| |
| HAIL, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-born! | |
| Or of the Eternal coeternal beam | |
| May I express thee unblamed? since God is light, | |
| And never but in unapproached light | |
| Dwelt from eternity-dwelt then in thee, | 5 |
| Bright effluence of bright essence increate! | |
| Or hear’st thou rather pure Ethereal Stream, | |
| Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the Sun, | |
| Before the Heavens, thou wert, and at the voice | |
| Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest | 10 |
| The rising World of waters dark and deep, | |
| Won from the void and formless Infinite! | |
| Thee I revisit now with bolder wing, | |
| Escaped the Stygian Pool, though long detained | |
| In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight, | 15 |
| Through utter and through middle Darkness borne, | |
| With other notes than to the Orphean lyre | |
| I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, | |
| Taught by the Heavenly Muse to venture down | |
| The dark descent, and up to re-ascend, | 20 |
| Though hard and rare. Thee I revisit safe, | |
| And feel thy sovran vital lamp; but thou | |
| Revisit’st not these eyes, that rowl in vain | |
| To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; | |
| So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, | 25 |
| Or dim suffusion veiled. Yet not the more | |
| Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt | |
| Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, | |
| Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief | |
| Thee, Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, | 30 |
| That wash thy hallowed feet, and warbling flow, | |
| Nightly I visit: nor sometimes forget | |
| Those other two equalled with me in fate, | |
| (So were I equalled with them in renown!) | |
| Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides, | 35 |
| And Tiresias and Phineus, prophets old: | |
| Then feed on thoughts that voluntary move | |
| Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful bird | |
| Sings darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid, | |
| Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year | 40 |
| Seasons return; but not to me returns | |
| Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, | |
| Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer’s rose, | |
| Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; | |
| But cloud instead and ever—during dark | 45 |
| Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men | |
| Cut off, and, for the book of knowledge fair, | |
| Presented with a universal blank | |
| Of Nature’s works, to me expunged and rased, | |
| And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. | 50 |
| So much the rather thou, Celestial Light, | |
| Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers | |
| Irradiate; there plant eyes; all mist from thence | |
| Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell | |
| Of things invisible to mortal sight. | 55 |
| Now had the Almighty Father from above, | |
| From the pure Empyrean where He sits | |
| High throned above all highth, bent down his eye, | |
| His own works and their works at once to view: | |
| About him all the Sanctities of Heaven | 60 |
| Stood thick as stars, and from his sight received | |
| Beatitude past utterance; on his right | |
| The radiant image of his glory sat, | |
| His only Son. On Earth he first beheld | |
| Our two first parents, yet the only two | 65 |
| Of mankind, in the Happy Garden placed, | |
| Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love, | |
| Uninterrupted joy, unrivalled love, | |
| In blissful solitude. He then surveyed | |
| Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there | 70 |
| Coasting the wall of Heaven on this side Night, | |
| In the dun air sublime, and ready now | |
| To stoop, with wearied wings and willing feet, | |
| On the bare outside of this World, that seemed | |
| Firm land imbosomed without firmament, | 75 |
| Uncertain which, in ocean or in air. | |
| Him God beholding from his prospect high, | |
| Wherein past, present, future, he beholds, | |
| Thus to His only Son foreseeing spake:— | |
| “Only-begotten Son, seest thou what rage | 80 |
| Transports our Adversary? whom no bounds | |
| Prescribed, no bars of Hell, nor all the chains | |
| Heaped on him there, nor yet the main Abyss | |
| Wide interrupt, can hold; so bent he seems | |
| On desperate revenge, that shall redound | 85 |
| Upon his own rebellious head. And now, | |
| Through all restraint broke loose, he wings his way | |
| Not far off Heaven, in the precincts of light, | |
| Directly towards the new-created World, | |
| And Man there placed, with purpose to assay | 90 |
| If him by force he can destroy, or, worse, | |
| By some false guile pervert: and shall pervert; | |
| For Man will hearken to his glozing lies, | |
| And easily transgress the sole command, | |
| Sole pledge of his obedience: so will fall | 95 |
| He and his faithless progeny. Whose fault? | |
| Whose but his own? Ingrate, he had of me | |
| All he could have; I made him just and right, | |
| Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. | |
| Such I created all the Ethereal Powers | 100 |
| And Spirits, both them who stood and them who failed; | |
| Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. | |
| Not free, what proof could they have given sincere | |
| Of true allegiance, constant faith, or love, | |
| Where only what they needs must do appeared, | 105 |
