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,1 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 conquerour, whom he drew God's altar to disparage, and displace, For one of Syrian mould, whereon to burn His odious offerings, and adore the gods Whom he had vanquish'd. After these appear'd A crew, who, under names of old renown, Osiris, Isis, Orus,2 and their train,
With monstrous shapes and sorceries abus'd Fanatic Egypt and her priests, to seek
Their wandering gods disguis'd in brutish forms Rather than human. Nor did Israel 'scape The infection, when their borrow'd gold compos'd The calf in Oreb; and the rebel king
Doubled that sin in Bethel, and in Dan, Lik'ning 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 smok'd; yet who more oft than he
1 'Rimmon:' god of Syrians.—2 Orus:' son of Osiris and Isis. It was fabled that when the giants invaded heaven, the gods concealed themselves in Egypt in the forms of various animals.
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's1 issue; held Gods, yet confess'd later than Heaven and Earth,2 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, rul'd the middle air, Their highest Heaven; or on the Delphian cliff Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds Of Dorick land ;3 or who, with Saturn old, Fled over Adria4 to the Hesperian fields,5 And o'er the Celtick roam'd the utmost isles.7
All these and more came flocking; but with looks Downcast and damp; yet such wherein appear'd
1Javan:' fourth son of Japhet; whence supposed to issue the gods of Greece. But an older race had preceded them.-2 Heaven and Earth:' the Titans, &c. See Keats' Hyperion.-3 Dorick land:' Greece. Adria:' the Adriatic. Hesperian fields:' Italy.-Celtick:' regions inhabited by the Celts. Utmost isles:' Britain, Ireland, &c.
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 rais'd 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 imblaz'd, Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds: At which the universal host upsent
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 rais'd To highth of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle; and, instead of rage, Deliberate valour breath'd, firm and unmov'd With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage, With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase
Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain, From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, Breathing united force, with fixed thought, Moved on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'd Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil and now, Advanc'd in view, they stand; a horrid front Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise Of warriours old with order'd spear and shield; Awaiting what command their mighty Chief Had to impose: He through the armed files Darts his experienc'd 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 imbodied force, as nam'd 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 2 Begirt with British and Armorick knights ; And all who since, baptiz'd or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban, Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Africk shore, When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond Compare of mortal prowess yet observ'd
''Small infantry:'Pygmies.-Uther's son:' King Arthur.—3 ‹ Aspramont,' 'Montalban,' 'Biserta,' Fontarabbia,' &c.; all places famous in romantic history, and chiefly for contests between Saracens and Christians.
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 Arch-Angel ruin'd, and the excess Of glory obscured: as when the sun, new risen 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 Arch-Angel: 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 amerc'd Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung For his revolt; yet faithful how they stood, Their glory wither'd as when Heaven's fire Hath scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth, though bare, Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepar'd 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 assay'd, and thrice, in spite of scorn, Tears, such as Angels weep, burst forth at last Words, interwove with sighs, found out their way. O Myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers
« PreviousContinue » |