|
|
|
OF
MAN’S
first
disobedience,
and the
fruit |
|
|
Of that
forbidden
tree
whose
mortal
taste |
|
|
Brought
death
into the
World,
and all
our woe, |
|
|
With
loss of
Eden,
till one
greater
Man |
|
|
Restore
us, and
regain
the
blissful
Seat, |
5 |
|
Sing,
Heavenly
Muse,
that, on
the
secret
top |
|
|
Of Oreb,
or of
Sinai,
didst
inspire |
|
|
That
Shepherd
who
first
taught
the
chosen
seed |
|
|
In the
beginning
how the
heavens
and
earth |
|
|
Rose out
of
Chaos:
or, if
Sion
hill |
10 |
|
Delight
thee
more,
and
Siloa’s
brook
that
flowed |
|
|
Fast by
the
oracle
of God,
I thence |
|
|
Invoke
thy aid
to my
adventrous
song, |
|
|
That
with no
middle
flight
intends
to soar |
|
|
Above
the
Aonian
mount,
while it
pursues |
15 |
|
Things
unattempted
yet in
prose or
rhyme. |
|
|
And
chiefly
Thou, O
Spirit,
that
dost
prefer |
|
|
Before
all
temples
the
upright
heart
and
pure, |
|
|
Instruct
me, for
Thou
know’st;
Thou
from the
first |
|
|
Wast
present,
and,
with
mighty
wings
outspread, |
20 |
|
Dove-like
sat’st
brooding
on the
vast
Abyss, |
|
|
And
mad’st
it
pregnant:
what in
me is
dark |
|
|
Illumine,
what is
low
raise
and
support; |
|
|
That, to
the
highth
of this
great
argument, |
|
|
I may
assert
Eternal
Providence, |
25 |
|
And
justify
the ways
of God
to men. |
|
|
Say
first—for
Heaven
hides
nothing
from thy
view, |
|
|
Nor the
deep
tract of
Hell—say
first
what
cause |
|
|
Moved
our
grand
Parents,
in that
happy
state, |
|
|
Favoured
of
Heaven
so
highly,
to fall
off |
30 |
|
From
their
Creator,
and
transgress
his will |
|
|
For one
restraint,
lords of
the
World
besides. |
|
|
Who
first
seduced
them to
that
foul
revolt? |
|
|
The
infernal
Serpent;
he it
was
whose
guile, |
|
|
Stirred
up with
envy and
revenge,
deceived |
35 |
|
The
mother
of
mankind,
what
time his
pride |
|
|
Had cast
him out
from
Heaven,
with all
his host |
|
|
Of rebel
Angels,
by whose
aid,
aspiring |
|
|
To set
himself
in glory
above
his
peers, |
|
|
He
trusted
to have
equalled
the Most
High, |
40 |
|
If he
opposed,
and,
with
ambitious
aim |
|
|
Against
the
throne
and
monarchy
of God, |
|
|
Raised
impious
war in
Heaven
and
battle
proud, |
|
|
With
vain
attempt.
Him the
Almighty
Power |
|
|
Hurled
headlong
flaming
from the
ethereal
sky, |
45 |
|
With
hideous
ruin and
combustion,
down |
|
|
To
bottomless
perdition,
there to
dwell |
|
|
In
adamantine
chains
and
penal
fire, |
|
|
Who
durst
defy the
Omnipotent
to arms. |
|
|
Nine
times
the
space
that
measures
day and
night |
50 |
|
To
mortal
men, he,
with his
horrid
crew, |
|
|
Lay
vanquished,
rowling
in the
fiery
gulf, |
|
|
Confounded,
though
immortal.
But his
doom |
|
|
Reserved
him to
more
wrath;
for now
the
thought |
|
|
Both of
lost
happiness
and
lasting
pain |
55 |
|
Torments
him:
round he
throws
his
baleful
eyes, |
|
|
That
witnessed
huge
affliction
and
dismay, |
|
|
Mixed
with
obdurate
pride
and
steadfast
hate. |
|
|
At once,
as far
as
Angel’s
ken, he
views |
|
|
The
dismal
situation
waste
and
wild. |
60 |
|
A
dungeon
horrible,
on all
sides
round, |
|
|
As one
great
furnace
flamed;
yet from
those
flames |
|
|
No
light;
but
rather
darkness
visible |
|
|
Served
only to
discover
sights
of woe, |
|
|
Regions
of
sorrow,
doleful
shades,
where
peace |
65 |
|
And rest
can
never
dwell,
hope
never
comes |
|
|
That
comes to
all, but
torture
without
end |
|
|
Still
urges,
and a
fiery
deluge,
fed |
|
|
With
ever-burning
sulphur
unconsumed. |
|
|
Such
place
Eternal
Justice
had
prepared |
70 |
|
For
those
rebellious;
here
their
prison
ordained |
|
|
In utter
darkness,
and
their
portion
set, |
|
|
As far
removed
from God
and
light of
Heaven |
|
|
As from
the
centre
thrice
to the
utmost
pole. |
|
|
Oh how
unlike
the
place
from
whence
they
fell! |
75 |
|
There
the
companions
of his
fall,
o’erwhelmed |
|
|
With
floods
and
whirlwinds
of
tempestuous
fire, |
|
|
He soon
discerns;
and,
weltering
by his
side, |
|
|
One next
himself
in
power,
and next
in
crime, |
|
|
Long
after
known in
Palestine,
and
named |
80 |
|
Beëlzebub.
To whom
the
Arch-Enemy, |
|
|
And
thence
in
Heaven
called
Satan,
with
bold
words |
|
|
Breaking
the
horrid
silence,
thus
began:— |
|
|
“If
thou
beest
he—but
Oh how
fallen!
how
changed |
|
|
From
him!—who,
in the
happy
realms
of
light, |
85 |
|
Clothed
with
transcendent
brightness,
didst
outshine |
|
|
Myriads,
though
bright—if
he whom
mutual
league, |
|
|
United
thoughts
and
counsels,
equal
hope |
|
|
And
hazard
in the
glorious
enterprise, |
|
|
Joined
with me
once,
now
misery
hath
joined |
90 |
|
In equal
ruin;
into
what pit
thou
seest |
|
|
From
what
highth
fallen:
so much
the
stronger
proved |
|
|
He with
his
thunder:
and till
then who
knew |
|
|
The
force of
those
dire
arms?
