Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, Came furious down to be reveng'd 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 'scap'd, Haply so 'scap'd his mortal snare: for now Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down, The tempter ere the accuser of mankind, To wreck 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
He 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 Lay pleasant, his griev'd 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, O sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, Warring in heaven against heaven's matchless king: Ah, wherefore! he deserv'd 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 recompense, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice, lifted up so high I sdeind subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burdensome still paying, still to owe, Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharg'd; what burden then? O had his powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd· Ambition. Yet why not? some other power As great might have aspir'd, and me, though mean, Drawn to his part; but other powers as great Fell not, but stand 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, accurs'd, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay, curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven.
« O, then, at last relent: is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left? None left, but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue The Omnipotent. Ah 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 advanc'd, The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery: such joy ambition finds!
But say I could repent, and could obtain, By act of former state; how soon grace, my Would height recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore? Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd 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 hẹ, as I from begging peace : All hope excluded thus, behold, instead Of us out-cast, exil'd, 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 chang'd 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 practis'd falsehood under saintly show, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge: Yet not enough had practis'd to deceive Uriel once warn'd; whose eye pursued him down The way he went, and on the Assyrian mount Saw him disfigur'd, more than could befal Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce He mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone, As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, unseen.
So on he fares, and to the border comes Of Eden, where delicious Paradise, Now nearer, crowns with her inclosure As with a rural mound, the champaign head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access denyed; and over-head 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, loaden with fairest fruit, Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue, Appear'd, with gay enamell'd colours mix'd: On which the sun more glad impress'd his 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 Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odors from the spicy shore
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