Desire to see this wond'rous frame,
These shining orbs so bright,
Of which in Heav'n we hear by fame
With exquisite delight,

But chiefly man on whom was stamp'd
Our own image upright,

For whom these worlds were all ordain'd,
As was this orb of light,
Brought me from the Heav'nly choir,
Wandering thus alone,

To satisfy anxious desire
In solitary roam.

Tell, bright Heav'nly seraph, tell
Which of these shining orbs,
God hath assign'd for man to dwell,
For favor'd man's abode;

Or if no fixed seat hath he,
But hath his choice to dwell,
In all these shining worlds, tell me
That by me he beheld,

And wilt open on secret gaze,
To see him and admire,

And give to God my highest praise
In true seraphic fire;

Who justly drove his rebels out
And sentenc'd them to Hell;
By faithful Michael put to rout
And to perdition fell."

So spake the false dissembler sly,
The first that e'er deceiv'd,

The author of hypocrisy,
Thus far thus unperceiv'd

Hypocrisy, that evil thing,
In secret loves to roam,
Th' only evil h' walks unseen
Except to God alone.

Thus th' imposter, and Uriel thus,
"Fair Angel thy desire,

Which tends to know the works of God,
And thereby praise him higher,
Far be from blame; but tends to praise,
The more it seems excess,
High exaltations in thee raise

Thy maker more to bless :
Look downward on that globe afar,
Whose hither side so bright

With light from hence, appears as star,
Yet shines by borrow'd light,
That place is Earth, man's happy seat,
That light thou seest, his day,
The other side by turns doth meet
This orb's all cheering ray;
That spot to which I point thee now
Is blissful Paradise;

That clump of trees with shady bough,

Is his bower so blithe."

He said, and Satan took his leave,
After due honors paid,

And towards the coast of Earth beneath
His speed direct he made,

Down direct he throws his flights,
Plumb down his course he drops

Nor stay'd till on Miflates lights
And rested on its top,

O for that warning voice on high,
Which John once saw in Heav'n,
Th' apochalypse aloud heard cry,
When Satan down was driv'n,
Who 'cus'd the brethren, day and night,
Before the God of all,

So fraught with rage and envious spite
T' revenge his dreadful fall,
"WO TO THE INHABITANTS OF EARTH !"
That now while time was so,
Our first parents had been warned
The coming of their foe;
For Satan now with rage came down
To wreck on man his loss
Of that first battle so renown'd,
Which threw him down at last;
Yet not rejoicing in his speed
Though bold far off was he

Nor cause to boast begins the deed,
That caus'd our misery,

Which nigh the birth, now rolling, boils
In his tumult'ous breast,
And like an engine back recoils.
Upon his devilish crest;

Horror and doubt distract the elfe
And from the bottom shake
The Hell he brings within himself
And all his passions quake;
Now conscience wakes bitter despair,
Wakes the sad memory

Of what he was, once good, once fair,
What is, and what must be,

Sometimes tow❜rds Eden's happy shade,
So pleasant in his view,

His now griev'd looks he fixes sad,
That stirs his Hell anew:
Sometimes toward the Heav'ns high,
Sometimes the blazing Sun,
Then much revolving fix'd his eye
And thus in sighs begun.

"O thou bright orb thus shining round,
With rays excessive bright,
That with surpassing glory crown'd,
Sends forth thy cheering light,
At which the burnish'd stars on high,
Hide their diminish'd heads,
Unable their bright beams to vie
With thine, or with thine spread;
To thee I call, O fount of light,
But with no friendly voice,
And add thy name, O Sun so bright,
With sad and bitter choice,
To tell thee how I hate thy beams
That bring fresh to my mind,
From what high state 1 fell, once deem'd
Of Angels good the prime,

And glorious then above thy sphere,

Till pride first mov'd in me,

And worse, ambition, thew me here
In pain and misery;

Warring 'gainst Heav'n's matchless King,
In Heav'n high I fought,

And thence I feel 'n eternal sting

So justly on me brought:

Ah, wherefore! he deserv'd from me
No such return as this,

Whom he created what I was

In that bright sphere of bliss,
And with his good upbraided none,
Nor was his service hard,
Easy I might have honor shown
And gain'd a rich reward;

Than give him praise what could be less,
The easiest recompense,

And pay him thanks and still been blest,
And not been driv'n thence;
Yet all his good prov'd ill to me,
And wrought but malice deep,
Aspiring for supremacy

I disdain'd subjection meet;
And one step higher thought to step
And be the highest view'd,
And in a moment quit the debt
Of endless gratitude.
So wearisome thus still to pay
And yet thus still to owe,
Forgetful what from him receiv'd,
In fact I did not know

A grateful mind h' owing owes not,
But still by owing pays,
Or ever known I had forgot,
So wond'rous are his ways.
O had his destiny ordain'd
Me some inferior one,

Then I'd my happy state maintain'
And not myself undone,