Yet not
for
those, |
|
|
Nor what
the
potent
Victor
in his
rage |
95 |
|
Can else
inflict,
do I
repent,
or
change, |
|
|
Though
changed
in
outward
lustre,
that
fixed
mind, |
|
|
And high
disdain
from
sense of
injured
merit, |
|
|
That
with the
Mightiest
raised
me to
contend, |
|
|
And to
the
fierce
contention
brought
along |
100 |
|
Innumerable
force of
Spirits
armed, |
|
|
That
durst
dislike
his
reign,
and, me
preferring, |
|
|
His
utmost
power
with
adverse
power
opposed |
|
|
In
dubious
battle
on the
plains
of
Heaven, |
|
|
And
shook
his
throne.
What
though
the
field be
lost? |
105 |
|
All is
not
lost—the
unconquerable
will, |
|
|
And
study of
revenge,
immortal
hate, |
|
|
And
courage
never to
submit
or
yield: |
|
|
And what
is else
not to
be
overcome. |
|
|
That
glory
never
shall
his
wrath or
might |
110 |
|
Extort
from me.
To bow
and sue
for
grace |
|
|
With
suppliant
knee,
and
deify
his
power |
|
|
Who,
from the
terror
of this
arm, so
late |
|
|
Doubted
his
empire—that
were low
indeed; |
|
|
That
were an
ignominy
and
shame
beneath |
115 |
|
This
downfall;
since,
by fate,
the
strength
of Gods, |
|
|
And this
empyreal
substance,
cannot
fail; |
|
|
Since,
through
experience
of this
great
event, |
|
|
In arms
not
worse,
in
foresight
much
advanced, |
|
|
We may
with
more
successful
hope
resolve |
120 |
|
To wage
by force
or guile
eternal
war, |
|
|
Irreconcilable
to our
grand
Foe, |
|
|
Who now
triumphs’,
and in
the
excess
of joy |
|
|
Sole
reigning
holds
the
tyranny
of
Heaven.” |
|
|
So
spake
the
apostate
Angel,
though
in pain, |
125 |
|
Vaunting
aloud,
but
racked
with
deep
despair; |
|
|
And him
thus
answered
soon his
bold
Compeer;— |
|
|
“O
Prince,
O Chief
of many
thronèd
Powers |
|
|
That led
the
embattled
Seraphim
to war |
|
|
Under
thy
conduct,
and, in
dreadful
deeds |
130 |
|
Fearless,
endangered
Heaven’s
perpetual
King, |
|
|
And put
to proof
his high
supremacy, |
|
|
Whether
upheld
by
strength,
or
chance,
or fate! |
|
|
Too well
I see
and rue
the dire
event |
|
|
That,
with sad
overthrow
and foul
defeat, |
135 |
|
Hath
lost us
Heaven,
and all
this
mighty
host |
|
|
In
horrible
destruction
laid
thus
low, |
|
|
As far
as Gods
and
Heavenly
Essences |
|
|
Can
perish:
for the
mind and
spirit
remains |
|
|
Invincible,
and
vigour
soon
returns, |
140 |
|
Though
all our
glory
extinct,
and
happy
state |
|
|
Here
swallowed
up in
endless
misery. |
|
|
But what
if He
our
Conqueror
(whom I
now |
|
|
Of force
believe
Almighty,
since no
less |
|
|
Than
such
could
have
o’erpowered
such
force as
ours) |
145 |
|
Have
left us
this our
spirit
and
strength
entire, |
|
|
Strongly
to
suffer
and
support
our
pains, |
|
|
That we
may so
suffice
his
vengeful
ire, |
|
|
Or do
him
mightier
service
as his
thralls |
|
|
By right
of war,
whate’er
his
business
be, |
150 |
|
Here in
the
heart of
Hell to
work in
fire, |
|
|
Or do
errands
in the
gloomy
Deep? |
|
|
What can
it then
avail
though
yet we
feel |
|
|
Strength
undiminished,
or
eternal
being |
|
|
To
undergo
eternal
punishment?” |
155 |
|
Whereto
with
speedy
words
the
Arch-Fiend
replied:— |
|
|
“Fallen
Cherub,
to be
weak is
miserable, |
|
|
Doing or
suffering:
but of
this be
sure— |
|
|
To do
aught
good
never
will be
our
task, |
|
|
But ever
to do
ill our
sole
delight, |
160 |
|
As being
the
contrary
to His
high
will |
|
|
Whom we
resist.
If then
His
providence |
|
|
Out of
our evil
seek to
bring
forth
good, |
|
|
Our
labour
must be
to
pervert
that
end, |
|
|
And out
of good
still to
find
means of
evil; |
165 |
|
Which
ofttimes
may
succeed
so as
perhaps |
|
|
Shall
grieve
him, if
I fail
not, and
disturb |
|
|
His
inmost
counsels
from
their
destined
aim. |
|
|
But see!
the
angry
Victor
hath
recalled |
|
|
His
ministers
of
vengeance
and
pursuit |
170 |
|
Back to
the
gates of
Heaven:
the
sulphurous
hail, |
|
|
Shot
after us
in
storm,
o’erblown
hath
laid |
|
|
The
fiery
surge
that
from the
precipice |
|
|
Of
Heaven
received
us
falling;
and the
thunder, |
|
|
Winged
with red
lightning
and
impetuous
rage, |
175 |
|
Perhaps
hath
spent
his
shafts,
and
ceases
now |
|
|
To
bellow
through
the vast
and
boundless
Deep. |
|
|
Let us
not slip
the
occasion,
whether
scorn |
|
|
Or
satiate
fury
yield it
from our
Foe. |
|
|
Seest
thou yon
dreary
plain,
forlorn
and
wild, |
180 |
|
The seat
of
desolation,
void of
light, |
|
|
Save
what the
glimmering
of these
livid
flames |
|
|
Casts
pale and
dreadful?
