Unchangeable, eternal, which ordain'd Their freedom; they themselves ordain'd their fall. The first sort by their own suggestion fell, Self-tempted, self-deprav'd: Man falls, deceiv'd 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 diffus'd. 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 clos'd Thy sovran 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 blest. For should Man finally be lost, should Man, Thy creature late so lov'd, thy youngest son, Fall circumvented thus by fraud, 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 accomplish'd, 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 blasphem'd 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 effectual might, All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all As my eternal purpose hath decreed: Man shall not quite be lost, but sav'd who will; Yet not of will in him, but grace in me Freely vouchsaf'd; 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 fall'n 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 endeavor'd 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 us'd 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 feälty, 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; uniess for him Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for death. Say, heavenly powers, where shall we find such love?
Which 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 quire 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 Must have been lost, adjudg'd 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 past, Man shall find grace; And shall grace not find means, that finds her wa The speediest of thy winged messengers, To visit all thy creatures, and to all Comes unprevented, unimplor'd, 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 pleas'd; 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, spoil'd 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
Pleas'd, out of Heaven shalt look down and smile While, by thee rais'd, I ruin all my foes, Death last, and with his carcass 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 assur'd And reconcilement; wrath shall be no more Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire."
His words here ended, but his meek aspéct Silent yet spake, and breath'd 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 seiz'd
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,
All Heaven, what this might mean, and whither For regal sceptre then no more shall need,
Wondering; but soon the Almighty thus replied. "O thou in Heaven and Earth the only peace 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 wonderous 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 restor'd As many as are restor'd, 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 light. So man, as is most just, Shall satisfy for man, be judg'd and die, And dying rise, and rising with him raise His brethren, ransom'd with his own dear life. So heavenly love shall outdo hellish hate, 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 thron'd in highest bliss Equal to God, and equally enjoying Godlike 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 Thy summoning arch-angels to proclaim Thy dread tribunal: forthwith from all winds 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
God shall be all in all. But, all ye gods, Adore him, who to compass all this dies: Adore the Son, and honor him as me."
No sooner had the Almighty ceas'd, 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 remov'd 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 Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, Impurpled with celestial roses smil'd.
Then, crown'd again, their golden harps they took. Harps ever tun'd, 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 sit'st Thron'd inaccessible, but when thou shad'st The full blaze of thy beams, and, through a cloud 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, Transfus'd 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 drov'st 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 fall'n, 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 purpos'd not to doom frail Man So strictly, but much more to pity inclin'd, 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. O unexampled love, Love nowhere to be found less than divine! Hail, Son of God, Savior 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, inclos'd 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 expos'd, 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. As when a vulture on Imaus bred, Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds, Dislodging from a region scarce of prey, To gorge the flesh of lambs or ycanling kids, On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward
Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams; But in his way lights on the barren plains Of Sericana, where Chineses drive With sails and wind their cany wagons 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 aëreal vapors flew
Of all things transitory and vain, when sin With vanity had fill'd 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 unaccomplish'd works of Nature's hand, Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mix'd, Dissolv'd on Earth, fleet hither, and in vain, Till final dissolution, wander here;
Of Sennaar, and still with vain design New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build Others came single; he, who to be deem'd A god, leap'd fondly into Etna 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 grey, 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 disguis'd; They pass the planets seven, and pass the fix'd, And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs The trepidation talk'd, and that first mov'd: 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, tost And flutter'd into rags; then reliques, 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 travell'd 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 arriv'd, Wafted by angels, or flew o'er the lake Rapt 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,
Not in the neighboring Moon, as some have A passage down to the Earth, a passage wide,
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
Wider by far than that of after-times Over mount Sion, and, though that were large, Over the Promis'd 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 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 scal'd 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 seiz'd, though after Heaven seen, The spirit malign, but much more envy seiz'd, At sight of all this world beheld so fair.
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 humor mix'd, Here in the dark so many precious things Of color 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 sun-shine, 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 he soon Saw within ken a glorious angel stand, The same whom John saw also in the Sun:
Round he surveys (and well might, where he stood His back was turn'd, but not his brightness hid; 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 fam'd of old, Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales, Thrice happy isles; but who dwelt happy there He staid not to inquire: above them all The golden Sun, in splendor likest Heaven, Allur'd 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; 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 glaz'd optic tube yet never saw. The place he found beyond expression bright, Compar'd 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 breast-plate, and a stone besides Imagin'd 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.
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 smil'd celestial, and to every limb Suitable grace diffus'd, so well he feign'd: Under a coronet his flowing hair
In curls on either cheek play'd; wings he wore, Of many a color'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, Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd. Admonish'd by his ear, and straight was known The arch-angel 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 honor to obtain, and as his eye To visit oft this new creation round; Unspeakable desire to see, and know All these his wonderous works, but chiefly Man, His chief delight and favor, him for whom All these his works so wonderous he ordain'd, Hath brought me from the quires 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 unperceiv'd; 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 beguil'd Uriel, though regent of the Sun, and held 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 rul'd, stood vast infinitude confin'd; 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 neighboring Moon
(So call that opposite fair star) her aid Timely 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 th' 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 suid, he turn'd; and Satan, bowing low, As to superior spirits is wont in Heaven, Where honor due and reverence none neglects, Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth beneath, Down from the ecliptic, sped with hop'd success, Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel; Nor staid, till on Niphates' top he lights.
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 despair; 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 cor morant on the tree of life, as 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 resolution 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 transgress: then leaves them a while 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 after by his furious gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve 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.
O FOR that warning voice, which he, who saw Th' Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud, 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 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 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 ensuo Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view
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