with untroubled mind After his aery jaunt, though hurried sore. 248 PARADISE REGAINED. Hungry and cold, betook him to his rest, Wherever, under some concourse of shades, Whose branching arms thick intertwined might shield From dews and damps of night his shelter'd head, But shelter'd, slept in vain, for at his head The tempter watch'd, and soon with ugly dreams Disturb'd his sleep : and either tropic now 'Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven the clouds From many a horrid rift abortive pour'd Fierce rain with lightning mix'd, water with fire In ruin reconciled : nor slept the winds Within their stony caves, but rush'd abroad From the four hinges of the world, and fell On the vex'd wilderness, whose tallest pines, Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks Bow'd their stiff necks, laden with stormy blasts, Or torn up sheer. Ill wast them shrouded then, O patient Son of God, yet only stood'st Unshaken ; nor yet stay'd the terror there, Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round Environ'd thee ; some howl'd, some yell'd, some shriek'd, Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou Sat'st unappall'd in calm and sinless peace. Thus pass'd the night so foul, till morning fair Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray, Who with her radiant finger still'd the roar Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds, And grisly spectres, which the fiend had raised To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire. And now the sun with more effectual beams Had cheer'd the face of earth, and dried the wet From drooping plant or dropping tree ; the birds, Who all things now behold more fresh and green, After a night of storm so ruinous, Clear'd up their choicest notes in bush and spray, To gratulate the sweet return of morn. Nor yetj amidst this joy and brightest morn, Was absent, after all his mischief done, The prince of darkness ; glad would also seem Of this fair change, and to our Saviour came ; Yet with no new device, they all were spent, Rather by this his last affront resolved, Desperate of better course, to vent his rage, And mad despite to be so oft repell'd. Him walking on a sunny hill he found, Back'd on the north and west by a thick wood : Out of the wood he starts in wonted shape, And in a careless mood thus to him said : Fair morning yet betides thee, Son of God, After a dismal night : I heard the rack As earth and sky would mingle, but myself Was distant ; and these flaws, though mortals fear them PARADISE REGAINED. 249 As dangerous to the pillar'd frame of heaven, Or to the earth's dark basis underneath, Are to the main as inconsiderable And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze To man's less universe, and soon are gone ; Yet as being ofttimes noxious where they light On man, beast, plant, wasteful, and turbulent, Like turbulencies in the affairs of men, Over whose heads they roar, and seem to point, They oft fore-signify and threaten ill : This tempest at this desert most was bent ; Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell'st. Did I not tell thee, if thou didst reject The perfect season offer'd with my aid To win thy destined seat, but wilt prolong All to the push of fate, pursue thy way Of gaining David's throne no man knows when, For both the when and how is nowhere told, Thou shalt be what thou art ordain'd, no doubt ; For angels have proclaim'd it, but concealing The time and means ; each act is rightliest done, Not when it must, but when it may be best. If thou observe not this, be sure to find, What I foretold thee, many a hard essay Of dangers, and adversities, and pains, Ere thou of Israel's sceptre get fast hold ; Whereof this ominous night that closed thee round So many terrors, voices, prodigies, May warn thee, as a sure foregoing sigr,. So talk'd he, while the Son of God went on And stay'd not, but in brief him answer'd thus : Me worse than wet thou find'st not ; other harm Those terrors, which thou speak' st of, did me none ; I never fear'd they could, though noising loud And threatening nigh ; what they can do, as signs Betokening, or ill-boding, I contemn As false portents, not sent from God, but thee ; Who, knowing I shall reign past thy preventing, Obtrudest thy offer'd aid, that I accepting At least might seem to hold all power of thee, Ambitious spirit, and wouldst be thought my god ; And storm'st refused, thinking to terrify Me to thy will. Desist, thou art discern'd, And toil'st in vain, nor me in vain molest. To whom the fiend, now swollen with rage, replied : Then hear, O Son of David, virgin-born ; For Son of God to me is yet in doubt ; Of the Messiah I had heard, foretold By all the prophets ; of thy birth at length Announced by Gabriel with the first I knew, And of the angelic song in Bethlehem field, On thy birthright, that sung thee Saviour born. 250 PARADISE REGAINED. From that time seldom have I ceased to eye Thy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth, Thy manhood last, though yet in private bred ; Till, at the ford of Jordan, whither all Flock'd to the Baptist, I among the rest, Though not to be baptized, by voice from heaven Heard thee pronounced the Son of God beloved. Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer view And narrower scrutiny, that I might learn In what degree or meaning thou art call'd The Son of God, which bears no single sense ; The son of God I also am, or was, And if I was I am ; relation stands ; All men are sons of God ; yet thee I thought In some respect far higher so declared. Therefore I watch'd thy footsteps from that hour, And follow'd thee still on to this waste wild ; Where by all best conjectures I collect Thou art to be my fatal enemy. Good reason then, if I beforehand seek To understand my adversary, who, And what he is, his wisdom, power, intent ; By parle, or composition, truce, or league, To win him, or win from him what I can. And opportunity I here have had To tiy thee, sift thee, and confess have found thee Proof against all temptation, as a rock Of adamant, and as a centre firm, To the utmost of mere man both wise and good, Not more ; for honours, riches, kingdoms, glory, Have been before contemn'd, and may again : Therefore to know what more thou art than man, Worth naming Son of God by voice from heaven, Another method I must now begin. So saying he caught him up, and without wing Of hippogriff bore through the air sublime Over the wilderness and o'er the plain ; Till underneath them fair Jerusalem, The holy city, lifted high her towers, And higher yet the glorious temple rear'd Her pile, far off appearing like a mount Of alabaster, topp'd with golden spires : There on the highest pinnacle he set The Son of God, and added thus in scorn : There stand, if thou wilt stand ; to stand upright Will ask thee skill ; I to thy Father's house Have brought thee, and highest placed, highest is best, Now show thy progeny ; if not to stand, Cast thyself down ; safely, if Son of God ; For it is written, He will give command Concerning thee to his angels, in their hands . > * PARADISE REGAINED. 251 They shall uplift thee, lest at any time Thou chance to dash thy foot against a stone. To whom thus Jesus : Also it is written, Tempt not the Lord thy God : he said and stood : Lut Satan smitten with amazement fell. As when earth's son Antaeus, to compare Small things with greatest, in Irassa strove With Jove's Alcides, and, oft foil'd, still rose, Receiving from his mother Earth new strength, Fresh from his fall, and fiercer grapple join'd, Throttled at length in the air, expired and fell ; So after many a foil the tempter proud, Renewing fresh assaults, amidst his pride Fell whence he stood to see his victor fall. And as that Theban monster, that proposed Her riddle, and him who solved it not devoured, That once found out and solved, for grief and spite Cast herself headlong from the Ismenian steep ; So, struck with dread and anguish, fell the fiend, And to his crew, that sat consulting, brought Joyless triumphals of his hoped success, Ruin, and desperation, and dismay, Who durst so proudly tempt the Son of God. So Satan fell ; and straight a fiery globe Of angels on full sail of wing flew nigh, Who on their plumy vans received him soft From his uneasy station, and upbore As on a floating couch through the blithe air, Then in a flowery valley set him down On a green bank, and set before him spread A table of celestial food, divine, Ambrosial fruits, fetch'd from the tree of life, And from the fount of life ambrosial drink, That soon refresh'd him wearied, and repair'd What hunger, if aught hunger had impair'd Or thirst ; and, as he fed, angelic choirs Sung heavenly anthems of his victory Over temptation and the tempter proud : True Image of the Father, whether throned In the bosom of bliss, and light of light Conceiving, or, remote from heaven, enshrined In fleshly tabernacle and human form, Wandering the wilderness, whatever place, Habit, or state, or motion, still expressing The Son of God, with god-like force endued Against the attempter of thy Father's throne, And thief of Paradise ; him long of old Thou didst debel, and down from heaven cast With all his army, now thou hast avenged Supplanted Adam, and, by vanquishing Temptation, hast regain'd lost Paradise, And frustrated the conquest fraudulent. 252 PARADISE REGAINED. He never more henceforth will dare set foot In Paradise to tempt ; his snares are broke: For though that seat of earthly bliss be fail'd, A fairer Paradise is founded now For Adam and his chosen sons, whom thou, A Saviour, art come down to re-install Where they shall dwell secure, when time shall be, Of tempter and temptation without fear. But thou, infernal serpent, shalt not long Rule in the clouds ; like an autumnal star Or lightning thou shalt fall from heaven, trod down Under his feet ; for proof, ere this thou feel'st Thy wound, yet not thy last and deadliest wound By this repulse received, and holdst in hell No triumph. In all her gates Abaddon rues Thy bold attempt ; hereafter learn with awe To dread the Son of God ; he, all unarm'd, Shall chase thee with the terror of his voice From thy demoniac holds, possession foul, Thee and thy legions ; yelling they shall fly, And beg to hide them in a herd of swine, Lest he command them down into the deep Bound, and to torment sent before their time. Hail, Son of the Most High, heir of both worlds, Queller of Satan, on thy glorious work Now enter, and begin to save mankind. Thus they the Son of God our Saviour meek Sung victor, and from heavenly feast refresh'd Brought on his way with joy; he unobserved Home to his mother's house private returned. COMUS, A MASK. PRESENTED AT LUDLOW CASTLE. THE PERSONS. The attendant SPIRIT, afterwards in the habit of THYRSIS. COMUS, with his crew. The LADY. First BROTHER. Second BROTHER. SABRINA, the Nymph. The chief persons who presented were The Lord BRACKLEY. Mr. THOMAS EGERTON, his brother. The Lady ALICE EGERTON. The first scene discovers a wild wood. The Attendant SPIRIT descends or enters. BEFORE the starry threshold of Jove's court My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot, Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care, Confined and pester'd in this pinfold here, Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives, After this mortal change, to her true servants, Amongst the enthroned gods on sainted seats, Yet some there be that by due steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key, That opes the palace of eternity ; To such my errand is ; and, but for such, I would not soil these pure ambrosial weed3 With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 2?4 COMUS. But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway Of every salt flood, and each ebbing stream, Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles, That like to rich and various gems inlay The unadorned bosom of the deep, Which he, to grace his tributary gods, By course commits to several government, And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crown*, And wield their little tridents : but this Isle, The greatest and the best of all the main, He quarters to his blue-hair'd deities ; And all this tract that fronts the falling sun, A noble peer, of mickle trust and power, Has in his charge, with temper'd awe to guide An old and haughty nation, proud in arms ; Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore^ Are coming to attend their father's state, And new-intrusted sceptre ; but their way Lies through the perplex'd paths of this drear wood. The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger ; And here their tender age might suffer peril, But that, by quick command from sovereign Jove, I was dispatch'd for their defence and guard ; And listen why, for I will tell you now What never yet was heard in tale or song, From old or modern bard, in hall or bower. Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine, After the Tuscan mariners transform'd, Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the winds listed, On Circe's island fell : who knows not Circe, The daughter of the Sun, whose charmed cup Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape, And downward fell into a grovelling swine? This nymph, that gazed upon his clustering locks, With ivy berries wreathed, and his blithe youth, Had by him, ere he parted thence, a son Much like his father, but his mother more, Whom therefore she brought up, and Connts named : Who ripe, and frolic of his full-grown age, Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, At last betakes him to this ominous wood, And, in thick shelter of black shades imbower'd, Excels his mother at her mighty art, Offering to every weary traveller His orient liquor in a crystal glass, To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as they taste, (For most do taste, through fond intemperate thirst) Soon as the potion works, their human countenance, The express resemblance of the gods, is changed COMUS. 255 Into some brutish form of wolf, or hear, Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, All other parts remaining as they were ; And they, so perfect is their misery, Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, But boast themselves more comely than before, And all their friends and native home forget, To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. Therefore, when any, favour'd of high Jove, Chances to pass through this adventurous glade, Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy, As now I do : but first I must put off These my sky-robes, spun out of Iris' woof, And take the weeds and likeness of a swain, That to the service of this house belongs, Who, with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song, Well knows to still the wild winds when they roar, And hush the waving woods, nor of less faith, And in this office of his mountain watch, Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid Of this occasion. But I hear the tread Of hateful steps, I must be viewless now. COMUS enters ivith a charming-rod in one hand, his glass in tJu other ; ivith him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts oj wild beasts, but otherwise like men and ivomcn, their apparet glistering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands. Comus. The star that bids the shepherd fold, Now the top of heaven doth hold ; And the gilded car of day His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream, And the slope sun his upward beam Shoots against the dusky pole, Pacing toward the other goal Of his chamber in the east. Meanwhile, welcome joy, and feast, Midnight shout and revelry, Tipsy dance and jollity. Braid your locks with rosy twine, Dropping odours, dropping wine. Rigour now is gone to bed, And advice with scrupulous head, Strict age, and sour severity, With their grave saws, in slumber lie. We that are of purer fire Imitate the starry choir, Who, in their nightly watchful spheres, Lead in swift round the months and years. The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, 256 COMUS. Now to the moon in wavering morrice move ; And, on the tawny sands and shelves, Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves. By dimpled brook, and fountain-brim, The wood-nymphs, dcck'd with daisies trim, Their merry wakes and pastimes keep ; What hath night to do with sleep ? Night hath better sweets to prove, Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. Come, let us our rites begin ; 'Tis only daylight that makes sin, Which these dun shades will ne'er report. Hail, Goddess of nocturnal sport, Dark-veil'd Cotytto ! to whom the secret flame Of midnight torches burns ; mysterious dame, That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb Of Stygian darkness spits her thickest gloom, And makes one blot of all the air ; Stay thy cloudy ebon chair, Wherein thou ridest with Hecate, and befriend Us, thy vow'd priests, till utmost end Of all thy dues be done, and none left out, Ere the babbling eastern scout. The nice morn, on the Indian steep From her cabin'd loophole peep, And to the tell-tale sun descry Our conceal'd solemnity. Come, knit hands, and beat the ground In a light fantastic round. The Measure. Break off, break off, I feel the different pace Of some chaste footing near about this ground, Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees % Our number may affright : Some virgin sure (For so I can distinguish by mine art) Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, And to my wily trains ; I shall ere long Be well stock'd with as fair a herd as grazed About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl My dazzling spells into the spongy air, Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, And give it false presentments, lest the place And my quaint habits breed astonishment, And put the damsel to suspicious flight, Which must not be, for that's against my course j I, under fair pretence of friendly ends, And well-placed words of glozing courtesy Baited with reasons not implausible, Wind me into the easy-hearted man, And hug him into snares. When once her eye Hath met th* virtue of this magic dust, COMUS. 257 I sliall appear some harmless villager, Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. But here she comes, I fairly step aside, And hearken, if I may, her business here. The LADY enters. Lady. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, My best guide now ; methought it was the sound Of riot and ill-managed merriment, Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe, Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds, When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, In wanton dance, they praise the bounteous Pan, And thank the gods amiss. I should be loth To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence Of such late wassailers ; yet, oh ! where else Shall I inform my unacquainted feet In the blind mazes of this tangled wood? My brothers, when they saw me wearied out With this long way, resolving here to lodge Under the spreading favour of these pines, Stepp'd, as they said, to the next thicket-side, To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit As the kind hospitable woods provide. They left me then, when the gray-hooded even, Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed, Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain. But where they are, and why they came not back, Is now the labour of my thoughts ; 'tis likeliest They had engaged their wandering steps too far ; And envious darkness, ere they could return, Had stole them from me : else, O thievish night, Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars, That nature hung in heaven, and fill'd their lamps With everlasting oil, to give due light To the misled and lonely traveller? This is the place, a? well as I may guess, Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear, Yet nought but single darkness do I find. What might this be? A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues, that syllable men's names On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. These thoughts may startle well, but not astound The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended By a strong-siding champion, Conscience. O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, Thou hovering Angel, girt with golden wings. And thou, unblemish'd form of Chastity ! R COMUS. I see ye visibly, and now believe That he, the Supreme Good, to whom all things ill Are but as' slavish officers of vengeance, Would send a glistering guardian, if need were, To keep my life and honour unassail'd. Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night ? I did not err, there does a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night, And casts a gleam over this tufted grove : I cannot halloo to my brothers, but Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest I'll venture ; for my new-enliven'd spirits Prompt me ; and they perhaps are not far off. SONG. Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that livest unseen Within thy aery shell, By slow Meander's margent green, And in the violet-embroiderVl vale, Where the love-lorn nightingale Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth wel! ; Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair That likest thy Narcissus are? Oh, if thou have Hid them in some flowery cave, Tell me but where, Sweet queen of parley, daughter of the sphere! So mayst thou be translated to the skies, And give resounding grace to all heaven's harmonios Enter COM us. Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment ? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, And with these raptures moves the vocal air To testify his hidden residence. How sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven-down Of darkness till it smiled! I have oft heard My mother Circe, with the Syrens three, Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs, Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soui, And lap it in Elysium ; Scylla wept, And chid her barking waves into attention, And fell Charybdis murmur'd soft applause: Yet they in pleasing slumber lull'd the sense, And in sweet madness robb'tl it of itself; But such a sacred and home-felt delight, Such sober certainty of waking bliss, CO AT US. 2 & I never heard till now. I'll speak to her, And she shall be my queen. Hail, foreign wonder! Whom certain these rough shades did never breed, Unless the goddess that in rural shrine Dwell'st here with Pan, or Sylvan, by blest song Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise That is address'd to unattending ears ; Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift How to regain my sever'd company, Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo To give me answer from her mossy couch. Cotnus. What chance, good lady, hath bereft you thus ? Lady. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth. Comus. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides? Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. Comus. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why ? Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring. Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, lady ? Lady. They were but twain, and purposed quick return. Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. Lady. I low easy my misfortune is to hit ! Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present need ? Lady. No less than if I should my brothers lose. Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom ? Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. Comus. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swink'd hedger at his supper sat ; I saw them under a green mantling vine That crawls along the side of yon small hill, Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; Their port was more than human, as they stood : I took it for a faery vision Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i' the plighted clouds. I was awe-struck, And, as I pass'd, I worshipp'd ; if those you seek, It were a journey like the path to heaven, To help you find them. Lady. Gentle villager, What readiest way would bring me to that place ? Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. Lady. To find that out, good shepherd, I suppose, In such a scant allowance of star-light, Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. Comus. I know each lane, and every alley green, Dingle, or bushy dell, of this wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side, My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood ; COMUS. And if your stray attendants be yet lodged, Or shroud within these limits, I shall know Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark From her thatch'd pallet rouse ; if otherwise, I can conduct you, lady, to a low But loyal cottage, where you may be safe Till further quest. Lady. Shepherd, I take thy word, And trust thy honest-offcr'd courtesy, Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds, With smoky rafters, than in tapestry halls, And courts of princes, where it first was named, And yet is most pretended : in a place Less warranted than this, or less secure, I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial To my proportion'd strength. Shepherd, lead on. [Exeunt. Enter The Two BROTHERS. First Br. Unmuffle, ye faint stars, and thou, lair moon, That wont'st to love the .traveller's benison, Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud, And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here In double night of darkness and of shades ; Or, if your influence be quite damm'd up With black usurping mists, some gentle taper, Though a rush-candle, from the wicker-hole Of some clay habitation, visit us With thy long-levell'd rule of streaming light, And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, Or Tyrian cynosure. Second Br. Or if our eyes Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cctes, Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten stops, Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering, In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. But, oh, that hapless virgin, our lost sister, Where may she wander now, whither betake her From the chill dew, among rude burs and thistles ? Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now, Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm Leans her unpillow'd head, fraught with sad fears. What, if in wild amazement and affright, Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp Of savage hunger, or of savage heat ? First Br. Peace, brother, be not over-exquisite To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; For, grant they be so, while they rest unknown, What r*"-ed a nan forestall h : s date of grief, , COMUS. 261 And run to meet what lie would most avoid? Or if they be but false alarms of fear, How bitter is such self-delusion ! I do not think my sister so to seek, Or so unprincipled in virtue's book, And the sweet peace that goodness besoms ever, As that the single want of light and noise (Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts, And put them into misbecoming plight. Virtue could see to do what virtue would, By her own radiant light, though sun and moon Were in the flat sea sunk. And "Wisdom's self Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, Where, with her best nurse, Contemplation, She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, That in the various bustle of resort Were ail-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i' the centre, and enjoy bright day : But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; Himself is his own dungeon. Second Br. 'Tis most true, That musing meditation most affects The pensive secresy of desert cell, Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, And sits as safe as in a senate-house ; For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, Or do his gray hairs any violence ? But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon-watch with unenchanted eye, To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit From the rash hand of bold incontinence. You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den, And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope Danger will wink on opportunity, And let a single helpless maiden pass Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not ; I fear the dread events that dog them both, Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person Of our unowned sister. First Br. I clo not, brother, Infer, as if I thought my sister's state Secure, without all doubt or controversy ; Vet, where an equal poise of hope and fear Does arbitrate the event, my nature is That I incline to hope, rather than fear, COMUS. And gladly banish squint suspicion. My sister is not so defenceless left, As you imagine ; she has a hidden strength, Which you remember not. Second Br. What hidden strength, Unless the strength of Heaven, if you mean that ? First Br. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, Which, if Heaven gave it, may be term'd her own ; 'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity : She that has that is clad in complete steel, And, like a quiver' d nymph, with arrows keen, May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds, Where, through the sacred rays of chastity, No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer, W r ill dare to soil her virgin purity ; Yea, there, where very desolation dwells, By grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades, She may pass on with unblench'd majesty, Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. Some say, no evil thing that walks by night, In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost, That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, No goblin or swart fairy of the mine, Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call Antiquity from the old schools of Greece, To testify the arms of chastity ? Hence had the huntress Diau her dread bow, Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste, Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness And spotted mountain-pard, but set at nought The frivolous bolt of Cupid ; gods and men Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' the woods. \Vhat was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin, Wherewith she freezed her foes to congeal'd stone, But rigid looks of chaste austerity, And noble grace, that dash'd brute violence With sudden adoration and blank awe ? So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity, That, when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And, in clear dream and solemn vision, Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heavenly habitants Begin to cast a beam on the outward shape, The unpolluted temple of the mind, And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, Till all be made immortal ; but when lust, COMUS. 263 By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagiou, Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose The divine property of her first being. Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp Oft seen in charnel vaults and sepulchres, Lingering and sitting by a new-made grave, As loth to leave the body that it loved, And link'd itself by carnal sensuality To a degenerate and degraded state. Second Br. How charming is divine philosophy \ Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, "Where no crude surfeit reigns. First Br. List, list, I hear Some far-off halloo break the silent air. Second Br. Methought so too ; what should it be? First Br. For certain, Either some one like us night-founder'd here, Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, Some roving robber calling to his fellows. Second Br. Heaven keep my sister. Again, again, and near, Best draw, and stand upon our guard. First Br. I'll halloo ; If he be friendly, he comes well ; if not, Defence is a good cause, and Heaven be for us. Enter the ATTENDANT SPIRIT, habited like a shepherd. That halloo I should know, what are you ? speak ; Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else. Spirit. What voice is that? my young lord? speak again. Second Br. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure. First Br. Thyrsis? whose artful strains have oft delay'd The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, And sweeten'd every musk -rose of the dale. How earnest thou here, good swain ? Hath any ram Slipp'd from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, Or straggling wether the pent "flock forsook? How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook ? Spirit. O my loved master's heir, and his next joy, I came not here on such a trivial toy As a stray'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth That cloth enrich these downs is worth a thought To this my errand, and the care it brought. But, O my virgin lady, where is she How chance she is not in your company? 264 COMUS. First Br. To tell thee sadly, shepherd, without blame, Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. Spirit. Ah me unhappy ! then my fears are true. First Br. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly show. Spirit. I'll tell ye ; 'tis not vain or fabulous, Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance, What the sage poets, taught by the heavenly mu.se. Storied of old, in high immortal verse, Of dire chimeras, and enchanted isles And rifted rocks, whose entrance leads to hell ; For such there be, but unbelief is blind. Within the navel of this hideous wood, Immured in cypress shades, a sorcerer dwells, Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus, Deep skill'd in all his mother's witcheries, And here to every thirsty wanderer 13y sly enticement gives his baneful cup, With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison The visage quite transforms of him that drinks, And the inglorious likeness of a beast Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage Character'd in the face : this I have learn'd Tending my flocks hard by i' the hilly crofts, That brow this bottom-glade, whence, night by night, He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl, Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey, Doing abhorred rites to Hecate In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. Vet have they many baits and guileful spells, To inveigle and invite the unwary sense Of them that pass unweeting by the way. This evening late, by then the chewing flocks Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, I sat me down to watch upon a bank With ivy canopied, and interwove With flaunting honeysuckle, and began, Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, To meditate my rural minstrelsy, Till fancy had her fill ; but, ere a close, The wonted roar was up amidst the woods, And fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance ; At which I ceased, and listen'd them awhile, Till an unusual stop of sudden silence Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds, That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep ; At last, a soft and solemn-breathing sound Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, And stole upon the air, that even Silence Was took ere she was ware, and wish'd she might Deny her nature, and be never more, COMUS. Still to be so displaced. 1 was all car, And took in strains that might create a soul Under the ribs of death ; but oh, ere long Too well I did perceive it was the voice Of my most honour'd Lady, your dear sister. Amazed I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear, And, O poor hapless nightingale, thought I, How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare ! Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste, Through paths and turnings often trod by day, Till guided by mine ear I found the place, Where that damn'd wizard, hid in sly disguise, (For so by certain signs I knew) had met Already, ere my best speed could prevent, The aidless innocent lady his wish'd prey, Who gently ask'd if he had seen such two, Supposing him some neighbour villager. Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess'd Ye were the two she meant ; with that I sprung Into swift flight, till I had found you here, But further know I not. Second Br. O night and shades, How are ye join'd with he'.l in triple knot, Against the unarmed weakness of one virgin, Alone and helpless ! Is this the confidence You gave me, brother ? First Br. Yes, and keep it still, Lean on it safely ; not a period Shall be unsaid for me. Against the threats Of malice or of sorcery, or that power Which erring men call chance, this I hold firm, Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt, Surprised by unjust force, but not enthrall'd ; Yea, even that which mischief meant most harm, Shall in the happy trial prove most glory ; But evil on itself shall back recoil, And mix no more with goodness, when at last Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself, It shall be in eternal restless change Self-fed, and self-consumed : if this fail, The pillar'd firmament is rottenness, And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on. Against the opposing will and arm of Heaven May never this just sword be lifted up ; But for that damn'd magician, let him be girt With all the grisly legions that troop Under the sooty flag of Acheron, Harpies and hydras, or all the monstrous forms 'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out And force him to return his purchase back, Or drag him by the curls to a foul death. Cursed as his life. 16$ ccusrs. Spirit. Alas ! good venturous youth, I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise ; But here thy sword can do thee little stead ; Far other arms and other weapons must Be those that quell the might of hellish charms, He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, And crumble all thy sinews. First Br. Why, prithee, shepherd, How durst thou then thy- elf approach so near, As to make this relation ? Spirit. Care and utmost shifts How to secure the lady from surprisal, Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad, Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd In every virtuous plant and healing herb, That spreads her verdant leaf to the morning ray ; He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing, Which when I did, he on the tender grass Would sit, and hearken even to ecstasy, And in requital ope his leathern scrip, And show me simples of a thousand names, Telling their strange and vigorous faculties. Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, But of divine effect, he cull'cl me out ; The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flower, but not in this soil : Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon : And yet more medicinal is it than that moly That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave ; He call'd it hcemony, and gave it me, And bade me keep it as of sovereign use 'Gainst all enchantments, mildew, blast, or damp, Or ghastly furies' apparition. I pursed it up, but little reckoning made, Till now that this extremity compell'd : But now I find it true ; for by this means I knew the foul enchanter, though disguised, Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells, And yet came on': if you have this about you, (As I will give you when we go) you may Boldly assault the necromancer's hall ; \Vhere if he be, with dauntless hardihood, And brandish'd blade, rush on him, break his glass, And shed the luscious liquor on the ground; But seize his wand ; though he and his cursed crew Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high, Or, like the sons of Vulcan, vomit smoke, Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. First Br. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee, And some good angel bear a shield before us. COMUS. 267 The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out until all manner of de- liciousness ; soft music, tables spread wit Ji all dainties. COM us appears with his rabble, and ///^LADY set in an enchanted chair, to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to rise. Comns. Nay, lady, sit ; if I but wave this wand, Your nerves are all chain'd up in alabaster, And you a statue, or, as Daphne was, Root-bound, that fled Apollo. Lady. Fool, do not boast, Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind With all ^.hy charms, although this corporal rind Thou hast immanacled, while Heaven sees good. Comus. Why are you vex'd, lady ? Why do you frown ? Here dwell no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates Sorrow flies far : see, here be all the pleasures That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts, When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season. And first behold this cordial julep here, That flames and dances in his crystal bounds, With spirits of balm and fragrant syrups mix'd. Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, Is of such power to stir up joy as this, To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. Why should you be so cruel to yourself, And to those dainty limbs which nature lent For gentle usage and soft delicacy? But you invert the covenants of her trust, And harshly deal, like an ill borrower, With that which you received on other terms ; Scorning the unexempt condition By which all mortal frailty must subsist, Refreshment after toil, ease after pain, That have been tired all day without repast, And timely rest have wanted ; but, fair virgin, This will restore all soon. Lady. 'Twill not, false traitor, 'Twill not restore the truth and honesty That thou hast banish'd from thy tongue with liest Was this the cottage, and the safe abode, Thou told'st me of? What grim aspects are these, These ugly-headed monsters ? Mercy guard me,! Hence with thy brew'd enchantments, foul deceiver 1 Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence With visor'd falsehood and base forgery ? And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here With liquorish baits, fit to ensnare a brute? Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, I would not taste thy treasonous offer ; none But such as are good men can give good things, COAIUS. And that \vhich is TK.. good is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite. Counts. O foolishness of men ! that lend their ears To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur, And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub, Praising the lean and sallow abstinence ! Wherefore did nature pour her bounties forth "With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, But all to please and sate the curious taste ? And set to work millions of spinning worms, That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk To deck her sons ; and, that no corner might Be vacant of her plenty, in her own loins She hutch'd the all-worshipp'd ore and precious gems, To store her children with : if all the world Should, in a pet of temperance, feed on pulse, Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, The All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unpraised, Not half his riches known, and yet despised ; And we should serve him as a grudging master, As a penurious niggard of his wealth ; And live like nature's bastards, not her sons, Who would be quite surcharged w'.th her own weight, And strangled with her waste fertility; The earth cumber'd, and the wing'd air dark'd with plumes, The herds would over-multitude their lords, The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamonds Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, And so bestud with stars, that they below Would grow inured to light, and come at last To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. List, lady, be not coy, and be not cozen'd With that same vaunted name, virginity. Beauty is nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, Unsavoury in the enjoyment of itself ; If you let slip time, like a neglected rose It withers on the stalk with languish'd head. Beauty is nature's brag, and must be shown In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, Where most may wonder at the workmanship ; It ic for homely features to keep home, They had their name thence ; coarse complexions, And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply The sampler, and to tease the housewife's wool. What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that, Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn? There was another meaning in these gifts, Think what, and be advised, you aie but young yet. f, COMUS. 