Thither
let us
tend |
|
|
From off
the
tossing
of these
fiery
waves; |
|
|
There
rest, if
any rest
can
harbour
there; |
185 |
|
And,
re-assembling
our
afflicted
powers, |
|
|
Consult
how we
may
henceforth
most
offend |
|
|
Our
Enemy,
our own
loss how
repair, |
|
|
How
overcome
this
dire
calamity, |
|
|
What
reinforcement
we may
gain
from
hope, |
190 |
|
If not
what
resolution
from
despair.” |
|
|
Thus
Satan,
talking
to his
nearest
Mate, |
|
|
With
head
uplift
above
the
wave,
and eyes |
|
|
That
sparkling
blazed;
his
other
parts
besides |
|
|
Prone on
the
flood,
extended
long and
large, |
195 |
|
Lay
floating
many a
rood, in
bulk as
huge |
|
|
As whom
the
fables
name of
monstrous
size, |
|
|
Titanian
or
Earth-born,
that
warred
on Jove, |
|
|
Briareos
or
Typhon,
whom the
den |
|
|
By
ancient
Tarsus
held, or
that
sea-beast |
200 |
|
Leviathan,
which
God of
all his
works |
|
|
Created
hugest
that
swim the
ocean-stream. |
|
|
Him,
haply
slumbering
on the
Norway
foam, |
|
|
The
pilot of
some
small
night-foundered
skiff, |
|
|
Deeming
some
island,
oft, as
seamen
tell, |
205 |
|
With
fixèd
anchor
in his
scaly
rind, |
|
|
Moors by
his side
under
the lee,
while
night |
|
|
Invests
the sea,
and
wishèd
morn
delays. |
|
|
So
stretched
out huge
in
length
the
Arch-Fiend
lay, |
|
|
Chained
on the
burning
lake;
nor ever
thence |
210 |
|
Had
risen,
or
heaved
his
head,
but that
the will |
|
|
And high
permission
of
all-ruling
Heaven |
|
|
Left him
at large
to his
own dark
designs, |
|
|
That
with
reiterated
crimes
he might |
|
|
Heap on
himself
damnation,
while he
sought |
215 |
|
Evil to
others,
and
enraged
might
see |
|
|
How all
his
malice
served
but to
bring
forth |
|
|
Infinite
goodness,
grace,
and
mercy,
shewn |
|
|
On Man
by him
seduced,
but on
himself |
|
|
Treble
confusion,
wrath,
and
vengeance
poured. |
220 |
|
Forthwith
upright
he rears
from off
the pool |
|
|
His
mighty
stature;
on each
hand the
flames |
|
|
Driven
backward
slope
their
pointing
spires,
and,
rowled |
|
|
In
billows,
leave i’
the
midst a
horrid
vale. |
|
|
Then
with
expanded
wings he
steers
his
flight |
225 |
|
Aloft,
incumbent
on the
dusky
air, |
|
|
That
felt
unusual
weight;
till on
dry land |
|
|
He
lights—if
it were
land
that
ever
burned |
|
|
With
solid,
as the
lake
with
liquid
fire, |
|
|
And such
appeared
in hue
as when
the
force |
230 |
|
Of
subterranean
wind
transports
a hill |
|
|
Torn
from
Pelorus,
or the
shattered
side |
|
|
Of
thundering
Ætna,
whose
combustible |
|
|
And
fuelled
entrails,
thence
conceiving
fire, |
|
|
Sublimed
with
mineral
fury,
aid the
winds, |
235 |
|
And
leave a
singèd
bottom
all
involved |
|
|
With
stench
and
smoke.
Such
resting
found
the sole |
|
|
Of
unblest
feet.
Him
followed
his next
Mate; |
|
|
Both
glorying
to have
scaped
the
Stygian
flood |
|
|
As gods,
and by
their
own
recovered
strength, |
240 |
|
Not by
the
sufferance
of
supernal
power. |
|
|
“Is
this the
region,
this the
soil,
the
clime,” |
|
|
Said
then the
lost
Archangel,
“this
the seat |
|
|
That we
must
change
for
Heaven?—this
mournful
gloom |
|
|
For that
celestial
light?
Be it
so,
since He |
245 |
|
Who now
is
sovran
can
dispose
and bid |
|
|
What
shall be
right:
fardest
from Him
is best, |
|
|
Whom
reason
hath
equalled,
force
hath
made
supreme |
|
|
Above
his
equals.
Farewell,
happy
fields, |
|
|
Where
joy
forever
dwells!
Hail,
horrors!
hail, |
250 |
|
Infernal
World!
and
thou,
profoundest
Hell, |
|
|
Receive
thy new
possessor—one
who
brings |
|
|
A mind
not to
be
changed
by place
or time. |
|
|
The mind
is its
own
place,
and in
itself |
|
|
Can make
a Heaven
of Hell,
a Hell
of
Heaven. |
255 |
|
What
matter
where,
if I be
still
the
same, |
|
|
And what
I should
be, all
but less
than he |
|
|
Whom
thunder
hath
made
greater?
Here at
least |
|
|
We shall
be free;
the
Almighty
hath not
built |
|
|
Here for
his
envy,
will not
drive us
hence: |
260 |
|
Here we
may
reign
secure;
and, in
my
choice, |
|
|
To reign
is worth
ambition,
though
in Hell: |
|
|
Better
to reign
in Hell
than
serve in
Heaven. |
|
|
But
wherefore
let we
then our
faithful
friends, |
|
|
The
associates
and
co-partners
of our
loss, |
265 |
|
Lie thus
astonished
on the
oblivious
pool, |
|
|
And call
them not
to share
with us
their
part |
|
|
In this
unhappy
mansion,
or once
more |
|
|
With
rallied
arms to
try what
may be
yet |
|
|
Regained
in
Heaven,
or what
more
lost in
Hell?” |
270 |
|
So
Satan
spake;
and him
Beëlzebub |
|
|
Thus
answered:—“Leader
of those
armies
bright |
|
|
Which,
but the
Omnipotent,
none
could
have
foiled! |
|
|
If once
they
hear
that
voice,
their
liveliest
pledge |
|
|
Of hope
in fears
and
dangers—heard
so oft |
275 |
|
In worst
extremes,
and on
the
perilous
edge |
|
|
Of
battle,
when it
raged,
in all
assaults |
|
|
Their
surest
signal—they
will
soon
resume |
|
|
New
courage
and
revive,
though
now they
lie |
|
|
Grovelling
and
prostrate
on yon
lake of
fire, |
280 |
|
As we
erewhile,
astounded
and
amazed; |
|
|
No
wonder,
fallen
such a
pernicious
highth!” |
|
|
He
scarce
had
ceased
when the
superior
Fiend |
|
|
Was
moving
toward
the
shore;
his
ponderous
shield, |
|
|
Ethereal
temper,
massy,
large,
and
round, |
285 |
|
Behind
him
cast.
The
broad
circumference |
|
|
Hung on
his
shoulders
like the
moon,
whose
orb |
|
|
Through
optic
glass
the
Tuscan
artist
views |
|
|
At
evening,
from the
top of
Fesolè, |
|
|
Or in
Valdarno,
to
descry
new
lands, |
290 |
|
Rivers,
or
mountains,
in her
spotty
globe. |
|
|
His
spear—to
equal
which
the
tallest
pine |
|
|
Hewn on
Norwegian
hills,
to be
the mast |
|
|
Of some
great
Ammiral,
were but
a wand— |
|
|
He
walked
with, to
support
uneasy
steps |
295 |
|
Over the
burning
marle,
not like
those
steps |
|
|
On
Heaven’s
azure;
and the
torrid
clime |
|
|
Smote on
him sore
besides,
vaulted
with
fire. |
|
|
Nathless
he so
endured,
till on
the
beach |
|
|
Of that
inflamèd
sea he
stood,
and
called |
300 |
|
His
legions—Angel
Forms,
who lay
entranced |
|
|
Thick as
autumnal
leaves
that
strow
the
brooks |
|
|
In
Vallombrosa,
where
the
Etrurian
shades |
|
|
High
over-arched
imbower;
or
scattered
sedge |
|
|
Afloat,
when
with
fierce
winds
Orion
armed |
305 |
|
Hath
vexed
the
Red-Sea
coast,
whose
waves
o’erthrew |
|
|
Busiris
and his
Memphian
chivalry, |
|
|
While
with
perfidious
hatred
they
pursued |
|
|
The
sojourners
of
Goshen,
who
beheld |
|
|
From the
safe
shore
their
floating
carcases |
310 |
|
And
broken
chariot-wheels.
