Advanc'd in view they ftand, a horrid front
Of dreadful length and dazling arms, in guise
Of warriors old with order'd fpear and shield,
Awaiting what command their mighty chief
Had to impofe: He through the armed files
Darts his experienc'd eye, and foon traverse
The whole battalion views, their order due,
Their vifages and stature as of Gods:
Their number laft he fums. And now his heart
Diftends with pride, and hard'ning in his ftrength
Glories for never fince created man
Met fuch imbodied force, as nam'd with thefe
Could merit more than that finall infantry
Warr'd-on by cranes; though all the giant brood
Of Phlegra with th' heroic race were join'd
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each fide
Mix'd with auxiliar Gods; and what refounds
In fable or romance of Uther's fon
Begirt with British and Armoric knights;
And all who fince, baptiz'd or infidel,
Joufted in Afpramont or Montalban,
Damafco, or Marocco, or Trebifond,
Or whom Biferta fent from Afric fhore,
When Charlemain with all his peerage fell
By Fontarabbia. Thus far thefe beyond
Compare of mortal prowess, yet obferv'd
Their dread commander: he above the reft
In shape and gefture proudly eminent
Stood like a tow'r; his form had yet not loft
All her original brightness, nor appear'd
Less than Arch-Angel ruin'd, and th' excefs
Of glory? obfcur'd; as when the fun new risen
Looks through the horizontal misty air
Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon
In dim eclipse difaftrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd fo, yet fhone
Above them all th' Arch-Angel: but his face
Deep fears of thunder had intrench'd, and care
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows
Of dauntless courage, and confiderate 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 blifs) condemn'd
For ever now to have their lot in pain,
Millions of Spirits for his fault amerc'd
Of Heav'n, and from eternal fplendors flung
For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory wither'd: as when Heaven's fire
Hath fcath'd the foreft oaks, or mountain pines,
With finged top their stately growth though bare
Stands on the blafted heath. He now prepar'd
To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend
From wing to wing, and half inclofe him round
With all his peers: attention held them mute.
Thrice he affay'd, and thrice in spite of fcorn
Tears, fuch as Angels weep, burst forth: at last
Words interwove with fighs found out their way.
O Myriads of immortal Spi'rits, O Powers
Matchlefs, but with th' Almighty, and that strife
Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire,
As this place teftifies, and this dire change
Hateful to utter: but what pow'r of mind
Foreseeing or prefaging, from the depth
Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd,
How fuch united force of Gods, how fuch
As ftood like thefe, could ever know repulse?
For who can yet believe, though after lofs,
That all these puiffant legions, whose exile
Hath emptied Heav'n, fhall fail to re-afcend
Self-rais'd, and repoffefs their native feat?
For me be witness all the hoft of Heaven,
If counfels different, or danger fhunn'd
By me, have loft our hopes. But he who reigns
Monarch in Heav'n, till then as one fecure
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute,
Confent or custom, and his regal state
Put forth at full, but ftill his ftrength 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, provok'd; our better part remains
To work in close defign, by fraud or guile,
What 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 fo rife
There went a fame in Heav'n that he ere long
Intended to create, and therein plant
A generation, whom his choice regard
Should favor equal to the fons of Heaven:
Thither, if but to pry, fhall be perhaps
Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:
For this infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial Spi'rits in bondage, nor th' abyss
Long under darkness cover.
But these thoughts
Full counsel muft mature: Peace is defpair'd,
For who can think fubmiffion? War then, War
Open or understood must be refolv'd.
He fpake and to confirm his words, out-flew Millions of flaming fwords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty Cherubim; the fudden blaze
Far round illumin'd Hell: highly they rag'd
Against the High'eft, and fierce with grasped arms
Clash'd on their founding shields the din of war,
Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.
There stood a hill not far, whose grifly top
Belch'd fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire
Shone with a gloffy fcurf, undoubted sign
That in his womb was hid metallic ore,
The work of fulphur. Thither wing'd with speed
A numerous brigad haften'd: as when bands
Of pioneers with spade and pickax arm'd
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field,
Or caft a rampart. Mammon led them on,
Mammon, the leaft erected Spi'rit that fell
From Heav'n, for e'en in Heav'n his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more
The riches of Heav'n's pavement, trodden gold,
Than ought divine or holy elfe enjoy'd
In vifion beatific: by him first
Men alfo, and by his fuggeftion taught,
Ranfack'd the center, and with impious hands
Rifled the bowels of their mother earth
For treafures better hid.
Open'd into the hill a fpacious wound,
And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire
'That riches grow in Hell;
Deferve the precious bane.
And here let those Who boast in mortal things, and wond'ring tell Of Babel, and the works of Memphian kings, Learn how their greatest monuments of fame, And strength, and art, are easily out-done By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour What in an age they with inceffant toil And hands innumerable scarce perform. Nigh on the plain in many cells prepar'd, That underneath had veins of liquid fire Sluc'd from the lake, a fecond multitude With wond'rous art founded the maffy ore, Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion drofs A third as foon had form'd within the ground A various mould, and from the boiling cells By ftrange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook, As in an organ from one blast of wind
To many a row of pipes the found-board breathes.
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge
Rofe like an exhalation, with the found
Of dulcet fymphonies and voices sweet,
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