2 Lady. I had not thought to have unlock'd my lips In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, Obtruding false rules prank'd in reason's garb. I hate when vice can bolt her arguments, And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. Impostor, do not charge most innocent nature, As if she would her children should be riotous With her abundance ; she, good cateress, Means her provision only to the good, That live according to her sober laws, And holy dictate of spare temperance : If every just man, that now pines with wan:, Had but a moderate and beseeming share Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed In unsuperfluous even proportion, And she no whit encumber'd with her store ; And then the Giver would be better thank'd, His praise due paid ; for swinish gluttony Ne'er looks to heaven amidst his gorgeous feast, But, with besotted base ingratitude, Crams, and blasphemes his Feeder. Shall I go on ? Or have I said enough ? To him that dares Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words Against the sun-clad power of chastity, Fain would I something say ; yet to what end ? Thou hast nor ear, nor soul, to apprehend The sublime notion, and high mystery, That must be utter'd to unfold the sage And serious doctrine of virginity, And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know More happiness than this thy present lot. Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence, Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced ; Yet, should I try, the uncontrolled worth Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits To such a flame of sacred vehemence, That dumb things would be moved to sympathise, And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and shake, Till all thy magic structures, rear'd so high, \Vere shatter'd into heaps o'er thy false head. Comus. She fables not, I feel that I do fear Her words set off by some superior power ; And though not mortal, yet a cold shuddering de\. Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus, To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, And try her yet more strongly. Come, no more, This is mere moral babble, and direct 27 o COAfUS. Against the canon-laws of our foundation ; I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees And settlings of a melancholy blood : But this will cure all straight, one sip of this Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight, Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste. The BROTHERS rush in u>ith words drawn, west his glass out of his hand, and break it against the ground ; his rout make sign of resistance, bitt are all driven in. The ATTENDANT SPIRIT conies in. What, have you let the false enchanter 'scape ? O ye mistook, ye should have snatch'd his wand, And bound him fast ; without his rod reversed, And backward mutters of dissevering power, We cannot free the lady that sits here In stony fetters fix'd, and motionless : Yet stay, be not disturb'd ; now I bethink me, Some other means I have which may be used, Which once of Melibceus old I learnt, The soothest shepherd that ere piped on plains. There is a gentle nymph, not far from hence, That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream, Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure ; Whilom she was the daughter of Locrine, That had the sceptre from his father Brute. She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit Of her enraged stepdame, Gwendolen, Commended her fair innocence to the flood, That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course. The water-nymphs, that in the bottom play'd, Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in, Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall, Who, piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head, And gave her to his daughters to imbathe Tn nectar'd lavers, strow'd with asphodel, And through the porch and inlet of each sense Dropp'd in ambrosial oils, till she revived, And underwent a quick immortal change, Made goddess of the river ; still she retains Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make, Which she with precious vial'd liquors heals. For which the shepherds at their festivals Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays, And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. And, as the old swain said, she can unlock The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing speli, Jf she be right invoked in warbled song, COMUS. 27I For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift To aid a virgin, such as was herself. In hard-besetting need ; this will I try, And add the power of some adjuring verse. SONG. Sabrina fair, Listen where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair : Listen for dear honour's sake, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen and save. Listen and appear to us In name of great Oceamts. By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And Tethys' grave majestic pace, By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wizard's hook, By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands, By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet, And the songs of Syrens sweet, By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, And fair Ligea's golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks, Sleeking her soft alluring locks, By all the nymphs that nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance, Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head From thy coral-paven bed, And bridle in thy headlong wave, Till thou our summons answered have. Listen ana save SABRINA rises, attended by u>atcr-nynt>f t s t and ^/ in castle; then come in country dancers, after them the ATTEND ANT SPIRIT, with the Two BROTHERS, and the LADY. SONG. Spirit. Back, shepherds, back, enough your play : Till next sunshine holiday; Here be, without duck or nod, Other trippings to be trod Of lighter toes, and such court guise As Mercury did first devise, With the mincing Dryad es, On the lawns, and on the leas. This second Song presents them to tlieir Father and Noble lord, and lady bright, I have brought ye new delight, Here beho'd so goodly grown Three fair branches of your own ; Heaven hath timely tried their youth, Their faith, their patience, and their truth. And sent them here through hard essays With a crown of deathless praise, To triumph in victorious dance O'er sensual folly and intemperance. The dances ended, the SPIRIT cpilogu^es- Spirit. To the ocean now I fly, And those happy climes that lie Where day never shuts his eye, Up in the broad fields of the sky; There I suck the liquid air All amidst the gardens fair Of Hesperus, and his daughters three That sing about the golden tree s Along the crisped shades and bowers Revels the spruce and jocund Spring, The Graces, and the rosy-bosom'd Hours. Thither all their bounties bring ; There eternal Summer dwells, And west-winds, with musky wing, About the cedarn alleys fling Nard and cassia's balmy smells. Iris there, with humid bow, Waters the odorous banks, that blcv Flowers of more mingled \"\v COAfUS, Than h.:r purfled scarf can show ; And drenches with Elysian dew (List, mortals, tf your ears be true.) Beds of hyacinth and roses, \\here young Adonis oft reposes, Waxing well of his deep wound In slumber soft, and on the ground Sadly sits the Assyrian queen ; Bu* far above in spangled sheen Celestial Cupid, her famed son, advanced Holds his dear 1'syche sweet entranced, After her wandering labours long, Till free consent the gods among Make her his eternal bride, knd from her fair unspotted side Two blissful twins are to be born, Youth an I Joy ; so Jove hath sworn- But now my task is smoothly done, I can fly, or I can run, Quickly to the green earth's end, Where the bow'd welkin slow doth beiri. And from thence can soar as soon To the corners of the moon. Mortals, that would follow me, Love virtue ; she alone is free, She can teach you how to climb Higher than the sphery chime ; Or, if virtue feeble were. Heaven itself would sf-jop to her. SAMSON AGONISTES. A DRAMATIC POEM. ias, &c. Aristot. Poet. cap. vi. Tragoedia et imitatio actionis sense, &c. per misericordiam et metuiu perficiens talium affectuum lustrationem. OF THAT SORT OF DRAMATIC POEM WHICH IS CALLED TRAGEDY. Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever held the gravest, morulest, and most profitable of all other poems ; therefore said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity, and fear or terror, to purge the' mind of those and such like passions, that is, to temper and reduce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirred up by reading or seeing those passions well imitated. Nor is nature wanting in her own effects to make good his assertion, for so in physic things of melancholic hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humours. Hence philosophers and other gravest writers, as Cicero, Plutarch, and others, frequently cite out of tragic poets, both to adorn and illustrate their discourse. The apostle Paul himself thought it not unworthy to insert a verse of Euripides into the text of Holy Scripture, i Cor. xv. 33, and Paraeus, commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole book, as a tragedy, into acts, distinguished each by a chorus of heavenly harpings and song between. Heretofore men in highest dignity have laboured not a little to be thought able to compose a tragedy. Of that honour Dionysius the elder was no less ambitious, than before of his attaining to the tyranny. Augustus Caesar also had begun his Ajax, but unable to please his own judgment with what he had begun, left it unfinished. Seneca, the philo- sopher, is by some thought the author of those tragedies, at least the best of them, that go under that name. Gregory Nazianzen, a father of the church, thought it not unbeseeming the sanctity of his person to write a tragedy, which is entitled, Christ Suffering. This is mentioned to vindicate tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which in the account of many it undergoes at this day with other common interludes ; happening through the poet's error of intermixing comic stuff with tragic sadness and gravity, or introducing trivial and vulgar persons, which by all judicious hath been counted absurd, and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratify the people. And though ancient tragedy use no prologue, yet using sometimes, in case of self-defence, or explanation, that which Martial calls an epistle, in behalf of this tragedy coming forth after the ancient manner, much different from what among us passes for best, thus much beforehand may be epistled : that Chorus is here introduced after the Greek manner, not ancient only but modern, and still in use among the Italians. In the modelling therefore of this poem, with good reason, the ancients and Italians are rather followed, as of much more authority and fame. The measure of verse used in the chorus is of all sorts, called by fhe Greeks Monostrophic, or rather Apolelymenon, without regard had 11 Strophe, Antistrophe, or Epode, which were a kind of stanzas framed only for the music, then used with the chorus that sung ; not essential to the poem, and therefore not material ; or being divided into stanzas or pauses, they may be called Alloeostropha. Division into act and scene referring ci. icily to the stage, to which this work never was intended, is here omitted. It suffices if the whole drama be found not produced beyond the fifth act : of the style and uniformity, and that commonly called the pic;, whether intricate or explicit, which is nothing indeed but such economy, or disposition of the fable as may stand best with verisimilitude and decorum, they only will best judge who are not unacquainted with /Kschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the three tragic poets, unequalled yet by any, and the best rule to all who endeavour to write tragedy. The circumscription of time, wherein the whole drama begins and ends is, according to ancient rule and best example, within the space of twenty-four houis. THE ARGUMENT. Samson m.ide captive, blind; and now in the prison at Gaza, there to labour as ifc a common wo/khouse, on a festival-day, in the general cessation from labour, comes forth into the open air, to a place nigh, somewhat retired, there to sit a while and bemoan his condition : where he happens at length to be visited by certain friends and equals of his tribe, which make the Chorus, wno seek to comfort him what they can ; then by his old fathef Manoah, who endeavours the like, and withal tells him his purpose to pro- cure his liberty by ransom ; and, lastly, that this feast was proclaimed b^ the Philistines as a day of thanksgiving for their dUiverance from the hands of Samson, which yet more troubles him. Manoah then departs to prosecute his endeavour with the Philistine lords for Samson's redemption ; who in the meanwhile is visited by other persons ; and, lastly, by a public officer to require his coming to the feast before the lords and people, to play or show his strength in their presence. He at first refuses, dismissing the public officer with absolute denial to come; at length, persuaded inwardly that this was from God, he yields to go along with him, who came now the second time with great threatenings to fetch him. The Chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoah returns full of joyful hope, to procure ere long his son's deliverance: in the midst of which discourse an Hebrew comes in haste, confvisedly at first, and afterward more distinctly, relating the catastrophe, what Samson had done to the Philistines, and by accident to himself; wherewith the tragedy ends. THE PERSONS. SAMSON. MANOAH, the father of Samson. DALILA, his wife. HARAPHA, of Gath. Public Officer, Messenger. Chorus of Danites. The Scene, before the Prison in Ga?a Samson. A LITTLE onward lend thy guiding hand To these dark steps, a little farther on ; For yonder bank hath choice of sur or shade : There I am wont to sit, when any chance SAMSON A GONfSTfiX. ?7 7 Relieves me from my task of servile toil, Daily in the common prison else enjoin'd me, Where I, a prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw The air, imprison'd also, close and damp, Unwholesome draught: but here I feel amends, The breath of heaven fresh blowing, pure and sweet, With day-spring born ; here leave me to respire. This day a solemn feast the people hold To Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbid Laborious works ; unwillingly this rest Their superstition yields me ; hence, with leave Retiring from the popular noise, I seek This unfrequented place to find some ease, Ease to the body some, none to the mind From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging, and present Times past, what once I was, and what am now. Oh, wherefore was my birth from heaven foretold Twice by an angel, who at last, in sight Of both my parents, all in flames ascended From off the altar, where an offering burn'd, As in a fiery column charioting His godlike presence, and from some great act Or benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race? Why was my breeding order'd and prescribed As of a person separate to God, Design'd for great exploits, if I must die Betray'd, captived, and both my eyes put out, Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze, To grind in brazen fetters under task With this heaven-gifted strength? O glorious strength, Put to the labour of a beast, debased Lower than bondslave ! Promise was, that I Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver ; Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves, Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke. Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt Divine prediction ; what ! if all foretold Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default, Whom have I to complain of but myself? Who this high gift of strength committed to me, In what part lodged, how easily bereft me, Under the seal of silence could not keep, But weakly to a woman must reveal it, O'ercome with importunity and tears. O impotence of mind, in body strong ! But what is strength without a double share Of wisdom ? vast, unwieldy, burthensome, Proudly secure, yet liable to fall By weakest subtleties, not made to rule, 2 7 S SAMSOK AGONTSTES. But to subserve \vhcrc wisdom bears command. God, when he gave me strength, to show withal How slight the gift was, hung it in my hair. But peace, I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein Haply had ends above my reach to know : Suffices that to me strength is my bane, And proves the source of all my miseries, So many, and so huge, that each apart Would ask a life to wail ; but chief of all, O loss of sight, of thee I most complain ! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age ! Light, the prime work of God, to me's extinct, And all her various objects of delight Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eased, Inferior to the vilest now become Of man or worm ; the vilest here excel me ; They creep, yet see, T, dark in light, exposed To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong. Within doors, or without, still as a fool, In power of others, never in my own ; Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half. O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse "Without all hope of day ! O first created beam, and then great Word, Let there be light, and light was over all ; Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree ? The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. Since light so necessary is to life, And almost life itself, if it be true That light is in the soul, She all in every part ; why was the sight To such a tender ball as the eye confined, So obvious and so easy to be quenched ? And not, as feeling, tli rough all parts diffused, That she might look at will through every pore ? Then had I not been thus exiled from light, As in the land of darkness, yet in light, To live a life half dead, a living death, And buried ; but oh, yet more miserable ! Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave, Buried, yet not exempt, By privilege of der.th and burial, From worst of other evils, pains, and wrongs ; But made hereby obnoxious more To all the miseries of life, Life in captivity SAMSOiV AGONISTES. 279 Among inhuman foes. l!ut who are these? for with joint pace I hear The tread of many feet steering this way ; Perhaps my enemies, who come to stare At my affliction, and perhaps to insult, Their daily practice to afflict me more. Chor. This, this is he ; softly a while, Let us not break in upon him ; O change beyond report, thought, or belief! See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused, With languish'd head unpropp'd, As one past hope, abandon'd, As by himself given over ; In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds, O'er-worn and soil'd ; Or do my eyes misrepresent ? Can this be he, That heroic, that renown'd, Irresistible Samson ? whom unarm'd No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast, could with- stand ; Who tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid, Ran on embattled armies clad in iron, And. weaponless himself, Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery Of brazen shield and spear, the hammer'd cuirass Chalybean-temper'd steel, and frock of mail Adamantean proof; But safest he who stood aloof, "When insupportably his foot advanced, In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools, Spurn'd them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite Fled from his lion ramp, old warriors turn'd Their plated backs under his heel ; Or grovelling soil'd their crested helmets in the dust. Then with what trivial weapon came to hand, The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, A thousand foreskins fell, the flower of I'alestine, In Ramath-lechi, famous to this day. Then by main force pull'd up, and on his shoulders bor. The gates of Azza, post, and massy bar, Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, No journey of a Sabbath-day, and loaded so ; Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up heaven. \Vhichshall I first bewail, Thy bondage or lost sight, Prison within prison Inseparably dark? Thou art become, O worst impri onment ! The dungeon of thyself ; thy soul, \Vhich men enjoying sight oft without cause complain hnprison'd now indeed, In real darkness of the body dwells, SAMSON AGONISTES. Shut up from outward light, To incorporate with gloomy night ; For inward light, alas ! Puts forth no visual beam. mirror of our fickle state ! Since man on earth unparallel'd, The rarer thy example stands, By how much from the top of wondrous glory, Strongest of mortal men, To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fallen. For him I reckon not in high estate, Whom, long descent of birth Or the sphere of fortune raises ; But thee, whose strength, while virtue was her mate, Might have subdued the earth, Universally crown'd with highest praises. Sams. I hear the sound of words, their sense the air Dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear. Chor. He speaks, let us draw nigh. Matchless in might, The glory late of Israel, now the grief, We come, thy friends and neighbours not unknown, From Eshtaol and Zora's fruitful vale, To visit or bewail thee, or, if better, Counsel or consolation we may bring, Salve to thy sores ; apt words have power to 'suage The tumours of a troubled mind, And are as balm to fester'd wounds. Sams. Your coming, friends, revives me, for I learn Now of my own experience, not by talk, How counterfeit a coin they are who friends Bear in their superscription, of the most 1 would be understood ; in prosperous days They swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head, Not to be found, though sought. Ye see, O friends, How many evils have enclosed me round ; Yet that which was the worst now least afflicts me, Blindness, for had I sight, confused with shame, How could I once look up, or heave the head, Who, like a foolish pilot, have shipwreck'd My vessel trusted to me from above, Gloriously rigg'd ; and for a word, a tear, Fool, have divulged the secret gift of God To a deceitful woman ? Tell me, friends Am I not sung and proverb'd for a fool In every street? do they not say, How well Are come upon him his deserts? Yet why? Immeasurable strength they might behold In me, of wisdom nothing more than mean ; This with the other should, at least, have pair'd, These two, proportion'd ill, drove me transverse. Chor. Tax not divine disposal : wisest men Have err'd, and by bad women been deceived ; SAMSON A CONI5TES. 28 1 And shall again, pretend they ne'er so wise. Deject not then so overmuch thyself, Who hast of sorrow thy full load besides ; Yet, truth to say, I oft have heard men wonder "Why thou shouldst wed Philistian women rather Than of thine own tribe fairer, or as fair, At least of thy own nation, and as noble. Sams. The first I saw at Tirana, and she pleased Me, not my parents, that I sought to wed The daughter of an infidel. They knew not That what I motiou'd was of God ; I knew From intimate impulse, and therefore urged The marriage on ; that by occasion hence I might begin Israel's deliverance, The work to which I was divinely call'd. She, proving false, the next I took to wife, that I never had ! fond wi-li too late ! Was in the vale of Sorec, Dalila, That specious monster, my accomplish'd snare. 1 thought it lawful from my former act, And the same end, still watching to oppress Israel's oppressors. Of what now I suffer She was not the prime cause, but I myself, Who, vanquish' d with a peal of words, O weakness ! Gave up my fort of silence to a woman. Chor. In seeking just occasion to provoke The Philistine, thy country's enemy, Thou never wast remiss, I bear thee witness : Yet Israel still serves, with all his sons. Sams. That fault I take not on me, but transfer On Israel's governors, and heads of tribes, W 7 ho, seeing those great acts which God had done Singly by me against their conquerors, Acknowledged not, or not at all considered Deliverance offer'd. I, on the other side, Used no ambition to commend my deeds, The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer : But they persisted deaf, and would not seem To count them things worth notice, till at length Their lords the Philistines with gather' d powers Enter'd Judea, seeking me, who then Safe to the rock of Etham was retired, Not flying, but forecasting in what place To set upon them, what advantaged best. Meanwhile, the men of Judah, to prevent The harass of their land, beset me round ; I willingly on some conditions came Into their hands, and they as gladly yield me, To the uncircumcised a welcome prey, Bound with two cords ; but cords to me were threads Touch'd with the flame. On their whole host 1 flew Unarm'd, and with a trivial weapon fell'd 2 S 2 SAMSON A GONJSTES. Their choicest youth ; they only lived \vlio fled. Had Judah that day join'd, or one whole tribe, They had by this possess'd the towers of Gath, And lorded over them whom now they serve. But what more oft, in nations grown corrupt, And by their vices brought to servitude, Than to love bondage more than liberty, Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty ; And to despise, or envy, or suspect Whom God hath of his special favour raised As their deliverer? If he aught begin, I Tow frequent to desert him, and at last To heap ingratitude on worthiest deeds ? Chor. Thy words to my remembrance bring How Succoth and the fort of Fennel Their great deliverer contemn'd, The matchless Gideon, in pursuit Of Midian, and her vanquish'd kings : And how ungrateful Ephraim Had dealt with Jephtha, who, by argument, Not worse than by his shield and spear. Defended Israel from the Ammonite, Had not his prowess quell'd their pride In that sore battle, when so many died Without reprieve, adjudged to death, For want of well pronouncing Shibboleth. Sams. Of such examples add me to the roll ; Me easily indeed mine may neglect, But God's proposed deliverance not so. Chor. Just are the ways of God, And justifiable to men ; Unless there be, who think not God at all : If any be, they walk obscure ; For of such doctrine never was there school, But the heart of the fool, And no man therein doctor but himself. Yet more there be, who doubt his ways not just, As to his own edicts found contradicting, Then give the reins to wandering thought Regardless of his glory's diminution ; Till, by their own perplexities involved, They ravel more, still less resolved, But never find self-satisfying solution. As if they would confine the Interminable, And tie him to his own prescript, Who made our laws to bind us, not himself, And hath full right to exempt Whom so it pleases him by choice From national obstriction, without taint Of sin, or legal debt ; For with his own laws he can best dispense. He would not else, who never wanted means, SAMSON AGONISTKS. 233 Nor in respect of the enemy just cause To set his people free, Have prompted this heroic Nazarite, Against his vow of strictest purity, To seek in marriage that fallacious bride, Unclean, unchaste. Down, reason, then ; at least, vain reasonings down ; Though reason here aver That moral verdict quits her of unclean : Unchaste was subsequent, her stain, not his. But, see ! here comes thy reverend sire With careful step, locks white as clown, Old Manoah ; advise Forthwith how thou oughtst to receive him. Sains. Ay me ! another inward grief, awaked With mention of that name, renews the assault. Man. Brethren, and men of Dan, for such ye seem, Though in this uncouth place ; if old respect, As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend, My son, now captive, hither hath inform'd Your younger feet, while mine cast back with age Came lagging after ; say if he be here. Chor. As signal now in low dejected state, As erst in highest, behold him where he lies. Mun. O miserable change ! is this the man, That invincible Samson, far renown'd, The dread of Israel's foes, who, with a strength Equivalent to angels', walk'd their streets, None offering fight; who, single combatant, Duell'd their armies rank'd in proud array, Himself an army, now unequal match To save himself against a coward arm'd At one spear's length? O ever-failing trust In mortal strength ! and, oh, what not in man Deceivable and vain ! Nay, what thing good, Pray'd for, but often proves our woe, our bane? I pray'd for children, and thought barrenness In wedlock a reproach ; I gain'd a son, And such a son as all men hail'd me happy ; Who would be now a father in my stead? Oh, wherefore did God grant me my request, And as a blessing with such pomp adorn'd ? Why are his gifts desirable, to tempt Our earnest prayers, then, given with solemn hand As graces, draw a scorpion's tail behind ? For this did the angel twice descend? for this Ordain'd thy nurture holy, as of a plant Select and sacred, glorious for a while, The miracle of men ; then in an hour Ensnared, assaulted, overcome, led bound, Thy foes' derision, captive, poor, and blind, Into a dungeon thrust, to work with slaves? SAMSON AGO A 1 ISTES. Alas ! methinks whom God hath chosen once To worthiest deeds, if he through frailty err, He should not so o'erwhelm, and as a thrall Subject him to so foul indignities, Be it but for honour's sake of former deeds: Sams. Appoint not heavenly disposition, father; Nothing of all these evils hath befallen me But justly; I myself have brought them on, Sole author I, sole cause ; if aught seem vile, As vile hath been my folly, who have profaned The mystery of God given me under pledge Of vow, and have betray'd it to a woman, A Canaanite, my faithless enemy. This well I knew, nor was at all surprised, But warn'd by oft experience : did not she Of Timna first betray me, and reveal The secret wrested from me in her height Of nuptial love profess'd, carrying it straight To them who had corrupted her, my spies And rivals? In this other was there found More faith, who also in her prime of love, Spousal embraces, vitiated with gold, Though offer'd only, by the scent conceived Her spurious first-born, treason against me? Thrice she essay'd, with flattering prayers, and sighSj And amorous reproaches, to win from me My capital secret, in what part my strength Lay stored, in what part summ'd, that she might know : Thrice I deluded her, and turn'd to sport Her importunity, each time perceiving How openly and with what impudence She purposed to betray me, and, which was worse Than undissembled nate, with what contempt She sought to make me traitor to myself; Yet the fourth time, when, mustering all her wiles, With blandish'd parleys, feminine assaults, Tongue-batteries, she surceased not day nor night To storm me, over-watch'd and wearied out, At times when men seek most repose and rest, I yielded, and unlock'd her all my heart, Who, with a grain of manhood well resolved, Might easily have shook off all her snares ; But foul effeminacy held me yoked Her bond-slave ; 6 indignity! O blot To honour and religion ! servile mind Rewarded well with servile punishment ! The base degree to which I now am fallen, These rags, this grinding, is not yet so base As was my former servitude, ignoble, Unmanly, ignominious, infamous, True slavery, and that blindness worse than this, That saw not how degenerately I served. SAMSON AGONISTES. Man. I cannot praise thy marriage choices, son, Rather approved them not ; but thou didst plead Divine impulsion prompting how thou mightst Find some occasion to infest our foes. I state not that ; this I am sure, our foes Found soon occasion thereby to make thee Their captive and their triumph ; thou the sooner Temptation found'st, or over-potent charms, To violate the sacred trust of silence Deposited within thee ; which to have kept Tacit, was in thy power. True ; and thou bear'st Enough and more the burthen of that fault ; Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying That rigid score. A worse thing yet remains This day the Philistines a popular feast Here celebrate in Gaza, and proclaim Great pomp, and sacrifice, and praises loud, To Dagon, as their god, who hath deliver'd Thee, Samson, bound and blind, into their hands; Them out of thine, who slew'st them many a slain. So Dagon shall be magnified, and God, Besides whom is no god, compared with idols, Disglorified, blasphemed, and had in scorn By the idolatrous rout amidst their wine ; Which to have come to pass by means of thee, Samson, of all thy sufferings think the heaviest, Of all reproach the most with shame that ever Could have befallen thee and thy father's house. Sams. Father, I do acknowledge and confess That I this honour, I this pomp, have brought To Dagon, and advanced his praises high Among the heathen round ; to God have brought Dishonour, obloquy, and oped the mouths Of idolists and atheists ; have brought scandal To Israel, diffidence of God, and doubt In feeble hearts, prepense enough before To waver, or fall off, and join with idols ; Which is my chief affliction, shame, and sorrow, The anguish of my soul, that suffers not Mine eye to harbour sleep, or thoughts to rest. This only hope relieves me, that the strife With me hath end ; all the contest is now 'Twixt God and Dagon ; Dagon hath presumed, Me overthrown, to enter lists with God, His deity comparing and preferring Before the God of Abraham. He, be sure, Will not connive, or linger, thus provoked, But will arise, and his great name assert : Dagon must stoop, and shall ere long receive Such a discomfit, as shall quite despoil him Of all these boasted trophies won on me, And with confusion blank his worshippers. 286 SAAfSOtf A GONISTES. Man. With cause this hope relieves thee, and l!;ese words I as a prophecy receive ; for God, Nothing more certain, will not long defer To vindicate the glory of his name Against all competition, nor will long Endure it, doubtful whether God be Lord, Or Dagon. But for thee what shall be done? Thou must not, in the meanwhile here forgot, Lie in this miserable loathsome plight Neglected. I already have made way To some Philistian lords, with whom to treat About thy ransom: well they may by this Have satisfied their utmost of revenge By pains and slaveries, worse than death, inflicted On thee, who now no more canst do them harm. Sams. Spare that proposal, father ; spare the trouble Of that solicitation ; let me here, As I deserve, pay on my punishment, And expiate, if possible, my crime, Shameful garrulity. To have reveal'd Secrets of men, the secrets of a friend, How heinous had the fact been, how deserving Contempt and scorn of all, to be excluded All friendship, and avoided as a blab, The mark of fool set on his front ! But I God's counsel have not kept, his holy secret Presumptuously have publish'd, impiously, Weakly at least, and shamefully; a sin That Gentiles in their parables condemn To their abyss and horrid pains confined. Alan. Be penitent, and for thy fault contrite ; But act not in thy own affliction, son ; Repent the sin, but if the punishment Thou canst avoid, self-preservation bids ; Or the execution leave to high disposal, And let another hand, not thine, exact Thy penal forfeit from thyself ; perhaps God will relent, and quit thee all his debt, Who evermore approves, and more accepts, Best pleased with humble and filial submission, Him who imploring mercy sues for life, Than who self-rigorous chooses death as due, Which argues over-just, and self-displeased For self-offence, more than for God offended. Reject not then what offer'd means ; who knows But God hath set before us, to return thee Home to thy country and his sacred house, Where thou mayest bring thy offerings, to avert His further ire, with prayers and vows rene\\ d? Sams. His pardon I implore; but as for life, To what end should I seek it? When in strength &AMSVJV AVUfrtSTES. 287 All mortals I excell'cl, and great in hopes With youthful courage and magnanimous thoughts ( )f birth from heaven foretold, and high exploits, Full of divine instinct, after some proof Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond The sons of Anak, famous now and blazed, Fearless of danger, like a petty god I walk'd about, admired of all, and dreaded, On hostile ground, none daring my affront. Then swollen with pride into the snare I fell Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains, Soften'd with pleasure and voluptuous life ; At length to lay my head and hallow'd pledge Of all my strength in the lascivious lap Of a deceitful concubine, who shore me, Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece, Then turn'd me out ridiculous, despoil'd, Shaven, and disarm'd, among mine enemies. Chor. Desire of wine, and all delicious drinks "Which many a famous warrior overturns, Thou couldst repress, nor did the dancing ruby Sparkling, out-pour'd, the flavour, or the smell, Oi taste that cheers the hearts of gods and men, Allure thee from the cool crystalline stream. Sams. Wherever fountain or fresh current flow'd Against the eastern ray, translucent, pure, "With touch ethereal of heaven's fiery rod, I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying Thirst, and refreshed ; nor envied them the grnpe, "Whose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. Chor. madness, to think use of strongest wines. And strongest drinks, our chief support of health, "When God with these forbidden made choice to rear His mighty champion, strong above compare, \Vho.-e drink was only from the liquid brook. Sams. IJut what aviiil'd this temperance, not complete Against another object more enticing? What boots it at one gate to make defence^ And at another to let in the foe, Effeminately vanquished? by which means, IS'ow blind, dishearten'd, shamed, dishonour'd, queli'd, To what can I be useful, wherein serve My nation, and the work from Heaven imposed, IJut to sit idle on the household hearth, A burdenous drone ; to visitants a gaze, Or pitied object, these redundant locks. Robustious to no purpose, clustering clown, Vain movement of strength, till length o< years, Aiw sedentary numbness craze my limbs To a contemptible old age obscure? Here rather let me drudge, and earn my bread, Till vermin or the draff of servile food tS8 SAVSCN AGONISTES. Consume me, and oft-invocated death Hasten the welcome end of all my pains. Jlftt.'i. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with that gift Which was expressly given thee to annoy them ? Better at home lie bed-rid, not only idle, Inglorious, unemploy'd, with age outworn. But God, who caused a fountain at thy prayer From the dry groin I to spring, thy thirst to allay After the brunt of battle, can as easy Cause light again within thy eyes to spring. Wherewith to serve him better than thou hast ; And I persuade me so ; why else this strength Miraculous yet remaining in those locks? His might continues in thee not for nought, Nor shall his wondrous gifts be frustrate thus. Sams. All otherwise to me my thoughts portend, That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light, Nor the other light of life continue long, But yield to double darkness nigh at hand : So much I feel my genial spirits droop, My hopes all flat, nature within me seems In all her functions weary of herself, My race of glory run, and race of shame, And I shall shortly be with them that rest. Man. Believe not these suggestions, which proceeo From anguish of the mind and humours black, That mingle with thy fancy. I however Must not omit a father's timely care To prosecute the means of thy deliverance By ransom, or how else ; meanwhile be calm, And healing words from these thy friends adnui. Sams. O that torment should not be confined To the body's wounds and sores, With maladies innumerable In heart, head, breast, and reins ; But must secret passage find To the inmost mind, There exercise all his fierce accidents, And on her purest spirits prey, As on entrails, joints, and limbs, With answerable pains, but more intense, Though void of corporal sense. My griefs not only pain me, As a lingering disease, But, finding no redress, ferment and rage, Nor less than wounds immedicable Rankle, and fester, and gangrene, To black mortification. Thoughts, my tormentors, arm'd with deadly stints. Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts, Exasperate, exulcerate, and raise Dire inflammation, which no cooling herb SAMSON A GONISTES. 289 Or medicinal liquor can assuage, Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp. Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er To death's bcnubming opium as my only cure : Thence faintings, swoonings of despair, And sense of Heaven's desertion. I was his nursling once, and choice delight, His destined from the womb, Promised by heavenly message twice descending. Under his special eye Abstemious I grew up, and thrived amain : He led me on to mightiest deeds, Above the nerve of mortal arm, Against the uncircumcised, our enemies : Ihit now hath cast me off as never known, And to those cruel enemies, Whom I, by his appointment, had provoked, Left me all helpless with the irreparable loss Of sight, reserved alive to be repeated The subject of their cruelty and scorn. Nor am I in the list of them that hope ; Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless ; This one prayer yet remains, might I be heard, No long petition, speedy death, The close of all my miseries, and the balm. Chor. Many are the sayings of the wise, In ancient and in modern books enroll'd, Extolling patience as the truest fortitude ; And to the bearing well of all calamities, All chances incident to man's frail life, Consolatories writ With studied argument, and much persuasion sought, Lenient of grief and anxious thought : But with the afflicted, in his pangs, their sound Little prevails, or rather seems a tune Harsh, and of dissonant mood from his complaint J Unless he feel within Some source of consolation from above, Secret refreshings, that repair his strength, And fainting spirits uphold. God of our fathers ! what is man, That thou towards him with hand so various, Or might I say contrarious, Temperest thy providence through his short course, Not evenly, as thou rulest The angelic orders and inferior creatures mute, Irrational and brute ? Nor do I name of men the common rout, That, wandering loose about, Grow up and perish, as the summer fly, Heads without names, no more remember'd, But such as thou hast solemnly elected, 290 SAMSO& AGONISTES- With gifts and graces eminently adorn'd To some great work, thy glory, And people's safety, which in part they effect ; Yet toward these, thus dignified, thou oft, Amidst their height of noon, Changest thy countenance, and thy hand with no regard Of highest favours past From thee on them, or them to thee of service. Nor only dost degrade them, or remit To life obscured, which were a fair dismission, But throwest them lower than thou didst exalt them high, Unseemly falls in human eye, Too grievous for the trespass of omission ; Oft leavest them to the hostile sword Of heathen and profane, their carcasses To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived ; Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, And condemnation of the ungrateful multitude. If these they 'scape, perhaps in poverty, With sickness and disease, thou " west them down, Painful diseases and deform'd, In crude old age : Though not disordinate, yet causeless suffering The punishment of dissolute days : in fine, Just or unjust, alike seem miserable, For oft alike both come to evil end. So deal not with this once thy glorious champion, The image of thy strength, and mighty minister. What do I beg? how hast thou dealt already? Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn His labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end. But who is this ? what thing of sea or land ? Female of sex it seems, That, so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way, sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for the isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill'd, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play An amber scent of odorous perfume Her harbinger, a damsel train behind ; Some rich Philistian matron she may seem, And now, at nearer view, no other certain Than Dalila thy wife. Sams. My wife ! my traitress ! let her not come near me. Chor. Yet on she moves, now stands and eyes thee fix'd, .\bout to have spoke, but now, with head declined, Like a fair flower surcharged with dew, she weeps, And words address'd seem into tears dissolved, SAMSON AGONISTZS. 