So thick
bestrown, |
|
|
Abject
and
lost,
lay
these,
covering
the
flood, |
|
|
Under
amazement
of their
hideous
change. |
|
|
He
called
so loud
that all
the
hollow
deep |
|
|
Of Hell
resounded:—“Princes,
Potentates, |
315 |
|
Warriors,
the
Flower
of
Heaven—once
yours;
now
lost, |
|
|
If such
astonishment
as this
can
seize |
|
|
Eternal
Spirits!
Or have
ye
chosen
this
place |
|
|
After
the toil
of
battle
to
repose |
|
|
Your
wearied
virtue,
for the
ease you
find |
320 |
|
To
slumber
here, as
in the
vales of
Heaven? |
|
|
Or in
this
abject
posture
have ye
sworn |
|
|
To adore
the
Conqueror,
who now
beholds |
|
|
Cherub
and
Seraph
rowling
in the
flood |
|
|
With
scattered
arms and
ensigns,
till
anon |
325 |
|
His
swift
pursuers
from
Heaven-gates
discern |
|
|
The
advantage,
and,
descending
tread us
down |
|
|
Thus
drooping,
or with
linkèd
thunderbolts |
|
|
Transfix
us to
the
bottom
of this
gulf?— |
|
|
Awake,
arise,
or be
for ever
fallen!” |
330 |
|
They
heard,
and were
abashed,
and up
they
sprung |
|
|
Upon the
wing, as
when men
wont to
watch, |
|
|
On duty
sleeping
found by
whom
they
dread, |
|
|
Rouse
and
bestir
themselves
ere well
awake. |
|
|
Nor did
they not
perceive
the evil
plight |
335 |
|
In which
they
were, or
the
fierce
pains
not
feel; |
|
|
Yet to
their
General’s
voice
they
soon
obeyed |
|
|
Innumerable.
As when
the
potent
rod |
|
|
Of
Amram’s
son, in
Egypt’s
evil
day, |
|
|
Waved
round
the
coast,
up-called
a pitchy
cloud |
340 |
|
Of
locusts,
warping
on the
eastern
wind, |
|
|
That
o’er the
realm of
impious
Pharaoh
hung |
|
|
Like
Night,
and
darkened
all the
land of
Nile; |
|
|
So
numberless
were
those
bad
Angels
seen |
|
|
Hovering
on wing
under
the cope
of Hell, |
345 |
|
’Twixt
upper,
nether,
and
surrounding
fires; |
|
|
Till, as
a signal
given,
the
uplifted
spear |
|
|
Of their
great
Sultan
waving
to
direct |
|
|
Their
course,
in even
balance
down
they
light |
|
|
On the
firm
brimstone,
and fill
the
plain: |
350 |
|
A
multitude
like
which
the
populous
North |
|
|
Poured
never
from her
frozen
loins to
pass |
|
|
Rhene or
the
Danaw,
when her
barbarous
sons |
|
|
Came
like a
deluge
on the
South,
and
spread |
|
|
Beneath
Gibraltar
to the
Libyan
sands. |
355 |
|
Forthwith,
from
every
squadron
and each
band, |
|
|
The
heads
and
leaders
thither
haste
where
stood |
|
|
Their
great
Commander—godlike
Shapes,
and
Forms |
|
|
Excelling
human;
princely
Dignities; |
|
|
And
powers
that
erst in
Heaven
sat on
thrones, |
360 |
|
Though
of their
names in
Heavenly
records
now |
|
|
Be no
memorial,
blotted
out and
rased |
|
|
By their
rebellion
from the
Books of
Life. |
|
|
Nor had
they yet
among
the sons
of Eve |
|
|
Got them
new
names,
till,
wondering
o’er the
earth, |
365 |
|
Through
God’s
high
sufferance
for the
trial of
man, |
|
|
By
falsities
and lies
the
greatest
part |
|
|
Of
mankind
they
corrupted
to
forsake |
|
|
God
their
Creator,
and the
invisible |
|
|
Glory of
Him that
made
them to
transform |
370 |
|
Oft to
the
image of
a brute,
adorned |
|
|
With gay
religions
full of
pomp and
gold, |
|
|
And
devils
to adore
for
deities: |
|
|
Then
were
they
known to
men by
various
names, |
|
|
And
various
idols
through
the
heathen
world. |
375 |
|
Say,
Muse,
their
names
then
known,
who
first,
who
last, |
|
|
Roused
from the
slumber
on that
fiery
couch, |
|
|
At their
great
Emperor’s
call, as
next in
worth |
|
|
Came
singly
where he
stood on
the bare
strand, |
|
|
While
the
promiscuous
crowd
stood
yet
aloof. |
380 |
|
The
chief
were
those
who,
from the
pit of
Hell |
|
|
Roaming
to seek
their
prey on
Earth,
durst
fix |
|
|
Their
seats,
long
after,
next the
seat of
God, |
|
|
Their
altars
by His
altar,
gods
adored |
|
|
Among
the
nations
round,
and
durst
abide |
385 |
|
Jehovah
thundering
out of
Sion,
throned |
|
|
Between
the
Cherubim;
yea,
often
placed |
|
|
Within
His
sanctuary
itself
their
shrines, |
|
|
Abominations;
and with
cursed
things |
|
|
His holy
rites
and
solemn
feasts
profaned, |
390 |
|
And with
their
darkness
durst
affront
His
light. |
|
|
First,
Moloch,
horrid
King,
besmeared
with
blood |
|
|
Of human
sacrifice,
and
parents’
tears; |
|
|
Though,
for the
noise of
drums
and
timbrels
loud, |
|
|
Their
children’s
cries
unheard
that
passed
through
fire |
395 |
|
To his
grim
idol.
Him the
Ammonite |
|
|
Worshiped
in Rabba
and her
watery
plain, |
|
|
In Argob
and in
Basan,
to the
stream |
|
|
Of
utmost
Arnon.
