Blown up with high conceits ingendering pride. Of force to its own likeness: Up he starts 810 815 820 825 Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon: Your message, like to end as much in vain? 830 835 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, shalt 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, 840 845 and pined And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 850 855 860 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 The western point, where those half-rounding guards Just mety and closing stood in squadron join'd, Awaiting next command. To whom their Chief, Gabriel, from the front thus call'd aloud: 865 O friends! I hear the tread of nimble feet 870 Not likely to part hence without contest; He scarce had ended, when those two approach'd, And brief related whom they brought, where found, 875 How busied, in what form and posture couch'd. To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake 880 To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow: 885 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, Though thither doom'd? Thou wouldst thyself, no doubt, And boldly venture to what ever place 891 Furthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to change To thee no reason, who know'st only good, But evil hast not tried: and wilt object His will who bounds us? Let him surer bar His iron gates, if he intends our stay 895 In that dark durance: thus much what was ask'd. The rest is true, they found me where they say; 900 But that implies not violence or harm. Thus he in scorn. The warlike Angel moved, O loss of one in Heaven to judge of wise So judge thou still presumptuous! till the wrath, But wherefore thou alone? wherefore with thee 905 910 915 920 To thy deserted host this cause of flight, Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive. To which the Fiend thus answer'd, frowning stern: Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, Insulting Angel! well thou know'st I stood Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid The blasting vollied thunder made all speed, And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. But still thy words at random, as before, Argue thy inexperience what behoves From hard assays and ill successes pass'd A faithful leader, not to hazard all 925 930 Through ways of danger by himself untried: 935 To wing the desolate abyss, and spy This new created world, whereof in Hell 940 Though for possession put to try once more What thou and thy gay legions dare against; Whose easier business were to serve their Lord *High up in Heaven, with songs to hymn his throne, And practised distances to cringe, not fight: To whom the warrior Angel soon replied: To say and straight unsay, pretending first 645 Satan, and couldst thou 'faithful' add? O name, 950 O sacred name of faithfulness profaned! Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew? Army of Fiends, fit body to fit head. Was this your discipline and faith engaged, 955 Once fawn'd, and cringed, and servilely adored Fly thither whence thou fledst! If from this hour So threatened he; but Satan to no threats 965. 970 From my prevailing arm, though Heaven's King 980 Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved: His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest Sat Horror plumed; nor wanted in his grasp What seem'd both spear and shield: now dreadful deeds Might have ensued, nor only Paradise 991 In this commotion, but the starry cope Of Heaven perhaps, or all the elements At least had gone to wreck, disturb'd and torn 995 |