2gi Wetting the borders of her silken veil : But now again she makes address to speak. Dal. With doubtful feet and wavering resolution I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson, Which to have merited, without excuse, I cannot but acknowledge ; yet, if tears May expiate, though the fact more evil drew In the perverse event than I foresaw, My penance hath not slacken'd, though my pardon No way assured. But conjugal affection, Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt, Hath led me on, desirous to behold Once more thy face, and know of thy estate, If aught in my ability may serve To lighten what thou sufferest, and appease Thy mind with what amends is in my power, Though late, yet in some part to recompense My rash, but more unfortunate, misdeed. Sams. Out, out, hyaena ! these are thy wonted arts, And arts of every woman false like thee, To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray, Then, as repentant, to submit, beseech, And reconcilement move with feign'd remorse, Confess, and promise wonders in her change, Not truly penitent, but chief to try Her husband, how far urged his patience bears, His virtue or weakness which way to assail ; Then with more cautious and instructed skill Again transgresses, and again submits ; That wisest and best men, full oft beguiled, With goodness principled not to reject The penitent, but ever to forgive, Are drawn to wear out miserable days, Entangled with a poisonous bosom snake, If not by quick destruction soon cut off, As I by thee, to ages an example. Dal. Yet hear me, Samson ; not that I endeavour To lessen or extenuate my offence, But that, on the other side, if it be weigh'd By itself, with aggravations not surcharged, Or else with just allowance counterpoised, I may, if possible, thy pardon find The easier towards me, or thy hatred less. First granting, as I do, it was a weakness In me, but incident to all our sex, Curiosity, inquisitive, importune Of secrets, then with like infirmity To publish them, both common female faults : Was it not weakness also to make known For importunky, that is, for nought, Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety ? To what I did thou showedst me first the way. 292 SAAfSOM AGONISTES. But I to enemies rcveal'd, and should not ; Nor shouldst thou have trusted that to woman's frailty ; Ere I to thce, thou to thyself wast cruel. Let weakness then with weakness come to parle, So near related, or the same of kind, Thine forgive mine ; that men may censure thine The gentler, if severely thou exact not More strength from me than in thyself was found. And what if love, which thou interpret'st hate, The jealousy of love, powerful of sway In human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee, Caused what I did ? I saw thee mutable Of fancy, fear'd lest one day thou wouldst leave me As her at Timna, sought by all means therefore How to endear, and hold thee to me firmest : No better way I saw than by importuning To learn thy secrets, get into my power Thy key of strength and safety. Thou wilt say Why then reveal'd ? I was assured by those Who tempted me, that nothing was design'd Against thee but safe custody and hold : That made for me ; I knew that liberty Would draw thee forth to perilous enterprises While I at home sat full of cares and fears, Wailing thy absence in my widow'd bed ; Here I should still enjoy thee day and night, Mine and love's prisoner, not the Philistines', W T hole to myself, unhazarded abroad, Fearless at home of partners in my love. These reasons in love's law have pass'd for good, Though fond and reasonless to some perhaps ; And love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much woe, Yet always pity or pardon hath obtain'd. Be not unlike all others, not austere As thou art strong, inflexible as steel, If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed, In uncompassionate anger do not so. Saws. How cunningly the sorceress displays Her own transgressions, to upbraid me mine ! That malice, not repentance, brought thee hither, By this appears : I gave, thou sayest, the example, I led the way ; bitter reproach, but true ; I to myself was false ere thou to me ; Such pardon therefore as I give my folly, Take to thy wicked deed ; which when thou seest Impartial, self-severe, inexorable, Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather Confess it feign'd ; weakness is thy excuse, And I believe it, weakness to resist Philistian gold j if weakness may excuse, What murderer, what traitor, parricide, Incestuous, sacrilegious, but may plead it SAMSON A GONIS TES. 293 All wickedness is weakness : that plea therefore With God or man will gain thee no remission. Hut love constrain' d thee ; call it furious rage To satisfy thy lust. Love seeks to have love ; My love how couldst thou hope, who took'st the way To raise in me inexpiable hate, Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betray 'd ? In vain thou strivest to cover shame with shame, Or by evasions thy crime uncover'st more. Dal. Since thou determinest weakness for no plea In man or woman, though to thy own condemning, I lear what assaults I had, what snares besides, What sieges girt me round, ere I consented, Which might have awed the best resolved of men, The constantest, to have yielded without blame. It was not gold, as to my charge thou layest, That wrought with me. Thou know'st the magistrates And princes of my country came in person, Solicited, commanded, threaten 'd, urged, Adjured by all the bonds of civil duty And of religion, press'd how just it was, How honourable, how glorious, to entrap A common enemy, who had destroy'd Such numbers of our nation : and the priest Was not behind, but ever at my ear, Preaching how meritorious with the gods It would be to ensnare an irreligious Dishonourer of Dagon. What had I To oppose against such powerful arguments ? Only my love of thee held long debate, And combated in silence all these reasons With hard contest : at length, that grounded maxim, So rife and celebrated in the mouths Of wisest men, that to the public good Private respects must yield with grave authority Took full possession of me and prevail'd ; Virtue, as I thought, truth, duty, so enjoining. Sams. I thought where all thy circling wiles would end ; In feign'd religion, smooth hypocrisy ! But had thy love, still odiously pretended, Been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught thee Far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds. I, before all the daughters of my tribe And of my nation, chose thee from among My enemies, loved thee, as too well thou knew'st, Too well unbosom'd all my secrets to thee, Not out of levity, but overpower'd By thy request, who could deny thee nothing ; Yet now am judged an enemy. Why then Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband, Then, as since then, thy country's foe profess'd ? Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave 294 SAAKON AGONISTES. Parents nnd country ; nor was I their subject, Nor under their protection, but my own, Thou mine, not theirs. If aught against my life Thy country sought of thee, it sought unjustly, Against the law of nature, law of nations, No more thy country, but an impious crew Df men conspiring to uphold their state By worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends For which our country is a name so dear ; Not therefore to be obey'd. But zeal moved thee To please thy gods thou didst it ; gods unable To acquit themselves and prosecute their foes But by ungodly deeds, the contradiction Of their own deity, gods cannot be ; Less therefore to be pleased, obey'd, or fear'd. These false pretexts and varnish'd colours failing, Bare in thy guilt, how foul must thou appear ! Dal. In argument with men a woman ever Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. Sams. For want of words, no doubt, or lack of breath. Witness when I was worried with thy peals. Dal. I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistaken In what I thought would have succeeded best. Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Samson, Afford me place to show what recompense Towards thee I intend for what I have misdone, Misguided ; only what remains past cure Bear not too sensibly, nor still insist To afflict thyself in vain. Though sight be lost, Life yet hath many solaces, enjoy'd Where other senses want not their delights, At home, in leisure and domestic ease, Exempt from many a care and chance, to which Eyesight exposes daily men abroad. I to the lords will intercede, not doubting Their favourable ear, that I may fetch thee From forth this loathsome prison-house, to abide With me, where my redoubled love and care, With nursing diligence, to me glad office, May ever tend about thee to old age, With all things grateful cheer'd, and so supplied, That, what by me thou hast lost, thou least shalt miss. Sams. No, no ; of my condition take no care; It fits not ; thou and I long since are twain ; N T or think me so unwary or accursed, To bring my feet again into the snare Where once I have been caught. I know thy trains, Though dearly to my cost, thy gins, and toils, Thy fair enchanted cup and warbling charms No more on me have power, their force is null'd, So much of adder's wisdom I have learn'd To fence my ear against thy sorceries. SAMSON- ACONISTES. 295 If, in my flower of youth and strength, when all men Loved, honour'd, fear'd me, thou alone couldst hate me Thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forego me ; I low wouldst thou use me now, blind, and thereby Deceivable, in most things as a child Helpless, thence easily contemn'd and scorn'd, And last neglected ? How wouldst thou insult, When I must live uxorious to thy will In perfect thraldom, how again betray me, Bearing my words and doings to the lords To gloss upon, and, censuring, frown or smile ! This jail I count the house of liberty To thine, whose doors my feet shall never enter. Dal. Let me approach at least and touch thy hand. Sams. Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance w?k<. My sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint. At distance I forgive thee, go with that, Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious works It hath brought forth to make thee memorable Among illustrious women, faithful wives! Cherish thy hasten'd widowhood with the gold Of matrimonial treason : so farewell. Dal. I see thou art implacable, more deaf To prayers than winds and seas, yet winds to seas Are reconciled at length, and sea to shore : Thy anger unappeasable still rages, Eternal tempest never to be calm'd. Why do I humble thus myself, and, suing For peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate ? Bid go with evil omen, and the brand Of infamy upon my name denounced? To mix with thy concernments I desist Henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own. Fame, if not double-faced, is double-mouth'd, And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds; On both his wings, one black, the other white, Bears greatest names in his wild aery flight. My name perhaps among the circumcised, In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering tribes, To all posterity may stand defamed, With malediction mention'd, and the blot Of falsehood most unconjugal traduced. But in my country, where I most desire, In Ecron, Gaza, Ashdod, and in Gath, 1 shall be named among the famousest Of women, sung at solemn festivals, Living and dead recorded, who, to save Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose Above the faith of wedlock-bands, my tomb With odours visited and annual flowers ; Not less renown'd than in Mount Ephraim Tael. who, with inhospitable guile, - c - 1 -IKO. V A GOXISTES. Smote Sisera sleeping through the temples nailYl. Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy The public marks of honour and reward, Conferred upon me for the piety Which to my country I was judged to have shown. At this who ever envies or repines, I leave him to his lot, and like my own. Chor. She's gone, a manifest serpent, by her sting Discover'd in the end, till now conceal'd. Sams. So let her go ; God sent her to debase me, And aggravate my folly, who committed To such a viper his most sacred trust Of secresy, my safety, and my life. Chor. Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd, nor can be easily Repulsed, without much inward passion felt, And secret sting of amorous remorse. Sams. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end ; Not wedlock-treachery endangering life. Chor. It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit, Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, That woman's love can win, or long inherit ; But what it is, hard is to say, Harder to hit, Which way soever men refer it, Much like thy riddle, Samson, in one day Or seven, though one should musing sit. Tf any of these, or all, the Timnian bride Had not so soon preferr'd Thy paranymph, worthless to thee compared, Successor in thy bed, Nor both so loosely disallied Their nuptials, nor this last so treacherously Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head, Is it for that such outward ornament Was lavished on their sex, that inward gifts Were left for haste unfmish'd, judgment scant, Capacity not raised to apprehend Or value what is best In choice, but oftest to affect the wrong? Or was too much of self-love mix'd, Of constancy no root infix'd, That either they love nothing, or not long? Whate'er it be to wisest men and best Seeming at first all heavenly under virgin vale Soft, modest, meek, demure, Once join'd, the contrary she proves, a thorn Intestine, far within defensive arms A cleaving mischief, in his way to virtue Adverse and turbulent, or by her charms Draws him awry, enslaved SAMSON" A GONfSTES. 2} With dotage, and his sense depraved To folly and shameful deeds, which ruin ends. What pilot so expert but needs must wreck, Embark'd with such a steers-mate at the helm ? Favour'd of heaven who finds One virtuous, rarely found, That in domestic good combines; Happy that house ! his way to peace is smooth ; But virtue, which breaks through all opposition, And all temptation can remove, Most shines, and most is acceptable above Therefore God's universal law Gave to the man despotic power Over his female in due awe, Nor from that right to part an hour, Smile she or lour : So shall he least confusion draw On his whole life, not sway'd By female usurpation, or dismay'd. But had we best retire ? I see a storm. Sams. Fair days have oft contracted wind and rain. Chor. But this another kind of tempest brings. Sams. Be less abtruse, my riddling days are past. Chor. Look now for no enchanting voice, nor fear The bait of honey'd words ; a rougher tongue Draws hitherward ; I know him by his stride, The giant Harapha of Gath, his look Haughty, as is his pile high-built and proud. Comes he in peace ? What wind hath blown him hither I less conjecture, than when first I saw The sumptuous Dalila floating this way : His habit carries peace, his brow defiance. Sams. Or peace or not, alike to me he comes. Chor. His fraught we now shall know, he now arrives. Har. I come not, Samson, to condole thy chance, As these perhaps, yet wish it had not been, Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath, Men call me Harapha, of stock renown'd As Og, or Anak, and the Emims old That Kiriathaim held ; thou know'st me now If thou at all art known. Much I have heard Of thy prodigious might, and feats perform 'd, Incredible to me, in this displeased, That I was never present on the place Of those encounters, where we might have tried Each other's force in camp or listed field ; And now am come to see of whom such noise Hath walk'd about, and each limb to survey, If thy appearance answer loud report. Sams. The way to know were not to see, but taste. Har. Dost thou already single me ? I thought Gyves and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortune 298 SAMSON A GONISTES. I Fad "brought me to the field where them art famed To have wrought such wonders with an ass's jaw ! I should have forced thee soon with other arms, Or left thy carcass where the ass lay thrown ; So had the glory of prowess been recover'd To Palestine, won by a Philistine, From the unforeskinn'd race, of whom thou bear'st The highest name for valiant acts ; that honour, Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out. Sams. Boast not of what thou wouldst have done, but do What then thou wouldst, thou seest it in thy hand. liar. To combat with a blind man I disdain, And thou hast need much washing, to be touch'd. Sams. Such usage as your honourable lords Afford me, assassinated and betray'd, Who durst not with their whole united powers In fight withstand me single and unarm'd, Nor in the house with chamber-ambushes Close-banded durst attack me, no, not sleeping, Till they had hired a woman with their gold, Breaking her marriage-faith to circumvent me. Therefore without feign'd shifts let be assign'd Some narrow place enclosed, where sight may give thee, Or rather flight, no great advantage on me ; Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmet And brigandine of brass, thy broad habergeon, Vant-brass and greaves, and gauntlet, add thy spear A weaver's beam, and seven-times folded shield, I only with an oaken staff will meet thee, And raise such outcries on thy clatter'd iron, Which long shall not withhold me from thy head, That in a little time, while breath remains thee, Thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath, to boast Again in safety what thou wouldst have done To Samson, but shall never see Gath more. Har. Thou dost not thus disparage glorious arms, Which greatest heroes have in battle worn, Their ornament and safety, had not spells And black enchantment, some magician's art, Arm'd thee, or charm'd thee strong, which thou from heaven Feign'dst at thy birth was given thee in thy hair, Where strength can least abide, though all thy hairs Were bristles ranged like those that ridge the back Of chafed wild boars or ruffled porcupines. Sams. I know no spells, use no forbidden arts ; My trust is in the living God, who gave me At my nativity this strength, diffused No less through all my sinews, joints, and bones, Than thine, while I preserved these locks unshorn, The pledge of my unviolated vow. For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy god, SAMSON A GONISTES. 299 Go to his temple, invocate his aid With solemnest devotion, spread before him How highly it concerns his glory now To frustrate and dissolve these magic spells, Which I to be the power of Israel's God Avow, and challenge Dagon to the test, Offering to combat thee, his champion bold, With the utmost of his godhead seconded : Then thou shalt see, or rather to thy sorrow Soon feel, whose God is strongest, thine or mine. Har. Presume not on thy God, whate'er he be Thee he regards not, owns not, hath cut off Quite from his people, and deliver'd up Into thy enemies' hand, permitted them To put out both thine eyes, and fetter'd send thee Into the common prison, there to grind Among the slaves and asses, thy comrades, As good for nothing else, no better service With those thy boisterous locks, no worthy match For valour to assail, nor by the sword Of noble warrior, so to stain his honour, But by the barber's razor best subdued. Sams. All these indignities, for sucli they are From thine, these evils I deserve, and more, Acknowledge them from God inflicted on me Justly, yet despair not of his final pardon, Whose ear is ever open, and his eye Gracious to re-admit the suppliant ; In confidence whereof I once again Defy thee to the trial of mortal fight, By combat to decide whose god is God, Thine, or whom I with Israel's sons adore. Har. Fair honour that thou dost thy God, in trusting He will accept thee to defend his cause, A murderer, a revolter, and a robber. Sams. Tongue-doughty giant, how dost thou prove me these ? Har. Is not thy nation subject to our lords? Their magistrates confess'd it, when they took thee As a league-breaker, and deliver'd bound Into our hands ; for hadst thou not committed Notorious murder on those thirty men At Ascalon, who never did thee harm, Then like a robber stripp'dst them of their robes? The Philistines, when thou hadst broke the league, W r ent up with armed powers thee only seeking, To others did no violence nor spoil. Sams. Among the daughters of the Philistines I chose a wife, which argued me no foe And in your city held my nuptial feast : I'.ut your ill-meaning politician lords, Under pretence of bridal friends and guests. 300 SAMSON AGONISTES. Appointed to await me thirty spies, "Who threatening cruel death constraint! the bride To wring from me and tell to them my secret, That solved the riddle which I had proposed. When I perceived all set on enmity, As on my enemies, wherever chanced, I used hostility, and took their spoil To pay my underminers in their coin. My nation was subjected to your lords ! It was the force of conquest ; force with force Is well ejected when the conquer'd can. But I, a private person, whom my country As a league-breaker gave up bound, presumed Single rebellion, and did hostile acts. I was no private, but a person raised With strength sufficient and command from Heaven To free my country ; if their servile minds Me their deliverer sent would not receive, But to their masters gave me up for nought, The un worthier they ; whence to this day they serve, I was to do my part, from Heaven assign'd, And had perform'd it, if my known offence Had not disabled me, not all your force : These shifts refuted, answer thy appellant, Though by his blindness maim'd for high attempts, Who now defies thee thrice to single fight, As a petty enterprise of small enforce. Har. With thee, a man condemn'd, a slave enroll'd, Due by the law to capital punishment? To fight with thee no man of arms will deign. Sams. Camest thou for this, vain boaster, to survey me, To descant on my strength, and give thy verdict? Come nearer, part not hence so slight inform'd ; But take good heed my hand survey not thee. Har. O Baal-zebub ! can my ears unused Hear these dishonours, and not render death ? Sams. No man withholds thee, nothing from thy hand Fear I incurable ; bring up thy van, My heels are fetter'd, but my fist is free. Har. This insolence other kind of answer fits. Sams. Go, baffled coward, lest I run upon thee. Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast, And with one buffet lay thy structure low, Or swing thee in the air, then dash thee down To the hazard of thy brains and shatter'd sides. Har. By Astaroth ere long thou shalt lament These braveries, in irons loaden on thee. Chor. His giantshipis gone somewhat crest-fallen, Stalking with less unconscionable strides, And lower looks, but in a sultry chafe. Sams. I dread him not,- nor all his giant brood. SAMSON- A GON2STES. 30 1 Though fame divulge him father of five sons, All of gigantic sixe, Goliah chief. Chor. He will directly to the lords, I fear, And with malicious counsel stir them up Some way or other yet further to afflict thee. Sams. He must allege some cause, and offer'd fight Will not dare mention, lest a question rise Whether he durst accept the offer or not, And, that he durst not, plain enough appear'd Much more affliction than already felt They cannot well impose, nor I sustain, If they intend advantage of my labours, The work of many hands, which earns my keeping With no small profit daily to my owners. But come what will, my deadliest foe will prove My speediest friend, by death to rid me hence, The worst that he can give, to me the best. Yet so it may fall out, because their end Is hate, not help to me, it may with mine Draw their own ruin who attempt the deed. Chor. Oh, how comely it is, and how reviving To the spirits of just men long oppress'd ! When God into the hands of their deliverer Puts invincible might To quell the mighty of the earth, the oppressor, The brute and boisterous force of violent men, Hardy and industrious to support Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue The rignteous, and all such as honour truth ; He all their ammunition And feats of war defeats, With plain heroic magnitude of mind And celestial vigour arm'd, Their armouries and magazines contemns, Renders them useless, while With winged expedition, Swift as the lightning glance, he executes His errand on the wicked, who surprised Lose their defence distracted and amazed. But patience is more oft the exercise Of saints, the trial of their fortitude, Making them each his own deliverer, And victor over all That tyranny or fortune can inflict. Either of these is in thy lot, Samson, with might endued Above the sons of men ; but sight bereaved May chance to number thee with those Whom patience finally must crown. This idol's day hath been to thee no day of rest. Labouring thy mind ^Jws than the working day thy hands. 3 02 SA MS OAT A GOtflSTES. And yet perhaps more trouble is behind, For I descry this way Some other tending, in his hand A sceptre or quaint staff he bears, Comes on amain, speed in his look. By his habit I discern him now A public officer, and now at hand ; His message will be short and voluble. Off. Hebrews, the prisoner Samson here I seek. Chor. His manacles remark him, there he sits. Off. Samson, to thee our lords thus bid me say; Phis day to Dagon is a solemn feast, With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games ; Thy strength they know surpassing human rate, And now some public proof thereof require To honour this great feast, and great assembly; Rise therefore with all speed, and come along, Where I will see thee hearten'd and fresh clad To appear as fits before the illustrious lords. Sams. Thou know'st I am an Hebrew, therefore tell them, Our law forbids at their religious rites My presence ; for that cause I cannot come. Off. This answer, be assured, will not content them. Sams. Have they not sword -players, and every sort Of gymnic artists, wrestlers, riders, runners, Jugglers, and dancers, antics, mummers, mimics, But they must pick me out, with shackles 'tired, And over-labour'd at their public mill, To make them sport with blind activity? Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels, On my refusal, to distress me more, Or make a game of my calamities ; Return the way thou earnest, I will not come. Off. Regard thyself, this will offend them highly. Sains. Myself? my conscience, and internal oeace. Can they think me so broken, so debased With corporal servitude, that my mind ever Will condescend to such absurd commands ? Although their drudge, to be their fool or jester, And in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief To show them feats, and play before their god, The worst of all indignities, yet on me Join'd with extreme contempt? I will not come. Off. My message was imposed on me with speed, Brooks no delay. Is this thy resolution? Sams. So take it with what speed thy message needs. Off. I am sorry what this stoutness will produce. Sams. Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow indeed. Chor. Consider, Samson, matters now are strain'd Up to the height, whether to hold or breakc He's gone, and who knows how he may report V S.L1/SOJV AGOA'fSTES. 303 Thy words, by adding fuel to the flame ? Expect another message, more imperious, More lordly thundering than thou well wilt bear Sams. Shall I abuse this consecrated gift Of strength, again returning with my heir After my great transgression, so requite Favour renew'd, and add a greater sin By prostituting holy things to idols ; A Nazarite, in place abominable, Vaunting my strength in honour to their Dagon ? Besides, how vile, contemptible, ridiculous, What act more execrably unclean, profane ? Chor. Yet with this strength thou servest the Philistines Idolatrous, uncircumcised, unclean. Sams. Not in their idol-worship, but by labour, Honest and lawful, to deserve my food Of those who have me in their civil power. Chor. Where the heart joins not, outward acts defile not. Sams. Where outward force constrains, the sentence holds. But who constrains me to the temple of Dagon, Not dragging? The Philistian lords command : Commands are no constraints. If I obey them, I do it freely, venturing to displease God for the fear of man, and man prefer, Set God behind ; which, in his jealousy, Shall never, unrepented, find lorgiveness. Yet that he' may dispense with me or thee Present in temples at idolatrous rites For some important cause, thou needst not doubt. Chor. How thou wilt here come off surmounts my reach Sams. Be of good courage ; I begin to feel Some rousing motions in me, which dispose To something extraordinary my thoughts. I with this messenger will go along, Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonour Our law, or stain my vow of Nazarite. If there be aught of presage in the mind, This day will be remarkable in my life By some great act, or of my days the last. Chor. In time thou hast resolved, the man returns Off. Samson, this second message from our lords To thee I am bid say : Art thou our slave, Our captive, at the public mill our drudge, And darest thou, at our sending and command, Dispute thy coming? Come without delay ; Or we shall find such engines to assail And hamper thee, as thou shalt come of u/i'cs, Though thou wert firmlier fasten'd than a rock. Sams. I could be well content to try their art, Which to no few of them would prove pernicious. 4 , 04 SAMSON AGONISTES. Yet knowing their advantages toe many, Because they shall not trail me through their stieels Like a wild beast, I am content to go. Masters' commands come with a power resistless To such as owe them absolute subjection ; And for a life who will not change his purpose? So mutable are all the ways of men. Vet this be sure, in nothing to comply Scandalous or forbidden in our law. Off. I praise thy resolution : doff these links ; By this compliance thou wilt win the lords To favour, and, perhaps, to set thee free. Sams. Brethren, farewell ; your company alon:; I will not wish, lest it perhaps offend them To see me girt with friends ; and how the sight Of me, as of a common enemy, So dreaded once, may now exasperate them, I know not. Lords are lordliest in their wine : And the well-feasted priest then soonest fired With zeal, if aught religion seem concernM ; No less the people, on their holy days Impetuous, insolent, unquenchable : Happen what may, of me expect to hear Nothing dishonourable, impure, unworthy Our God, our law, my nation, or myself, The last of me or no, I cannot warrant. Chor. Go, and the Holy One Of Israel be thy guide To what may serve his glory best, and spread his name Great among the heathen round ; Send thee the angel of thy birth, to stand Fast by thy side, who, from thy father's field, Rode up in flames after his message told Of thy conception, and be now a shield Of fire ; that spirit, that first rush'd on the In the camp of Dan, Be efficacious in thee now at need. For never was from Heaven imparted Measure of strength so great to mortal seed, As in thy wondrous actions hath been seen. But wherefore comes old Manoah in such haste With youthful steps ? much livelier than erewhile He seems ; supposing here to find his son, Or of him bringing to us some glad news ? Man. Peace with you, brethren ! my inducement hither Was not at present here to find my son, By order of the lords new parted hence, To come and play before them at their feast. I heard all as I came, the city rings, And numbers thither flock ; I had no will, Lest I should see him forced to things unseemly, But that which moved my coming now was chiefl) SAMSON' AGONISTES. 305 To give ye part with me what hope I have, With good success, to work his liberty. Chor. That hope would much rejoice us to partake With thee ; say, reverend sire, we thirst to hear. Man. I have attempted, one by one, the lords Either at home, or through the high street passing, With supplication prone, and father's tears, To accept of ransom for my son, their prisoner. Some much averse I found, and wondrous harsh, Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite ; That part most reverenced Dagon and his priests : Others more moderate seeming, but their aim Private reward, for which both god and state They easily would set to sale : a third More generous far and civil, who confess'd They had enough* revenged, having reduced Their foe to misery beneath their fears, The rest was magnanimity to remit, If some convenient ransom were proposed. What noise or shout was that ? it tore the sky. Chor. Doubtless, the people shouting to behold Their once great dread, captive, and blind before them. Or at some proof of strength before them shown. Man. His ransom, if my whole inheritance May compass it, shall willingly be paid And number'd down : much rather I shall choose To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest, And he in that calamitous prison left. No, I am fix'd not to part hence without him. For his redemption all my patrimony, If need be, I am ready to forego And quit : not wanting him, 1 shall want nothing. Chor. Fathers are wont to lay up for their sons ; Thou for thy son art bent to lay out all : Sons wont to nurse their parents in old age, Thou in old age carest how to nurse thy son, Made older than thy age through eyesight lost. Man. It shall be my delight to tend his eyes, And view him sitting in the house, ennobled With all those high exploits by him achieved, And on his shoulders waving down those locks, That of a nation arm'd the strength contairi'd ; And I persuade me, God hath not permitted I lis strength again to grow up with his hair, Garrison'd round about him like a camp Of faithful soldiery, were not his purpose To use him further yet in some great service : Not to sit idle with so great a gift Useless, and thence ridiculous, about him. And since his strength with eyesight was not lost God will restore him eyesight to his strength. Chor. Thy hopes are not ill founded, nor seem vain M MS ON A GOJVIS TKS. Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon Conceived, agreeable to a father's love, In both which we, as next, participate. Man. I know your friendly minds, and O what noise ! Mercy of heaven, what hideous noise was that? Horribly loud, unlike the former shout. Chor. Noise call you it, or universal groan, As if the whole inhabitation perish'd ! Blood, death, and deathful deeds are in that noise, Ruin, destruction at the utmost point. Man. Of ruin, indeed, methought I heard the noise : Oh, it continues, they have slain my son. Chor. Thy son is rather slaying them, that outcry From slaughter of one foe could not ascend. Man. Some dismal accident it needs must be ; What shall we do, stay here, or run and see ? Chor. Best keep together here, lest running thither We unawares run into danger's mouth. This evil on the Philistines is fallen ; From whom could else a general cry be heard ? The sufferers then will scarce molest us here, From other hands we need not much to fear. What if his eyesight, for to Israel's God Nothing is hard, by miracle restored, lie now be dealing dole among his foes, And over heaps of slaughter'd walk his way ? Man. That were a joy presumptuous to be thought. Chor. Yet God hath wrought things as incredible For his people of old ; what hinders now? Man. He can, I know, but doubt to think he will ; Yet hope would fain subscribe, and tempts belief. A little stay will bring some notice hither. Chor. Of good or bad so great, of bad the sooner ; For evil news rides post, while good news baits. And to our wish I see one hither speeding, An Hebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe. Mess. Oh, whither shall I run, or which way fly The sight of this so horrid spectacle, Which erst my eyes beheld, and yet behold ? For dire imagination still pursues me. But Providence or instinct of nature seems, Or reason, though distnrb'd, and. scarce consulted, To have guided me aright, I know not how, To thee first, reverend Manoah, and to these My countrymen, whom here I knew remaining, As at some distance from the place of horror, So in the sad event too much concern'd. Man. The accident was loud, and here before thee, "With rueful cry, yet what it was we hear not ; No preface needs, thou seest we long to know. Mess. It would burst forth, but I recover breath And sense distract, to know well what I utter. SAMSON- AGONISTES. . O7 Man. Tell us the sum, the circumstance defer. Mess. Gaza yet stands, but all her sons are fallen, All in a moment ovenvhelm'd and fallen. Man. Sad ; but thou know'st to Israelites not saddest The desolation of a hostile city. Mess. Feed on that first, there may in grief be surfeit. Man. Relate by whom. Mess. By Samson. Man. That still lessens The sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy. Mess. Ah ! Manoah, I refrain too suddenly To utter what will come at last too soon ; Lest evil tidings, with too rude irruption, Hitting thy aged ea., should pierce too deep. Man. Suspense in news is torture, speak them out. Mess. Take then the worst in brief, Samson is dead. Man. The worst indeed. Oh, all my hopes defeated To free him hence ! but death, who sets all free, Hath paid his ransom now, and full discharge. What windy joy this day had I conceived, Hopeful of his delivery, which now proves Abortive as the first-born bloom of spring, Nipt with the lagging rear of winter's frost ! Yet ere 1 give the reins to grief, say first, How died he? death to life is crown or shame. All by him fell, thou sayest, by whom fell he? What glorious hand gave Samson his death's wound ? Mess. Unwounded of his enemies he fell. Man. Wearied with slaughter then, or how ? explain. Mess. By his own hands. Man. Self-violence? what cause Brought him so soon at variance with himself Among his foes ? Mess. Inevitable cause At once both to destroy, and be destroyed ; The edifice, where all were met to see him. Upon their heads and on his own he pull'd. Man. Oh, lastly over-strong against thyself ! A dreadful way thou took'st to thy revenge. More than enough we know ; but, while things yet Are in confusion, give us, if thou canst, Eye-witness of what first or last was done, Relation more particular and distinct. Mess. Occasions drew me early to this city, And, as the gates I enter'd with sun-rise, The morning trumpets festival proclaim'd Through each high street. Little I had despatch'd, When all abroad was rumour'd, that this day Samson should be brought forth, to show the people Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games ; I sorrow'd at his captive state, but minded Not to be absent at that spectacle. SAMSON AGON ISTES. The building was a spacious theatre, Half-round, on two main pillars vaulted high, With seats, where all the lords, and each degree Of sort, might sit in order to behold ; The other side was open, where the throng, On banks and scaffolds, under sky might stand ; I among these aloof obscurely stood. The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice Had fill'd their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine, When to their sports they turn'd. Immediately Was Samson as a public servant brought, In their state livery clad ; before him pipes And timbrels, on each side went armed guards, Both horse and foot, before him and behind, Archers, and slingers, cataphracts, and spears. At sight of him the people with a shout Rifted the air, clamouring their god with praise, Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall. lie, patient, but undaunted, where they led him, Came to the place, and what was set before him, Which without help of eye might be essay'd, To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still perform' d All with incredible stupendous force, None daring to appear antagonist. At length, for intermission's sake, they led him Between the pillars ; he his guide requested, For so from such as nearer stood we heard, As over-tired, to let him lean awhile With both his arms on those two massy pillars, That to the arched roof gave main support. He unsuspicious led him ; which, when Samson Felt in his arms, with head awhile inclined, And eyes fast fix'd, he stood, as one who pray'd, Or some great matter in his mind revolved : At last, with head erect, thus cried aloud : Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed I have perform'd, as reason was, obeying, Not without wonder or delight beheld : Now, of my own accord, such other trial I mean to show you of my strength, yet greater ; As with amaze shall strike all who behold. This utter'd, straining all his nerves, he bow'd, As with the force of winds and waters pent, \Vhen mountains tremble, those two massy pillars With horrible convulsion to and fro He tugg'd, he shook, till down they came, and drew The whole roof after them, with burst of thunder Upon the heads of all who sat beneath, Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, or priests, Their choice nobility and flower, not only Of this, but each Philistian city round, Met from all parts to solemnise this feast , SAMSON AGONISTES. Samson, with these immix'd, inevitably Pull'd down the same destruction on himself; The vulgar only 'scaped who stood without. Chor. O dearly-bought revenge, yet glorious! Living or dying thou hast fulfill'd The work for which thou wast foretold To Israel, and now liest victorious Among thy slain, self-kill'd Not willingly, but tangled in the fold Of dire necessity, whose law in death conjoin'd Thee with thy slaughter'd foes in number more Than all thy life had slain before. 1 Semichor. While their hearts were jocund and sublime, Drunk with idolatry, drunk with wine, And fat regorged of bulls and goats, Chanting their idol, and preferring IJefore our Living Dread, who dwells in Silo, his bright sanctuary; Among them he a spirit of frenzy sent, Who hurt their minds, And urged them on with mad desire To call in haste for their destroyer ; They, only set on sport and play, Unweetingly importuned Their own destruction to come speedy upon them. So fond are mortal men, Fallen into wrath divine, As their own nun on themselves to invite, Insensate left, or to sense reprobate, And with blindness internal struck. 2 Semichor. But he, though blind of sight, Despised, and thought extinguish'd quite, With inward eyes illuminated, Mis fiery virtue roused From under ashes into sudden flame, And as an evening dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts And nests in order ranged Of tame villatic fowl ; but as an eagle His cloudless thunder bolted on their heads. So virtue, given for lost, Depress'd, and overthrown, as seem'd, Like that self-begotten bird In the Arabian woods embost, That no second knows, nor third, And lay erewhile a holocaust, From out her ashy womb now teem'd, Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most When most unactive deem'd ; And, though her body die, her fame survives, A secular bird, ages of lives. Man. Come, come, no time for lamentation now, SAMSON AGONISTES. Nor much more cause ; Samson hath quit himself Like Samson, and heroically hath finish'd A life heroic, on his enemies Fully revenged, hath left them years of mourning. And lamentation to the sons of Caphtor Through all Philistian bounds. To Israel Honour hath left, and freedom, let but them Find courage to lay hold on this occasion ; To himself and father's house eternal fame ; And, which is best and happiest yet, all this With God not parted from him, as was fear'd, But favouring and assisting to the end. Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble. Let us go find the body where it lies Soak'd in his enemies' blood, and from the stream. With lavers pure, and cleansing herbs, wash off The clotted gore. I, with what speed the while, Gaza is not in plight to say us nay, Will send for all my kindred, all my friends, To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend, With silent obsequy, and funeral train, Home to his father's house : there will I build him A monument, and plant it round with shade Of laurel ever green, and branching palm, With all his trophies hung, and acts enroll'd In copious legend, or sweet lyric song. Thither shall all the valiant youth resort, And from his memory inflame their breasts To matchless valour, and adventures high: The virgins also shall on feastful days Visit his tomb with flowers, only bewailing His lot unfortunate in nuptial choice, From whence captivity and loss of eyes. Chor. All is best, though we oft doubt. What the unsearchable dispose Of Highest Wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft he seems to hide his face, But unexpectedly returns, And to his faithful champion hath in place Lore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns, And all that band them to resist His uncontrollable intent ; His servants he, with new acquist Of true experience from this great event, With peace and consolation hath dismiss'd, And calm of mind, all passion spent L Y C I D A S. In this Monody, the author bewails a learned friend, unfortunately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637 ; and by occasion foretells the ruin of our corrupted clergy, then in their height. YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more, Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude ; And, with forced fingers rude, Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew, Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. He must not float upon his watery bier Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, Without the meed of some melodious tear. Begin then, sisters of the sacred well, That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring; Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. Hence with denial vain,- and coy excuse, So may some gentle Muse With lucky words favour my destined urn, And as he passes turn, And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud. For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, We drove a field, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, Oft till the star, that rose at evening bright, Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering wheel. Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, L YCIDAS. Temper'd to the oaten flute ; Rough satyrs danced, and fauns with cloven heel From the glad sound would not be absent long, And old Damcetas loved to hear our song. But, O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return ! Thee, shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes mourn. The willows, and the hazel copses green, Shall now no more be seen Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. As killing as the canker to the rose, Or taRit-worm to the weanling herds that graze, Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, When first the white-thorn blows ; Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. Where were ye, nymphs, when the remorseless deep Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream : Ah me ! I fondly dream, Had ye been there, for what could that have done ? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, Whom universal nature did lament, When, by the rout that made the hideous roar, His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? Alas ! what boots it with incessant care To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade, And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? Were it not better done, as others use, To sport with Amaryllis, in the shade, Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair ? Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days ; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. But not the praise, Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears ; Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed. LYCIDAS. 3,3 O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour'd flood, Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds, That strain I heard was of a higher mood : But now my oat proceeds, And listens to the herald of the sea That came in Neptune's plea ; He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds, What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain ? And question'd every gust of rugged wings That blows from off each beaked promontory : They knew not of his story, And sage Hippotades their answer brings, That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd ; The air was calm, and on the level brine Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark. That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow, His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge, Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe. Ah ! who hath reft, quoth he, my dearest pledge? Last came, and last did go, The pilot of the Galilean lake ; Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain, (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain,) He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake, How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake, Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold ! Of other care they little reckoning make, Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest ; Blind mouth.; ! that scarce themselves know how to holo A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least That to the faithful herdsman's art belongs ! What recks it them ? What need they ? They are And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw : The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But, swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; Besides what the grim wolf, with privy paw, Daily devours apace, and nothing said ; But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells, and flowerets of a thousand hues. Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 314 LYCIDAS. Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, ( )n whose frcsli lap the swart star sparely looks ; Throw hither all your quaint cnamell'd eyes, That on the green turf suck the honey'd showers, And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears : Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. For, so to interpose a little ease, Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. Ah me ! whilst thee the shores, and sounding seas Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old, Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks towards Namancos and Bayona's hold ; Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor ; So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and, with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky ; So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of him that walk'd the waves, Where other groves, and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood. Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, While the still morn went out with sandals gray, lie touch'd the tender stops of various quills, ' LYCIDAS. With eager thought warbling his Doric lay ; And now the sun had stretch'd out all the hills, And now was dropt into the western bay ; At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue : To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 315 - IL PENSEROSO, HENCE, vain deluding joys, The brood of Folly, without father bred, How little you bestead, Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. But hail, thou goddess, sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue ; Black, but such as in esteem Prince Memnon's sister might beseem, Or that starr' d Ethiop queen that strove To set her beauty's praise above The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended : Yet thou art higher far descended ; Thee, bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore, To solitary Saturn bore ; His daughter she (in Saturn's reign, Such mixture was not held a stain). Oft in glimmering bowers and glades He met her, and in secret shades Of woody Ida's inmost grove, While yet there was no fear of Jove. Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train, JL PENSEROSO. And sable stole of Cyprus lawn, Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted state, With even step, and musing gait, And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till, With a sad leaden downward cast, Thou fix them on the earth as fast ; And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring Aye round about Jove's altar sing ; And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure. But first, and chiefest, with thee bring, Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery- wheeled throne, The cherub Contemplation ; And the mute Silence hist along, 'Less Philomel will deign a song, In her sweetest, saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke, Gently o'er the accustom'd oak ; Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy ! Thee, chantress, oft the woods among I woo, to hear thy even-song ; And, missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way; And oft, as if her head she bow'd, Stooping through a fleecy cloud. Oft on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound, Over some wide-water'd shore, Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or, if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom ; Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm. Or let my lamp, at midnight hour, Be seen in some high lonely tower, IL PENSEROSO. Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere The spirit of Plato, to unfold What worlds, or what vast regions hold The immortal mind, that hath forsook Her mansion in this fleshly nook : And of those demons that are found In fire, air, flood, or under ground, Whose power hath a true consent With planet, or with clement. Some time let gorgeous Tragedy, In sceptred pall, come sweeping by. Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, Or the tale of Troy divine, Or what (though rare) of later age Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. But, O sad virgin, that thy power Might raise Musceus from his bower, Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, And made hell grant what love did seek. Or call up him that left half told The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That own'd the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass, On which the Tartar king did ride j And if aught else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of turneys and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear. Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career. Till civil-suited Morn appear, Not trick' d and frounced as she was wont With the Attic boy to hunt, But kerchefd in a comely cloud, While rocking winds are piping loud, Or usher'd with a shower still, When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves, With minute drops from off the eaves. And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt. IL PENSEROSO. There in close covert by some brook Where no profaner eye may look, Hide me from day's garish eye, While the bee, with honey'd thigh, That at her flowery work doth sing, And the waters murmuring, With such consort as they keep, Entice the dewy-feather* d sleep ; And let some strange mysterious dream Wave at his wings in airy stream Of lively portraiture display'd, Softly on my eyelids laid. And, as I wake, sweet music breathe Above, about, or underneath, Sent by some spirit to mortals good Or the unseen genius of the wood But let my due feet never fail To walk the studious cloisters pale, And love the high embower'd roof, With antique pillars massy proof, And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light : There let the pealing organ blow, To the full voiced choir below, In service high, and anthems clear, As may with sweetness, through mine ear, Dissolve me into ecstasies, And bring all heaven before mine eyes. And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth show, And every herb that sips the dew ; Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain. These pleasures, Melancholy, give, And I with thee will choose to live. 319 L'ALLEGRO. HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night raven sings ; There, under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. But come, thou goddess fair and free, In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, And, by men, heart-easing Mirth, Whom lovely Venus, at a birth, With two sister Graces more, To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ; Or whether (as some sages sing) The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr, with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-Maying ; There, on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair. Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek ; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it, as you go, On the light fantastic toe ; And in thy right hand lead with thee L> ALLEGRO. 321 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty; And, if I give thee honour due, Mirth, admit me of thy crew, To live with her, and live with thee, In unreproved pleasures free ; To hear the lark begin his flight, And, singing, startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good-morrow, Through the sweet-briar, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine : While the cock, with lively din, Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn-door, Stoutly struts his dames before : Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, From the side of some hoar hill, Through the high wood echoing shrill ; Sometime walking, not unseen, By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green Right against the eastern gate, Where the great sun begins his state, Robed in flames, and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Whilst the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray, Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim, with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies. The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes, From betwixt two aged oaks, Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, Are at their savoury dinner set Of herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses ; And then in haste the bower she leaves, 322 V ALLEGRO. With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; Or, if the earlier season lead, To the tann'd haycock in the mead. Sometimes, with secure delight, The upland hamlets wHl invite, When 'the merry bells ring round, And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth, and many a maid, Dancing in the chequer'd shade; And young and old come forth to pla> On a sunshine holiday, Till the live-long daylight fail ; Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets eat ; She was pinch'd, and pull'd, she said, And he, by friar's lantern led, Tells how the drudging goblin sweat, To earn his cream-bowl duly set, When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn=, His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn, That ten day-labourers could not end ; Then lies him down the lubber fiend, And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length. Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whispering winds soon lull'd asleep. Tower'd cities please us then, And the busy hum of men, Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit, or arms, while both contend To win her grace, whom all commend. There let Hymen oft appear In saffron robe, with taper clear, And pomp, and feast, and revelry, \Vith mask, and antique pageantry ; Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild. And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft I.ydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce. In notes, with many a winding bout VALLEGRO. 323 Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus' self may heave his head, From golden slumber on a bed Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear Such strains as would have won the ear Of Pluto, to have quite set free His half-regain'd Eurydice. These delights if thou canst give, Mirth, with thee I mean to live. ARCADES. Fart of an Entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of Derby, at Harefield, by some noble persons of her family ; who appear on the scene in pastoral habit, moving toward the seat of state, with this song. SONG I. LOOK, nymphs, and shepherds, look, What sudden blaze of majesty Is that which we from hence descry, Too divine to be mistook? This, this is she To whom our vows and wishes bend Here our solemn search hath end. Fame, that her high worth to raise, Seem'd erst so lavish and profuse, We may justly now accuse Of detraction from her praise ; Less than half we find express'd, Envy bid conceal the rest. Mark, what radiant state she spreads, In circle round her shining throne, Shooting her beams like silver threads; This, this is she alone, Sitting, like a goddess bright, In the centre of her light. Might she the wise Latona be, Or the tower'd Cybele, Mother of a hundred gods t Juno dares not give her odds ; Who had thought this clime had held A deity so unparallel'd? As they come forward, the GENIUS of the wood appears, and turning toward thmi, speaks: Gen. Stay, gentle swains, for, though in this disguise, I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes; ARCADES. 325 Of famous Arcady ye are, and sprung Of that renowned flood, so often sung, Divine Alpheus, who by secret sluice Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse ; And ye, the breathing roses of the wood, Fair silver-buskin 'd nymphs, as great and good, I know this quest of yours, and free intent, Was all in honour and devotion meant To the great mistress of yon princely shrine, Whom with low reverence I adore as mine ; And, with all helpful service, will comply To further this night's glad solemnity ; And lead ye where ye may more near behold What shallow-searching Fame has left untold; Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone, Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon : For know, by lot from Jove, I am the power Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower, To nurse the saplings tall, and curl the grove With ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove ; And all my plants I save from nightly ill Of noisome winds, and blasting vapours chill : And from the boughs brush off the evil dew, And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue, Or what the cross dire-looking planet smites, Or hurtful worm with canker'd venom bites. - When evening gray doth rise, I fetch my round Over the mount, and all this hallow'd ground ; And early, ere the odorous breath of morn Awakes the slumbering leaves, or tassell'd horn Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about, Number my ranks, and visit every sprout With puissant words, and murmurs made to bless ; But else, in deep of night, when drowsiness Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then listen I To the celestial Syrens' harmony, That sit upon the nine infolded spheres, And sing to those that hold the vital shears, And turn the adamantine spindle round, On which the fate of gods and men is wound. Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie, To lull the daughters of necessity, And keep unsteady Nature to her law, And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune, which none can hear Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear ; And yet such music worthiest were to blaze The peerless height of her immortal praise, Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit, If my inferior hand or voice could hit Inimitable sounds ; yet, as we go, Whate'er the skill of lesser gods can show, 326 ARCADES. I will essay, her worth to celebrate, And so attend ye toward her glittering state ; Where ye may all that are of noble stem Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem. SONG II. O'er the smooth enamelFd green, Where no print of step hath been, Follow me, as I sing, And touch the warbled string, Under the shady roof Of branching elm, star-proof. Follow me ; I will bring you where she sits Clad in splendour as befits Her deity. Such a rural queen All Arcadia hath not seen. SONG III. Nymphs and shepherds dance no more By sandy Ladon's lilied banks ; On old Lycaeus, or Cyllene hoar, Trip no more in twilight ranks; Though Erymanth your loss deplore, A better soil shall give ye thanks. From the stony Msenalus Bring your flocks, and live with us, Here ye shall have greater grace, To serve the lady of this place. Though Syrinx your Pan's mistress were, Yet Syrinx well might wait on her. Such a rural queen All Arcadia hath not seen. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ANNO ^TATIS 17. ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT, DYING OF A COUGH, O FAIREST flower, no sooner blown but blasted, Soft silken primrose fading timelessly, Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out-lasted Bleak winter's force that made thy blossom dry ; For he, being amorous on that lovely dye That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal bliss. II. For since grim Aquilo, his charioteer, By boisterous rape the Athenian damsel got, lie thought it touch'd his deity full near, If likewise he some fair one wedded not, Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld, Which, 'mongst the wanton gods, a foul reproach was held. in. So, mounting up in icy-pearl'd car, Through middle empire of the freezing air He wander'd long, till thee he spied from far ; There ended was his quest, there ceased his care Down he descended from his snow-soft chair, But all un' wares with his cold, kind embrace Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding-place. IV. Yet art thou not inglorious in thy fate : For so Apollo, with unweeting hand, , , Whilom did slay his dearly-loved mate, 328 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand, Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land ; But then transformed him to a purple flower : Alack, that so to change thee W inter had no power ! Yet can I not persuade me thou art de^id, Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's daik womb, Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed, Hid from the world in a low-delved tomb ; Could Heaven for pity thee so strictly doom ? Oh, no ! for something in thy face did shine Above mortality, that show'd thou wast divine. Resolve me then, O soul most surely blest, (If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear,) Tell me, bright spirit, where'er thou hoverest, Whether above that high first-moving sphere, Or in the Elysian fields, (if such there were,) Oh, say me true, if thou wert mortal wight, And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight ? VII. Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall ; Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof Took up, and in fit place did reinstall ? Or did of late Earth's sons besiege the wall Of sheeny heaven, and thou, some goddess, fled Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head ? VIII. Or wert thou that just maid, who once before Forsook the hated earth, oh, tell me sooth, And earnest again to visit us once more ? Or wert thou that sweet-smiling youth? Or that crown'd matron sage, white-robed Truth? Or any other of that heavenly brood Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good? IX. Or wert thou of the golden-winged host, Who, having clad thyself in human weed, To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post, And after short abode fly back with speed, As if to show what creatures heaven doth breed ; Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire, To scorn the sordid world, and unto heaven aspire? X. But oh, why didst thou not stay here below To bless us with thy heaven-loved innocence, JB MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 329 To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe, To turn swift-rushing black perdition hence? Or drive away the slaughtering pestilence, To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart? But thou canst best perform that office where thou art. Then thou, the mother of so sweet a child, Her false-imagined loss cease to lament, And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild ; Think what a present thou to God has sent, And render him with patience what he lent ; This if thou do, he will an offspring give, That till the world's last end shall make thy name to live. ANNO ^ETATIS 19. At a VACATION EXERCISE in the COLLEGE, part Latin, part Eng- lish. The Latin speeches ended, the English thus began : HAIL, native language, that by sinews weak Didst move my first-endeavouring tongue to speak, And madest imperfect words with childish trips. Half unpronounced, slide through my infant lips, Driving dumb silence from the portal door, Where he had mutely sat two years before : Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask, That now I use thee in my latter task : Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee, I know my tongue but little grace can do thee : Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first, Believe me, I have thither pack'd the worst ; And, if it happen as I did forecast The daintiest dishes shall be served up last, I pray thee then deny me not thy aid For this same small neglect that I have made : But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure, And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest treasure Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight Which takes our late fantastics with delight, But cull those richest robes, and gayest attire, Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire: I have some naked thoughts that rove about, And loudly knock to have their passage out ; And, weary of their place, do only stay Till thou hast deck'd them in thy best array ; That so they may, without suspect or fears, Fly swiftly to this fair assembly's ears; Yet I had rather, if I were to choose, Thy service in some graver subject use, Such as may make thee search thy coffers round. 3 3 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound: 3uch where the deep transported mind may soar Above the wheeling poles, and at heaven's door Look in, and see each blissful deity, How he before the thunderous throne doth lie, Listening to what unshorn Apollo sings To the touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings Immortal nectar to her kingly sire: Then passing through the spheres of watchful fire, And misty regions of wide air next under, And hills of snow, and lofts of piled thunder, May tell at length how green-eyed Neptune raves. In heaven's defiance mustering all his waves Then sing of secret things that came to pass When beldame Nature in her cradle was; And last of kings and queens and heroes old, Such as the wise Demodocus once told, In solemn songs at king Alcinous' feast, While sad Ulysses' soul, and all the rest, Are held, with his melodious harmony, In willing chains and sweet captivity. But fie, my wandering muse, how thou dost stray ! Expectance calls thee now another way, Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent fo keep in compass of thy predicament : Then quick about thy purposed business come, That to the next I may resign my room. Then ENS is represented as father of the Predicaments, his ten sons ; whereof the eldest stood for Substance, with his canons, which ENS, thus speaking, explains : Good luck befriend thee, son ; for at thy birth The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth ; Thy drowsy nurse hath swoni she did them spy Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie, And, sweetly singing round about thy bed, Strow all their blessings on thy sleeping head. She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst still From eyes of mortals walk invisible : Yet there is something that doth force my fear ; For once it was my dismal hap to hear A sibyl old, bow-bent with crooked age, That far events full wisely could presage, And, in time's long and dark prospective glass, Foresaw what future days should bring to pass ; Your son, said she (nor can you it prevent), Shall subject be to many an accident. O'er all his brethren he shall reign as king, Yet every one shall make him underling, And those that cannot live from him asunder, Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under ; In worth and excellence he shall outgo them, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 331 Vet, being above them, he shall DC below them ; From others he shall stand in need of nothing, Vet on his brothers shall depend for clothing. To find a foe it shall not be his hap, And peace shall lull him in her flowery lap ; Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door Devouring war shall never cease to roar ; Yea, it shall be his natural property To harbour those that are at enmity. What power, what force, what mighty spell, if not Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot ? The next, QUANTITY and QUALITY, spake in prose; then RELA- TION was called by his name. Rivers, arise ; whether thou be the son Of utmost Tweed, or Oose, or gulphy Dun, Or Trent, who, like some earth-born giant, spreads His thirty arms along the indented meads, Or sullen Mole that runneth underneath, Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death, Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lee, Or coaly Tine, or ancient hallow'd Dee, Or Number loud that keeps the Scythian's name, Or Medway smooth, or royal-tower'd Thame. [The rest was prose.] ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. THIS is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King, Of wedded maid, and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring ; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace. That glorious form, that light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, He laid aside ; and here with us to be, Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay* III. Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant- Cod? 332 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright ? See, how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet : Oh, run, prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet : Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the angel choir, From out his secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire. THE HYMN. I. IT was the winter wild, While the heaven-born Child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger Nature in awe to him Had doff'd her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathise : It was no season then for her To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. ii. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front with ^inocent snow, And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw, Confounded, that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities HI. But he, her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyed Peace ; She, crown'd with olives green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere, His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing ; And, waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. IV. Nor war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around : MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 333 The idle spear and shield were high up hung, The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood, The trumpet spake not to the armed throng, And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovereign Lord was by. But peaceful was the night, Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began : The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kiss'd, Whispering ne\v joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. The stars, with deep amaze, Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence, And will not take their flight, For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence ; But in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake and bid them go. VII. And though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new enlighten'd world no more should need He saw a greater Sun appear Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear, VIII. The shepherds on the lawn, Or e'er the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row ; Full little thought they then, That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below ; Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep, When such music sweet Their hearts and ears did greet, As never was by mortal finger strook, Divinely-warbled voice 334 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Answering the stringed noise, As all their souls in blissful rapture took : The air, such pleasure loth to lose, With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. x. Nature, that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. XI. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shamefaced night array'd ; The helmed cherubim, And sworded seraphim, Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd Harping in loud and solemn choir, With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir. XII. Such music (as 'tis said) Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung, And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. XIII. Ring out, ye crystal spheres, Once bless our human ears, If ye have power to touch our senses so ; And let your silver chime Move in melodious time, And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow ; And, with your ninefold harmony, Make up full concert to the angelic symphony. For, if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, And speckled vanity Will sicken soon and die, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 335 And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould, And hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. xv. Yea, truth and justice then Will down return to men, Orb'd in a rainbow ; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering ; And heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. XVI. But wisest Fate says No, This must not yet be so, The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy, That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss ; So both himself and us to glorify ; Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep ; XVII. With such a ..orrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, While the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake The aged earth aghast, With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the centre shake , When, at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne. XVIII. And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is, But now begins ; for, from this happy day, The old Dragon, under ground In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway, And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. XIX. The oracles are dumb, Xo voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, W T ith hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell 336 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; From haunted spring, and dale Edged with poplar pale, The parting genius is with sighing sent j With flower-inwoven tresses torn, The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourr XXI. In consecrated eaith, And on the holy hearth, The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint ; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying sound Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint j And the chill marble seems to sweat, While each peculiar power foregoes his wonted seat. XXII. Peor and Baalim Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine ; And mooned Ashtaroth, Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine ; The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn, In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. XXIII, And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue ; In vain, with cymbals' ring, They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue ; The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Jsis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste. XXIV. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud : Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest, Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud ; In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark The sahl^-stolod sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 337 xxv. He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand, The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn ; Nor all the gods beside, Longer dare abide, Not Typhoa huge ending in snaky twine ; Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew. XXVI. So, when the sun in bed, Curtain'd with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail, Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave ; And the yellow-skirted fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-ioved maze. XXVII. But see, the Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest, Time is, our tedious song should here have ending Heaven's youngest-teemed star Hath fix'd her polish'd car, Her sleeping Lord, with handmaid lamp, attending j And all about the courtly stable Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable. THE PASSION. EREWHILE of music, and ethereal mirth, Wherewith the stage of air and earth did ring, And joyous news of heavenly Infant's birth, My muse with angels did divide to sing ; But headlong joy is ever on the wing, In wintry solstice like the shorten'd light, Soon swallow'd up in dark and long outliving night. n. For now to sorrow must I tune my song, And set my harp to notes of saddest woe, Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long, Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than so. Which he for us did freely undergo : Most perfect Hero, tried in heaviest plight Of labours huge and hard, too hard for human 338 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. in. Me, sovereign priest, stooping his regal head, That dropp'd with odorous oil down his fair eyes, Poor fleshly tabernacle entered, His starry front low-roof d beneath the skies : Oh, what a mask was there, what a disguise ! Yet more ; the stroke of death he must abide, Then lies him meekly down fast by his brethren's side. These latest scenes confine my roving verse, To this horizon is my Phcebus bound ; His godlike acts, and his temptations fierce, And former sufferings, other- where are found ; Loud o'er the rest Cremona's trump doth sound ; Me softer airs befit, and softer strings Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things. v. Befriend me, night, best patroness of grief, Over the pole thy thickest mantle throw, And work my flatter'd fancy to belief, That heaven and earth are colour'd with my woe ; My sorrows are too dark for day to know : The leaves should all be black whereon I write. And letters, where my tears have wash'd, a wannish white, VI. See, see the chariot, and those rushing wheels, That whirl'd the prophet up at Chebar flood ; My spirit some transporting cherub feels, To bear me where the towers of Salem stood, Once glorious towers, now sunk in guiltless blood ; There doth my soul in holy vision sit, In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit VII. Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock That was the casket of Heaven's richest store, And here, though grief my feeble hands up-lock, Yet on the soften'd quarry would I score My plaining verse as lively as before ; For sure so well instructed are my tears, That they would fitly fall in order'd characters. VIII. Or should I thence, hurried on viewless wing, Take up a weeping on the mountains wild, The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring vVould soon unbosom all their echoes mild, And I (for grief is easily beguiled) MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 339 Might think the infection of my sorrows loud Had got a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud. This subject the author finding to be above the years he had, when he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, left it unfinished ON TIME. FLY, envious Time, till thou run out thy race, Call on the lazy leaden-stepping Hours, Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace ; And glut thyself with what thy womb devours, Which is no more than what is false and vain, And merely mortal dross j So little is our loss, So little is thy gain. For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb 5 d, And, last of all, thy greedy self consumed, Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss With an individual kiss ; And joy shall overtake us as a flood, When everything that is sincerely good, And perfectly divine, With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shine About the supreme throne Of him, to whose happy-making sight alone When once our heavenly-guided soul shall climb, Then, all this earthly grossness quit, Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit, Triumphing over death, and chance, and thee, O Time ! UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. YE flaming powers, and winged warriors bright, That erst with music, and triumphant song, First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear, So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along Through the soft silence of the listening night ; Now mourn, and, if sad share with us to bear Your fiery essence can distil no tear, Burn in your sighs, and borrow Seas wept from our deep sorrow : He, who with all heaven's heraldry whilere Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease ; Alas, how soon our sin Sore doth begin His infancy to seize ! O more exceeding love, or law more just? Just law indeed, but more exceeding love For we, by rightful doom remediless, 3 ; o MISCELLANE US POEMS. Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above High-throned in secret bliss, for us frail dust Emptied his glory, even to nakedness ; And that great covenant, which we still transgress, Entirely satisfied, And the full wrath beside Of vengeful justice bore for our excess, And seals obedience first, with wounding smart, This day, but oh, ere long, Huge pangs and strong Will pierce more near his heart. AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. BLEST pair of syrens, pledges of heaven's joy, Sphere-born, harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse, Wed your divine sounds, and mix'd power employ, Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce ; And to our high-raised phantasy present That undisturbed song of pure concent, Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne To him that sits thereon, With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee, Where the bright seraphim, in burning row, Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow, And the cherubic host, in thousand choirs, Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, With those just spirits that wear victorious palms, Hymns devout and holy psalms Singing everlastingly : That we on earth, with undiscording voice, May rightly answer that melodious noise ; As once we did, till disproportion'd sin Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din Broke the fair music that all creatures made To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd In perfect diapason, whilst they stood In first obedience, and their state of good. Oh, may we soon again renew that song, And keep in tune with heaven, till God, ere long To his celestial concert us unite, To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light ! AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF WINCHESTER. THIS rich marble doth inter The honour'd wife of Winchester, A viscount's daughter, an earl's heir, Besides what her virtues fair , ~ MISCELLANEOUS POEM*. 341 Added to her noble birth, More than she could own from earth. Summers three times eight save one She had told ; alas, too soon, After so short time of breath, To house with darkness, and with death. Yet had the number of her days Been as complete as was her praise, Nature and fate had had no strife In giving limit to her life. Her high birth, and her graces sweet Quickly found a lover meet ; The virgin choir, for her, request The god that sits at marriage feast ; He at their invoking came, But with a scarce well-lighted flame; And in his garland, as he stood, Ye might decern a cyprus-bud. Once had the early matrons run To greet her of a lovely son, And now with second hope she goes, And calls Lucina to her throes ; But, whether by mischance or blame, Atropos for Lucina came ; And with remorseless cruelty Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree. The hapless babe before his birth Had burial, yet not laid in earth, And the languish'd mother's womb Was not long a living tomb. So have I seen some tender slip, Saved with care from winter's nip, The pride of her carnation train, Pluck'd up by some unheedy swain, Who only thought to crop the flower^ New shot up from vernal shower; But the fair blossom hangs the head Sideways, as on a dying bed, And those pearls of dew she wears Prove to be presaging tears, Which the sad morn had let fall On her hastening funeral. Gentle lady, may thy grave Peace and quiet ever have ; After this thy travail sore, Sweet rest seize thee evermore, That, to give the world increase, Shorten'd hast thy own life's lease. Here, besides the sorrowing That thy noble house doth bring, Here be tears of perfect moan Wept for thee in Helicon, 342 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. And some flowers, and some bays, For thy hearse, to strew the ways, Sent thee from the banks of Came, Devoted to thy virtuous name ; Whilst thou, bright saint, high sitt'st in glory, Next her, much like to thee in story, That fair Syrian shepherdess, Who after years of barrenness, The highly favoured Joseph bore To him that served for her before, And, at her next birth, much like thee, Through pangs fled to felicity, Far within the bosom bright Of blazing Majesty and Light : There with thee, new welcome saint, Like fortunes may her soul acquaint, With thee there clad in radiant sheen, No marchioness, but now a queen. SONG ON MAY MORNING. Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long. A.N EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC POET, W. SHAKESPEARE. WHAT needs my Shakespeare, for his honour'd bones, The labour of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, Hast built thyself a livelong monument. For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, Then thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Dost make us marble, with too much conceiving ; And, so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie, That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 343 ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER, \V'ho sickened in the time of his vacancy, being forbid to go to London, by reason of the Plague. HERE lies old Hobson ; death hath broke his girt And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt; Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one, He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown. 'Twas such a shifter, that, if truth were known, Death was half-glad when he had got him down ; For he had, any time this ten years full, Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. And surely death could never have prevail' d, Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd ; But lately finding him so long at home, And thinking now his journey's end was come, And that lie had ta'en up his latest inn, In the kind office of a chamberlain Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light : If any ask for him, it shall be said, Hobson has supp'd, and's newly gone to bed ANOTHER ON THE SAME. HERE lieth one, who did most truly prove That he could never die while he could move ; So hung his destiny, never to rot While he might still jog on and keep his trot, Made of sphere-metal, never to decay Until his revolution was at stay. Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time: And, like an engine moved with wheel and weight, His principles being ceased, he ended straight. Rest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, And too much breathing put him out of breath; Nor were it contradiction to affirm, Too long vacation hasten'd on his term. Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd, Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd; Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed outstretch'd, If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, For one carrier put down to make six bearers. Ease was his chief disease, and, to judge right, He died for heaviness, that his cart went light : His leisure told him that his time was come, And lack of load made his life burdensome, That even to his last breath (there be that say't) As he were press'd to death, he cried, More weight ; MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. But, had his doings lasted as they were, He had been an immortal carrier. Obedient to the moon lie spent his date In course reciprocal, and had his fate Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas, Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase: 1 1 is letters are deliver'd all, and gone, Only remains this superscription. EPIGRAM ON SALMASIUS'S HUNDREDA. WHO taught Salmasius, that French chattering pye To aim at English, and Hundreda cry? The starving rascal, flush'd with just a hundred English Jacobusses, Hundreda blunder'd : An outlaw'd king's last stock. A hundred more Would make him pimp for the antichristian whore; And in Rome's praise employ his poison'd breath, Who threaten'd once to stink the pope to death. ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE LONG PARLIAMENT. BECAUSE you have thrown off your prelate lord, And with stiff vows renounced his liturgy, To seize the widow'd whore Plurality, From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorr'd, Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword To force our consciences that Christ set free, And ride us with a classic hierarchy, Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford? Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent, Would have been held in high esteem with Paul Must now be named and printed heretics, By shallow Edwards, and Scotch what d'ye call ; But we do hope to find out all your tricks, Your plots and packing, worse than those of Trent, That so the Parliament May, with their wholesome and preventive shears, Clip your phylacteries, though baulk your ears, And succour our just fears When they shall read this clearly in your charge, New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large. SONNETS. I TO THE NIGHTINGALE. O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warblest at eve when all the woods are still ; Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill, While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, Portend success in love ; oh, if Jove's will Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay, Xow timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ; As thou from year to year has sung too late For my relief, yet hadst no reason why : Whether the Muse, or Love, call thee his mate, Both them I serve, and of their train am I. ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE AGE OF TWENTY THREE. How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year I My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom showeth. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, That I to manhood am arrived so near ; And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits endueth. Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, It shall be still in strictest measure even To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven i All is, if I have grace to use it so As ever in my great Task-master's eye. 346 SONNETS. III. WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CUT CAPTAIN, or colonel, or knight in arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If deed of honour did thee ever please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. lie can requite thee, for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower : The great Emathian conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground : and the repeated air Of sad Electra's poet had the power To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. IV. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunn'd the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labour up the hill of heavenly truth, The better part with Mary and with Ruth Chosen thou hast ; and they that overvveen, And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. Thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night Hast gain'd thy entrance, virgin wise and pure. V. TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. DAUGHTER to that good Earl, once President Of England's Council, and her Treasury, Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee, And left them both, more in himself content, Till sad the breaking of that Parliament Broke him, as that dishonest victory At Chaeronea, fatal to liberty, KilPd with report that old man eloquent. Though later born than to have known the days Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you, Madam, methinks I see him living yet ; So well your words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them true. And to possess them, honour'd Margaret. SONNETS. 347 VI. ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES. A BOOK was writ of late, call'd Tetrachordon, And woven close, both matter, form, and style ; The subject new ; it walk'd the town awhile, Numbering good intellects ; now seldom pored on. Cries the stall-reader, Bless us ! what a word on A title-page is this ! and some in file Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile- End Green. Why is it harder, sirs, than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp ? Those nigged names to our like mouths grow sleek, That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek, Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, When thou taught'st Cambridge, and King Edward Greek. VII. ON THE SAME. I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs : A.S when those hinds, that were transform 'd to frogs, Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny, Which after held the sun and moon in fee. But this is got by casting pearl to hogs ; That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, And still revolt when truth would set them free. Licence they mean when they cry Liberty ; For who loves that, must first be wise and good ; But from that mark how far they rove we see, For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood. VIII. TO MR. H. LAWES ON THE PUBLISHING HIS AIRS HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measured song First taught our English music how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas' ears, committing short and long ; Thy worth and skill exempt thee from the throng, With praise enough for Envy to look wan ; To after age thou shalt be writ the man, That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue. Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' choir, That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story. Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing, Met in the milder shades of purgatory. <^& ; ^ V 348 SONNETS. IX. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, DECEASED l6TH DEC. 1646. WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, call'd life ; which us from life doth sever. Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour, Stay'd not behind, nor in the grave were trod ; But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod, Folio w'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever. Love led them on, and Faith, who knew them best Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest, And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. X. TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX. FAIRFAX, whose name in arms through Europe rings, Filling each mouth with envy or with praise, And all her jealous monarchs with amaze, And rumours loud, that daunt remotest kings, hy firm unshaken virtue ever brings Victory home, though new rebellions raise Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand, (For what can war, but endless war still breed?) Till truth and right from violence be freed, And public faith clear'd from the shameful brand Of public fraud. In vain doth valour bleed, While avarice and rapine share the land. XL TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL. CROMWELL, our chief of men, who, through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough'd, And on the neck of crowned fortune proud ! last rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued. And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureate wreath. Yet much remains To conquer still ; peace hath her victories IN : 4- SONNETS. 349 No less renown'd than war : new foes arise Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains . Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. XII. TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. VANE, young in years, but in sage counsel old, Than whom a better senator ne'er held The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repell'd The fierce Epirot and the African bold, Whether to settle peace, or to unfold The drift of hollow states har^ to be spell'd, Then to advise how war may, best upheld, Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, In all her equipage : besides, to know Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, What severs each, thou hast learn'd, which few have done: The bounds of either sword to thee we owe ; Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. XIII. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT. AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones, Forget not : in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piedmontese that roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple tyrant ; that from these may grow A hundred fold, who, having learn'd thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe. XIV. ON HIS BLINDNESS WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he returning chide ; " Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" 350 SONNETS. I fondly ask : but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts ; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best ; his state Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest, They also serve who only stand and wait." XV. TO MR. LAWRENCE. LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire. Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining? Time will run On smoother, till Favonius reinspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise To hear the lute well-touch'd, or artful voice Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? He who of those delights can judge, and spare To interpose them oft, is not unwise. XVI. TO CYRIAC SKINNER. CYRIAC, whose grandsire, on the royal bench Of British Themis, with no mean applause, Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws, Which others at their bar so often wrench ; To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench In mirth, that after no repenting draws ; Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause, And what the Swede intends, and what the French. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. XVII. TO THE SAME. CYRIAC, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear SONNETS. 351 Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask ? The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask Content though blind, had I no better guide. XVIII. ON HIS DECEASED WIFE. METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint. Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in heaven without restraint, Came, vested all in white, pure as her mind : Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined So clear, as in no face with more delight. But oh, as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.- PSALMS. PSALM I. DONE INTO VERSE, 1653. BLESS' D is the man who hath not walk'd astray In counsel of the wicked, and i' the way Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat Of scorners hath not sat. But in the great Jehovah's law is ever his delight, And in his law he studies, day and night. He shall be as a tree which planted grows By watery streams, and in his season knows To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall, And what he takes in hand shall prosper all. Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'cl The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand In judgment, or abide their trial then, Nor sinners in the assembly of just men. For the Lord knows the upright way of the just, And the way of bad men to ruin must. PSALM II. DONE AUG. 8, 1653. TERZETTI. WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations Muse a vain thing, the kings of the earth upstand With power, and princes in their congregations Lay deep their plots together through each land Against the Lord and his Messiah dear? Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand, Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear, Their twisted cords. He, who in heaven doth dwell, Shall laugh ; the Lord shall scoff them, then severe Speak to them in his wrath, and, in his fell And fierce ire, trouble them. But I, saith he, Anointed have my King (though ye rebel) - PSALMS. 353 On Sion my holy hill. A firm decree I will declare ; the Lord to me hath said, Thou art my Son, T have begotten thee This day ; ask of me, and the grant is made ; As thy possession I on thee bestow The Heathen ; and, as thy conquest to be sway'd, Earth's utmost bounds: them shall thou bring full low With iron sceptre bruised, and them disperse, Like to a potter's vessel, shiver'd so. And now be wise at length, ye kings averse, Be taught, ye judges of the earth ; with fear Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse With trembling ; kiss the Son, lest he appear In anger, and ye perish in the way, If once his wrath take fire, like fuel sere. Happy all those who have in him their stay. PSALM III. AUG. 9, 1653. WHEN HE FLED FROM ABSALOM. LORD, how many are my foes ! How many those That in arms against me rise ! Many are they That i f my life distrustfully thus say, No help for him in God there lies. But thou, Lord, art my shield, my glory, Thee through my story The exalter of my head I count ; Aloud I cried Unto Jehovah, he full soon replied, And heard me from his holy mount 1 lay and slept, I waked again, For my sustain Was the Lord. Of many millions The populous rout I fear not, though, encamping round about, They pitch against me their pavilions. Rise, Lord, save me, my God ; for thou Hast smote ere now On the cheek-bone all my foes, Of men abhorr'd Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord Thy blessing on thy people flows. PSALM IV. AUG. TO, 1653. ANSWER me when I call, God of my righteousness, 354 PSALMS. In straits and in distress Thou didst me disenthrall And set at large ; now spare, Now pity me, and hear my earnest prayer. Great ones, how long will ye My glory have in scorn? How long be thus forborne Still to love vanity? To love, to seek, to prize Things false and vain, and nothing else but lies? Yet know, the Lord hath chose, Chose to himself apart, The good and meek of heart, (For whom to choose he knows) ; Jehovah from on high Will hear my voice, what time to him I cry. Be awed, and do not sin, Speak to your hearts alone, Upon your beds, each one, And be at peace within. Offer the offerings just Of righteousness, and in Jehovah trust. Many there be that say, Who yet will show us good? Talking like this world's brood ; But, Lord, thus let me pray, On us lift up the light, Lift up the favour of thy countenance bright. Into my heart more joy And gladness thou hast put, Than when a year of glut Their stores doth overcloy, And from their plenteous grounds, With vast increase, their corn and wine abounds. In peace at once will I Both lay me down and sleep, For thou alone dost keep Me safe where'er I lie ; As in a rocky cell Thou, Lord, alone in safety makest me dwell. PSALM V. AUG. 12, 1653. JEHOVAH, to my words give ear, My meditation weigh, The voice of my complaining hear, My King and God ; for unto thee I pray. Jehovah, thou my early voice Shalt in the morning hear, I' the morning I to thee with choice Will rank my prayers, and watch till thou appear. PSALMS. 355 For them art not a God that takes In wickedness delight ; Evil with thee no biding makes ; Fools or mad men stand not within thy sight. All workers of iniquity Thou hatest ; and them unblest Thou wilt destroy that speak a lie ; The bloody and guileful man God doth detest But I will, in thy mercies dear, Thy numerous mercies, go Into thy house ; I in thy fear Will towards thy holy temple worship low. Lord, lead me in thy righteousness, Lead me, because of those That do observe, if I transgress ; Set thy ways right before, where my step goes. For in his faltering mouth unstable No word is firm or sooth ; Their inside, troubles miserable ; An open grave their throat, their tongue they smooth. God, find them guilty, let them fall By their own counsels quell'd ; Push them in their rebellions all Still on ; for against thee they have rebell'd. Then all who trust in thee shall bring Their joy, while thou from blame Defend'st them, they shall ever sing And shall triumph in thee, who love thy name. For thou, Jehovah, wilt be found To bless the just man still, As with a shield, thou wilt surround Him with thy lasting favour and good will. PSALM vi. AUG. 13, 1653. LORD, in thine anger do not reprehend me, Nor in thy hot displeasure me coriect ; Pity me, Lord, foi I am much deject, And very weak and faint : heal and amend me ; For all my bones, that e'en with anguish ache, Are troubled, yea, my soul is troubled sore, And thou, O Lord, how long? Turn, Lord, restore My soul, O save me for thy goodness' sake : For in death no remembrance is of thee ; Who in the grave can celebrate thy praise ? Weaned I am with sighing out my days, Nightly my couch I make a kind of sea ; My bed I water with my tears ; mine eye Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark I' the midst of all mine enemies that mark Depart, all ye that work iniquity, 356 , PSALMS. Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my prayer, My supplication with acceptance fair The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping. Mine enemies shall all be blank, and dash'd With much confusion ; then, grown red with shame, They shall return in haste the way they came, And in a moment shall be quite abashM. PSALM VII. AUG. 14, 1653. UPON THE WORDS OF CUSH THE BENJAMITE AGAINST HIM. LORD, my God, to thee I fly ; Save me, and secure me under Thy protection while I cry ; Lest as a lion (and no wonder) He haste to tear my soul asunder, Tearing, and no rescue nigh. Lord, my God, if I have thought Or done this ; if wickedness Be in my hands ; if I have wrought 111 to him that meant me peace, Or to him have render'd less, And not freed my foe for nought , Let the enemy pursue my soul, And overtake it ; let him tread My life down to the earth, and roll In the dust my glory dead, In the dust, and, there outspread Lodge it with dishonour foul. Rise, Jehovah, in thine ire, Rouse thyself amidst the rage Of my foes that urge like fire, And, wake for me, their fury assuage .' Judgment here thou didst engage And command, which I desire. So the assemblies of each nation Will surround thee, seeking right : Thence to thy glorious habitation Return on high, and in their sight, Jehovah judgeth most upright All people from Jie world's foundation. Judge me, Lord ; be Judge in this According to my righteousness, And the innocence which is Upon me : cause at length to cease PSALMS. 357 Of evil men the wicl< edness, And their power that do amiss. But the just establish fast, Since thou art the just God that tries Hearts and reins. On God is cast My defence, and in him lies, In him who, both just and wise, Saves the upright of heart at last. God is a just Judge and severe, And God is every day offended ; if the unjust will not forbear, His sword he whets, his bow hath bended Already, and for him intended The tools of death, that waits him near, (His arrows purposely made he For them that persecute.) Behold He travails big with vanity ; Trouble he hath conceived of old As in a womb, and from that mould Hath at length brought forth a lie. He digg'd a pic, and delved it deep, And fell into the pit he made ; His mischief, that due course doth keep, Turns on his head ; and his ill trade Of violence will, undelay'd, Fall on his crown with ruin steep. Then will I Jehovah's praise According to his justice raise, And sing the name and deity Of Jehovah the Most High. PSALM VIII. AUG. 14, 1653. O JEHOVAH our Lord, how wondrous great And glorious is thy name through all the earth ! So as above the heavens thy praise to set Out of the tender mouths of latest birth. Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou Hast founded strength, because of all thy foes, To stint the enemy, and slack the avenger's brow, That bends his rage thy Providence to oppose. When I behold thy heavens, thy fingers' art, The moon and stars, which thou so bright hast set In the pure firmament ; then, saith my heart, O what is man, that thou rememberest yet, 358 PSALMS. And think'st upon him ; or, of man begot, That him tliou visit'st, and of him art found ? Scarce to be less than gods, thou madest his lot ; \Vith honour, and with state, thou hast him crown'd. O'er the works of thy hand thou madest him lord, Thou hast put all under his lordly feet ; All flocks, and herds, by thy commanding word, All beasts that in the field or forest meet, Fowl of the heavens, and fish that through the wet Sea-paths in shoals do slide, and know no dearth. O Jehovah our Lord, how wondrous great And glorious is thy name through all the earth ! APRIL, 1648 J. M. Nine of the Psalms done into metre, wherein all, but what is in a differeri, character, are the very words of the text, translated from the original. PSALM LXXX. 1 THOU, Shepherd, that dost Israel keep, Give ear /';/ time of need, Who leadest like a flock of sheep Thy loved Joseph's seed, That sitt'st between the cherubs bright, Between their wings outspread, Shine forth, and from thy cloud give light, And on our foes thy dread. 2 In Ephraim's view and Benjamin's, And in Manasseh's sight, Awake thy strength, come, and be seen To save us by thy might. 3 Turn us again, thy grace divine To us, O God, vouchsafe ; Cause thou thy face on us to shine, And then we shall be safe. 4 Lord God of Hosts, how long wilt thou, How long wilt thou declare Thy smoking wrath, and angry brow, Against thy people's prayer ? 5 Thou feed'st them with the bread of tears; Their bread with tears they eat ; And makest them largely drink the tears Where\uith tticir cliecks are wet. 6 A strife thou makest us, and a prey To every neighbour foe, PSALMS. 359 Among themselves they laugh, they plaj, And flouts at us they throw. 7 Return us, and thy grace divine, O God of Hosts, vouchsafe ; Cause thou thy face on us to shine, And then we shall be safe. 8 A vine from Egypt thou hast brought, Thy free loz>e made it thine, And drovest out nations, proud and haul, To plant this lovely vine. 9 Thou didst prepare for it a place, And root it deep and fast, That it began to gro-& apace, /.nd fill'd the land at last. 10 With her green shade that cover'd alt, The hills were overspread ; Her boughs, as high as cedars tall, Advanced their lofty head. 1 1 Her branches on the -western side Down to the sea she sent, And upward to that river wide Her other branches -went. 12 Why hast thou laid her hedges low, And broken down her fence, That all may pluck her, as they go, With rudest violence ? 13 The tusked boar out of the wood Upturns it by the roots, Wild beasts there browse, and make their food Her grapes and tender shoots. 14 Return now, God of Hosts, look down From heaven, thy seat divine ; Behold us, but without a frown, And visit this thy vine. 15 Visit this vine, which thy right hand Hath set, and planted long, And the young branch, that for thyself Thou hast made firm and strong. 1 6 But now it is consumed with fire, And cut with axes down, They perish at thy dreadful ire, At thy rebuke and frown. 1 7 Upon the man of thy right hand Let thy good hand be laid; PSALMS. Upon the Son of man, whom thou Strong for thyself hast made. 1 3 So shall we not go back from tliee To ways of sin and shame ; Quicken us thou, then gladly we Shall call upon thy name. 19 Return us, and thy gra<.ediv ine, Lord God of Hosts, vouchsafe ; Cause thou thy face on us to shine, And then we shall be safe. PSALM LXXXI. 1 To God our strength sing loud, and dear, Sing loud to God our King, To Jacob's God, that all may hear, . Loud acclamations ring. 2 Prepare a hymn, prepare a song, The timbrel hither bring, The cheerful psaltery bring along, And harp with pleasant string. 3 Blow, as is wont, in the new moon With trumpets' lofty sound, The appointed time, the day whereon Our solemn feast comes round. 4 This was a statute gvjen of old For Israel to observe, A law of Jacob's God, to hold, From whence they might not swerve. 5 This he a testimony ordain'd In Joseph, not to change, When, as he pass'd through Egypt land. The tongue I heard was strange. 6 From burden, and from slavish toil, I set his shoulder free ; His hands from pots, and miry soil, Deliver'd were by me. 7 When trouble did thee sore assail, On me then didst thou call, And I to free tlice did not fail, A nd led l/u'e out of thrall. I answer'd thee in thunder deep, With clouds encompass'd round ; I tried tlicc at the water steep Of Meribah renown* d. 8 Hear, O my people, hearken wclL I testify to thee, Thou ancient stock of Israel, If thou wilt list to me : 9 Throughout the land of thy abode No alien god shall be, Nor shalt thou to a foreign god In honour bend thy knee. 10 I am the Lord thy God, which brought Thee out of Egypt land ; Ask large enough, and I, bcsougJit, Will grant thy full demand. 11 And yet my people would not hear, Nor hearken to my voice ; And Israel, whom 1 loved so dear, Misliked me for his choice. 12 Then did I leave them to their will, And to their wandering mind ; Their own conceits they follow'd still, Their own devices blind. 13 Oh, that my people would be wise, 70 serve me all their days! And oh, that Israel would advise, To walk my righteous ways ! 14 Then would I soon bring down their foes. That now so proudly rise ; And turn my hand against all those That are their enemies. 15 Who hate the Lord should then be Jain To bow to him and bend ; But tfiey, his people, should remain, Their time should have no end. 1 6 And he would feed them _//-'d all my fountains clear. PSALMS. 369 PSALM LXXXVIII. I LORD God, that dost me save and keep, All day to thee I cry ; And all night long before thec weep, Before thee prostrate lie. ^ Into thy presence let my prayer With sighs devoid ascend, And to my cries, that ceaseless are, Thine car with favour bend. 3 For, cloy'd with woes and trouble store, Surcharged my soul doth lie ; My life, at death's unchcei-ful door, Unto the grave draws nigh. 4 Reckon'd I am with them that pass Down to the dismal pit ; I am a man, but weak, alas, And for that name unfit. $ From life discharged and parted quite Among the dead to sleep; And like the slain in bloody fight, That in the grave lie deep. Whom thou remembcrest no more, Dost never more regard ; Them, from thy hand deliver'd o'er, Death's hideous house hath barrd. 6 Thou in the lowest pit pi ojound Hast set me all forlorn, Where thickest darkness hovers round, In horrid deeps to mourn. 7 Thy wrath, from which no shelter saves, Full sore doth press on me ; Thou break'st upon me all thy waves, And all thy waves break me. 8 Thou dost my friends from me estrange. And makest me odious, Me to them odious, for t/uy change, And I here pent up thus! 9 Through sorrow ami affliction great, Mine eye grows dim and dead ; Lord, all the day I thee entreat, My hands to thee I spread. 2 A 370 PSALMS. 10 Wilt tliou do wonders on the dead ? Shall the deceased arise, And praise \\\ce.from their loathsome l>t.tt. With pale and hollow eyes ? 11 Shall they thy loving-kindness tell, On whom the grave hath hold? Or they, who in perdition dwell, Thy faithfulness unfold? 12 In darkness can thy mighty hand Or wondrous acts be known ? Thy justice in the gloomy land Of dark oblivion? 13 But I to thee, O Lord, do cry, Ere yet my life be spent, And up to thee my prayer doth hie, Each morn, and thee prevent. 14 Why wilt thou, Lord, my soul forsake, And hide thy face from me, 15 That am already bruised, and shake With terror sent from thee ? Bruised and afflicted, and so loio As ready to expire, While I thy terrors undergo Astonish'd with thine ire. 1 6 Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow, Thy threatenings cut me through : 17 All day they round about me go, Like waves they me pursue. 1 8 Lover and friend thou hast removed. And sever'd from me far : Theyyfy me nmv whom I have loved, And as in darkness are. A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIV. WHEN the bless'd seed of Terah's faithful son, After long toil, their liberty had won, And pass'd from Pharian fields to Canaan land, Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand, Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown, 1 1 is praise and glory was in Israel known. That saw the troubled sea, and shivering fled, And sought to hide his froth-becurled head Low in the earth ; Jordan's clear streams recoil, As a faint host that hath received the foil. PSALMS. 371 The high huge-bellied mountains skip, like rams Amongst their ewes ; the little hills, like lambs. \Vliy fled the ocean? And why skipp'd the mountains? Why turn'd Jordan toward his crystal fountains? Shake, earth ! and at the presence be aghast Of him that ever was. and aye shall last ; That glassy floods from rugged rocks cr.n crush, And make soft rills from fiery flint-stones gush. PSALM CXXXVI. LET us, with a gladsome mind, Praise the Lord, for he is kind, For his mercies aye endure, Ever faithful, ever sure. Let us blaze his name abroad, For of gods he is the God ; For his, &c. Oh, let us his praises tell, Who doth the wrathful tyrants quell ; For his, &c. Who, with his miracles, doth make Amazed heaven and earth to shake ; For his, &c. Who, by his wisdom, did create The painted heavens so full of state For his, cSrc. Who did the solid earth ordain To rise above the watery plain ; For his, &c. Who, by his all-commanding might, Did fill the new-made world with light ; For his, &c. And caused the golden-tressed sun All the day long his course to run , For his, &c. The horned moon to shine by night, Amongst her spangled sisters bright For his, &c. He, with his thunder-clasping hand, Smote the first-born of Egypt land ; For his, &c. And, in despite of Pharaoh fell, He brought from thence his Israel ; For his, &c. The ruddy waves he cleft in twain. Of the Erythraean main ; For his, &c. The floods stood still, like walls of glass, While the Hebrew bands did pass ; For his, c. 372 PSALMS. But full soon they did devour The tawny king with all his power ; For his, &c. His chosen people he did bloss In the wasteful wilderness ; For his, c. Tn bloody battle he brought down Kings of prowess and renown ; For his, &c. He foil'd bold Scon and his host, That ruled the Amorrean coast ; For his, &c. And large-limb'd Og he did subdue, With all his over-hardy crew; For his, &c. And, to his servant Israel, He gave their land therein to dwell ; For his, &c. He hath, with a piteous eye, Beheld us in our misery ; For his, &c. And freed us from the slavery Of the invading enemy ; For his, &c. All living creatures he doth feed, And with full hand supplies their need For his, &c. Let us, therefore, warble forth His mighty majesty and worth ; For his, &c. That his mansion hath on high, Above the reach of mortal eye; For his mercies aye endure, Ever faithful, ever sure. FRAGMENTS OF TRANSLATIONS, THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIP,. I. WHAT slender youth, bedew'd with liquid odours, Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave, Pyrrha ? For whom bind'st thou In wreaths thy golden hair, Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he On faith, and changed gods, complain, and seas Rough with black winds, and storms Unwonted shall admire! Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold, Who, always vacant, always amiable, I lopes thee, of flattering gates Unmindful. Hapless they, To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vow'd Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung My dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea. GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH. BRUTUS thus addresses DIANA in the country <7/"L.EOGEClA. GODDESS of shades, and huntress, who at will Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the deep; On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek, What certain seat, where I may worship thee For aye, with temples vow'd, and virgin choirs. To it'/tom, sleeping before tJie altar, DIANA tiHsnvrs in a visun the same night. P>RUTUS, far to the west, in the ocean wide, lieyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies, Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of o!d ; Now void, it fits thy people : thither bend 374 FRAGMENTS OF TRANSLATIONS. Thy course, there shalt them find a lasting seat ; There to thy sons another Troy shall rise, And kings be born of thee, whose dreadful might Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold. DANTE. An, Constantine, of how much ill was cause, Not thy conversion, but those rich domains That the first wealthy pope received of thee. DANTE. FOUNDED in chaste and humble poverty, 'Gainst them that raised thee dost thou lift thy horn. Impudent whore ! where hast thou placed thy hope ? In thy adulterers, or thy ill-got wealth? Another Constantine comes not in haste. ARIOSTO. THEN pass'd he to a flowery mountain green, Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiously This was the gift, if you the truth will have, That Constantine to good Sylvester gave. HORACE. WHOM do we count a good man ? Whom but he Who keeps the laws and statutes of the senate, Who judges in great suits and controversies, Whose witness and opinion wins the cause? But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood, Sees his foul inside through his whited skin. HORACE. THE power that did create can change the scene Of things, make mean of great, and great of mean : The brightest glory can eclipse with might, And place the most obscure in dazzling light. HORACE. ALL barbarous people and their princes too, All purple tyrants honour you, The very wandering Scythians do. Support the pillar of the Roman state, Lest all men be involved in one man's fate> Continue us in wealth and state, Let wars and tumults ever cease. CATULLUS. THE worst of poets I myself declare, By how much you the best of poets are. FRAGMENTS OF TRANSLATIONS. 375 OVID. ABSTAIN, as manhood you esteem, From Salmacis' pernicious stream ; If but one moment there you stay, Too dear you'll for your bathing pay. Depart nor man, nor woman, but a sight Disgracing both, a loath'd Hermaphrodite. EURIPIDES. THIS is true liberty, when freeborn men, Having to advise the public, may speak free ; Which he who can, and will, deserves high praise ; Who neither can nor will, may hold his peace, What can be a juster in a state than this ? VIRGIL No eastern nation ever did adore The majesty of sovereign princes more. VIRGIL. AND Britons interwove held the purple hangings, HORACE. LAUGHING, to teach the truth, What hinders? As some teachers give to boys Junkets and knacks, that they may learn apace, HORACE JOKING decides great things, Stronger and better oft than earnest can, SOPHOCLES. "Tis you that say it, not I. You do the deeds, And your ungodly deeds find me the words. SENECA. THERE can be slain No sacrifice to God more acceptable, Than an unjust and wicked king. TERENCE. IN silence now and with attention wait, That ye may know what the Eunuch has to prate. HOMER. GLAUCUS, in Lycia we're adored as gods, What makes 'twixt us and others so great odds? SONNETS. I. DONNA leggiadra il cui bel nome onora L'erbcsa val di Reno, e il nobil varco, Benc e colui d'ogni valore scarco Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora, Che dolcemente mostrasi di fuora De' suoi atti soa,vi giammai parco, E i don che son d'amor saette ed arco, La onde 1' alta tua virtu s'infiora. Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti Che mover possa duro alpestre legno, Guardi ciascun agli occhi, cd agli orecchi L'entrata, chi di te si truova indegno ; Grazia sola di sit gli vaglia, innanti Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi. QUAI, in colle aspro, all' imbrunir di sera : L'avezza giovinetta pastorella Va bagnando 1'erbetta strana e bel la Che mal si spande a disusata spera Fuor di sua natia alma primavera, Cosi Amor meco insu la lingua snella Desta il fior novo di strania favella, Mentre io di tc, vezzosamente altera, Canto, dal mio bnon popol non inteso, E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bell' Arno. Amor lo volse, ed io aH'altrui peso Seppi ch'Amor cosa mai volse indarno. Deh ! fo.ss' il mio cuor lento e'l duro scno A chi pianta dal eicl si buon terreno. SONNF.TS. 377 CANZONE. RIDONSI donne e giovani amorosi M' accostandosi attorno. E pcrche scrivi, Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota c strana Verseggiando d'amor, e come t'osi ? Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana, E de' pensieri lo miglior t'arrivi ; Cost mi van burlanclo: allri rivi, Altri lidi t'aspettan, ed altre onde Nelle cui verdi sponde Spuntati ad or ad or alia tua chioma L'immortal guiderdon d' eterne frondi. Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma? Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi : Dice mia Donna, e'l suo dir, e il mio cuore,- Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore. III. DFODATI, e tel diro con maraviglia, Quel rilroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea E de' suoi lacci spesso mi ridea, Gia caddi, ov'uom dabben talor s'impiglia, Ne trecce d'oro, ne guancia vermiglia M'abbaglian si, ma sotto nova idea Pellegrina bellezza che'l cuor ben, Portamenti alti onesli, e nelle ciglia Quel screno fulgor d'amabil nero. Parole adorne di lingue piu d'una, E'l cantar che di mezzo 1'emispero Traviar ben puo la faticosa Luna, E dagli occhi suoi avventa si gran fuoco Che 1'incerar gli orecchi mi fia poco. IV. PF.R certo i bci vostr' ocelli, Donna mia, Esser non puo chc non sian lo mio sole, Si mi percuoton forte, come ei suole Per 1'arene di Libia chi s'invia, Mcntre un caldo vapor (ne scntii pria) Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole, Che forse amanti nelle lor parole Chiaman sospir ; io non so che si sia Parte rinchiusa e UirUida si cela Scossomi il petto, e poi n'uscendo poco 378 SONNETS. Quivi d' attorno o s'agghiaccia, o s'ingiela Ma quanto agli occhi giunge a trovar loco Tutte le notti a me suol far piovose Finche mia Alba rivien colma di rose. V. GIOVAXE piano, e semplicetto amante, Poiche fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono, Madonna a voi del mio cuor 1'umil dono Faro divoto. lo certo a prove tante L'ebbi fedele, intrepido, costante, Di pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono ; Quando rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono, S'arma di se, e d' intero diamante : Tanto del forse e d' invidia sicuro, Di timori e speranze al popol use, Quanto d'ingegno e d'alto valor vago, K di cetra sonora, e delle muse. Sol troverete in tal parte men duro Ove Amor mise 1'insanabil ago. JOANNIS MILTONI LONDINENSIS POEMATA. Quorum pleraque intra annum setatis vigesimum conscripsit. qune sequuntur de Authore testimonia, tametsi ipse intellige- bat non tain de se quam supra se esse dicta, eo quod prreclaro ingenio viri, nee non amici ita fere solent laudare, ut omnia suis potius virtutibus, quam veritati, congruentia minis cupide affingant, noluit tamen horum egregiam in se voluntatem non esse notam ; cum alii pnesertim ut id faceret magnopere suaderent. Dum enim nimice laudis invidiam totis ab se viribus amolitur, sibique quod plus requo est non attributum esse mavult, judicium interim homi- num cordatorum atque illustrium quin summo sibi honor! ducat, negare non potest. Joannes Baptlsta Mansus, Marchio Villcnsis, Neapolitanus,ad Joannem iMillcDiiuni Anglum. UT mens, forma, decor, facies, mos, si pietas sic, Non Anglus, verum hercle Angelas ipse fores. ELEGIARUM LIBER. ELEG I. AD CAROLUM DEODATUM. TANDEM, chare, tuce mihi pervenere tabellce, Pertulit et voces nur.cia charta tuas ; Pertulit, occidua Devae Cestrensis ab ora Vergivium prono qua petit amne salum. Multum, crede, juvat terras aluisse remotas, Pectus amans nostri, tamque fidele caput, 380 ELEGIARUM LIDER. Quodquc milu Icpklum tcllus longinqua soclalem Dcbet, at undo brcvi rcdderc jussa relit. Me tenet urbs reflua quam Thamesis alluit unda, Meque, nee invitum, patria dulcis liabet. Jam nee arundiferum ir.ilri cura revisere Camum, Nee cludum vetiti me laris angit amor: Nuda nee arva placent, umbra que negantia molles ; Quam male Fhcebicolis convenit ille locus! Nee duri libet usque minas perferre Magistri, Cseteraque ingenio non subeunda meo. Si sit hoc exilium patrios adiisse penates, Et vacuum curis otia grata sequi, Non ego vel profugi nomen sortemve recuso, Lretus et exilii conditione fruor. O utinam vates nunquam graviora tulisset Ille Tomitano flebilis exul agro ; Non tune lonio quicquam cessisset Homero, Neve foret victo laus tibi prima, Maro. Tempora nam licet hie placiclis dare libera Musis, Et totum rapiunt me, mea vita, libri. xcipit hinc fessum sinuosi pompa thcatri, Et vocat ad plausus garrula scena suos. Sen catus auditur senior, sen prodigus hneres, Sen procus, aut posita casside miles adest, Sive decennali foecundus lite patronus Detonat inculto barbara verba foro ; Scepe vafer gnato succurrit servus amanti, Et nasum rigidi fallit ubique patris ; Scepe novos illic virgo mirata calores Quid sit amor nescit, dum quoque nescit, amat Sive cruentatum furiosa Tragoedia sceptrum Quassat, et effusis crinibus ora rotat ; Et dolet, et specto, juvat et spectasse dolendo, Interdum et lacrymis dulcis amaror inest ; Seu puer infelix indelibata reliquit Gaudia, et abrupto flendus amore cadit; Sen ferus e tenebris iterat Styga criminis ultor, Conscia funereo pectora to.vre movcns : Seu moeret Pelopeia domus, seu nobilis Hi, Aut luit incestos aula Creontis avos. Sed neque sub tecto semper nee in urbc latcmus, Irrita nee nobis tempora veris eunt. Nos quoque lucus habet vicina consitus ulmo, Atque suburban! nobilis umbra loci. S;epius hie, blandas spirantia sid.era flammas Virgineos videas prreteriisse chores. Ah quoties dignrc stupui miracula formre, Qua? possit senium vel reparare Jovis ! Ah quoties vidi superantia lumina gemmas, Alque faces, quotquot volvit uterque polus ; Collaque bis vivi Pelopis qua; brachia vincant, Quceque fluit puro nectare tincta via ; ELEGIARUM LIBER. 