Nor
content
with
such |
|
|
Audacious
neighbourhood,
the
wisest
heart |
400 |
|
Of
Solomon
he led
by fraud
to build |
|
|
His
temple
right
against
the
temple
of God |
|
|
On that
opprobrious
hill,
and made
his
grove |
|
|
The
pleasant
valley
of
Hinnom,
Tophet
thence |
|
|
And
black
Gehenna
called,
the type
of Hell. |
405 |
|
Next
Chemos,
the
obscene
dread of
Moab’s
sons, |
|
|
From
Aroar to
Nebo and
the wild |
|
|
Of
southmost
Abarim;
in
Hesebon |
|
|
And
Horonaim,
Seon’s
realm,
beyond |
|
|
The
flowery
dale of
Sibma
clad
with
vines, |
410 |
|
And
Elealè
to the
Asphaltick
Pool: |
|
|
Peor his
other
name,
when he
enticed |
|
|
Israel
in
Sittim,
on their
march
from
Nile, |
|
|
To do
him
wanton
rites,
which
cost
them
woe. |
|
|
Yet
thence
his
lustful
orgies
he
enlarged |
415 |
|
Even to
that
hill of
scandal,
by the
grove |
|
|
Of
Moloch
homicide,
lust
hard by
hate, |
|
|
Till
good
Josiah
drove
them
thence
to Hell. |
|
|
With
these
came
they
who,
from the
bordering
flood |
|
|
Of old
Euphrates
to the
brook
that
parts |
420 |
|
Egypt
from
Syrian
ground,
had
general
names |
|
|
Of
Baalim
and
Ashtaroth—those
male, |
|
|
These
feminine.
For
Spirits,
when
they
please, |
|
|
Can
either
sex
assume,
or both;
so soft |
|
|
And
uncompounded
is their
essence
pure, |
425 |
|
Not tied
or
manacled
with
joint or
limb, |
|
|
Nor
founded
on the
brittle
strength
of
bones, |
|
|
Like
cumbrous
flesh;
but, in
what
shape
they
choose, |
|
|
Dilated
or
condensed,
bright
or
obscure, |
|
|
Can
execute
their
aery
purposes, |
430 |
|
And
works of
love or
enmity
fulfil. |
|
|
For
those
the race
of
Israel
oft
forsook |
|
|
Their
Living
Strength,
and
unfrequented
left |
|
|
His
righteous
altar,
bowing
lowly
down |
|
|
To
bestial
gods;
for
which
their
heads,
as low |
435 |
|
Bowed
down in
battle,
sunk
before
the
spear |
|
|
Of
despicable
foes.
With
these in
troop |
|
|
Came
Astoreth,
whom the
Phoenicians
called |
|
|
Astarte,
queen of
heaven,
with
cresent
horns; |
|
|
To whose
bright
image
nightly
by the
moon |
440 |
|
Sidonian
virgins
paid
their
vows and
songs; |
|
|
In Sion
also not
unsung,
where
stood |
|
|
Her
temple
on the
offensive
mountain,
built |
|
|
By that
uxorious
king
whose
heart,
though
large, |
|
|
Beguiled
by fair
idolatresses,
fell |
445 |
|
To idols
foul.
Thammuz
came
next
behind, |
|
|
Whose
annual
wound in
Lebanon
allured |
|
|
The
Syrian
damsels
to
lament
his fate |
|
|
In
amorous
ditties
all a
summer’s
day, |
|
|
While
smooth
Adonis
from his
native
rock |
450 |
|
Ran
purple
to the
sea,
supposed
with
blood |
|
|
Of
Thammuz
yearly
wounded:
the
love-tale |
|
|
Infected
Sion’s
daughters
with
like
heat, |
|
|
Whose
wanton
passions
in the
sacred
porch |
|
|
Ezekiel
saw,
when, by
the
vision
led, |
455 |
|
His eye
surveyed
the dark
idolatries |
|
|
Of
alienated
Judah.
Next
came one |
|
|
Who
mourned
in
earnest,
when the
captive
Ark |
|
|
Maimed
his
brute
image,
head and
hands
lopt
off, |
|
|
In his
own
temple,
on the
grunsel-edge, |
460 |
|
Where he
fell
flat and
shamed
his
worshipers: |
|
|
Dagon
his
name,
sea-monster,
upward
man |
|
|
And
downward
fish;
yet had
his
temple
high |
|
|
Reared
in
Azotus,
dreaded
through
the
coast |
|
|
Of
Palestine,
in Gath
and
Ascalon, |
465 |
|
And
Accaron
and
Gaza’s
frontier
bounds. |
|
|
Him
followed
Rimmon,
whose
delightful
seat |
|
|
Was fair
Damascus,
on the
fertile
banks |
|
|
Of
Abbana
and
Pharphar,
lucid
streams. |
|
|
He also
against
the
house of
God was
bold: |
470 |
|
A leper
once he
lost,
and
gained a
king— |
|
|
Ahaz,
his
sottish
conqueror,
whom he
drew |
|
|
God’s
altar to
disparage
and
displace |
|
|
For one
of
Syrian
mode,
whereon
to burn |
|
|
His
odious
offerings,
and
adore
the gods |
475 |
|
Whom he
had
vanquished.
After
these
appeared |
|
|
A crew
who,
under
names of
old
renown— |
|
|
Osiris,
Isis,
Orus,
and
their
train— |
|
|
With
monstrous
shapes
and
sorceries
abused |
|
|
Fanatic
Egypt
and her
priests
to seek |
480 |
|
Their
wandering
gods
disguised
in
brutish
forms |
|
|
Rather
than
human.
Nor did
Israel
scape |
|
|
The
infection,
when
their
borrowed
gold
composed |
|
|
The calf
in Oreb;
and the
rebel
king |
|
|
Doubled
that sin
in
Bethel
and in
Dan, |
485 |
|
Likening
his
Maker to
the
grazèd
ox— |
|
|
Jehovah,
who, in
one
night,
when he
passed |
|
|
From
Egypt
marching,
equalled
with one
stroke |
|
|
Both her
first-born
and all
her
bleating
gods. |
|
|
Belial
came
last;
than
whom a
Spirit
more
lewd |
490 |
|
Fell not
from
Heaven,
or more
gross to
love, |
|
|
Vice for
itself.
