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Created hugeft that fwim th' ocean ftream:
(Him, haply flumb'ring on the Norway foam,
The pilot of fome fmall night-founder'd skiff,
Deeming fome island, oft, as feamen tell,
With fixed anchor in his fcaly rind,

Moors by his fide under the Lee, while night
Invests the fea, and wished morn delays.)

So ftretch'd out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,
Chain'd on the burning lake: nor ever thence
Had ris, or heav'd his head, but that the will
And high permiffion of all-ruling heaven,
Left him at large to his own dark defigns:
That with reiterated crimes he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he fought
Evil to others; and enrag'd might fee,
How all his malice ferv'd but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy shewn
On man by him feduc'd: but on himself
Treble confufion, wrath, and vengeance pour'd.
Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty ftature; on each hand the flames
Driv'n backward flope their pointing fpires, and

rowl'd

In billows, leave i' th' midft a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air,

That felt unufual weight: till on dry land
He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd
With folid, as the lake with liquid fire:
And fuch appear'd in hue, as when the force

Of fubterranean wind transports a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd fide
Of thund'ring Etna, whofe combuftible
And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire,
Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds,
And leave a finged bottom all involv'd

With stench and smoke: fuch refting found the fole
Of unblefs'd feet! Him follow'd his next mate,
Both glorying to have 'cap'd the Stygian flood,
As Gods, and by their own recover'd strength;
Not by the fuff'rance of fupernal pow'r.

Is this the region, this the foil, the clime, (Said then the loft Arch-Angel) this the seat, That we must change for heav'n this mournful gloom

For that cœleftial light? be it so! fince He
Who now is Sov'reign can dispose, and bid

What shall be right fartheft from Him is beft,
Whom reafon hath equall'd, force hath made fu

preme

Above his equals. Farewel happy fields,

Where joy for ever dwells hail horrors! hail
Infernal world! and thou profoundest hell
Receive thy new poffeffor! One, who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.
What matter where, if I be fill the fame,
And what I should be, all but less than He
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least

We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built
Here for His envy; will not drive us hence :
Here we may reign fecure; and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition, tho' in hell:

Better to reign in hell, than ferve in heav'n.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th' affociates and copartners of our loss,
Lye thus aftonish'd on th' oblivious pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy manfion or once more
With rallied arms to try, what may be yet
Regain'd in heav'n, or what more loft in hell?
So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub

Thus anfwer'd Leader of thofe armies bright,
Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foil'd:
If once they hear that voice, their livelieft pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battel when it rag'd, in all assaults
Their fureft fignal, they will foon refume
New courage, and revive, tho' now they lye
Grov'ling and proftrate on yon lake of fire,
(As we erewhile,) astounded and amaz’d;
No wonder, fall'n fuch a pernicious height!

He fcarce had ceas'd, when the fuperior fiend
Was moving tow'rd the shore : his pond'rous shield,
Ethereal temper, maffie, large and round,
Behind him caft; the broad circumference

Hung on his shoulders like the Moon, whofe orb Thro' optic glafs the Tufcan artift views

At ev'ning, from the top of Fefale,
Or in Valdarno, to defcry new lands,
Rivers, or moutains, on her spotty globe.
His fpear, (to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand)
He walk'd with, to fupport uneafie fteps
Over the burning marle (not like those steps
On heaven's azure!) and the torrid clime
Smote on him fore befides, vaulted with fire.
Nathlefs he fo indur'd, till on the beach
Of that inflamed fea he ftood, and call'd
His legions, Angel-forms, who lay intrans'd,
Thick as autumnal leaves that ftrow the brooks
In Vallombrofa, where th' Etrurian shades,
High over-arch'd imbow'r ; or scatter'd fedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd
Hath vex'd the Red-Sea coaft, whofe waves o'er
threw

Bufiris, and his Memphian chivalry,

While with perfidious hatred they purfu'd
The fojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the fafe shoar their floating, carcafes,
And broken chariot wheels: fo thick beftrown,
Abject and loft lay thefe, covering the flood,
Under amazement of their hideous change.
He call'd fo loud, that all the hollow Deep
Of hell refounded: Princes, Potentates,
Warriors, the flow'r of heav'n! once yours, now

loft,

If fuch aftonishment as this can feize
Eternal fpirits: or have ye chos'n this place
After the toil of battel to repofe

Your wearied virtue, for the eafe you find
To flumber here, as in the vales of heaven?
Or in this abje& pofture have ye (worn
T'adore the conqueror who now beholds
Cherub and Seraph rowling in the flood,
With fcatter'd arms and enfigns; till anon
His fwift purfuers from heav'n-gates difcern
Th' advantage, and defcending tread us down
Thus drooping; or with linked thunder-bolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this Gulph.
Awake, arife, or be for ever fall'n!

They heard, and were abash'd, and up they sprung
Upon the wing; as when men wont to watch
On duty, fleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouze and beftir themselves ere well awake.
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
Yet to their General's voice they foon obey'd,
Innumerable! As when the potent Rod

Of Amram's fon, in Ægypt's evil day,
Wav'd round the coaft, up call'd a pitchy cloud
Of locufts, warping on the eastern wind,
That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like night, and darken'd all the land of Nile:
So numberless were thofe bad Angels, feen
Hov'ring on wing under the cope of hell,
Twixt upper, nether, and furrounding fires:

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