381 Kt decus eximium frontis, tremulosque capilios, Aurea quoe fallax retia tendit Amor ; Pellacesque genas, ad quas hyacinthina sordet Purpura, et ipse tui floris, Adoni, rubor ! Cedite laudatre toties Heroidcs olim, Et qtiaecunque vagum cepit arnica Jovem : Cedite Achanrienice turrita fionte puellce, Et quot Susa colunt, Menmoniamque Ninon ; Vos etiam Danaoe fasces submittite Nymphse, Et vos Iliacce, Romuleseque nurus : Nee Pompeianas Tarpeia Musa coJumnas Jactet, et Ausoniis plena theatra stolis. Gloria Virginibus debetur prima Britannis, Extera sat tibi sit focmina posse sequi. Tuque urbs Dardaniis, Londinum, structa coloni^ Turrigerum late conspicienda caput, Tu nimium felix intra tua mcenia claudis Quicquid formosi pendulus orbis habet. Non tibi tot coelo scintillant astra sereno, Endymioneae turba ministra deae, Quot tibi, conspicuse formaque auroque, puellae Per medias radiant turba videnda vias. Creditur hue geminis venisse invecta columbis Alma pharetrigero milite cincta Venus, Huic Cnidon, et riguas Simoentis flumine valles, Huic Paphon, et roseam posthabitura Cypron Ast ego, dum pueri sinit indulgentia coeci, Moenia quam subito linquere fausta paro Et vitare procul malefidc-e infamia Circes Atria, divini Molyos usus ope. Stat quoque juncosas Cami remeare paludes, Atque iterum raucoe murmur adire Scholoe Interea fidi parvum cape munus amici, Paucaque in alternos verba coacta modos ELEG. II ANNO ^TATIS 17. IN OBITUM I'R^CONIS ACADEMIC. CANTABRIGIENSIS, TE, qui conspicuus baculo fulgente solebas Palladium toties ore ciere gregem, Ultima prrcconum prreconem te quoque sceva Mors rapit, officio nee favet ipsa suo ; Candidiora licet fuerint tibi tempera plumis Sub quibus accipimus delituisse Jovem. O dignus tamen Hocmonio juvenescere succo, Dignus in ^sonios vivere posse dies, Dignus qucm Stygiis medica revocarct ab undis Arte Coronides, stepe rogante dea : Tu si jussus eras acies accire togatas, Et celer a Phoebo nuntius ire tuo, 382 ELE GIA R UM .LIBER. Talis in Iliaca stabat Cyllenius aula Alipes, rctherea missus ab arce Patris : Talis et Eurybates ante ora furentis Achillei Rettulit Atridce jussa severa duels. Magna sepulchrorum regina, satelles Averni, Saava nimis Musis, Palladi sasva nimis, Qutn illos rapias qui pondus inutile terrae, Turba quidem est telis ista petenda tuis. Vestibus hunc igitur pullis, Academia, luge, Et madeant lachrymis nigra feretra tuis. Fundat et ipsa modus querebunda Elegeia tastes, Personet et totis naenia moesta scholis. ELEG. III. ANNO ^ETATIS 17. IN OBITUM 1'R^SULIS WINTONIENSIS. MCESTUS eram, et tacitus nullo comitante sedebam, Haerebantque animo tristia plura meo, Protinus en subiit funestee cladis imago, Fecit in Angliaco quam Libitina solo ; Dum procerum ingressa est splendentes marmore turres, Dira sepulchrali mors metuenda face ; Pulsavitque auro gravidos et jaspide muros, Nee metuit satrapum sternere falce greges. Tune memini clarique ducis, fratrisque verendi Intempestivis ossa cremata rogis E. memini Heroum quos viclit ad gethera raptos, Flevit et amissos Belgia tota duces : At te praecipue luxi, dignissime Praesul, Wintonueque olim gloria magna tuae ; Delicui fletu, et tristi sic ore querebar : " Mors fera, Tartareo diva secunda Jovi, Nonne satis quod sylva tuas persentiat iras, Et quod in herbosos jus tibi detnr agrps, Quodque afflata tuo marcescant lilia tabo, ^ Et crocus, et pulchne Cypridi sacra rosa ; Xec sinis, ut semper fluvio contermina quercus Miretur lapsus prcetereuntis aquae? Et tibi succumbit, liquido quae plurima ccelo Evehitur pennis, quamlibet augur avis, Et quas mille nigris errant animalia sylvis, Et quot alunt mutum Proteos antra pecus. Invida, tanta tibi cum sit concessa potestas, Quid juvat humana tingere caede manus? Nobileque in pectus certas acuisse sagittas, Semideamque animam sede fugasse sua? :> Talia dum lacrymans alto sub pectore volvo, Roscidus occiduis Hesperus exit aquis, Et Tnrtessiaco submerserat aequore currum ab Eoo littore mensus iter : ELEGIARUM LIBER. Xec mora, membra cavo posui refovenda cubili, Condiderant oculos noxque soporque meos ; Cum mihi visas eram lato spatiaricr agro : Heu ! nequit ingenium visa referre meum. Illic punicea radiabant omnia luce, Ut matutino cum juga sole rubent. Ac veluti cum pandit opes Thaumantia proles, Vestitu nituit multicolore solum : Non dea tarn variis ornavit floribus hortos Alcinoi, Zephyro Chloris amata levi. Flumina vernantes lambunt argentea campos, Ditior Ilesperio flavet arena Tago. Serpit odoriferas per opes levis aura Favoni, Aura sub innumeris humid a nata rosis. Talis in extremis terrce Gangetidis oris Luciferi regis fingitur esse domus. Ipse racemiferis dum densas vitibus umbras, Et pellucentes miror ubique locos, Ecce mihi subito Prcesul Wintonius astat, Sidereum nitido fulsit in ore jubar ; Vestis ad auratos defluxit Candida talos, Infula divinum cinxerat alba caput. Dumque senex tali incedit venerandus amictu. Intremuit leeto florea terra sono. Agmina gemmatis plaudunt ccelestia pennis, Pura triumphali personal rethra tuba. Quisque novum amplexu comitem cantuque salutat Hosque aliquis placido misit ab ore sonos : "Nate veni. et patrii felix cape gaudia icgni, Semper abhinc duro, nate, labore vaca." Dixit, et aligerae tetigerunt nablia turmae ; At mihi cum tenebris aurea pulsa quies. Flebam turbatos Cephaleia pellice somnos : Talia contingant somnia scepe mihi. ELEG. IV. ANNO ^TATIS 18. wd THOMAM JUNIUM prseceptorem suum, apud mercatores Anglicof Hamburgse agentes, Pastoris munere fungentem. CURRE per immensum subito, mea litera, pontum ; I, pete Teutonicos Iceve per requor agros : Segnes rumpe moras, et nil, precor, obstet eunti, Et festinantis nil remoretur iter. Ipse ego Sicanio fnenantem carcere ventos c rabies, quid sacer iste furor? \ cr mihi, quod dedit iugenium, cantabitur illo j Profuerint isto reddita dona modo. Jam, Philomela, tuos, foliis adoperta novellis, Instituis modules, dum silet omne nemus : Urbe ego, tu sylva, simul incipiamus utrique, Et simul adventum veris uterque canat. Veris io rediere vices, celebremus honores . ' Veris, et hoc subent Musa perennis opus. Jam sol ^Ethiopas fugiens Tithoniaque arva, Flectit ad Arctoas aurea lora plagas. Est breve npctis iter, brevis est mora noctis opaae, Horrida cum tenebris exulat ilia suis. Jamque Lycaonius plaus-trum coeleste Bootes Non longa sequitur fes-sus ut ante via ; ELECIARUM LIBER. 387 Nunc etiam solitas circum Jovis atria toto Excubias agitant sidera rara polo : Nam dolus, et coedes, et vis cum nocte recessit, Neve Giganteum Dii timuere scelus. Forte aliquis scopuli recubans in vertice pastor, Roscida cum prime sole rubescit humus, Hac, ait, hac certe caruisti nocte puella. Phoebe, tua, celeres quse retineret equos. Locta suas repetit sylvas, pharetramque resumit Cynthia, luciferas ut videt alta rotas ; Et tenues ponens radios, gaudere videtur Omcium fieri tarn breve fratris ope. Desere, Phoebus ait, thalamos, Aurora, seniles, Quid juvat effoeto procubuisse toro? Te manet bolides viridi veuator in herba : Surge, tuos ignes altus Hymettus habet. Flava verecundo dea crimen in ore fatetur, Et matutinos ocius urget equos. Exuit invisam Tellus rediviva senectam, Et cupit amplexus, Phoebe, subire tuos ; Et cupit, et digna est. Quid enim formosius ilia, Pandit ut omniferos luxuriosa sinus, Atque Arabum spirat messes, et ab ore venusto Mitia cum Paphiis fundit amoma rosis ? Ecce coronatur sacro frons ardua luco, Cingit ut Idaeam pinea turris Opim ; Et vario madidos intexit flore capillos Floribus et visa est posse placere suis. Floribus effusos ut erat redimita capillos, Tsenario placuit diva Sicana Deo. Aspice, Phoebe, tibi faciles hortantur amores, Mellitasque movent flamina verna preces : Cinnamea Zephyrus leve plaudit odorifer ala, Blanditiasque tibi ferre videntur aves. Nee sine dote tuos tumeraria quserit amores Terra, nee optatos poscit egena toros ; Alma salutiferum medicos tibi gramen in usus Pnebet, et hinc titulos adjuvat ipsa tuos : Quod si te pretium, si te fulgentia tangunt Munera, (muneribus saspe coemptus amor) Ilia tibi ostentat quascunque sub zequore vasto, Et superinjectis montibus abdit opes. All quoties, cum tu clivoso fessus Olympo In vespertinas prascipitaris aquas, Cur te, inquit, cursu languentem, Phoebe, diurnf Hesperiis recipit coerula mater aquis? Quid tibi cum Tethy? Quid cum Tartesside ly.iipha? Dia quid immundo perluis ora salo ? Frigora, Phoebe, mea melius captabis in umbra, Hue ades, ardentes imbue rore comas. MoV.ior egelida veniet tibi somnus in herba ; Hue ades, et gremio lumina pone meo. 388 ELEGIARUM LIBER. Quaque jaces, circum mulcebit lene susurrans Aura per humentes corpora fusa rosas : Nee me (crede mihi) terrent Semeleia fata, Nee Phaetonteo fumidus axis equo ; Cum tu, Phoebe, tuo sapientius uteris igni : Hue ades, et gremio lumina pone meo. Sic Tellus lasciva suos suspirat amores ; IMatris in exemplum csetera turba ruunt : Nunc etenim toto currit vagus orbe Cupido, Languentesque fovet solis ab igne faces. Insonuere novis lethalia cornua nervis, Triste micant ferro tela corusca novo. Jamque vel invictam tentat superasse Dianam, Quasque sedet sacro Vesta pudica foco. Ipsa senescentem reparat Venus annua formam, Atque iterum tepido creditur orta mari. Marmoreas juvenes clamant Hymensee per urbes- Littus, io Hymen, et cava saxa sonant. Cultior ille venit, tunicaque decentior apta, Puniceum redolet vest is odora crocum. Egrediturque frequens, ad amceni gaudia veris, Virgineos auro cincta puella sinus : Votum est cuique suum, votum est tamen omnibus unum, Ut sibi, quern cupiat, det Cytherea virum. Nunc quoque septena modulatur arundine pastor, Et sua, quse jungat, carmina Phyllis habet. Navita nocturno placat sua sidera cantu, Delphinasque leves ad vada summa vocat. Jupiter ipse alto cum conjuge ludit Olympo, Convocat et famulos ad sua festa Deos. Nunc etiam Satyri, cum sera crepuscula surgunt, Pervolitant celeri florea rura choro, Sylvanusque sua cyparissi fronde revinctus, Semicaperque Deus, semideusque caper. Quseque sub arboribus Dryades latuere vetustis, Per juga, per solos expatiantur agros. Per sata luxuriat fruticetaque Msenalius Pan, Vix Cybele mater, vix sibi tuta Ceres ; Atque aliquam cupidus praedatur Oreada Faunus, Consulit in trepidos durn sibi nympha pedes ; Jamque latet, latitansque cupit male tecta videri, Et fugit, et fugiens pervelit ipsa capi. Dii quoque non dubitant ccelo prseponere sylvas, Et sua quisque sibi numina lucus habet. Et sua quisque diu sibi numina lucus habeto Nee vos arborea dii precor ite domo. Te referant miseris te, Jupiter, aurea terris Sascla : quid ad nimbos aspera tela redis ? Tu saltern lente rapidos age, Phoebe, jugales, Qua potes, et sensim tempora veris eant ; Brumaque productas tarde ferat hispida noctes, Ingruat et nostro serior umbra polo. ZLEGTARUM LIBER. 389 ELEG. VI. AD CAROLUM DEODATUM RURI COMMORANTEM. Qui cum Idibus Decemb. scripsisset, et sua carmina excusari postulasset si solito minus essent bona, quod inter lautitias, quibus erat ab amicis excep- tus, baud satis felicem operam Musis dare se posse affirmabat, hoc habuit responsura. MlTTO tibi sanam non pleno venire salutem, Qua tu distento forte carere potes. At tua quid nostram prolectat Musa camoenam, Nee sinit optatas posse sequi tenebras? Carmine scire velis quam te redamemque colamque, Crede mihi vix hoc carmine scire queas. Nam neque noster amor modulis includitur arctis, Nee venit ad claudos integer ipse pedes. Quam bene solennes epulas, hilaremque Decembrem, Festaque coelifugam quse coluere Deum, Deliciasque refers, hiberni gaudia ruris, Haustaque per lepidos Gallica musta focos ! Quid quereris refugam vino dapibusque poesin? Carmen amat Bacchum, carmina Bacchus amat. Nee puduit Phcebum virides gestasse coiymbos, Atque hederam lauro prseposuisse suae. Ssepius Aoniis clamavit collibus Euce Mista Thyoneo turba novena choro Naso Coralloeis mala carmina misit ab agris : Non illic epuloe, non sata vitis erat. Quid nisi vina, rosasque, racemiferumque Lyceum, Cantavit brevibus Teia Musa modis ? Pindaricosque inflat numeros Teumesius Euan, Et redolet sumptum pagina quseque merum ; Dum gravis everso currus crepat axe supinus Et volat Eleo pulvere fuscus eques. Quadrimoque madens Lyricen Romanus laccho, Dulce canit Glyceran, flavicomamque Chloen. Jam quoque lauta tibi generoso mensa paratu Mentis alit vires, ingeniumque fovet. Massica fcecundam despumant pocula venam, Fundis et ex ipso condita metra cado. Addimus his artes, fusumque per intima Phcebum Corda ; favent uni Bacchus, Apollo, Ceres. Scilicet haud mirum, tarn dulcia carmina per te, Numine composite, tres peperisse Deos. Nunc quoque Thressa tibi ccelato barbitos auro Insonat arguta molliter icta manu ; Auditurque chelys suspensa tapelia circum, Virgineos tremula quoe regat arte pedes. Ilia tuas saltern teneant spectacula Musas, Et revocent, quantum crapula pcllit iners. Crede mihi, dum psallit ebur, comitataque plectrum Implet odoratos festa chorea tholos, ?X> E LEG I A RUM LIBER. Percipies taciturn per pectora serpere Phoebum, Quale repentinus permeat ossa calor, Perque puellares oculos, digitumque sonantem, Irruet in totos lapsa Thalia sinus. Namque Elegia levis multorum cura Deorum est, Et vocat ad numeros quemlibet ilia suos ; Liber adest elegis, Eratoque, Ceresque, Venusque, Et cum purpurea matre tenellus Amor. Talibus inde licent convivia larga poetis, Ssepius et veteri commaduisse mero : At qui bella refert, et adulto sub Jove coelum, Heroasque pios, semideosque duces, Et nunc sancta canit superum consulta deorum, Nunc latrata fero regna profunda cane, Ille quidem parce, Samii pro more magistri, Vivat, et innocuos praebeat herba cibos ; Stet prope fagineo pellucida lympha catillo, Sobriaque e puro pocula fonte bibat. Additur huic scelerisque vacans, et casta juventus, Et rigidi mores, et sine labe manus : Qualis veste nitens sacra, et lustralibus undis, Surgis ad infensos augur iture Deos. Hoc ritu vixisse ferunt post rapta sagacem Lumina Tiresian, Ogygiumque Linon, Et lare devoto profugum Calchanta, senemque Orpheon, edomitis sola per antra feris ; Sic dapis exiguus, sic rivi potor Homerus Dulichium vexit per freta longa virum, Et per monstrincam Perseise Phcebados aulam, Et vada fcemineis insidiosa sonis, Perque tuas, rex ime, domos, ubi sanguine nigro Dicitur umbrarum detinuisse greges. Diis etenim sacer est vates, divumque sacerdos, Spirat et occultum pectus et ora Jovem. At tu siquid ag,am scitabere (si modo saltern Esse putas tanti noscere siquid agam) Paciferum canimus ccelesti semine fegem, Faustaque sacratis ssecula pacta libris ; Vagitumque Dei, et stabulantem paupere tecto Qui suprema suo cum patre regna colit ; Stelliparumque polum, modulantesque sethere turmas, Et subito elisos ad sua fana Deos. Dona quidem dedimus Christi natalibus ilia, Ilia sub auroram lux mihi prima tulit. Te quoque pressa manent patriis meditata cicutis ; Tu mihi, cui recitem, judicis instar eris. ELEG. VII. ANNO ^ETATIS 19. NONDUM, blanda, tuas leges, Amathusia, norim, Et Paphio vacuum pectus ab igne fuit. E LEG 1 A RUM LIBER. 391 Socpe cupidineas, puerilia tela, sagittas, Atque tuum sprevi, maxime, numen, Amor. Tu, puer, imbelles, dixi, trans fige columbas, Conveniunt tenero mollia bella duci : Aut de passeribus timidos age, parve, triumphos, Hcec sunt militioe digna ti'ophsea tuse. In genus humanum quid inania dirigis arma ? Non valet in fortes ista pharetra viros. Non tulit hoc Cyprius, neque enim Deus ullus ad iras Promptior, et duplici jam ferus igne calet. 7er erat, et summae radians per culmina villas Attulerat primam lux tibi, Maie, diem : At mihi adhuc refugam quaerebant lumina noctem, Nee matutinum sustinuere jubar. Astat Amor lecto, pictis Amor impiger alis , Prodidit astantem mota pharetra Deum : Prodidit et facies, et dulce menantis ocelli, Et quicquid puero dignum et Amore fuit. Talis in aeterno juvenis Sigeius Olympo Miscet amatori pocula plena Jovi ; Aut, qui formosas pellexit ad oscula nymphas, Thiodamantseus Naide raptus Hylas. Addideratque iras, sed et has decuisse putares, Addideratque truces, nee sine felle, minas. Et miser exemplo sapuisses tutius, inquit : Nunc mea quid possit dextera, testis eris. Inter et expertos vires numerabere nostras, Et faciam vero per tua damna fidem. Ipse ego, si nescis, strato Pythone superbum Edomui Phcebum, cessit et ille mihi ; Et quoties meminit Peneidos, ipse fatetur Certius et gravius tela nocere mea. Me nequit adductum curvare peritius arcum, Qui post terga solet vincere, Parthus eques: Cydoniusque mihi cedit venator, et ille Inscius uxori qui necis author erat. Est etiam nobis ingens quoque victus Orion, Ilerculezeque manus, Herculeusque conies. Jupiter ipse licet sua fulmina torqueat in me, Hoerebunt lateri spicula nostra Jovis. Csetera, quoe dubitas, melius mea tela docebunt, Et tua non leviter corda petenda mihi. Nee te, stulte, tuse poterunt defendere Musse, Nee tibi Phoebceus porriget anguis opem. Dixit, et aurato quatiens mucrone sagittam, Evolat in tepidos Cypridos ille sinus. At mihi risuro tonuit ferus ore minaci, Et mihi de puero non metus ullus erat. Et modo qua nostri spatiantur in urbe Quirites, Et modo villarum proxima rura placent. Turba frequens, facieque simillima turba dearum, Splendida per medias itque reditque vias; 392 ELEGIARUM LIBER. Auctaque luce dies gemino fulgore coruscat: Fallor? An et radios hinc quoque Phoebus habet? llxc ego non fugi spectacula grata severus, Impetus et quo me fert juvenilis, agor : Lumina luminibus male providus obvia misi, Neve oculos potui continuisse meos. Unam forte aliis supereminuisse notabam ; Principium nostri lux erat ilia mali. Sic Venus optaret mortalibus ipsa videri, Sic regina Deum conspicienda fuit. Hanc memor objecit nobis malus ille Cupido, Solus et hos nobis texuit ante dolos. Nee procul ipse vafer latuit ; multseque sagittee, Et facis a tergo grande pependit onus : Nee mora : nunc ciliis hsesit, nunc virginis ori, Insilit hinc labiis, insidet inde genis : Et quascunque agilis partes jaculator oberrat, Hei mini, mille locis pectus inerme ferit. Protinus insoliti subierunt corda furores, Uror amans intus, flammaque totus eram. Interea misero quae jam mihi sola placebat, Ablata est oculis non reditura meis. Ast ego progredior tacite querebundus, et excors Et dubius volui saspe referre pedem. Findor, et hsec remanet : sequitur pars altera votum, Raptaque tarn subito gaudia flere juvat. Sic dolet amissum proles Junonia coelum, Inter Lemniacos prsecipitata focos : Talis et abreptum solem respexit, ad Orcum Vectus ab attonitis Amphiaraus equis. Quid faciam infelix, et luctu victus ? Amores Nee licet inceptos ponere, neve sequi. O utinam, spectare semel mihi detur amatos Vultus, e^ coram tristia verba loqui ! Forsitan et dur~o non est adamante creata, Forte nee ad nostras surdeat ilia preces ! Crede mihi, nullus sic infeliciter arsit, Ponar in exeinplo primus et unus ego. Parce precor, tenert cum sis Deus ales amoris, Pugnent officio nee tua facta tuo. Jam tuus O certe est mihi formidabilis arcus, Nate dea, jaculis nee minus igne potens : Et tua fumabunt nostris altaria donis, Solus et in superis tu mihi summus eris. Deme meos tandem, verum nee deme, furores, Nescio cur, miser est suaviter omnis amans : Tu modo da facilis, posthaec mea siqua futura est, Cuspis amaturos figat ut una duos. ego, mente olim Iseva, studioque supino, Nequitiae posui vana trophoea meae. Scilicet abreptum sic me malus impulit error, ELEGIARUM L1DLR. Indocilisque rotas prava magistra fuit. Donee Socraticos umbrosa Academia rivos 1'rsebuit, admissum dedocuitque jugum. Frotinus, extinctis exillo tempore flammis, Cincta rigent multo pectora nostra gelu. Unde suis frigus metuit puer ipse sagittis, Et Diomedeam vim timet ipsa Venus. EPIGRAMMATUM LIBER. I. IN PRODITIONEM BOMBARDICAM. CUM simul in regem nuper satrapasque Britannos Ausus es infandum, perfide Fauxe, nefas, Fallor? An et mitis voluisti ex parte videri, Et pensare mala cum pietate scelus ? Scilicet hos alti missurus ad atria coeli, Sulphureo curru, flammivolisque rotis : Qualiter ille, feris caput inviolabile Parcis, Liquit Idrdanios turbine raptus agros. II. IN EANDEM. SlCClNE tentasti ccelo donasse lacobum, Que septemgemino Bellua monte lates ? Ni meliora tuum poterit dare munera numen Parce, precor, donis insidiosa tuis. Ille quidem sine te consortia serus adivit Astra, nee inferni pulveris usus ope. Sic potius foedos in ccelum pelle cucullos, Et quot habet brutos Roma profana Deos : Namque hac aut alia nisi quemque adjuveris arte Crede mini, cceli vix bene scandet iter. III. IN EANDEM. PURGATOREM animse derisit lacobus ignem, Et sine quo superum non adeunda domus. Frenduit hoc trina monstrum Latiale corona, Movit et horrificum cornua dena minax. Et nee inultus, ait, temnes mea sacra, Britanne : Supplicium spreta religione dabis. EPIGRA MM A TUM LIBER. 395 Et si stelligeras unquam penetraveris arces, Non nisi per flam mas triste patebit iter. O quam funesto cecinisti proxima vero, Verbaque ponderibus vix caritura suis ! Nam prope Tartareo sublime rotatus ab igni, Ibat ad set hereas, umbra perusta, plagas. IV. IN EANDEM. QUEM modo Roma suis devoverat impia diris, Et styge damnarat, Tsenarioque sinu ; Hunc, vice mutata, jam tollere gestit ad astra, Et cupit ad superos evehere usque Decs. V IN INVENTOREM BOMBARDS. IAPETIONIDEM laudavit caeca vetustas, Qui tulit setheream solis ab axe facem ; At mihi major erit, qui lurida creditur arma, Et trifidum fulmen surripuisse Jovi. VI. AD LEONORAM ROM^E CANENTEM. ANGELUS unicuique suus, sic credite gentes, Obtigit rethereis ales ab ordinibus. Quid mirum, Leonora, tibi si gloria major? Nam tua proesentem vox sonat ipsa Deum. Aut Deus, aut vacui certe mens tertia cceli Per tua secreto guttura serpit agens ; Serpit agens, facilisque docet mortalia corda Sensim immortali assuescere posse sono. Quod si cuncta quidem Deus est, per cuncta que fusus, In te una loquitur, caetera mutus habet. VII. AD EANDEM. ALTERA Torquatum cepit Leonora poetam, Cujus ab insano cessit amore furens. Ah miser ille tuo quanto felicius sevo Perditus, et propter te, Leonora, forel ! Et te Pieria sensisset voce canentem Aurea maternse fila movere lyrce : Quamvis Dircseo torsisset lumina Pentheo Ssevior, aut totus desipuisset iners, Tu tamen errantes cceca vertigine sensus Voce eadem poteras composuisse tua ; Et poteras, rcgro spirans sub corde, quietem l ( 'lexanimo cantu restituisse sibi. 396 EPIGRAMMA TUM LIBER. VIII. AD EANDEM CREDULA quid liquidam Sirena, Neapoli, jactas, Claraque Parthenopes fana Acheloiados ; Littoreamque tua defunctam Naida ripa, Corpora Chalcidico sacra dedisse rogo ? Ilia quidem vivitque, et amoena Tibridis unda Mutavit rauci murmura Pausilipi. Illic Romulidum studiis ornata secundis, Atque homines cantu detinet atque Deos. IX. IN SALMASII HUNDREDAM. QuiS expedivit Salmasio suam Hundrcdam, Picamque docuit verba nostra conari? Magister artis venter, et Jacobei Centum exulantis viscera marsupii regis. Quod si dolosi spes refulserit nummi, Ipse, Antichristi qui modo primatum Papas Minatus uno est dissipare sufflatu, Cantabit ultro Cardinalitium mplos. X. IN SALMASIUM. GAUDETE scombri, et quicquid est piscium salo Qui frigida hyeme incolitis algentes freta ! Vestrum misertus ille Salmasius Eques Bonus, amicire nuditatem cogitat ; Chartseque largus, apparat papyrinos Vobis cucullos, praeferentes Claudii Insignia, nomenque et decus, Salmasii : Gestetis ut per omne cetarium forum Equitis clientes, scriniis mungentium Cubito virorum, et capsulis gratissimos. XL GALLI ex concubitu gravidam te, Pontia, Mori, Quis bene moratam, morigeramque neget ? XII. APOLOGUS DE RUSTICO ET HERO. RUSTICUS ex malo sapidissima poma quotannis Legit, et urbano lecta dedit Domino : Hinc incredibili fructus dulcedine captus, Malum ipsam in proprias transtulit areolas. Hactenus ilia ferax, sed longo debilis evo, Mota solo assueto, protinus aret iners. EPi 'GRAMMA TUM L2BER. 397 Quod tandem ut patuit Domino, spe lusus inani, Damnavit celeres in sua damna manus ; Atque ait, Heu quanto satius fuit ilia Coloni, Parva licet, grato dona tulisse animo ! Possem ego avaritiam frcenare, gulamque voracem : Nunc periere mihi et foetus, et ipse parens. XIII. AD CHRISTINAM SUECORUM REGINAM, NOMINE CROMWELLI. BELLITOTENS virgo, septem regina trionum, Christina, Arctoi lucida Stella poli ! Cernis, quas merui dura sub casside rugas, Utque senex armis impiger ora tero Invia fatorum dum per vestigia nitor, Exequor et populi fortia jussa manu. Ast tibi submittit frontem reverentior umbra : Nee sunt hi vultus regibus usque truces. SYLVARUM LIBER. IN OBITUM PROCANCELLARII, MEDICI. ANNO ^ETATIS 17. PARERE fati discite legibus, Manusque Parcse jam date supplices, Qui pendulum telluris orbem lapeti colitis nepotes. Vos si relicto mors vaga Tsenaro Semel vocarit flebilis, heu, morse Tentantur incassum, dolique ; Per tenebras Stygis ire certtim est. Si destinatam pellere dextera Mortem valeret, non ferus Hercules, Nessi venenatus cruore, ^Emathia jacuisset Oeta : Nee fraude turpi Palladis invidse Vidisset occisum Ilion Hectora, aut Quern larva Pelidis peremit Ense Locro, Jove lacrymante. Si triste fatum verba Hecateia Fugare possint, Telegoni parens Vixisset infamis, potentique ^Egiali soror usa virga. Numenque trinum fallere si queant Artes medentum, ignotaque gramina, Non gnarus herbarum Machaon Eurypyli cecidisset hasta : Lsesisset et nee te, Philyreie, Sagitta Echidnse perlita sanguine ; Nee tela te fulmenque avitum, Cssse puer genitricis alvo. Tuque, O alumno major Apolline, Geiitis togatze cui regimen datum, Frondosa quern nunc Cirrha luget, Et mediis Helicon in undis ; SYL VARUM LIBER. 399 Jam proefuisses Palladio gregi Lostus, superstes, nee sine gloria ; Nee puppe lustrasses Charontis Horribiles barathri recessus. At fila rupit Persephone tua, Irata, cum te viderit artibus, Succoque polenti, tot atris Faucibus eripuisse mortis. Colende Proeses, membra precor tua Molli quiescant cespite, et ex tuo Crescant rosas calthseque busto, Purpureoque hyacinthus ore. Sit mite de te judicium ^Eaci, Subrideatque JEtnaea Proserpina ; Interque felices perennis Elysio spatiere campo. IN QUINTUM NOVEMBRIS. ANNO JErATls 17. JAM pins extrema veniens lacobus ab arcto, Teucrigenas populos, lateque patentia rcgna Albionum tenuit ; jamque, inviolabile foedus, Sceptra Caledoniis conjunxerat Anglica Scotis : Pacificusque novo, felix divesque, sedebat In solio, occultique doli securus et hostis : Cum ferus ignifluo regnans Acheronte tyrannus, Eumenidum pater, sethereo vagus exul Olympo, Forte per immensum terrarum erraverat orbem, Dinumerans sceleris socios, vernasque fideles, Participes regni post funera moesta futures. Hie tempestates, medio ciet acre diras, Illic unanimes odium struit inter amicos, Armat et invictas in mutua viscera gentes ; Regnaque olivifera vertit florentia pace : Et quoscunque videt puree virtutis amantes, Hos cupit adjicere imperio, fraudumque magister Tentat inaccessum sceleri corrumpere pectus ; Insidiasque local tacitas, cassesque latentes Tendit, ut incautos rapiat ; ceu Caspia tigris Insequitur trepidam deserta per avia prsedam Nocte sub illuni, et somno nictantibus astris : Talibus infestat populos Summanus et urbcs, Cinctus cserulese fumanti turbine flammae. Jamque fluentisonis albentia rupibus arva Apparent, et terra Deo dilecta marine, Cui nomen dederat quondam Neptunia proles ; Amphitryoniaden qui non dubitavit atrocem, ^Equore tranato, furiali poscere bello, Ante expugnatoe crudelia seecula Trojae. At simul hanc, opibusque et festa pace beatam, Aspicit, et pingues donis Cerealibus agros. 400 SYLVAR UM LIBER. Quodque magis doluit, venerantem numina veri Sancta Dei populum, tandem suspiria rupit Tartareos ignes et luridum olentia sulphur ; Qualia Trinacria trux ab Jove clausus in ^ EfHat tabifico monstrosus ob ore Tiphoeus. Ignescunt oculi, stridetque adamantinus ordo Dentis, ut armorum fragor, ictaque cuspide cuspis. Atque pererrato solum hoc lacrymabile mundo Inveni, dixit, gens haec mihi sola rebellis, Contemtrixque jugi, nostraque potentior arte. Ilia tamen, mea si quicquam tentamina possunt, Non feret hoc impune diu, non ibit inulta. Hactenus ; et piceis liquido natat acre pennis : gua volat, adversi prsecursant agmine venti, ensantur nubes, et crebra tonitrua fulgent. Jamque pruinosas velox superaverat Alpes, Et tenet Ausoniae fines : a parte sinistra Nimbifer Appenninus erat, priscique Sabini, Dextra veneficiis infamis Hetruria, nee non Te furtiva, Tibris, thetidi videt oscula dantem ; Hinc Mavortigense consistit in arce Quirini. Reddiderant dubiam jam sera crepuscula lucem, Cum circumgreditur totam Tricoronifer urbem, Panificosque Deos portat, scapulisque virorum Evehitur ; praeeunt submisso poplite reges, Et mendicantum series longissima fratrum ; Cereaque in manibus gestant funalia cseci, Cimmeriis nati in tenebris vitamque trahentes : Templa dein multis subeunt lucentia tsedis, (Vesper erat sacer iste Petro) fremitusque canentum Saepe tholos implet vacuos, et inane locorum. Qualiter exululat Bromius, Bromiique caterva, Orgia cantantes in Echionio Aracyntho, Dum tremit attonitus vitreis Asopus in undis, Et procul ipse cava responsat rupe Cithaeron. His igitur tandem solenni more peractis, Nox senis amplexus Erebi taciturna reliquit, Praacipitesque impellit equos stimulante flagello, Captum oculis Typhlonta, Melanchaetemque ferocem, Atque Acheron taeo prognatam patre Siopen Torpidam, et hirsutis horrentem Phrica capillis. Interea regum domitor, Phlegetontius haeres, Ingreditur thalamos, neque enim secretus adulter Producit steriles molli sine pellice noctes ; At vix compositos somnus claudebat ocellos, Cum niger umbrarum dominus, rectorque silentum, Praedatorque hominum, falsa sub imagine tectus, Astitit ; assumptis micuerunt tempora canis, Barba sinus promissa tegit, cineracea longo Syrmate verrit humum vestis, pendetque cucullus Vertice de raso, et, ne quicquam desit ad artes, Cannabeo lumbos constrinxit fune salaces, SYL VARVM LIBER. 401 Tarcla fenestratis figens vestigia caiceis. Tails, uti famaest, vasta Franciscus eremo Tetra vagabatur solus per lustra ferarum, Sylestrique tulit genti pia verba salutis Impius, atque lupos domuit, Libycosque leones. Subdolus at tali Serpens velatus amictu, Solvit in has fallax ora execrantia voces ; Dormis nate? Etiamne tuos sopor opprimit artus? Immemor, O, fidei, pecorumque obliie tuorum ! Dum cathedram, venerande, tuam, diademaque triplex Ridet Hyperboreo gens barbara nata sub axe, Dumque pharetrati spernunt tua jura Britanni : Surge, age ; surge piger, Latius quern Caesar adorat, Cui reserata patet convexi janua coeli, Turgentes animos, et fastus frange procaces, Sacrilegique sciant, tua quid maledictio possit, Et quid Apostolicae possit custodia clavis ; Et memor Hesperiae disjectam ulciscere classem, Mersaque Iberorum lato vex ilia profundo, Sanctorumque cruci tot corpora fixa probrosae, Thermodoontea nuper regnante puella. At tu si tenero mavis torpescere lecto, Crescentesque negas hosti contundere vires ; Tyrrhenum implebit numeroso milite pontum, Signaque Aventino ponet fulgentia colle : Relliquias veterum franget, flammisque cremabit; Sacraque calcabit pedibus tua colla profanis, Cujus gaudebant soleis dare basia reges. Nee tamen hunc bellis et aperto Marte lacesses, Irritus ille labor ; tu callidus utere fraude : Quaelibet hrereticis disponere retia fas est. Jamque ad consilium extremis rex magnus ab oris Patricios vocat, et procerum de stirpe creates, Grandaevosque patres, trabea canisque verendos ; Hos tu membratim poteris conspergere in auras, Atque dare in cineres, nitrati pulveris igne ^Edibus injecto, qua convenere, sub imis. Protinus ipse igitur quoscunque habet Anglia fidos Propositi, factique, mone : quisquamne tuorum Audebit summi non jussa facessere Papae ? Perculsosque metu subito, casuque stupentes, Invadat vel Gallus atrox, vel ssevus Iberus. Saecula sic illic tandem Mariana redibunt, Tuque in belligeros iterum dominaberis Anglos. Et, nequid timeas, divos divasque secundas Accipe, quotque tuis celebrantur numina fastis. Dixit, et adscitos ponens malcfidus amictus, Fugit ad infandam, regnum illaetabile, Lethen. Jam rosea Eoas pandens Tithonia portas, Vestit inauratas redeunti hi mine terras; NTnestaque adhuc nigri deplorans funera nati, Irrigat ambrosiis montana cacumina guttis : * V 402 SYL VARUM LIA\ Cum somnos pepulit stellatce janitor aulce, Nocturnes visus, et somnia grata revolvens. Est locus aeterna septus caligine noctis, Vasta ruinosi quondam fundamina tecti, Nunc torvi spelunca Phoni, Prodotaeque bilinguis, Effera quos uno peperit Discordia partu. Hie inter caementa jacent, praeruptaque saxa, Ossa inhumata virum, et trajecta cadavera ferro ; Hie Dolus intortis semper sedet ater ocellis, Jurgiaque, et stimulis armata Calumnia fauces, Et Furor, atque viae moriendi mille videntur, Et Timor, exsanguisque locum circumvolat Horror ; Perpetuoque leves per muta silentia Manes Exululant, tellus et sanguine conscia stagnat. Ipsi etiam pavidi latitant penetralibus antri Et Phonos, et Prodotes ; nulloque sequente per antrum, Antrum horrens, scopulosum, atrum feralibus umbris, Diffugiunt sontes, et retro lumina vortunt : Hos pugiles Romae per saecula longa fideles Evocat antistes Babylonius, atque ita fatur. Finibus occiduis circumfusum incolit cequor Gens exosa mihi ; prudens natura negavit Indignam penitus nostro conjungere mundo : Illuc, sic jubeo, celeri contendite gressu, Tartareoque leves dififlentur pulvere in auras Et rex et pariter satrapse, scelerata propago : Et quotquot fidei caluere cupidine verse, Consilii socios adhibete, operisque ministros. Finierat ; rigidi cupide paruere gemelli. Interea longo flectens curvamine ccelos Despicit setherea Domtnus qui fulgurat arce, Vanaque perversae ridet conamina turbae, Atque sui causam populi volet ipse tueri. Esse ferunt spatium, qua distat ab Aside terra Fertilis Europe, et spectat Mareotidas undas ; Hie turris posita est Titanidos ardua Famse, yErea, lata, sonans, rutilis vicinior astris Quam superimpositum vel Athos vel Pelion Ossse. Mille fores aditusque patent, totidemque fenestrsej Amplaque per tenues translucent atria muros : Excitat hie varios plebs agglomerata susurros Qualiter instrepitant circum mulctralia bombis Agmina muscarum, aut texto per ovilia junco, Dum Canis aestivum coeli petit ardua culmen. Ipsa quidem summa sedet ultrix matris in arce Auribus innumeris cinctum caput eminet olli, Queis sonitum exiguum trahit, atque levissima captat Murmura, ab extremis patuli confinibus orbis. Nee tot, Aristoride servator inique juvencae Isidos, immiti volvebas lumina vultu, Lumina non unquam tacito nutanta somno, Lumina subjectas late spectantia terras. SYL VARUM LIBEk. 403 Istis ilia solet loca luce carentia saepe Perlustrare, etiam radiant! impervia soli : Millenisque loquax auditaque visaque linguis Cuilibet effundit temeraria ; veraque mendax Nunc minuit, modo confictis sermonibus augct. Sed tamen a nostro meruisti carmine laucles, Fama, bonum quo non aliud veracius ullum, Nobis digna cani, nee te memorasse pigebit Carmine tarn longo ; servati scilicet Angli Officiis, vaga diva, tuis, tibi reddimus aequa. Te Deus, aeternos motu qui temperat ignes, Fulmine praemisso alloquitur, terraque tremente ; Fama, siles ? An te latet impia Papistarum Conjurata cohors in meque meosque Britannos, Et nova sceptrigero credes meditata lacobo ? Nee plura ; ilia statim sensit mandata Tonantis, Et, satis ante fugax, stridentes induit alas, Induit et variis exilia corpora plumis ; Dextra tubam gestat Temesaeo ex sere sonoram. Nee mora : jam pennis cedentes remigat auras, Atque parum est cursu celeres praevertere nubes ; Jam ventos, jam solis equos post terga reliquit : Et primo Angliacas, solito de more, per urbes Ambiguas voces, incertaque murmura spargit Mox arguta dolos, et detestabile vulgat Proditionis opus, nee non facta horrida dictu, Authoresque add it seel er is, nee garrula caecis Insidiis loca structa silet ; stupuere relatis Et pariter juvenes, pariter tremuere puellae, Effcetique senes pariter ; tantseque ruinae Sensus ad aelatem subito penetraverat omnem. Attatnen interea populi miserescit ab alto ^Ethereus Pater, et crudelibus obstitit ausius Papicolum ; capti poenas raptantur ad acres s At pia thura Deo, et grati solvuntur honores ; Compita laeta focis genialibus omnia fumant ; Turba chores juvenilis agit : Quintoque Nulla dies toto occurrit celebratior anno, IN OBITUM PR^ESULIS ELIENSIS ANNO ^ETATIS 17. ADHUC madentes rore sqralebant gen;*, Et sicca nondum lumina Adhuc liquentis iml^e turgebant salis, Quem nuper effudi pius, Dum mcesta charo justa persolvi rogo Wintoniensis Pnesulis, Cum centilinguis Fama, proh ! semper mab Cladisque vera nuntia, : -* 404 SYL VARUM LIBER. Spargit per urbes divitis Britannia?; Populosque Neptuno satos, Cessisse morti, et ferreis sororibus, Te, generis humani decus, Qui Rex sacrorum ilia fuisti in insula Quse nomen Anguillse tenet. Tune inquietum pectus ira protinus Ebulliebat fervida, Tumulis potentem ssepe devovens deam : Nee vota Naso in Ibida Concepit alto diriora pectore ; Graiusque vates parcius Turpem Lycambis execratus est dolum, Sponsamque Neobulen suam. At ecce diras ipse dam fundo graves, Et imprecor neci necem, Audisse tales videor attonitus sonos Leni, sub aura, flamine : Csecos furores pone, pone vitream Bilemque, et irritas minas : Quid temere violas non nocenda numina. Subitoque ad iras percita ? Non est, ut arbitraris elusus miser Mors atra Noctis filia, Erebove patre creta, sive Erinnye, Vastove nata sub Chao : Ast ilia, coelo missa stellate, Dei Messes ubique colligi.t ; Animasque mole carnea reconditas In lucem et auras evocat ; Ut cum fugaces excitant Horse diem, Themidos Jovisque filise ; Et sempiterni ducit ad vultus patris : At justa rap tat impios Sub regna furvi luctuosa Tartari, Sedesque subterraneas. Hanc ut vocantem laetus audivi, cito Fcedum reliqui carcerem, Volatilesque faustus inter milites Ad astra sublimis feror : Vates ut olim raptus ad ccelum senex, Auriga currus ignei. Non me Bootis terruere lucidi Sarraca tarda frigore, aut Formidolosi Scorpionis brachia, Non ensis, Orion, tuus. Praetervolavi fulgidi solus globum, Longeque sub pedibus deam Vidi triformem, dum coercebat suos Fraenis dracones aureis. Erraticorum siderum per ordines, Per lacteas vehor i per or plagas, 5 YL VAR UM LIBER. 405 Velocitatem saepe miratus novam ; Donee nitentes ad fores Ventum est Olympi, et regiam crystallinam, et Stratum smaragdis atrium. Sed hie tacebo ; nam quis effari queat, Oriundus humano patre, Amoenitates illius loci? Mihi Sat est in sternum frui. NATURAM NON PATI SENIUM. HEU, quam perpetuis erroribus acta fatiscit Avia mens hominum, tenebrisque immersa profundis, Oedipodioniam volvit sub pectore noctem ! Quae vesana suis metiri facta deorum Audet, et incisas leges adamante perenni Assimilare suis, nulloque solubile saeclo Consilium fati perituris alligat horis. Ergone marcescet sulcantibus obsita rugis Naturae facies, et rerum publica mater Omniparum contracta uterum steriiescet ab sevo ? Et se fassa senem, male certis passibus ibit Sidereum tremebunda caput? Num tetra vetustas, Annorumque asterna fames, squalorque situsque, Sidera vexabunt? An et insatiabile Tempus Esuriet Ccelum, rapietque in viscera patrem ? Heu potuitne suas imprudens Jupiter arces Hoc contra munisse nefas, et Temporis isto Exemisse malo, gyrosque dedisse perennes ? Ergo erit ut quandoque sono dilapsa tremendo Convex! tabulata ruant, atque obvius ictu Stridat uterque polus, superaque ut Olympius Decidat, horribilisque retecta Gorgone Pallas ; Qualis in ^Egeam proles Junonia Lemnon Deturbata sacro cecidit de limine coeli? Tu quoque, Phoebe, tui casus imitabere nati ; Praecipiti curru, subitaque ferere ruina Pronus, et extincta fumabit lampade Nereus, Et dabit attonito feralia sibila ponto. Tune etiam aerei divulsis sedibus Hoemi Dissultabit apex, imoque allisa barathro Terrebunt Stygium dejecta Ceraunia Ditem, In superos quibus usus erat, fraternaque bella. At pater omnipotens, fundatis fortius astris, Consuluit rerum summae, certoque peregit Pondere fatorum lances, atque ordine summo Singula perpetuum jussit servare tenorem. Volvitur hinc lapsu mundi rota prima diurno ; Raptat et ambitos socia vertigine ccelos. Tardior haud solito Saturnus, et acer ut olim Fulmineum rutilat cristata casside Mavors- 406 SYL VARUM LIBER. Floridus seternum Phcebus juvenile coruscat, Nee fovet effoetas loca per declivia terras Devexo temone Deus ; sed semper arnica Luce potens, eadem currit per signa rotarum Surgit odoratis pariter formosus ab Indis, ^Ethereum pecus albenti qui cogit Olympo, Mane vocans, et serus agens in pascua cceli ; Temporis et gemino dispertit regna colore. Fulget, obitque vices alterno Delia cornu, Cceruleumque ignem paribus complectitur ulnis. Nee variant elementa fidem, solitoque fragore Lurida perculsas jaculantur fulmina rupes. Nee per inane furit leviori murmure Corus, Stringit et armiferos aequali horrore Gelonos Trux Aquilo, spiratque hyemem, nimbosque volutat. Utque solet, Siculi diverberat ima Pelori Rex maris, et rauca circumstrepit sequora concha Oceani Tubicen, nee vasta mole minorem ^Egeona ferunt dorso Balearica cete. Sed neque, Terra, tibi ssecli vigor ille vetusti Priscus abest, servatque suum Narcissus odorem, Et puer ille suum tenet, et puer ille, decorem, Phcebe, tuusque, et, Cypri, tuus ; nee ditior olim Terra datum sceleri celavit montibus aurum Conscia, vel sub aquis gemmas. Sic denique in aevum Ibit cunctarum series justissima rerum ; Donee flamma orbem populabitur ultima, late Circumplexa polos, et vasti culmina coeli ; Ingentique rogo flagrabit machina mundi. DE IDEA PLATONICA QUEMADMODUM ARISTOTELES INTELLEXIT. DICITE, sacrorum praesides nemorum deae, Tuque O noveni perbeata numinis Memoria mater, quaeque in immenso procul Antro recumbis otiosa ^Eternitas, Monumenta servans, et ratas leges Jovis, Ccelique fastos atque ephemeridas Deum ; Quis ille primus, cujus ex imagine Natura solers finxit humanum genus, ^ternus, incorruptus, ssqusevus polo, Unusque et uni versus, exemplar Dei? Haud ille Palladis gemellus innubse Interna proles insidet menti Jovis ; Sed quamlibet natura sit communior, Tamen seorsus extat ad morem unius, Et, mira, certo stringitur spatio loci : Seu sempiternus ille siderum comes Cceli pererrat ordines decemplicis, Citimumve terris incolit lunae G[lobum : S YL VAR UM LIBER. 407 Sive, inter animas corpus adituras sedens, Obliviosas torpet ad Lethes aquas : Sive in remota forte terrarum plaga Incedit ingens hominis archetypus gigas, Et diis tremendus erigit celsum caput, Atlante major portitore siderum. Non, cui profundum oecitas lumen dedit, Dircoeus augur vidit hunc alto sinu ; Non hunc silente nocte Pleiones nepos Vatum sagaci praepes ostendit chore ; Non hunc sacerdos novit Assyrius, licet ^ Longos vetusti commemoret atavos Nini, Priscumque Belon, inclytumque Osiridem. Non ille trino gloriosus nomine Ter magnus Hermes, ut sit arcani sciens, Talem reliquit Isidis cultoribus. At tu, perenne rui'is Academi decus, (Hcec monstra si tu primus induxti scholis) Jam jam poetas, urbis exules tuae, Revocabis, ipse Tabulator maximus ; Aut institutor ipse migrabis foras. AD PATREM. NUNC mea Pierios cupiam per pectora fontes Irriguas torquere vias, totumque per ora Volvere laxatum gemino de vertice rivum ; Ut tenues oblita sonos audacibus alis Surgat in omcium venerandi Musa parentis. Hoc utcunque tibi gratum, pater optime, carmen Exiguum meditatur opus ; nee novimus ipsi Aptius a nobis quse possint munera donis Respondere tuis, quamvis nee maxima possint Respondere tuis, nedum ut par gratia donis Esse queat, vacuis quae redditur arida verbis. Sed tamen haec nostros ostendit pagina census, Et quod habemus opum charta numeravimus ista, Quse mihi sunt nullae, nisi quas dedit aurea Clio, Quas mihi semoto somni peperere sub antro, Et nemoris laureta sacri Parnassides umbrae. Nee tu vatis opus divinum despice carmen, Quo nihil sethereos ortus, et semina cceli, Nil magis humanam commendat origine mentem, Sancta Promethese retinens vestigia flammae. Carmen amant superi, tremebundaque Tartara carmen Ima ciere valet, divosque ligare profundos, Et triplici duro Manes adamante coercet : Carmine sepositi retegunt arcana futuri Phcebades, et tremulae pallentes ora Sibyllse : Carmina sacrificus solennes pangit ad aras, Aurea seu sternit motantem cornua taurum ; . 