To him
no
temple
stood |
|
|
Or altar
smoked;
yet who
more oft
than he |
|
|
In
temples
and at
altars,
when the
priest |
|
|
Turns
atheist,
as did
Eli’s
sons,
who
filled |
495 |
|
With
lust and
violence
the
house of
God? |
|
|
In
courts
and
palaces
he also
reigns, |
|
|
And in
luxurious
cities,
where
the
noise |
|
|
Of riot
ascends
above
their
loftiest
towers, |
|
|
And
injury
and
outrage;
and,
when
night |
500 |
|
Darkens
the
streets,
then
wander
forth
the sons |
|
|
Of
Belial,
flown
with
insolence
and
wine. |
|
|
Witness
the
streets
of
Sodom,
and that
night |
|
|
In
Gibeah,
when the
hospitable
door |
|
|
Exposed
a
matron,
to avoid
worse
rape. |
505 |
|
These
were the
prime in
order
and in
might: |
|
|
The rest
were
long to
tell;
though
far
renowned |
|
|
The
Ionian
gods—of
Javan’s
issue
held |
|
|
Gods,
yet
confessed
later
than
Heaven
and
Earth, |
|
|
Their
boasted
parents;—Titan,
Heaven’s
first-born, |
510 |
|
With his
enormous
brood,
and
birthright
seized |
|
|
By
younger
Saturn:
he from
mightier
Jove, |
|
|
His own
and
Rhea’s
son,
like
measure
found; |
|
|
So
Jove
unsurping
reigned.
These,
first in
Crete |
|
|
And Ida
known,
thence
on the
snowy
top |
515 |
|
Of cold
Olympus
ruled
the
middle
air, |
|
|
Their
highest
heaven;
or on
the
Delphian
cliff, |
|
|
Or in
Dodona,
and
through
all the
bounds |
|
|
Of Doric
land; or
who with
Saturn
old |
|
|
Fled
over
Adria to
the
Hesperian
fields, |
520 |
|
And o’er
the
Celtic
roamed
the
utmost
Isles. |
|
|
All
these
and more
came
flocking;
but with
looks |
|
|
Downcast
and
damp;
yet such
wherein
appeared |
|
|
Obscure
some
glimpse
of joy
to have
found
their
Chief |
|
|
Not in
despair,
to have
found
themselves
not lost |
525 |
|
In loss
itself;
which on
his
countenance
cast |
|
|
Like
doubtful
hue. But
he, his
wonted
pride |
|
|
Soon
recollecting,
with
high
words,
that
bore |
|
|
Semblance
of
worth,
nor
substance,
gently
raised |
|
|
Their
fainting
courage,
and
dispelled
their
fears: |
530 |
|
Then
straight
commands
that, at
the
war-like
sound |
|
|
Of
trumpets
loud and
clarions,
be
upreared |
|
|
His
mighty
standard.
That
proud
honour
claimed |
|
|
Azazel
as his
right, a
Cherub
tall: |
|
|
Who
forthwith
from the
glittering
staff
unfurled |
535 |
|
The
imperial
ensign;
which,
full
high
advanced, |
|
|
Shon
like a
meteor
streaming
to the
wind, |
|
|
With
gems and
golden
lustre
rich
imblazed, |
|
|
Seraphic
arms and
trophies;
all the
while |
|
|
Sonorous
metal
blowing
martial
sounds: |
540 |
|
At which
the
universal
host
up-sent |
|
|
A shout
that
tore
Hell’s
concave,
and
beyond |
|
|
Frighted
the
reign of
Chaos
and old
Night. |
|
|
All in a
moment
through
the
gloom
were
seen |
|
|
Ten
thousand
banners
rise
into the
air, |
545 |
|
With
orient
colours
waving:
with
them
rose |
|
|
A forest
huge of
spears;
and
thronging
helms |
|
|
Appeared,
and
serried
shields
in thick
array |
|
|
Of depth
immeasurable.
Anon
they
move |
|
|
In
perfect
phalanx
to the
Dorian
mood |
550 |
|
Of
flutes
and soft
recorders—such
as
raised |
|
|
To
highth
of
noblest
temper
heroes
old |
|
|
Arming
to
battle,
and
instead
of rage |
|
|
Deliberate
valour
breathed,
firm,
and
unmoved |
|
|
With
dread of
death to
flight
or foul
retreat; |
555 |
|
Nor
wanting
power to
mitigate
and
swage |
|
|
With
solemn
touches
troubled
thoughts,
and
chase |
|
|
Anguish
and
doubt
and fear
and
sorrow
and pain |
|
|
From
mortal
or
immortal
minds.
Thus
they, |
|
|
Breathing
united
force
with
fixed
thought, |
560 |
|
Moved on
in
silence
to soft
pipes
that
charmed |
|
|
Their
painful
steps
o’er the
burnt
soil.
And now |
|
|
Advanced
in view
they
stand—a
horrid
front |
|
|
Of
dreadful
length
and
dazzling
arms, in
guise |
|
|
Of
warriors
old,
with
ordered
spear
and
shield, |
565 |
|
Awaiting
what
command
their
mighty
Chief |
|
|
Had to
impose.
He
through
the
armed
files |
|
|
Darts
his
experienced
eye, and
soon
traverse |
|
|
The
whole
battalion
views—their
order
due, |
|
|
Their
visages
and
stature
as of
Gods; |
570 |
|
Their
number
last he
sums.
And now
his
heart |
|
|
Distends
with
pride,
and,
hardening
in his
strength, |
|
|
Glories:
for
never,
since
created
Man, |
|
|
Met such
imbodied
force
as,
named
with
these, |
|
|
Could
merit
more
than
that
small
infantry |
575 |
|
Warred
on by
cranes—though
all the
giant
brood |
|
|
Of
Phlegra
with the
heroic
race
were
joined |
|
|
That
fought
at
Thebes
and
Ilium,
on each
side |
|
|
Mixed
with
auxiliar
gods;
and what
resounds |
|
|
In fable
or
romance
of
Uther’s
son, |
580 |
|
Begirt
with
British
and
Armoric
knights; |
|
|
And all
who
since,
baptized
or
infidel, |
|
|
Jousted
in
Aspramont,
or
Montalban, |
|
|
Damasco,
or
Marocco,
or
Trebisond, |
|
|
Or whom
Biserta
sent
from
Afric
shore |
585 |
|
When
Charlemain
with all
his
peerage
fell |
|
|
By
Fontarabbia.
Thus far
these
beyond |
|
|
Compare
of
mortal
prowess,
yet
observed |
|
|
Their
dread
Commander.
He,
above
the rest |
|
|
In shape
and
gesture
proudly
eminent, |
590 |
|
Stood
like a
tower.
His form
had yet
not lost |
|
|
All her
original
brightness,
nor
appeared |
|
|
Less
than
Archangel
ruined,
and the
excess |
|
|
Of glory
obscured:
as when
the sun
new-risen |
|
|
Looks
through
the
horizontal
misty
air |
595 |
|
Shorn of
his
beams,
or, from
behind
the
moon, |
|
|
In dim
eclipse,
disastrous
twilight
sheds |
|
|
On half
the
nations,
and with
fear of
change |
|
|
Perplexes
monarchs.
