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, shall 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 pin'd
His loss; but chiefly to find here observ'd
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 haughty on,
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

R

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,
Not likely to part hence without contest;

Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours

He scarce had ended, when those two approach'd,
And brief related whom they brought, where found,
How busied, in what form and posture crouch'd.

To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake.
Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescrib'd
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,
Tho' thither doom'd? Thou wouldst thyself, no doubt,