408 SYL VARUM LIBER. Seu cum fata sagax fumantibus abdita fibris Consulit, et tepidis Parcam scrutatur in extis. Nos etiam patrium tune cum repetemus Olympum, ^ternasque morce stabunt immobilis sevi, Ibimus auratis per coeli templa coronis, Dulcia suaviloquo sociantes carmina plectvo, Astra quibus, geminique poll convexa sonabunt. Spiritus et rapidos qui circinat igneus orbes, Nunc quoque sidereis intercinit ipse choreis Immortale melos, et inenarrabile carmen ; Torrida dum rutilus compescit sibila serpens, Demissoque ferox gladio mansuescit Orion Stellarum nee sentit onus Maurusius Atlas. Carmina regales epulas ornare solebant, Cum nondum luxus, vastseque immensa vorago Nota guise, et modico spumabat coena Lyceo. Turn de more sedens festa ad convivia vates, ^Esculea intonsos redimitus ab arbore crines, Heroumque actus, imitandaque gesta canebat, Et chaos, et positi late fundamina mundi, Reptantesque deos, et alentes numina glandes, Et nondum yEtneo quassitum fulmen ab antro. Benique quid vocis modulamen inane juvabit Verborum sensusque vacans, numerique loquacis ? Silvestres decet iste chores, non Orphea cantus, Qui tenuit fluvios, et quercubus addidit aures, Carmine, non cithara ; simulachraque functa canendo Compulit in lacrymas : habet has a carmine laudes. Nee tu perge, precor, sacras contemnere Musas, Nee vanas inopesque puta, quarum ipse peritus Munere, m-ille sonos numeros componis ad aptos ; Millibus et vocem modulis variare canoram Doctus, Arionii merito sis nominis hseres. Nunc tibi quid mirum, si me genuisse poetam Contigerit, charo >i tarn prope sanguine juncti, Cognatas artes, studiumque affine sequamur? Ipse volens Phoebus se dispertire duobus, Altera dona mihi, dedit altera dona parenti ; Dividuumque Deum, genitorque puerque, tenemus. Tu tamen ut simules teneras odisse Camoenas, Non odisse reor ; neque enim, pater, ire jubebas Qua via lata patet, qua pronior area lucri, Certaque condendi fulget spes aurea nummi : Nee rapis ad leges, male custoditaque gentis Jura, nee insulsis damnas clamoribus aures ; Sed magis excultam cupiens ditescere mentem Me procul urbano strepitu, secessibus altis Abductum, Aoniae jucunda per otia ripae, Phcebaeo lateri comitem sinis ire beatum. Officium chari taceo commune parentis ; Me poscunt majora : tuo, pater optime, sumptu Cum mihi Romulece patuit facundia linguae. SYL VARUM LIfiER. 403 Et Latii veneres, et quae Jovis ora decebant Grandia magniloquis elata vocabula Graiis, Addere suasisti quos jactat Gallia floras ; Et quam degeneri novus I talus ore loquelam Eundit, barbaricos testatus voce tumultus ; Quaeque Palaestinus loquitur mysteria vates. Denique quicquid habet coelum, subjectaque coelo Terra parens, terraeque et coelo interfluus aer, Quicquid et unda tegit, pontique agitabile marmor, Per te nosse licet, per te, si nosse libebit : Dimotaque venit spectanda scientia nube, Nudaque conspicuos inclinat ad oscula vultus, Ni fugisse velim, ni sit libasse molestum. I mine, confer opes, quisquis malesanus avitas . Austriaci gazas, Periianaque regna prreoptas. Quae potuit majora pater tribuisse, vel ipse Jupiter, excepto, donasset ut omnia, ccelo? Non potiora dedit, quamvis et tuta fuissent, Publica qui juveni commisit lumina nato, Atque Hyperionios currus, et frsena diei, Et circum undantem radiata luce tiaram. Ergo ego, jam doctae pars quamlibet ima catervoe, Victrices hederas inter laurosque sedebo ; Jamque nee obscurus populo miscebor inerti, Vitabuntque oculos vestigia nostra profanos. Este procul vigiles cune, procul este querelae, Invidiaeque acies transverse tortilis hirquo, Sseva nee anguiferos extend e, calumnia, rictus ; In me triste nihil, fcedissima turba, potestis, Nee vestri sum juris ego ; securaque tutus Pectora, vipereo gradiar sublimis ab ictu. At tibi, chare pater, postquam non aequa mercnti Posse referre datur, nee dona rependere factis Sit memorasse satis, repetitaque munera grato Percensere animo, fidaeque reponere menti. Et vos, O nostri, juvenilia carmina, lusus, Si modo perpetuos sperare audebitis annos, Et domini superesse rogo, lucemque tueri, Nee spisso rapient oblivia nigra sub Oreo ; Eorsitan has laudes, decantatumque parentis Nomen, ad exemplum, sero servabitis aevo. PSALM CXIV. r' dy\aa 0GX' ' \iire 5i)fJLOJ>, airex AT; r6re /JLOVVOV vyad' tpp&rjffe 6d\affffa, (f, 65' ap 1 'Iop5a^/s irorl apyvpociSta irrjyrjv. 410 SYL VARUM LIBER. 'E< 5' 8pea pi.yoat 5' a/ja. irdacn dfaffKipr^aav epiirvai, 0?a irapai vtipiyyt TS ^ur/)a0epy ev Bcu6repcu rt 5' a/5 vfj.fj.es dvacrKipT^ffar' epiirvai, Ota Trapai fftpiyyt j/ 7roTO.fj.ovs %ee fj.op/j.ijpovTas, I$.prjvr)V r' o.kva.QV irerprjs d?r6 5a.Kpvoo~0"r)$. PJiilosophus ad regem qiiendam^ qui eum ignotum et iusouteni info reos forte captum inscius damnaverat, rty enl davdru iropevo* hcec subito misit. fi aVa, et 6\{ Nee tibi conveniunt lacrymae, nee flebimus ultra, Ite procul lacrymaj ; purum colit sethera Damon, yEthera purus habet, pluvium pede reppulit arcum ; Heroumque animas inter, divosque perennes, ^Ethereos haurit latices, et gaudia potat Ore sacro. Quin tu, cceli post jura recepta, Dexter ades, placidusque fave quicunque vocaris, Sen tu noster eris Damon, sive ivquior audis Diodatus, quo te divino nomine cuncti Coelicolne norint, sylvisque vocabere Damon. Quod tibi purpureus pudor, et sine labe juventus Grata fuit, quod nulla tori libata voluptas, En et ; m tibi virginei servantur honores ; D 418 SYL VARUM LIBER. Ipse caput nitidum cinctus rutilante corona, Laetaque frondentis gestans umbracula palmse, Sternum perages immortales hymenzeos ; Cantus ubi, choreisque furit lyra mista beatis, Festa Sionaeo bacchantur et Orgia thyrso. JAN. 23, 1646. AD JOANNEM ROUSIUM OXONIENSIS ACADEMLE BIBLIOTHECARIUM. De Hbro Poematum amisso, quern ille sibi denuo mitti postulabat, ut cum all nostris in Bibliotheca pubhca reponeret, Ode. STROPHE I. GEMELLE cultu simplici gaudens liber, Fronde licet gemina, Munditieque nitens non operosa ; Quem manus attulit Juvenilis olim, Sedula tamen haud nimii poetoe ; Dum vagus Ausonias nunc per umbras, Nunc Britannica per vireta lusit, Insons populi, barbitoque devius Indulsit patrio, mox itidem pectine Daunio Longinquum intonuit melos Vicinis, et humum vix tetigit pede : ANT1STROPHE. Quis te, parve liber, quis te fratribus Subduxit reliquis dolo? Cum tu missus ab urbe, Docto jugiter obsecrante amico, Illustre tendebas iter Thamesis ad incunabula Caerulei patris, Fontes ubi limpidi Aonidum, thyasusque sacer, Orbi notus per immensos Temporum lapsus redeunte coelo, Celeberque futurus in sevum ? STROPHE II. Modo quis deus, aut editus deo, Pristinam gentis miseratus indolem, (Si satis noxas luimus priores, Mollique luxu degener otium) Tollat nefandos civium tumultus, Almaque revocet studia sanctus, Et relegatas sine sede Musas SYLVARUM LIBER. 419 Jam pene totis finibus Angligenum ; Immundasque vohicres, Unguibus immincntes, Figat Apollinea pharetra, Phineamque abigat pestem procul amne Pegaseo ? ANTISTROPHE. Quin tu, libelle, nuntii licet mala Fide, vel oscitantia, Semel erraveris agmine fratrum, Sen quis te teneat specus, Seu qua te latebra, forsan unde vili Callo terreris institoris insulsi, Laetare felix : en iterum tibi Spes nova fulget, posse profundam Fugere Lethen, vehique superam In Jovis aulam, remige penna : STROPHE III. Nam te Roiisius sui Optat peculi, numeroque justo Sibi pollicitum queritur abesse ; Rogatque vrnias ille, cujus inclyta Sunt data virum monumenta curse : Teque adytis etiam sacris Voluit reponi, quibus et ipse praesidet ^ternorum operum custos fidelis ; Quaestorque gazae nobilioris, Quam cui prsefuit Ion, Clarus Erechtheides, Opulenta del per templa parentis, Fulvosque tnpodas, donaqne Delphica. Ion Acta genitus Creusa. ANTISTROPHE. Ergo, tu visere lucos Musarum ibis amoenos ; Diamque Phoebi rursus ibis in domum, Oxonia quam valle colit, Delo posthabita, Bifidoque Parnassi jugo : Ibis honestus, Postquam egregiam tu quoque sortem Nactus abis, dextri prece sollicitatus amici. Illic legeris inter alta nomina Authorum, Graice simul et Latinoe Antiqua gentis lumina, et verum decus. EPODOS. Vos tandem, liaud vacui mei laj)orcs. Quicquid hoc sterile fudit ingenium. 420 SYL VARUM LIBER. Jam sero placidam spcrarc jubco Perfunctam invidia requiem, sedesque beatas, Quas bonus Hermes, Kt tutela dabit solers Roiisi ; Quo neque lingua procax vulgi penetrabit, atque longe Turba legentum prava facesset : At ultimi nepotes, Et cordatior cetas, Judicia rebus aequiora forsitan Adhibebit, integro sinu. Turn, livore sepulto, Si quid meremur sana posteritas sciet, Rolisio favente. TRANSLATIONS. The foreign poems of Milton, with a few exceptions, were translated by the poet Cowper, whose versions are given in the ensuing pages. TRANSLATIONS OF THE ITALIAN POEMS. I. FAIR Lady ! whose harmonious name the Rhine, Through all his glassy vale, delights to hear, Base weve indeed the wretch who could forbear To love a spirit elegant as thine, That manifests a sweetness all divine, Nor knows a thousand winning acts to spare, And graces, which Love's bow and arrows are, Tempering thy virtues to a softer shine. When gracefully thou speak'st, or singest gay Such strains as might the senseless forest move, Ah then turn each his eyes and ears away Who feels himself unworthy of thy love ! Grace can alone preserve him, ere the dart Of fond desire yet reach his inmost heart. II. As on a hill-top rude, when closing day Imbrowns the scene, some pastoral maiden fair Waters a lovely foreign plant with care, Borne from its native genial airs away, That scarcely can its tender bud display, So, on my tongue these accents, new and rare, Are flowers exotic, which Love waters there, While thus, O sweetly scornful ! I essay Thy praise, in verse to British ears unknown, And Thames exchange for Arno's fair domain ; So Love has willed, and ofttimes Love has slum That what he wills he never wills in vain. Oh that this hard and sterile breast might be To Him who plants from lif""'n a soil as free ! 422 TRA NSLA T10NS. CANZONE. THEY mock my toil the nymphs and amorous swains "And whence this fond attempt to write," they cry, " Love-songs in language that thou little know'st ? How darest thou risk to sing these foreign strains ? Say truly, find'st not oft thy purpose crossed, And that thy fairest flowers here fade and die?" Then with pretence of admiration high "Thee other shores expect, and other tides ; Rivers, on whose grassy sides Her deathless laurel leaf, with which to bind Thy flowing locks, already Fame provides ; Why then this burthen, better far declined?" Speak, Muse ! for me. The fair one said, who guides My willing heart, and all my fancy's flights, "This is the language in which Love delights." in. TO CHARLES DIODATI. CHARLES and I say it wondering thou must know That I, who once assumed a scornful air, And scoffed at Love, am fallen in his snare. (Full many an upright man has fallen so.) Yet think me not thus dazzled by the flow Of golden locks, or damask cheek ; more rare The heartfelt beauties of my foreign fair, A mien majestic, with dark brows that show The tranquil lustre of a lofty mind ; Words exquisite of idioms more than one, And song, whose fascinating power might blind And from her sphere draw down the labouring Moon, With such fire-darting eyes that, should I fill My ears with wax, she would enchant me still. IV. LADY ! it cannot be but that thine eyes Must be my sun, such radiance they display, And strike me even as Phoebus him whose way Through horrid Libya's sandy desert lies. Meantime, on that side steamy vapours rise Where most I suffer. Of what kind are they, New as to me they are, I cannot say, But deem them, in the lover's language sighs. Some, though with pain, my bosom close conceals, Which, if in part escaping thence they tend To soften thine, thy coldness soon congeals. While others to my tearful eyes ascend, Whence my sad nights in showers are ever drowned, Till my Aurora come, her brow with roses bound. TRANSLATIONS. ENAMOURED, artless, young, on foreign ground Uncertain whither from myself to fly, To thee, dear Lady, with an humble sigh Let me devote my heart, which I have found By certain proofs, not few, intrepid, sound, Good, and addicted to conceptions high : When tempests shake the world, and fire the sky, It rests in adamant self- wrapt around ; As safe from envy, and from outrage rude, From hopes and fears that vulgar minds abuse, As fond of genius and fixt fortitude, Of the resounding lyre, and every Muse. Weak you will find it in one only part, Now pierced by Love's immedicable dart. TRANSLATIONS OF THE LATIN POEMS. ELEGIES. ELEGY I. To CHARLES DEODATI. AT length, my friend, the far-sent letters come, Charged with thy kindness, to their destined home They come, at length, from Deva's western side, Where prone she seeks the salt Vergivian tide. Trust me, my joy is great that thou shouldst be, Though born of foreign race, yet born for me, And that my sprightly friend, now free to roam, Must seek again so soon his wonted home. I well content where Thames with influent tide My native city laves meantime reside. Nor zeal nor duty now my steps impel To reedy Cam, and my forbidden cell ; Nor aught of pleasure in those fields have I That to the musing bard all shade deny. 'Tis time that I a pedant's threats disdain, And fly from wrongs my soul will ne'er sustain. If peaceful days, in lettered leisure spent Beneath my father's roof, be banishment, Then call me banished ; I will ne'er refuse A name expressive of the lot I choose. I would that, exiled to the Pontic shore, Rome's hapless bard had suffered nothing more ; He then had equalled even Homer's lays, And, Virgil ! thou hadst won but second praise. For here I woo the Muse, with no control ; And here my books my life absorb me whole, Here too I visit, or to smile or weep, The winding theatre's majestic sweep ; 424 TRANSLATIONS The grave or gay colloquial scene recruits My spirits, spent in learning's long pursuits , Whether some senior shrewd, or spendthrift heir, Suitor or soldier, now unarmed, be there ; Or some coifed brooder o'er a ten years' cause Thunder the Norman gibberish of the laws. The lacquey there oft dupes fhe wary sire, And artful speeds the enamoured son's desire : There virgins oft, unconscious what they prove, What love is know not, yet unknowing love. Or if impassioned Tragedy wield high The bloody sceptre, give her locks to fly Wild as the winds, and roll her haggard eye I gaze, and grieve, still cherishing my grief; At times, even bitter tears yield sweet relief: As when, from bliss untasted torn away, Some youth dies hapless on his bridal day, Or when the ghost, sent back from shades below, Fills the assassin's heart with vengeful woe, When Troy or Argos the dire scene affords, Or Creon's hall laments its guilty lords. Nor always city-pent, or pent at home, I dwell ; but when spring calls me forth to roam, Expatiate in our proud suburban shades Of branching elm that never sun pervades. Here many a virgin troop I may descry, Like stars of mildest influence gliding by. Oh forms divine ! Oh looks that might inspire Even Jove himself, grown old, with young desire. Oft have I gazed on gem-surpassing eyes, Out-sparkling every star that gilds the skies ; Necks whiter than the ivory arm bestowed By Jove on Pelops, or the milky road ; Bright locks, Love's golden snare ! these falling low, Those playing wanton o'er the graceful brow ; Cheeks too, more winning sweet than after showei Adonis turned to Flora's favourite flower. Yield, heroines, yield, and ye who shared the embrace Of Jupiter in ancient times, give place ; Give place, ye turbaned fair of Persia's coast ! And ye, not less renowned, Assyria's boast ! Submit, ye nymphs of Greece ! ye, once the bloom Of Ilion ! and all ye of haughty Rome, Who swept, of old, her theatres with trains Redundant, and still live in classic strains ! To British damsels beauty's palm is due : Aliens ! to follow them is fame for you. Oh city, founded by Dardanian hands, Whose towering front the circling realms commands, Too blest abode ! no loveliness we see In all the earth but it abounds in thee. The virgin multitude that daily meets, TRANSLATIONS. Radiant with gold and beauty, in thy streets, Outnumbers all her train of starry fires, With which Diana gilds thy lofty spires. Fame says that, wafted hither by her doves, With all her host of quiver-bearing Loves, Venus, preferring Paphian scenes no more, Has fixed her empire on thy nobler shore. But, lest the sightless boy enforce my stay, I leave these happy walls, while yet I may, Immortal moly shall secure my heart From all the sorcery of Circaean art, And I will even repass Cam's reedy pools, To face once more the warfare of the schools. Meantime accept this trifle ! rhymes, though few, Yet such as prove thy friend's remembrance true. 425 ELEGY II. ON THE DEATH OF THE UNIVERSITY BEADLE AT CAMBRIDGE. THEE whose refulgent staff and summons clear Minerva's flock long time was wont to obey, Although thyself an herald, famous here, The last of heralds, Death, has snatched away. He calls on all alike, nor even deigns To spare the office that himself sustains. Thy locks were whiter than the plumes displayed By Leda's paramour in ancient time, But thou wast worthy ne'er to have decayed, Or ^Eson-like to know a second prime, Worthy for whom some goddess should have won New life, oft kneeling to Apollo's son. Commissioned to convene, with hasty call, The gowned tribes, how graceful wouldst thou stand ! So stood Cyllenius erst in Priam's hall, Wing-footed messenger of Jove's command And so Eurybates, when he addressed To Peleus' son Atrides* proud behest. Dread queen of sepulchres ! whose rigorous laws And watchful eyes run through the realms below, Oh oft too adverse to Minerva's cause, Too often to the Muse not less a foe, Choose meaner marks, and with more equal aim Pierce useless drones, earth's burthen and its shame 1 Flow therefore tears, for him, from every eye ! All ye disciples of the Muses, weep ! Assembling all, in robes of sable dye, Around his bier, lament his endless .sleep ; And let complaining elegy rehearse, In every school, her sweetest saddest verse. 426 TRANSLA TION^ ELEGY III. ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. SILENT I sat, dejected, and alone, Making, in thought, the public \voes my own, When first arose the image in my breast Of England's suffering by that scourge, the Pest ! How Death, his funeral torch and scythe in hand, Entering the lordliest mansions of the land, Has laid the gem-illumined palace low, And levelled tribes of nobles at a blow. I next deplored the famed paternal pair, Too soon to ashes turned, and empty air : The heroes next, whom snatched into the skies All Belgia saw, and followed with her sighs ; But thee far most I mourned, regretted most, Winton's chief shepherd, and her worthiest boast ! Poured out in tears I thus complaining said : "Death, next in power to him who rules the dead ! Is't not enough that all the woodlands yield To thy fell force, and every verdant field ; That lilies, at one noisome blast of thine, And even the Cyprian queen's own roses, pine ; That oaks themselves, although the running rill Suckle their roots, must wither at thy will ; That all the winged nations, even those Whose heaven-directed flight the future shows, And all the beasts, that in dark forests stray, And all the herds of Proteus, are thy prey ? Ah envious ! armed with powers so unconfined ! Why stain thy hands with blood of human-kind ? Why take delight, with darts that never roam, To chase a heaven-born spirit from her home ? While thus I mourned, the star of evening stood, Now newly risen above the western flood, And Phoebus from his morning goal again Had reached the gulfs of the Iberian main. I wished repose, and, on my couch reclined, Took early rest, to night and sleep resigned : When Oh for words to paint what I beheld ! I seemed to wander in a spacious field, Where all the champaign glowed with purple light Like that of sunrise on the mountain height. Flowers over all the field, of every hue That ever Iris wore, luxuriant grew : Nor Chloris, with whom amorous Zephyrs play, E'er dressed Alcinous' garden half so gay. A silver current, like the Tagus, rolled O'er golden sands, but sands of purer gold ; With dewy airs Favonius fanned the flowers, With airs awakened under rosy bowers ; Such, poets feign, irradiate all o'er The sun's abode on India's utmost shore. TRANSLA TIONS. 427 While I that splendour and the mingled shade Of fruitful vines, with wonder fixt surveyed, At once, with looks that beamed celestial grace, The seer of \Vinton stood before my face ; His snowy vesture's hem, descending low, ) His golden sandals swept, and pure as snow Xew-fallen shone the mitre on his brow. ) Where'er he trod a tremulous sweet sound Of gladness shook the flowery scene around : Attendant angels clap their starry wings : The trumpet shakes the sky, all ether 'rings ; Each chants his welcome, folds him to his breast ; And thus a sweeter voice than all the rest : " Ascend, my son ! thy Father's kingdom share ! My son ! henceforth be freed from every care !" So spake the voice, and at its tender close With psaltry's sound the angelic band arose ; Then night retired, and, chased by dawning day, The visionary bliss pass'd all away. I mourned my banished sleep, with fond concern ; Frequent to me may dreams like this return ! ELEGY IV. To HIS TUTOR, THOMAS YOUNG, CHAPLAIN TO THE ENGLISH FACTORY AT HAMBURGH. HENCE, my epistle skim the deep fly o'er Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonic shore ! Haste lest a friend should grieve for thy delay ! And the gods grant that nothing thwart thy way ! I will myself invoke the king who binds, In his Sicanian echoing vault, the winds, With Doris and her nymphs, and all the throng Of azure gods, to speed thee safe along. But rather to ensure thy happier haste, Ascend Medea's chariot, if thou mayst ; Or that whence young Triptolemus of yore Descended, welcome on the Scythian shore. The sands that line the German coast descried, To opulent Hamburga turn aside ! So called, if legendary fame be true, From Hama, whom a club-armed Cimbrian slew. There lives, deep-learn'd and primitively just, A faithful steward of his Christian trust, My friend and favourite inmate of my heart, That now is forced to want its better part. What mountains now, and seas alas how wide, From me this other, dearer self divide 1 1 )ear as the sage renowned for moral truth To the prime spirit of the Attic youth ; Dear as the Stagyrite to Ammon's son, His pupil, who disdained the world he won ; 428 TRANSLATIONS. Nor so did Chiron or so Phoenix shine In young Achilles' eyes as he in mine. First led by him through sweet Aonian shade, Each sacred haunt of Pindus I surveyed ; And, favoured by the Muse whom I implored, Thrice on my lip the hallowed stream I poured. But thrice the sun's resplendent chariot, rolled To Aries, has new-tinged his fleece with gold, A.nd Chloris twice has dressed the meadows gay, And twice has summer parched their bloom away, Since last delighted on his looks I hung, Or my ear drank the music of his tongue. Fly, therefore, and surpass the tempest's speed ; Aware thyself that there is urgent need ! Him, entering, thou shalt haply seated see Beside his spouse, his infants on his knee ; Or turning, page by page, with studious look, Some bulky father, or God's holy book ; Or ministering (which is his weightiest care) To Christ's assembled flock their heavenly fare. Give him, whatever his employment be, Such gratulation as he claims from me ; And, with a down-cast eye and carriage meek Addressing him, forget not thus to speak. "If, compassed round with arms, thou canst attend To verse, verse greets thee from a distant friend. Long due, and late, I left the English shore ; But make me welcome for that cause the more ! Such from Ulysses, his chaste wife to cheer, The slow epistle came, though late, sincere. But wherefore this ? why palliate I the deed For which the culprit's self could hardly plead ? Self-charged, and self-condemned, his proper part He feels neglected, Avith an aching heart. But thou forgive ! delinquents who confess, And pray forgiveness, merit anger less ; From timid foes the lion turns away, Nor yawns upon or rends a crouching prey ; Even pike-wielding Thracians learn to spare, Won by soft influence of a suppliant prayer ; And Heaven's dread thunderbolt arrested stands By a cheap victim and uplifted hands. Long had he wished to write, but was withheld, And writes at last, by love alone compelled ; For Fame, too often true when she alarms, Reports thy neighbouring fields a scene for arms Thy city against fierce besiegers barred, And all the Saxon chiefs for fight prepared. Enyo wastes thy country wide around, And saturates with blood the tainted ground ; Mars rests contented in his Thrace no more, But goads his steeds to fields of German gore ; TRANSLA TIONS. 429 The ever verdant 'olive fades and dies, And Peace, the trumpet-hating goddess, flics, Flies from that earth which justice long had left, And leaves the world of its last guard bereft. " Thus horror girds thee round. Meantime alon- Thou dwcll'st, and helpless, in a soil unknown Poor, and receiving from a foreign hand The aid denied thee in thy native land. Oh ruthless country, and unfeeling more Than thy own billow-beaten chalky shore ! Leav'st thou to foreign care the worthies givtn By Providence to guide thy steps to heaven His ministers, commissioned to proclaim Eternal blessings in a Saviour's name ? Ah then most worthy, with a soul unfed, In Stygian night to lie for ever dead ! So once the venerable Tishbite strayed An exiled fugitive from shade to shade, When, flying Ahab and his fury wife, In lone Arabian wilds he sheltered life ; So from Philippa wandered forth forlorn Cilician Paul, with sounding scourges torn ; And Christ himself so left, and trod no more, The thankless Gergesene's forbidden shore. " Cut thou take courage ! strive against despair ! Quake not with dread, nor nourish anxious care J Grim war indeed on every side appears, And thou art menaced by a thousand spears ; Yet none shall drink thy blood, or shall offend Even the defenceless bosom of my friend For thee the segis of thy God shall hide ; Jehovah's self shall combat on thy side ; The same who vanquished under Sion's towers, At silent midnight, all Assyria's powers ; The same who overthrew in ages past ' Damascus' sons that laid Samaria waste ! Their king he filled and them with fatal fears By mimic sounds of clarions in their ears, Of hoofs, and wheels, and neighings from afar, Of clashing armour, and the din of war. "Thou, therefore, (as the most afflicted may,) Still hope, and triumph o'er thy evil day ! Look forth, expecting happier times to come, And to enjoy once more thy native home ! " ELEGY V. O.v THE APPROACH OF SPRING. TIME, never wandering from his annual round, Bids Zephyr breathe the spring, and thaw the ground : Bleak winter flies, new verdure clothes the phin, And Earth assumes her trni>ient youth again. 433 TRANSLA TIONS. Dream I, or also to the spring belong Increase of genius, and new powers of song? Spring gives them, and, how strange soe'er it seems, Impels me now to some harmonious themes. Castalia's fountain, and the forked hill By day, by night, my raptured fancy fill ; My bosom burns and heaves, I hear within A sacred sound that prompts me to begin. Lo ! Phoebus comes ; with his bright hair he blends The radiant laurel wreath ; Phoebus descends. I mount, and, undepressed by cumbrous cla' Through cloudy regions win my easy way. Rapt through peetic shadowy haunts I fly j The shrines all open to my dauntless eye, My spirit searches all the realms of light, And no Tartarean gulfs elude my sight. But this ecstatic trance this glorious storm Of inspiration what will it perform ? Spring claims the verse that with his influence glows, And shall be paid with what himself bestows. Thou, veiled with opening foliage, lead'st the throng Of feathered minstrels, Philomel ! in song ; Let us, in concert, to the season sing, Civic and silvan heralds of the Spring ! With notes triumphant Spring's approach declare ! To Spring, ye Muses, annual tribute bear ! The Orient left and ^Ethiopa's plains, The Sun now northward turns his golden reins ; Night creeps not now, yet rules with gentle sway, And drives her dusky horrors swift away. Now less fatigued, on this ethereal plain Bootes follows his celestial wain ; And now the radiant sentinels above, Less numerous, watch around the courts of Jove, For, with the night, force, ambush, slaughter fly, And no gigantic guilt alarms the sky. Now haply says some shepherd, while he views, Recumbent on a rock, the reddening dews, "This night, this surely, Phoebus missed the fair, Who stops his chariot by her amorous care." Cynthia, delighted by the morning's glow, Speeds to the woodland and resumes her bow Resigns her beams, and, glad to disappear, Blesses his aid who shortens her career. "Come" Phoebus cries "Aurora, come too late Thou linger'st, slumbering, with thy withered mate .' Leave him, and to Hymettus top repair ! Thy darling Cephalus expects thee there." The goddess, with a blush, her love betr?ys, But mounts, and driving rapidly, obeys. Earth now desires thee, Phoebus ! and to engage Thy warm embrace, casts off the guise of age ; TRANSLA TIONS. 43 1 Desires thee, and deserves ; for who so sweet, When her rich bosom courts thy genial heat ? Her breath imparts, to every breeze that blo\v>, Arabia's harvest and the Paphian rose. Her lofty front she diadems around With sacred pines, like Ops on Ida crowned ; Her dewy locks with various flowers new-blown, She interweaves, various, and all her own, For Proserpine, in such a wreath attired, Tcenarian Dis himself with love inspired. Fear not, lest, cold and coy, the nymph refuse ! Herself, with all her sighing Zephyrs, sues ; Each courts thee, fanning soft his scented wing, And all her groves with warbled wishes ring. Nor unendowed and indigent aspires The amorous Earth to engage thy warm desires, But, rich in balmy drugs, assists thy claim, Divine Physician ! to that glorious name. If splendid recompense, if gifts, can move Desire in thee (gifts often purchase love), She offers all the wealth her mountains hide, And all that rests beneath the boundless tide. How oft, when headlong from the heavenly steep She sees thee playing in the western deep, How oft she cries " Ah Phcebus ! why repair Thy wasted force, why seek refreshment there ? Can Tethys win thee ? wherefore shouldst thou lave A face so fair in her unpleasant wave? Come, seek my green retreats, and rather choose To cool thy tresses in my crystal dews. The grassy turf shall yield thee sweeter rest ; Come, lay thy evening glories on my breast, And, breathing fresh through many a humid rose, Soft whispering airs shall lull thee to repose ! No fears I feel like Semele to die, Nor let thy burning wheels approach too nigh, For thou canst govern them ; here therefore rest, And lay thy evening glories on my breast ! " Thus breathes the wanton Earth her amorous flame. And all her countless offspring feel the same ; For Cupid now through every region strays, Brightening his faded fires with solar rays ; His new-strung bow sends forth a deadlier sound, And his new-pointed shafts more deeply wound. Nor Dian's self escapes him now untried, Nor even Vesta at her altar-side ; His mother too repairs her beauty's wane, And seems sprung newly from the deep again. Exulting youths the Hymeneal sing, With Hymen's name roofs, rocks, and valleys ring ; He, new attired, and by the season drest, Proceeds, all fragrant, in his saffron vest. 432 TRANSLA TIONS. Now, many a golden-cinctured virgin roves To taste the pleasures of the fields and groves ; All wish, and each alike, some favourite youth Hers in the bonds of Hymeneal truth. Now pipes the shepherd through his reeds again, Nor Phillis wants a song that suits the strain. With songs the seaman hails the starry sphere, And dolphins rise from the abyss to hear ; Jove feels himself the season, sports again With his fair spouse, and banquets all his train. Now too the Satyrs, in the dusk of eve, Their mazy dance through flowery meadows weave, A.nd, neither god nor goat, but both in kind, Silvanus, wreathed with cypress, skips behind. The Dryads leave their hollow sylvan cells To roam the banks and solitary dells ; Pan riots now, and from his amorous chafe Ceres and Cybele seem hardly safe ; And Faunus, all on fire to reach the prize, In chase of some enticing Oread flies. She bounds before, but fears too swift a bound And hidden lies, but wishes to be found. Our shades entice the Immortals from above, And some kind power presides o'er every grove ; And long, ye powers, o'er every grove preside. For all is safe and blest where ye abide ! Return, O Jove ! the age of gold restore Why choose to dwell where storms and thunder roar ? At least, thou, Phoebus ! moderate thy speed ! Let not the vernal hours too swift proceed ; Command rough Winter back, nor yield the pole Too soon to Night's encroaching long control ! ELEGY VI. To CHARLES DEODATI, Who, while he spent his Christmas in the country, sent the Author a poetical Epistle, in which he requested that his verses, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account of the many feasts to which his friends in- vited him, and which would not allow him leisure to finish them as he wished. WITH no rich viands overcharged, I send Health, which perchance you want, my pampered friend ; But wherefore should thy Muse tempt mine away From what she loves, from darkness into day? Art thou desirous to be told how well I love thee, and in verse ? verse cannot tell, For verse has bounds, and must in measure move : But neither bounds nor measure knows my love. How pleasant, in thy lines described, appear December's harmless sports and rural cheer ! French spirits kindling with cerulean fires, And all such gambols as the time inspires ! TRANSLA TIONS. 433 Think not that wine against good verse offends : The Muse and Bacchus have been always friends, Nor Phoebus blushes sometimes to be found With ivy, rather than with laurel, crowned. The Nine themselves ofttimes have joined the song And revels of the Bacchanalian throng ; Not even Ovid could in Scythian air Sing sweetly why ? no vine would flourish there. What in brief numbers sung Anacreon's Muse ? Wine, and the rose that sparkling wine bedews. Pindar with Bacchus glows ; his every line Breathes the rich fragrance of inspiring wine, While, with loud crash o'erturned, the chariot lies, And brown with dust the fiery courser flies. The Roman lyrist steeped in wine his lays So sweet in Glycera's and Chloe's praise. Now too the plenteous feast and mantling bowl Nourish the vigour of thy sprightly soul ; The flowing goblet makes thy numbers flow, And casks not wine alone, but verse bestow. Thus Phoebus favours, and the hearts attend Whom Bacchus and whom Ceres both befriend : What wonder then, thy verses are so sweet, In which these triple powers so kindly meet ? The lute now also sounds, with gold inwrought ; And, touched with flying fingers, nicely taught, In tapestried halls high roofed, the sprightly lyre Directs the dancers of the virgin choir. If dull repletion fright the Muse away, Sights gay as these may more invite her stay : And, trust me, while the ivory keys resound, Fair damsels sport, and perfumes steam around, Apollo's influence, like ethereal flame, Shall animate at once thy glowing frame, And all the Muse shall rush into thy breast, By love and music's blended powers possest. For numerous powers light Elegy befriend, Hear her sweet voice, and at her call attend ; Her, Bacchus, Ceres, Venus, all approve, And, with his blushing mother, gentle Love. Hence to such bards we grant the copious use Of banquets, and the vine's delicious juice. But they who demi-gods and heroes praise, And feats performed in Jove's more youthful days, Who now the counsels of high heaven explore, Now shades that echo the Cerberean roar, Simply let these, like him of Samos, live, Let herbs to them a bloodless banquet ^'ive ; In beechen goblets let their beverage ,>hine, Cool from the crystal spring, their sober wine. Their youth should pass in innocence, secure From stain licentious, and in manners pure, * ' 434 TRANSLATIONS. Pure as the priest when robed in white he stands, The fresh lustration ready in his hands. Thus Linus lived, and thus, as poets write, Tiresias, wiser for his loss of sight ; Thus exiled Chalcas, thus the bard of Thrace, Melodious tamer of the savage race. Thus, trained by temperance, Homer led, of yore, His chief of Ithaca from shore to shore, Through magic Circe's monster-peopled reign, And shoals insidious with the siren train ; And through the realms where grizly spectres dwell, Whose tribes he fettered in a gory spell ; For these are sacred bards, and, from above, Drink large infusions from the mind of Jove. Wouldst thou, (perhaps 'tis hardly worth thine ear,) Wouldst thou be told my occupation here ? The promised King of Peace employs my pen, The eternal covenant made for guilty men, The new-born Deity with infant cries Filling the sordid hovel where he lies : The hymning Angels, and the herald star That led the Wise who sought him from afar ; And idols on their own unhallowed shore Dashed, at his birth, to be revered no more. This theme on reeds of Albion I rehearse : The dawn of that blest day inspired the verse ; Verse that, reserved in secret, shall attend Thy candid voice, my critic, and my friend. ELEGY VII. COMPOSED IN THE AUTHOR'S NINETEENTH YEAR As yet a stranger to the gentle fires That Amathusia's smiling queen inspires, Not seldom I derided Cupid's darts, And scorned his claim to rule all human hearts. "Go, child," I said, "transfix the timorous dove ! An easy conquest suits an infant love ; Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall be Sufficient triumph to a chief like thee ! Why aim thy idle arms at human-kind ? Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind." The Cyprian heard, and, kindling into ire, (None kindles sooner) burn'd with double fire. It was the spring, and newly risen clay Peeped o'er the hamlets on the first of May ; My eyes, too tender for the blaze of light, Still sought the shelter of retiring night, When Love approached, in painted plumes arrayed The insidious god his rattling darts betrayed, Nor less his infant features, and the sly Sweet intimations of his threatening eye. TRANSLA TIONS. 435 Such the Sigeian boy is seen above, Filling the goblet for imperial Jove ; Such he on whom the nymphs bestowed their charms, Hylas, who perished in a Naiad's arms. Angry he seemed, yet graceful in his ire, And added threats, not destitute of fire. "My power," he said, " by others' pain alone 'Twere best to learn ; now learn it by thy own ! With those who feel my power, that power attest, And in thy anguish be my sway confest ! I vanquished Phoebus, though returning vain From his new triumph o'er the Python slain, And, when he thinks on Daphne, even he Will yield the prize of archery to me. A dart less true the Parthian horseman sped, Behind him killed, and conquered as he fled : Less true the expert Cydonian, and less true The youth whose shaft his latent Procris slew. Vanquished by me see huge Orion bend, By me Alcides, and Alcides' friend. At me should Jove himself a bolt design, His bosom first should bleed transfixt by mine. But all thy doubts- this shaft will best explain, Nor shall it reach thee with a trivial pain. Thy Muse, vain youth ! shall not thy peace ensure, Nor Phoebus' serpent yield thy wound a cure." He spoke, and, waving a bright shaft in air, Sought the warm bosom of the Cyprian fair. That thus a child should bluster in my ear Provoked my laughter more than moved my fear. I shunned not, therefore, public haunts, but strayed Careless in city or suburban shade ; And, passing and repassing, nymphs that moved With grace divine beheld where'er I roved. Bright shone the vernal day, with double blaze, As beauty gave new force to Phoebus' rays. By no grave scruples checked, I freely eyed The dangerous show, rash youth my only guide , And many a look of many a fair unknown Met full, unable to control my own. But one I marked (then peace forsook my breast) One oh how far superior to the rest ! What lovely features ! such the Cyprian queen Herself might wish, and Juno wish her mien. The very nymph was she whom, when I dared His arrows, Love had even then prepared ; Nor was himself remote, nor unsupplied With torch well-trimmed and quiver at his side Now to her lips he clung, her eyelids now, Then settled on her cheeks, or on her brow ; And with a thousand wounds from every part Pierced, and transpierced, my undefended heart. 436 TRANSLATIONS. A fever, new to me, of fierce desire Now seized my soul, and I was all on fire ; But she, the while, whom only I adore, Was gone, and vanished, to appear no more In silent sadness I pursue my way ; I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay, And, while I follow her in thought, bemoan With tears my soul's delight so quickly flown. When Jove had hurled him to the Lemnian coast, So Vulcan sorrowed for Olympus lost, And so Oeclides, sinking into night, From the deep gulf looked up to distant light. Wretch that I am, what hopes for me remain, Who cannot cease to love, yet love in vain ? Oh could I once, once more, behold the fair, Speak to her, tell her of the pangs I bear ! Perhaps she is not adamant, would show Perhaps some pity at my tale of woe. Oh inauspicious flame ! 'tis mine to prove A matchless instance of disastrous love. Ah spare me, gentle power ! If such thou be, Let not thy deeds and nature disagree ; Spare me, and I will worship at no shrine With vow and sacrifice, save only thine. Now I revere thy fires, thy bow, thy darts, Now own thee sovereign of all human hearts. Remove ! no grant me still this raging woe ! Sweet is the wretchedness that lovers know : But pierce hereafter (should I chance to see One destined mine) at once both her and me. Such were the the trophies that, in earlier days, By vanity seduced, I toiled to raise, Studious, yet indolent, and urged by youth, That worst of teachers ! from the ways of truth ; Till Learning taught me, in his shady bower, To quit Love's servile yoke, and spurn his power. Then, on a sudden, the fierce flame supprest, A frost continual settled on my breast ; Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to see, And Venus dreads a Diomede in me. EPIGRAMS.* ON THE INVENTOR OF GUNS. PRAISE in old times the sage Prometheus won, Who stole sethereal radiance from the sun ; But greater he whose bold invention strove To. emulate the fiery bolts of Jove. * Cowper did not translate the Epigrams numbered (in the original) t 2 4, 6, 9, 10, *i ; nor yet the Poem /;; Quinhim Novetnbris, in the Sylvarum 7RANSLA TIONS. TO LEONORA SINGING AT ROM K. ANOTHER Leonora once inspired Tasso, with fatal love to frenzy fired ; But how much happier, lived he now, were he, Pierced with whatever pangs for love of thee ! Since, could he hear that heavenly voice of thine, With Adriana's lute of sound divine, Fiercer than Pentheus' though his eye might roll, Or idiot apathy benumb his soul, You still, with medicinal sounds might cheer His senses wandering in a blind career ; And sweetly breathing through his wounded breast, Charm with soul-soothing song, his thoughts to rest. TO THE SAME. NAPLES, too credulous, ah ! boast no more The sweet-voiced Siren buried on thy shore, That, when Parthenope deceased, she gave Her sacred dust to a Chalcidic grave ; For still she lives, but has exchanged the hoarse Pausilipo for Tiber's placid course, Where, idol of all Rome, she now in chains Of magic song both gods and men detains. THE COTTAGER AND HIS LANDLORD, A FABLE. A PEASANT to his lord paid yearly court, Presenting pippins of so rich a sort That he, displeased to have a part alone, Removed the tree, that all might be his own. The tree, too old to travel, though before So fruitful, withered, and would yield no more. The squire, perceiving all his labour void, Cursed his own pains, so foolishly employed. And "Oh," he cried, "That I had lived content With tribute, small indeed, but kindly meant 1 My avarice has expensive proved to me, Has cost me both my pippins and my tree." TO CHRISTINA, QUEEN OF SWEDEN, WITH CROMWELL'S PICTURE. CHRISTINA, maiden of heroic mien ! Star of the Nor.th ! of northern stars the queen I Behold what wrinkles I have earned, and how The iron casque still chafes my veteran brow, While, following Fate's dark footsteps, I fulfil The dictates of a hardy people's will. But softened, in thy sight, my looks appear, Not to all Queens or Kin*s alike severe. 