Darkened
so, yet
shon |
|
|
Above
them all
the
Archangel:
but his
face |
600 |
|
Deep
scars of
thunder
had
intrenched,
and care |
|
|
Sat on
his
faded
cheek,
but
under
brows |
|
|
Of
dauntless
courage,
and
considerate
pride |
|
|
Waiting
revenge.
Cruel
his eye,
but cast |
|
|
Signs of
remorse
and
passion,
to
behold |
605 |
|
The
fellows
of his
crime,
the
followers
rather |
|
|
(Far
other
once
beheld
in
bliss),
condemned |
|
|
For ever
now to
have
their
lot in
pain— |
|
|
Millions
of
Spirits
for his
fault
amerced |
|
|
Of
Heaven,
and from
eternal
splendours
flung |
610 |
|
For his
revolt—yet
faithful
how they
stood, |
|
|
Their
glory
withered;
as, when
heaven’s
fire |
|
|
Hath
scathed
the
forest
oaks or
mountain
pines, |
|
|
With
singèd
top
their
stately
growth,
though
bare, |
|
|
Stands
on the
blasted
heath.
He now
prepared |
615 |
|
To
speak;
whereat
their
doubled
ranks
they
bend |
|
|
From
wing to
wing,
and half
enclose
him
round |
|
|
With all
his
peers:
Attention
held
them
mute. |
|
|
Thrice
he
assayed,
and
thrice,
in spite
of
scorn, |
|
|
Tears,
such as
Angels
weep,
burst
forth:
at last |
620 |
|
Words
interwove
with
sighs
found
out
their
way:— |
|
|
“O
myriads
of
immortal
Spirits!
O Powers |
|
|
Matchless,
but with
the
Almighty!—and
that
strife |
|
|
Was not
inglorious,
though
the
event
was
dire, |
|
|
As this
place
testifies,
and this
dire
change, |
625 |
|
Hateful
to
utter.
But what
power of
mind, |
|
|
Foreseeing
or
presaging,
from the
depth |
|
|
Of
knowledge
past or
present,
could
have
feared |
|
|
How such
united
force of
gods,
how such |
|
|
As stood
like
these,
could
ever
know
repulse? |
630 |
|
For who
can yet
believe,
though
after
loss, |
|
|
That all
these
puissant
legions,
whose
exile |
|
|
Hath
emptied
Heaven,
shall
fail to
reascend, |
|
|
Self-raised,
and
re-possess
their
native
seat? |
|
|
For me,
be
witness
all the
host of
Heaven, |
635 |
|
If
counsels
different,
or
danger
shunned |
|
|
By me,
have
lost our
hopes.
But he
who
reigns |
|
|
Monarch
in
Heaven
till
then as
one
secure |
|
|
Sat on
his
throne,
upheld
by old
repute, |
|
|
Consent
or
custom,
and his
regal
state |
640 |
|
Put
forth at
full,
but
still
his
strength
concealed— |
|
|
Which
tempted
our
attempt,
and
wrought
our
fall. |
|
|
Henceforth
his
might we
know,
and know
our own, |
|
|
So as
not
either
to
provoke,
or dread |
|
|
New war
provoked:
our
better
part
remains |
645 |
|
To work
in close
design,
by fraud
or
guile, |
|
|
What
force
effected
not;
that he
no less |
|
|
At
length
from us
may
find,
Who
overcomes |
|
|
By force
hath
overcome
but half
his foe. |
|
|
Space
may
produce
new
Worlds;
whereof
so rife |
650 |
|
There
went a
fame in
Heaven
that He
ere long |
|
|
Intended
to
create,
and
therein
plant |
|
|
A
generation
whom his
choice
regard |
|
|
Should
favour
equal to
the Sons
of
Heaven. |
|
|
Thither,
if but
to pry,
shall be
perhaps |
655 |
|
Our
first
eruption—thither,
or
elsewhere; |
|
|
For this
infernal
pit
shall
never
hold |
|
|
Cælestial
Spirits
in
bondage,
nor the
Abyss |
|
|
Long
under
darkness
cover.
But
these
thoughts |
|
|
Full
counsel
must
mature.
Peace is
despaired; |
660 |
|
For who
can
think
submission?
War,
then,
war |
|
|
Open or
understood,
must be
resolved.” |
|
|
He
spake;
and, to
confirm
his
words,
out-flew |
|
|
Millions
of
flaming
swords,
drawn
from the
thighs |
|
|
Of
mighty
Cherubim;
the
sudden
blaze |
665 |
|
Far
around
illumined
Hell.
Highly
they
raged |
|
|
Again
the
Highest
and
fierce
with
graspèd
arms |
|
|
Clashed
on their
sounding
shields
the din
of war, |
|
|
Hurling
defiance
toward
the
vault of
Heaven. |
|
|
There
stood a
hill not
far,
whose
griesly
top |
670 |
|
Belched
fire and
rowling
smoke;
the rest
entire |
|
|
Shown
with a
glossy
scurf—undoubted
sign |
|
|
That in
his womb
was hid
metallic
ore, |
|
|
The work
of
sulphur.
Thither,
winged
with
speed, |
|
|
A
numerous
brigad
hastened:
as when
bands |
675 |
|
Of
pioners,
with
spade
and
pickaxe
armed, |
|
|
Forerun
the
royal
camp, to
trench a
field, |
|
|
Or cast
a
rampart.
Mammon
led them
on— |
|
|
Mammon,
the
least
erected
Spirit
that
fell |
|
|
From
Heaven;
for even
in
Heaven
his
looks
and
thoughts |
680 |
|
Were
always
downward
bent,
admiring
more |
|
|
The
riches
of
Heaven’s
pavement,
trodden
gold, |
|
|
Than
aught
divine
or holy
else
enjoyed |
|
|
In
vision
beatific.
By him
first |
|
|
Men
also,
and by
suggestion
taught |
685 |
|
Ransacked
the
Centre,
and with
impious
hands |
|
|
Rifled
the
bowels
of their
mother
Earth |
|
|
For
treasures
better
hid.
Soon had
his crew |
|
|
Opened
into the
hill a
spacious
wound, |
|
|
And
digged
out ribs
of gold.
Let none
admire |
690 |
|
That
riches
grow in
Hell:
that
soil may
best |
|
|
Deserve
the
pretious
bane.