438 TRANS LA TIONS. SYLVARUM LIBER. ON THE DEATH OF THE VICE-CHANCELLOR, A PHYSICIAN. LEARN, ye nations of the earth, The condition of your birth : Now be taught your feeble state ; Know that all must yield to fate ! If the mournful rover, Death, Say but once " Resign your breath !" Vainly of escape you dream, You must pass the Stygian stream. Could the stoutest overcome Death's assault, and baffle doom, Hercules had both withstood, Undiseased by Nessus' blood. Ne'er had Hector pressed the plain, By a trick of Pallas slain, Nor the chief to Jove allied By Achilles' phantom died. Could enchantments life prolong, Circe, saved by magic song, Still had lived, and equal skill Had preserved Medea still. Dwelt in herbs, and drugs, a power To avert man's destined hour, Learn'd Machaon should have known Doubtless to avert his own. Chiron had survived the smart Of the Hydra-tainted dart And Jove's bolt had been, with ease, Foiled by Asclepiades. Thou too, sage ! of whom forlorn Helicon and Cirrha mourn, Still hadst filled thy princely place, Regent of the gowned race ; Hadst advanced to higher fame Still thy much-ennobled name, Nor in Charon's skiff explored The Tartarean gulf abhorred. But resentful Proserpine, Jealous of thy skill divine, Snapping short thy vital thread, Thee too numbered with the dead Wise and good ! untroubled be The green turf, that covers thee ! Thence, in gay profusion, grow All the sweetest flowers that blow I TRANS LA TIONS. 439 Pluto's consort bid thcc rest . TEncus pronounce thcc blest, To her home thy shade consign, Make Elysium ever thine ! ON THE DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF ELY. WRITTEN IN THE AUTHOR'S SEVENTEENTH YEAR. MY lids with grief were tumid yet, And still my sullied cheek was wet With briny tears, profusely shed For venerable Winton dead ; When Fame, whose tales of saddest sound, Alas ! are ever truest found, The news through all our cities spread Of yet another mitred head By ruthless fate to death consigned, Ely, the honour of his kind ! At once, a storm of passion heaved My boiling bosom ; much I grieved, But more I raged, at every breath Devoting Death himself to death. With less revenge did Naso teem When hated Ibis was his theme ; With less, Archilochus, denied The lovely Greek, his promised bride. But lo ! while thus I execrate, Incensed, the minister of fate, Wondrous accents, soft yet clear, Wafted on the gale I hear. "Ah, much deluded ! lay aside Thy threats, and anger misapplied ! Art not afraid with sounds like these To offend where thou canst not appease ? Death is not (wherefore dream'st thou thus'. The son of Night and Erebus ; Nor was of fell Erinnys born On gulfs where Chaos rules forlorn : But, sent from God, His presence leaves To gather home his ripened sheaves, To call encumbered souls away From fleshly bonds to boundless day, (As when the winged hours excite And summon forth the morningjight) And each to convoy to her place Before the Eternal Father's face. But not the wicked ; them, severe Yet just, from all their pleasures here He hurries to the realms below, Terrific realms of penal woe ! Myself no sooner heard his call, Than, 'scaping through my prison- wall, TKANSLA TIONS. I bade adieu to bolts and bars, And soared, with angels, to the stars, Like him of old, to whom 'twas given To mount on fiery wheels to heaven. Bootes' waggon, slow with cold, Appalled me not ; nor to behold The sword that vast Orion draws, Or even the Scorpion's horrid claws Beyond the Sun's bright orb I fly, And far beneath my feet descry Night's dread goddess, seen with awe, "Whom her winged dragons draw. Thus, ever wondering at my speed, Augmented still as I proceed, I pass the planetary sphere, The Milky Way and now appear Heaven's crystal battlements, her door Of massy pearl, and emerald floor. But here I cease. For never can The tongue of once a mortal man In suitable description trace The pleasures of that happy place , Suffice it that those joys divine Are all, and all for ever, mine 1" NATURE UNIMPAIRED BY TIME. AH how the human mind wearies herself With her own wanderings, and, involved in gloom Impenetrable, speculates amiss ! Measuring, in her folly, tilings divine By human ; laws inscribed on adamant By laws of man's device, and counsels fixt For ever, by the hours that pass and die. How? shall the face of nature then be ploughed Into deep wrinkles, and shall years at last On the great Parent fix a sterile curse? Shall even she confess old age, and, halt And palsy-smitten, shake her starry brows? Shall foul Antiquity with rust and drought, And Famine, vex the radiant worlds above ? Shall Time's unsated maw crave and ingulf The very heavens, that regulate his flight ? And was the Sire of all able to fence His works, and to uphold the circling worlds, But, through improvident and heedless haste, Let slip the occasion? So then all is lost And in some future evil hour, yon arch Shall crumble and come thundering down, the poles Jar in collision, the Olympian king Fall with his throne, and Pallas, holding forth TRANSLATIONS. 441 The terrors of the Gorgon shield in vain, Shall rush to the abyss, like Vulcan hurled Down into Lemnos through the gate of heaven. Thou also, with precipitated wheels, Phoebus ! thy own son's fall shalt imitate, With hideous ruin shalt impress the deep Suddenly, and the flood shall reek and hi-s At the extinction of the lamp of day. Then too shall Haemus, cloven to his base, Be shattered, and the huge Ceraunian hills, Once weapons of Tartarean Dis, immersed In Erebus, shall fill himself with fear. No. The Almighty Father surer laid His deep foundations, and, providing well For the event of all, the scales of Fate Suspended in just equipoise, and bade His universal works, from age to age, One tenor hold, perpetual, undisturbed. Hence the prime mover wheels itself about Continual, day by day, and with it bears In social measure swift the heavens around. Not tardier now is Saturn than of old, Nor radiant less the burning casque of Mars. Phoebus, his vigour unimpaired, still shows The effulgence of his youth, nor needs the god A downward course, that he may warm the vales ; But ever rich in influence i-uns his road, Sign after sign, through all the heavenly zone. Beautiful as at first ascends the star From odoriferous Ind, whose office is To gather home betimes the ethereal flock, To pour them o'er the skies c^ain at eve, And to discriminate the night aiLi day. Still Cynthia's changeful horn war.es and wanes, Alternate, and with arms extended still She welcomes to her breast her brother's beams. Nor have the elements deserted yet Their functions : thunder with as loud a stroke As erst smites through the rocks, and scatters them. The east still howls, still the relentless north Invades the shuddering Scythian, still he breathes The winter, and still rolls the storms along. The king of ocean with his wonted force Beats on Pelorus ; o'er the deep is heard The hoarse alarm of Triton's sounding shell ; Nor swim the monsters of the ./Egean sea In shallows, or beneath diminished waves. Thou too, thy ancient vegetative power Enjoy'st, O Earth ! Narcissus still is sweet, And, Phoebus ! still thy favourite, and still Thy favourite, Cytherea ! both retain Their beauty ; nor the mountains, ore-enriched 442 TRANS LA TIONS. For punishment of man, with purer gold Teemed ever, or with brighter gems the deep. Thus, in unbroken series, all proceeds ; And shall, till wide involving either pole, And the immensity of yonder heaven, The final flames of destiny absorb The world, consumed in one enormous pyre ! ON THE PLATONIC IDEA, AS IT WAS UNDERSTOOD DY ARISTOTLE. YE sister powers who o'er the sacred groves Preside, and thou, fair mother of them all, Mnemosyne ! and thou who, in thy grot Immense reclined at leisure, hast in charge The archives and the ordinances of Jove, And dost record the festivals of heaven, Eternity ! inform us who is He, That great original by nature chosen To be the archetype of human kind, Unchangeable, immortal, with the poles Themselves coeval, one, yet every where, An image of the god who gave him being. Twin-brother of the goddess born from Jove, He dwells not in his father's mind, but, though Of common nature with ourselves, exists Apart, and occupies a local home. Whether, companion of the stars, he spend Eternal ages, roaming at his will From sphere to sphere the tenfold heavens ; or dwell On the moon's side that nearest neighbours earth ; Or torpid on the banks of Lethe sit Among the multitude of souls ordained To flesh and blood, or whether (as may chance) That vast and giant model of our kind In some far distant region of this globe Sequestered stalk, with lifted head on high O'ertowering Atlas, on whose shoulders rest The stars, terrific even to the gods. Never the Theban seer, whose blindness proved His best illumination, him beheld In secret vision ; never him the oon Of Pleione, amid the noiseless night Descending, to the prophet-choir revealed ! Him never knew the Assyrian priest, who yet The ancestry of Ninus chronicles, And Belus, and Osiris, far-rcnown'd ; Nor even thrice-great Hermes, although skilled So deep in mystery, to the worshipers Of Isis showed a prodigy like him. And thou who hast immortalized the shade? TRANSLA TIONS. 41 3 Of Academus, if the schools received This monster of the fancy first from thee, Either recall at once the banished bards To thy republic, or, thyself evinced A wilder fabulist, go also forth. TO HIS FATHER. OH that Pieria's spring would through my breast Pour its inspiring influence, and rush No rill, but rather an o'erflowing flood ! That, for my venerable Father's sake All meaner themes renounced, my Muse, on wings Of duty borne, might reach a loftier strain. For thee, my Father ! howsoe'er it please, She frames this slender work, nor know I aught That may thy gifts more suitably requite ; Though to requite them suitably would ask Returns much nobler, and surpassing far The meagre stores of verbal gratitude : But, such as I possess, I send thee all. This page presents thee in their full amount With thy son's treasures, and the sum is nought ; Nought, save the riches that from airy dream, In secret grottos and in laurel bowers, I have, by golden Clio's gift, acquired. Verse is a work divine ; despise not thou Verse therefore, which evinces (nothing more) Man's heavenly source, and which, retaining still Some scintillations of Promethean fire, Bespeaks him animated from above. The Gods love verse ; the infernal powers themselves Confess the influence of verse, which stirs The lowest deep, and binds in triple chains Of adamant both Pluto and the shades. In verse the Delphic priestess, and the pale Tremulous Sibyl, make the future known, And he who sacrifices on the shrine Hangs verse, both when he smites the threatening bull And when he spreads his reeking entrails wide To scrutinize the Fates enveloped there. We too ourselves, what time we seek again Our native skies, and one eternal now Shall be the only measure of our being, Crowned all with gold, and chanting to the lyre Harmonious verse, shall range the courts above, And make the starry firmament resound. And, even now, the fiery spirit pure That wheels yon circling orbs, directs, himself, Their mazy dance with melody of verse Unutterable, immortal, hearing which Huge Qnhiuchus holds his hiss suppressed, TRANSLATIONS. Orion softened drops his ardent blade, And Atlas stands unconscious of his load. Verse graced of old the feasts of kings, ere yet Luxurious dainties, destined to the gulf Immense of gluttony, were known, and ere Lyaeus deluged yet the temperate board. Then sat the bard a customary guest To share the banquet, and, his length of locks With beechen honours bound, proposed in verse The characters of heroes and their deeds To imitation, sang of Chaos old, Of Nature's birth, of gods that crept in search Of acorns fallen, and of the thunder-bolt Not yet produced from Etna's fiery cave. And what avails, at last, tune without voice, Devoid of matter ? Such may suit perhaps The rural dance, but such was ne'er the song Of Orpheus, whom the streams stood still to hea? And the oaks followed. Not by chords alone Well touched, but by resistless accents more To sympathetic tears the ghosts themselves He moved : these praises to his verse he owes. Nor thou persist, I pray thee, still to slight The sacred Nine, and to imagine vain, And useless, Powers by whom inspired thyself Art ski] ful to associate verse with airs Harmonious, and to give the human voice A thousand modulations, heir by right Indisputable of Arion's fame. Now say, what wonder is it if a son Of thine delight in verse, if so, conjoined In close affinity, we sympathize In social arts, and kindred studies sweet ? Such distribution of himself to us Was Phoebus' choice ; thou hast thy gift, and I Mine also, and between us we receive, Father and son, the whole inspiring God. No ! howsoe'er the semblance thou assume Of hate, thou hatest not the gentle Muse, My Father ! for thou never bad'st me tread The beaten path and broad that leads right on To opulence, nor didst condemn thy son To the insipid clamours of the bar, To laws voluminous and ill observed ; But, wishing to enrich me more, to fill My mind with treasure, led'st me far away From city din to deep retreats, to banks And streams Aonian, and with free consent Didst place me happy at Apollo's side. I speak not now, on more important themes Intent, of common benefits, and such As nature bids, but of thy larger gifts. TRANS LA 7 IONS. 44 5 My Father ! who when I had opened once The stores of Roman rhetoric, and learned The full-toned language of the eloquent Greeks, Whose lofty music graced the lips of Jove, Thyself didst counsel me to add the flowers That Gallia boasts ; those too with which the smooth Italian his degenerate speech adorns, That witnesses his mixture with the Goth ; And Palestine's prophetic songs divine. To sum the whole, whate'cr the heaven contains, The earth beneath it, and the air between, The rivers and the restless deep, may all Prove intellectual gain to me, my wish Concurring with thy will ; science herself, All cloud removed, inclines her beauteous head, And offers me the lip, if, dull of heart, I shrink not, and decline her gracious boon. Go now and gather dross, ye sordid minds, That covet it ; what could my Father more? What more could Jove himself, unless he gave His own abode, the heaven in which he reigns ? More eligible gifts than these were not Apollo's to his son, had they been safe, As they were insecure, who mad the boy The world's vice-luminary, bade him rule The radiant chariot of the day, and bind To his young brows his own all-dazzling wreath. I therefore, although last and least, my place Among the learned in the laurel grove Will hold, and where the conqueror's ivy twines, Henceforth exempt from the unlettered throng Profane, nor even to be seen by such. Away then, sleepless Care, Complaint away, And Envy with thy "jealous leer malign ! " Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forth Her venomed tongue at me. Detested foes ! Ye all are impotent against my peace, For I am privileged, and bear my breast Safe, and too high for your viperean wound. But thou, my Father ! since to render thanks Equivalent, and to requite by deeds Thy liberality, exceeds my power, fjuffice it that I thus record thy gifts, And bear them treasured in a grateful mind ! Ye too, the favourite pastime of my youth, My voluntary numbers, if ye dare To hope longevity, and to survive Your master's funeral, not soon absorbed In the oblivious Lethaean gulf, Shall to futurity perhaps convey This theme, and by these praises of my sire Improve the fathers of a distant age I 446 TRANSLATIONS. TO SALSILLUS, A ROMAN POET, MUCH INDISPOSED. MY halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice along Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy song, And likest that pace, expressive of thy cares, Not less than Deiopea's sprightlier airs, When, in the dance, she beats with measured treuu Heaven's floor, in front of Juno's golden bed ; Salute Salsillun, who to verse divine Prefers, with partial love, such lays as mine. Thus writes that Milton then who, wafted o'er From his own nest on Albion's stormy shore, Where Eurus, fiercest of the JEolian band, Sweeps with ungoverned rage the blasted land, Of late to more serene Ausonia came, To view her cities of illustrious name, To prove, himself a witness of the truth, How wise her elders, and how learn'd her youth. Much good, Salsillus ! and a body free From all disease, that Milton asks for thee, Who now endur'st the languor and the pains That bile inflicts, diffused through all thy veins Relentless malady ! not moved to spare By thy sweet Roman voice and Lesbian air ! Health, Hebe's sister, sent us from the skies, And thou, Apollo, whom all sickness flies, Pythias, or Paean, or what name divine Soe'er thou choose, haste, heal a priest of thine ! Ye groves of Faunus, and ye hills that melt With vinous dews, where meek Evander dwelt, If aught salubrious in your confines grow, Strive which shall soonest heal your poet's woe, That, rendered to the Muse he loves, again He may enchant the meadows with his strain. Numa, reclined in everlasting ease, Amid the shade of dark embowering trees, Viewing with eyes of unabated fire His loved ./Egeria, shall that strain admire : So soothed, the tumid Tiber shall revere The tombs of kings, nor desolate the year, Shall curb his waters with a friendly reign, And guide them harmless till they meet the main. TO GIOVANNI BATTISTA MANSO, MARQUIS OF VILLA. Giovanni Battista Manso, Marquis of Villa, is an Italian nobleman of the highest estimation among his countrymen, for genius, literature, and military accomplishments. To him Torquato '1 asso addrosed his Dialogues on Friend- ship ; for he was much the friend of Tasso, who bus also celebrated him among TRANS LA TIONS. 447 the other princes of his country, in his poem entitled Gerusalemme Conquistata, book xx. Frn cn-inlicr magnanimi e cortesi Risplcndc il Manso. During the author's stay at Naples, he received at the hanus of the Marquis a thousand kind offices and civilities, and, desirous not to appear ungrateful, sent him this poem ;i short time before his departure from that city. THESE verses also to thy praise the Nine, O Manso ! happy in that theme, design ; For, Callus and Maecenas gone, they see None such besides, or whom they love, as thee. And, if my verse may give the meed of fame, Thine too shall prove an everlasting name. Already such, it shines in Tasso's page (For thou wast Tasso's friend) from age to age, And, next, the Muse consigned (not unaware How high the charge) Marino to thy care, Who, singing to the nymph's Adonis' prais( Boasts thee the patron of his copious lays. To thee alone the poet would entrust His latest vows, to thee alone his dust ; And thou with punctual piety hast paid, In laboured brass, thy tribute to his shade. Nor this contented thee, but, lest the grave Should aught absorb of theirs which thou couldst save, All future ages thou hast deigned to teach The life, lot, genius, character, of each, Eloquent as the Carian sage who, true To his great theme, the life of Homer drew. I therefore, though a stranger youth who come Chilled by rude blasts that freeze my northern home, Thee dear to Clio confident proclaim, And thine, for Phcebus' sake, a deathless name. Nor thou, so kind, wilt view with scornful eye A Muse scarce reared beneath our sullen sky, Who fears not, indiscreet as she is young, To seek in Latium hearers of her song. We too, where Thames with his unsullied waves The tresses of the blue-haired Ocean laves, Hear oft by night, or slumbering seem to hear, O'er his wide stream the swan's voice warbling clear, And we could boast a Tityrus of yore Who trod, a welcome guest, your happy shore. Yes, dreary as we own our northern clime, Even we to Phcebus raise the polished rhyme. We too serve Phcebus ; Phcebus has received (If legends old may claim to be believed) No sordid gifts from us, the golden ear, The burnished apple, ruddiest of the year, The fragrant crocus, and, to grace his fane, Fair damsels chosen from the Druid train ; Druids, our native bards in ancient time, Who gods and heroes praised in hallowed rhyme. 44? TRANSLA TIONS. Hence, often as the maids of Greece surround Apollo's shrine with hymns of festive sound, They name the virgins who arrived of yore, With British offerings, on the Delian shore ; Loxo, from giant Corineus sprung, Upis, on whose blest lips the future hung, And Hecaerage, with the golden hair, All decked with Pictisli hues, and all with bosoms bar? Thou therefore, happy sage, whatever clime Shall ring with Tasso's praise in after-time, Or with Marino's, shalt be known their friend, And with an equal flight to fame ascend. The world shall hear how Phoebus and the Nine Were inmates once and willing guests of thine. Yet Phoebus, when of old constrained to roam The earth, an exile from his heavenly home, Entered, no willing guest, Admetus' door, Though Hercules had ventured there before. But gentle Chiron's cave was near, a scene Of rural peace, clothed with perpetual f,reen, And thither, oft as respite he required From rustic clamours loud, the god retired. There, many a time, on Peneus' bank reclined, At some oak's root with ivy thick entwined, Won by his hospitable friend's desire, He soothed his pains of exile with the lyre. Then shook the hills, then trembled Peneus' shore. Nor (Eta felt his load of forests more ; The upland elms descended to the plain, And softened lynxes wondered at the strain. Well may we think, O dear to all above ! Thy birth distinguished by the smile of Jove, And that Apollo shed his kindliest power, And Maia's son, on that propitious hour, Since only minds so born can comprehend A poet's worth, or yield that worth a friend. Hence, on thy yet unfaded cheek appears The lingering freshness of thy greener years ; Hence in thy front and features we admire Nature unwithered and a mind entire. O might so true a friend to me belong, So skilled to grace the votaries of song, Should I recall hereafter into rhyme The kings and heroes of my native clime, Arthur the chief, who even now prepares, In subterraneous being, future wars, With all his martial knights, to be restored Each to his seat around the federal board, And oh, if spirit fail me not, disperse Our Saxon plunderers, in triumphant verse ! Then, after all, when, with the past content, A life I finish not in silence spent TRANSLATIONS. 449 Should he, kind mourner, o'er my death-bed bend, I shall but need to say "Be yet my friend !" He too perhaps shall bid the marble breathe To honour me, and with the graceful wreath Or of Parnassus or the Paphian isle Shall bind my brows, but I shall rest the while Then also, if the fruits of Faith endure, And Virtue's promised recompense be sure, Borne to those seats to which the blest aspire By purity of soul and virtuous fire, These rites, as Fate permits, I shall survey With eyes illumined by celestial day, And, every cloud from my pure spirit driven, Joy in the bright beatitude of Heaven ! ON THE DEATH OF DAMON. THE ARGUMENT. Thyrsis and Damon, shepherds and neighbours, had always pursued the same studies, and had, from their earliest days, been united in the closest friend- ship. Thyrsis, while travelling for improvement, received intelligence of the death of Damon, and, after a time returning and finding it true, de- plores himself and his solitary condition, in this poem. By Damon is to be understood Charles Deodati, connected with the Italian city of Lucca by his father's side, in other respects an Engli.shman ; a youth of uncommon genius, erudition, and virtue. YE nymphs of Himera (for ye have shed Erewhile for Daphnis, and for Hylas dead, And over Bion's long-lamented bier, The fruitless meed of many a sacred tear), Now through the villas laved by Thames rehearse The woes of Thyrsis in Sicilian verse, What sighs he heaved, and how with groans profound He made the woods and hollow rocks resound Young Damon dead ; nor even ceased to pour His lonely sorrows at the midnight hour. The green wheat twice had nodded in the ear, And golden harvest twice enriched the year, Since Damon's lips had gasped for vital air The last, last time, nor Thyrsis yet was there ; For he, enamoured of the Muse, remained In Tuscan Fiorenza long detained, But, stored at length with all he wished to learn, For his flock's sake now hasted to return. And, when the shepherd had resumed his seat At the elm's root, within his old retreat, Then 'twas his lot, then, all his loss to know, And, from his burthened heart, he vented thus his woe. "Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are du; To other cares than those of feeding you. Alas ! what deities shall I suppose, In heaven or earth, concerned for human w>t Since, oh my Damon ! their severe decree 2 F 450 TRANSLA TIOXS. So soon condemns me to regret of thee? Depart'st thou thus, thy virtues unrepaid With fame and honour, like a vulgar shade ? Let him forbid it whose bright rod controls And separates sordid from illustrious souls, Drive far the rabble, and to thee assign A happier lot, with spirits worthy thine ! "Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feedir you. Whate'er befall, unless by cruel chance The wolf first give me a forbidding glance, Thou shalt not moulder undeplored, but long Thy praise shall dwell on every shepherd's tongue. To Daphnis first they shall delight to pay, And after him to thee, the votive lay, While Pales shall the flocks and pastures love, Or Faunus to frequent the field or grove, At least, if ancient piety and truth, With all the learned labours of thy youth, May serve thee aught, or to have left behind A sorrowing friend, and of the tuneful kind. "Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you. Yes, Damon ! such thy sure reward shall be ; But ah what doom awaits unhappy me? Who now my pains and perils shall divide, As thou wast wont, for ever at my side, Both when the rugged frost annoyed our feet, And when the herbage all was parched with heat ; Whether the grim wolfs ravage to prevent, Or the huge lion's, armed with darts we went ? Whose converse, now, shall calm my stormy day? With charming song who now beguile my way? "Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you. In whom shall I confide? whose counsel find A balmy medicine for my troubled mind ? Or whose discourse with innocent delight Shall fill me now, and cheat the wintry night? While hisses on my hearth the pulpy pear, And blackening chestnuts start a>id crackle there, While storms abroad the dreary meadows whelm. And the wind thunders through the neighbouring elm. "Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you. Or who, when summer suns their summit reach, And Pan sleeps hidden by the sheltering beech, When shepherds disappear, ny/iphs seek the sedge, And the stretched rustic snorts beneath the hedge, Who then shall render me thy pleasant vein Of Attic wit, thy jests, thy smiles again? "Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due TRANSLATIONS. 451 % To other cares than those of feeding you. Where glens and vales are thickest overgrown With tangled boughs, I wander now alone, Till night descend, while blustering wind and shower Beat on my temples through the shattered bower. "Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you. Alas ! what rampant weeds now shame my fields, And what a mildewed crop the furrow yields ! My rambling vines, unwedded to the trees, Bear shrivelled*gr a P es > m 7 myrtles fail to please, Nor please me more my flocks ; they, slighted, turn Their unavailing looks on me, and mourn. " Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you. ^gon invites me to the hazel grove, Amyntas on the river's bank to rove, And young Alphesiboeus to a seat Where branching elms exclude the mid-day heat. 'Here fountains spring, here mossy hillocks ri-e ; Here Zephyr whispers, and the stream replies.' Thus each persuades ; but, deaf to every call, I gain the thickets, and escape them all. " Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are due To other cares than those of feeding you. Then Mopsus said (the same who reads so well The voice of birds, and what the stars foretell, For he by chance had noticed my return) : ' What means thy sullen mood, this deep concern? Ah Thyrsis ! thou art either crazed with love, Or some sinister influence from above. Dull Saturn's influence oft the shepherds rue ; His leaden shaft oblique has pierced thee through.' " Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are : My thoughts are all now due to other care. The nymphs amazed my melancholy see, And ' Thyrsis !' cry, ' what will become of thee ? What wouldst thou, Thyrsis? such should not appear The brow of youth, stern, gloomy, and severe ; Brisk youth should laugh and love, ah shun the fate Of those, twice wretched mopes ! who love too late !' " Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are ; My thoughts are all now due to other care. /Egle with Hyas came to soothe my pain, And Baucis' daughter, Dryope the vain, Fair Dryope, for voice and finger neat Known far and near, and for her self-conceit ; Chloris too came, whose cottage on the lands That skirt the Idumanian current stands ; But all in vain they came, and but to see Kind words and comfortable lost on me. "Go. go, my lambs, unpastured as ye are ; 452 TRA NSLA T1ONS. My thoughts are all now due to other care. Ah blest indifference of the playful herd, None by his fellow chosen or preferred ! No bonds of amity the flocks enthrall, But each associates and is pleased with all. So graze the dappled deer in numerous droves, And all his kind alike the zebra loves ; The same law governs where the billows roar, And Proteus' shoals o'erspread the desert shore. The sparrow, meanest of th-2 feathered race, His fit companion finds in every place ; With whom he picks the grain that suits him best, Flirts here and there, and late returns to rest, And whom if chance the falcon make his prey, Or hedger with his well-aimed arrow slay, For no such loss the gay survivor grieves ; New love he seeks, and new delight receives. We only, an obdurate kind, rejoice, Scorning all others in a single choice. We scarce in thousands meet one kindred mind, And, if the long-sought good at last we find, When least we fear it Death our treasure steals, And gives our heart a wound that nothing heals. "Go, go, my lambs, unpastured as ye ore; My thoughts are all now due to other care. Ah what delusion lured me from my flocks, To traverse Alpine snows and rugged rocks? What need so great had I to visit Rome, Now sunk in ruins, and herself a tomb? Or, had she flourished still as when, of old, For her sake Tityrus forsook his fold, What need so great had I to incur a pause Of thy sweet intercourse for such a cause, For such a cause to place the roaring sea, Rocks, mountains, woods, between my friend and me? Else had I grasped thy feeble hand, composed Thy decent limbs, thy drooping eyelids closed, And, at the last, had said ' Farewell, ascend, Nor even in the skies forget thy friend !' "Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare; My thoughts are all now due to other care. Although well pleased, ye tuneful Tuscan swains ! My mind the memory of your worth retains, Vet not your worth can teach me less to mourn My Damon lost ; he too was Tuscan born, Born in your Lucca, city of renown, And wit possessed, and genius, like your own. Oh how elate was I when, stretched beside The murmuring course of Arno's breezy tide, Beneath the poplar grove I passed my hours, Now cropping myrtles, and now vernal flowers, And hearing, as I lay at ease along, TRANS LA TIONS. Your swains contending for the prize of song! I also dared attempt (and, as it seems, Not much displeased attempting) various themes ; For even I can presents boast from you, The shepherd's pipe, and osier basket too, And Dati and Francini both have made My name familiar to the beechen shade ; And they are learned, and each in every place Renowned for song, and both of Lydian race. "Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare ; My thoughts are all now due to other care. While bright the dewy grass with moonbeams shone, And I stood hurdling -in my kids alone, How often have I said (but them hadst found Ere then thy dark cold lodgment under ground) 'Now Damon sings, or springes sets for hares, Or wicker-work for various use prepares ! How oft, indulging fancy, have I planned New scenes of pleasure, that I hoped at hand, Called thee abroad as I was wont, and cried, ' What hoa! my friend, come lay thy task aside ! Haste, let us forth together, and beguile The heat beneath yon whispering shades awhile, Or on the margin stray of Colne's clear flood, Or where Cassibelan's grey turrets stood ! There thou shalt cull me simples, and shalt teach Thy friend the name and healing powers of each, From the tall blue-bell to the dwarfish weed, What the dry land and what the marshes breed, For all their kinds alike to thee are known, And the whole art of Galen is thy own.' Ah perish Galen's art, and withered be The useless herbs that gave not health to thee ! Twelve evenings since, as in poetic dream I meditating sat some statelier theme, The reeds no sooner touched my lip, though new And unessayed before, than wide they flew, Bursting their waxen bands, nor could sustain The deep-toned music of the solemn strain ; And I am vain perhaps, but I will tell How proud a theme I choose, ye groves, farewell! " Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare ; My thoughts are all now due to other care. Of Brutus, Dardan chief, my song shall be, How with his barks he ploughed the British sea, First from Rutupia's towering headland seen; And of his consort's reign, fair Imogen ; Of Brennus and Belinus, brothers bold, j And of Arviragus, and how of old Our hardy sires the Armorican controlled ; ) And of the wife of Gorlois, who, surprised By Uther in her husband's form disguise.; 454 TRANSLA TfOJVS. (Such was the force of Merlin's art), became Pregnant with Arthur of heroic fame. These themes I now revolve, and oh if Fate Proportion to these themes my lengthened date, Adieu my shepherd's reed ! yon pine-tree bough Shall be thy future home; there dangle thou Forgotten and disused, unless ere long Thou change thy Latian for a British song. A British? even so, the powers of man Are bounded; little is the most he can: And it shall well suffice me, and shall be Fame, and proud recompense enough for me, If Usa, golden-haired, my verse may learn If Alain bending o'er his crystal urn, Swift- whirling Abra, Trent's o'ershadowed stream, Thames, lovelier far than all in my esteem, Tamar's ore-tinctured flood, and, after these, The wave-worn shores of utmost Orcades. "Go, go, my lambs, untended homeward fare ; My thoughts are all now due to other care. All this I kept in leaves of laurel-rind Enfolded safe, and for thy view designed; This, and a gift from Manso's hand, beside, (Manso, not least his native city's pride) Two cups, that radiant as their giver shone, Adorned by sculpture with a double zone. The spring was graven there ; here slowly wind The Red-sea shores with groves of spices lined ; Her plumes of various hues amid the boughs The sacred solitary Pheenix shows, And, watchful of the dawn, reverts her head, To see Aurora leave her watery bed. In other part, the expansive vault above, And there too, even there, the god of love ; With quiver armed he mounts, his torch displays A vivid light, his gem-tipt arrows blaze ; Around his bright and fiery eyes he rolls, Nor aims at vulgar minds, or little souls, Nor deigns one look below, but aiming high Sends every arrow to the lofty sky ; Hence forms divine, and minds immortal, learn The power of Cupid, and enamoured burn. "Thou also, Damon, (neither need I fear That hope delusive) thou art also there ; For whither should simplicity like thine Retire ? where else such spotless virtue shine ? Thou dwell'st not (thought profane) in shades below, Nor tears suit thee ; cease then, my tears, to flow ! Away with grief, on Damon ill bestowed ! Who, pure himself, has found a pure abode, Has passed the showery arch, henceforth resides With saints and heroes, and from flowing tides TRANSLATIONS. 455 Quaffs copious immortality and joy, With hallowed lips ! Oh ! blest without alloy, And now enriched with all that faith can claim, Look down, entreated by whatever name ! If Damon please thee most, that rural sound Shall oft with echoes fill the groves around ; Or if Diodatus, by which alone In those ethereal mansions thou art known. Thy blush was maiden, and thy youth the taste Of wedded bliss knew never, pure and chaste ; The honours therefore by divine decree The lot of virgin worth are given to thee. Thy brows encircled with a radiant band, And the green palm-branch waving in thy hand, Thou in immortal nuptials shalt rejoice, And join with seraphs thy according voice, Where rapture reigns, and the ecstatic lyre Guides the blest orgies of the blazing choir.' 1 AN ODE ADDRESSED TO MR. JOHN ROUSE, LIBRARIAN OF THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. ON ;i lost volume of my poems, which he desired me to replace, that he might add them to my other works deposited in the library. STROPHE. MY twofold book ! single in show, Lut double in contents, Neat, but not curiously adorned, Which, in his early youth, A poet gave, no lofty one in truth, Although an earnest wooer of the Muse Say, while in cool Ausonian shades Or British wilds he roamed, Striking by turns his native lyre, By turns the Daunian lute, And stepped almost in air, ANTISTROPHE. Say, little book, what furtive hand Thee from thy fellow-books conveyed, What time, at the repeated suit Of my most learned friend, I sent thee forth an honoured traveller, From our great city to the source of Thames, Crerulean sire ; Where rise the fountains, and the raptures ring Of the Aonian choir, Durable as yonder spheres. And through the endless lapse of years Secure to be admired ? TKAXSLA TIONS. STROPHK JI. Now what god, or demigod, For Britain's ancient genius moved (If our afflicted land Have expiated at length the guilty sloth Of her degenerate sons) Shall terminate our impious feuds, And discipline, with hallowed voice, recall? Recall the Muses too, Driven from their ancient seats In Albion, and well nigh from Albion's shore, And with keen Phcebean shafts Piercing the unseemly birds Whose talons menace us, Shall drive the harpy race from Helicon at'ar ? ANTISTROPHE. But thou, my book, though thou hast strayed^ Whether by treachery lost, Or indolent neglect, thy bearer's fault, From all thy kindred books, To some dark cell, or cave forlorn, Where thou endur'st, perhaps, The chafing of some hard untutored hand, Be comforted For lo ! again the splendid hope appears That thou mayst yet escape The gulfs of Lethe, and on oary wings Mount to the everlasting courts of Jove ! STROPHE III. Since Rouse desires thee, and complains That, though by promise his, Thou yet appear'st not in thy place Among the literary noble stores Given to his care, But, absent, leav'st his numbers incomplete. He therefore, guardian vigilant Of that unperishing wealth, Calls thee to the interior shrine, his charge, Where he intends a richer treasure far Than Ion kept (Ion, Erectheus' son Illustrious, of the fair CreiLsa born) In the resplendent temple of his god, "Vapods of gold, and Delphic gifts divine. ANTISTROPHE. flaste, then, to the pleasant groves The Muses' favourite haunt ; Resume thy station in Apollo's dome. Dearer to him Than Delos, or the fork'd Parnassian lull 1 TRANSLATIONS. 45; Exulting go, Since now a splendid lot is also thine, And thou art sought by my propitious friend ; For there thou shall be read With authors of exalted note, The ancient glorious lights of Greece and Rome Ye then, my works, nc longer vain, And worthless deemed by me ! \Vhate'er this sterile genius has produced, Expect, at last, the rage of envy spent, An unmolested happy home, Gift of kind Hermes and my watchful friend ; Where never flippant tongue profane Shall entrance find, And whence the coarse unlettered multitude Shall babble far remote. Perhaps some future distant age, Less tinged with prejudice and better taught, Shall furnish minds of power To judge more equally. Then, malice silenced in the tomb, Cooler heads and sounder hearts, Thanks to Rouse, if anght of praise I merit, shall with candour weigh the claim APPENDIX. THE opening lines in Conms stood as follows in Milton's ori fe ,nai MS. ; but the fourteen lines, ensuing after the first four, were crossed out with a pen, apparently to shorten the speech for the actor's convenience : Before the starry threshold of Jove's court My mansion is, where those immortal shapes Of bright aerial spirits live insphered In regions mild of calm and serene air, Amidst th' Hesperian gardens, on whose banks Bedewed with nectar and celestial songs, Eternal roses grow, and hyacinth, And fruits of golden rind, on whose fair tree The scaly-harnessed dragon ever keeps His unenchanted eye : around the verge And sacred limits of this blissful isle, The jealous Ocean, that old river, winds His far-extended arms, till with steep fall Half his waste flood the wild Atlantic fills, And half the slow unfathomed Stygian pool. But soft, I was not sent to court your wonder With distant worlds, and strange removed climes. Yet thence I come, and oft from thence behold Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot, Which men call Earth, &c., &c. APPfiXDIX. 459 THE following epitaph has been attributed to Milton, not without some plausibility, although its genuineness is very dubious : AX EPITAPH. HK whom Heaven did call away Out of this hermitage of clay Has left some relics in this urn As a pledge of his return. Meanwhile the Muses do deplore The loss of this their paramour, With whom he sported ere the day Budded forth its tender ray. And now Apollo leases his lays, And puts on cypress for his bays. The Sacred Sisters tune their quills Only to the blubbering rill. 4 : And, whilst his doom they thin"; upon, Make their own tears their Helicon, - Leaving the two-topt mount divine, To turn votaries to his shrine. Think not, reader, me less blest, Sleeping in this narrow cist. Than, if my ashes did lie h'/ Under some stately pyramid. If a rich tomb makes happy, then That bee was happier far than men, Who busy in the thymy wood Was fettered by the golden flood Which from the amber-weeping tree Distilleth down so plenteously : For so this little wanton elf Most gloriously enshrined itself : A tomb whose beauty might compare With Cleopatra's sepulchre. In this little bed my dust Incurtained round I here intrust, Whilst my more pure and nobler p^.rt \ies entombed in every heart. Then pass on gently, ye that mourn, Touch not this mine hollowed urn. These ashes which do here remain A vital tincture still retain ; A seminal form within the deeps Of this little chaos sleeps. The thread of life untwisted is Into its first existencies : Infant Nature cradled here In its principles appear. APPENDIX. This plant th[us] calcined into dust In its ashes rest it mu.it, Until sweet Psyche shall inspire A softening and p[ro]lific fire, And in her fostering arms enfold This heavy and this earthly mould. Then as I am I'll be no more, But bloom and blossom b . . . When this cold numbness shall retreat By a more than chymic heat. J. M. October 1647 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. RCQ LD 21A-60m-7,'66 (G4427slO)476B General Library University of Californi Berkeley