And here
let
those |
|
|
Who
boast in
mortal
things,
and
wondering
tell |
|
|
Of Babel
and the
works of
Memphian
kings, |
|
|
Learn
how
their
greatest
monuments
of fame, |
695 |
|
And
strength,
and art,
are
easily
outdone |
|
|
By
Spirits
reprobate,
and in
an hour |
|
|
What in
an age
they,
with
incessant
toil |
|
|
And
hands
innumerable,
scarce
perform. |
|
|
Nigh on
the
plain,
in many
cells
prepared, |
700 |
|
That
underneath
had
veins of
liquid
fire |
|
|
Sluiced
from the
lake, a
second
multitude |
|
|
With
wondrous
art
founded
the
massy
ore, |
|
|
Severing
each
kind,
and
scummed
the
bullion-dross. |
|
|
A third
as soon
had
formed
within
the
ground |
705 |
|
A
various
mould,
and from
the
boiling
cells |
|
|
By
strange
conveyance
filled
each
hollow
nook; |
|
|
As in an
organ,
from one
blast of
wind, |
|
|
To many
a row of
pipes
the
sound-board
breathes. |
|
|
Anon out
of the
earth a
fabric
huge |
710 |
|
Rose
like an
exhalation,
with the
sound |
|
|
Of
dulcet
symphonies
and
voices
sweet— |
|
|
Built
like a
temple,
where
pilasters
round |
|
|
Were
set, and
Doric
pillars
overlaid |
|
|
With
golden
architrave;
nor did
there
want |
715 |
|
Cornice
or
frieze,
with
bossy
sculptures
graven: |
|
|
The roof
was
fretted
gold.
Not
Babilon |
|
|
Nor
great
Alcairo
such
magnificence |
|
|
Equalled
in all
their
glories,
to
inshrine |
|
|
Belus or
Serapis
their
gods, or
seat |
720 |
|
Their
kings,
when
Ægypt
with
Assyria
strove |
|
|
In
wealth
and
luxury.
The
ascending
pile |
|
|
Stood
fixed
her
stately
highth;
and
straight
the
doors |
|
|
Opening
their
brazen
folds,
discover,
wide |
|
|
Within,
her
ample
spaces
o’er the
smooth |
725 |
|
And
level
pavement:
from the
arched
roof, |
|
|
Pendent
by
subtle
magic,
many a
row |
|
|
Of
starry
lamps
and
blazing
cressets,
fed |
|
|
With
naphtha
and
asphaltus,
yielded
light |
|
|
As from
a sky.
The
hasty
multitude |
730 |
|
Admiring
entered;
and the
work
some
praise, |
|
|
And some
the
Architect.
His hand
was
known |
|
|
In
Heaven
by many
a
towered
structure
high, |
|
|
Where
sceptred
Angels
held
their
residence, |
|
|
And sat
as
Princes,
whom the
supreme
King |
735 |
|
Exalted
to such
power,
and gave
to rule, |
|
|
Each in
his
hierarchy,
the
Orders
bright. |
|
|
Nor was
his name
unheard
or
unadored |
|
|
In
ancient
Greece;
and in
Ausonian
land |
|
|
Men
called
him
Mulciber;
and how
he fell |
740 |
|
From
Heaven
they
fabled,
thrown
by angry
Jove |
|
|
Sheer
o’er the
crystal
battlements:
from
morn |
|
|
To noon
he fell,
from
noon to
dewy
eve, |
|
|
A
summer’s
day, and
with the
setting
sun |
|
|
Dropt
from the
zenith,
like a
falling
star, |
745 |
|
On
Lemnos,
the
Ægæan
isle.
Thus
they
relate, |
|
|
Erring;
for he
with
this
rebellious
rout |
|
|
Fell
long
before;
nor
aught
availed
him now |
|
|
To have
built in
Heaven
high
towers;
nor did
he scape |
|
|
By all
his
engines,
but was
headlong
sent, |
750 |
|
With his
industrious
crew, to
build in
Hell. |
|
|
Meanwhile
the
wingèd
Haralds,
by
command |
|
|
Of
sovran
power,
with
awful
ceremony |
|
|
And
trumpet’s
sound,
throughout
the host
proclaim |
|
|
A solemn
council
forthwith
to be
held |
755 |
|
At
Pandæmonium,
the high
capital |
|
|
Of Satan
and his
peers.
Their
summons
called |
|
|
From
every
band and
squarèd
regiment |
|
|
By place
or
choice
the
worthiest:
they
anon |
|
|
With
hundreds
and with
thousands
trooping
came |
760 |
|
Attended.
All
access
was
thronged;
the
gates |
|
|
And
porches
wide,
but
chief
the
spacious
hall |
|
|
(Though
like a
covered
field,
where
champions
bold |
|
|
Wont
ride in
armed,
and at
the
Soldan’s
chair |
|
|
Defied
the best
of Panim
chivalry |
765 |
|
To
mortal
combat,
or
career
with
lance), |
|
|
Thick
swarmed,
both on
the
ground
and in
the air, |
|
|
Brushed
with the
hiss of
rustling
wings.
As bees |
|
|
In
spring-time,
when the
Sun with
Taurus
rides, |
|
|
Pour
forth
their
populous
youth
about
the hive |
770 |
|
In
clusters;
they
among
fresh
dews and
flowers |
|
|
Fly to
and fro,
or on
the
smoothèd
plank, |
|
|
The
suburb
of their
straw-built
citadel, |
|
|
New
rubbed
with
balm,
expatiate,
and
confer |
|
|
Their
state-affairs:
so thick
the
aerie
crowd |
775 |
|
Swarmed
and were
straitened;
till,
the
signal
given, |
|
|
Behold a
wonder!
They but
now who
seemed |
|
|
In
bigness
to
surpass
Earth’s
giant
sons, |
|
|
Now less
than
smallest
dwarfs,
in
narrow
room |
|
|
Throng
numberless—like
that
pygmean
race |
780 |
|
Beyond
the
Indian
mount;
or faery
elves, |
|
|
Whose
midnight
revels,
by a
forest-side |
|
|
Or
fountain,
some
belated
peasant
sees, |
|
|
Or
dreams
he sees,
while
overhead
the Moon |
|
|
Sits
arbitress,
and
nearer
to the
Earth |
785 |
|
Wheels
her pale
course:
they, on
their
mirth
and
dance |
|
|
Intent,
with
jocond
music
charm
his ear; |
|
|
At once
with joy
and fear
his
heart
rebounds. |
|
|
Thus
incorporeal
Spirits
to
smallest
forms |
|
|
Reduced
their
shapes
immense,
and were
at
large, |
790 |
|
Though
without
number
still,
amidst
the hall |
|
|
Of that
infernal
court.
But far
within, |
|
|
And in
their
own
dimensions
like
themselves, |
|
|
The
great
Seraphic
Lords
and
Cherubim |
|
|
In close
recess
and
secret
conclave
sat, |
795 |
|
A
thousand
demi-gods
on
golden
seats, |
|
|
Frequent
and
full.
After
short
silence
then, |
|
|
And
summons
read,
the
great
consult
began. |
|