| Not what they would? What praise could they receive, | |
| What pleasure I, from such obedience paid. | |
| When Will and Reason (Reason also is Choice), | |
| Useless and vain, of freedom both despoiled, | |
| Made passive both, had served Necessity, | 110 |
| Not Me? They, therefore, as to right belonged | |
| So were created, nor can justly accuse | |
| Their Maker, or their making, or their fate, | |
| As if Predestination overruled | |
| Their will, disposed by absolute decree | 115 |
| Or high foreknowledge. They themselves decreed | |
| Their own revolt, not I. If I foreknew, | |
| Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault, | |
| Which had no less proved certain unforeknown. | |
| So without least impulse or shadow of fate, | 120 |
| Or aught by me immutably foreseen, | |
| They trespass, authors to themselves in all, | |
| Both what they judge and what they choose; for so | |
| I formed them free, and free they must remain | |
| Till they enthrall themselves: I else must change | 125 |
| Their nature, and revoke the high decree | |
| Unchangeable, eternal, which ordained | |
| Their freedom; they themselves ordained their fall. | |
| The first sort by their own suggestion fell, | |
| Self-tempted, self-depraved; Man falls, deceived | 130 |
| By the other first: Man, therefore, shall find grace; | |
| The other, none. In mercy and justice both, | |
| Through Heaven and Earth, so shall my glory excel; | |
| But mercy, first and last, shall brightest shine.” | |
| Thus while God spake ambrosial fragrance filled | 135 |
| All Heaven, and in the blessèd Spirits elect | |
| Sense of new joy ineffable diffused. | |
| Beyond compare the Son of God was seen | |
| Most glorious; in him all his Father shon | |
| Substantially expressed; and in his face | 140 |
| Divine compassion visibly appeared, | |
| Love without end, and without measure grace; | |
| Which uttering, thus He to his Father spake;— | |
| “O Father, gracious was that word which closed | |
| Thy sovran sentence, that Man should find grace; | 145 |
| For which both Heaven and Earth shall high extol | |
| Thy praises, with the innumerable sound | |
| Of hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throne | |
| Encompassed shall resound thee ever blest. | |
| For, should Man finally be lost—should Man, | 150 |
| Thy creature late so loved, thy youngest son, | |
| Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though joined | |
| With his own folly -! That be from thee far, | |
| That far be from thee, Father, who art judge | |
| Of all things made, and judgest only right! | 155 |
| Or shall the Adversary thus obtain | |
| His end, and frustrate thine? Shall he fulfil | |
| His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught | |
| Or proud return, though to his heavier doom | |
| Yet with revenge accomplished, and to Hell | 160 |
| Draw after him the whole race of mankind, | |
| By him corrupted? Or wilt thou thyself | |
| Abolish thy creation, and unmake, | |
| For him, what for thy glory thou hast made?— | |
| So should thy goodness and thy greatness both | 165 |
| Be questioned and blasphemed without defense.” | |
| To whom the great Creator thus replied:— | |
| “O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight, | |
| Son of my bosom, Son who art alone | |
| My word, my wisdom, and effectual might, | 170 |
| All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all | |
| As my eternal purpose hath decreed. | |
| Man shall not quite be lost, but saved who will; | |
| Yet not of will in him, but grace in me | |
| Freely voutsafed. Once more I will renew | 175 |
| His lapsed powers, though forfeit, and enthralled | |
| By sin to foul exorbitant desires: | |
| Upheld by me, yet once more he shall stand | |
| On even ground against his mortal foe— | |
| By me upheld, that he may know how frail | 180 |
| His fallen condition is, and to me owe | |
| All his deliverance, and to none but me. | |
| Some I have chosen of peculiar grace, | |
| Elect above the rest; so is my will: | |
| The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warned | 185 |
| Their sinful state, and to appease betimes | |
| The incensèd Deity, while offered grace | |
| Invites; for I will clear their senses dark | |
| What may suffice, and soften stony hearts | |
| To pray, repent, and bring obedience due. | 190 |
| To prayer, repentance, and obedience due, | |
| Though but endeavoured with sincere intent, | |
| Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut. | |
| And I will place within them as a guide | |
| My umpire Conscience; whom if they will hear, | 195 |
| Light after light well used they shall attain, | |
| And to the end persisting safe arrive. | |
| This my long sufferance, and my day of grace, | |
| They who neglect and scorn shall never taste; | |
| But hard be hardened, blind be blinded more, | 200 |
| That they may stumble on, and deeper fall; | |
| And none but such from mercy I exclude.— | |
| But yet all is not done. Man disobeying, | |
| Disloyal, breaks his fealty, and sins | |
| Against the high supremacy of Heaven, | 205 |
| Affecting Godhead, and, so losing all, | |
| To expiate his treason hath naught left, | |
| But, to destruction sacred and devote, | |
| He with his whole posterity must die; | |
| Die he or Justice must; unless for him | 210 |
| Some other, able, and as willing, pay | |
| The rigid satisfaction, death for death. | |
| Say, Heavenly Powers, where shall we find such love? | |
| Which of ye will be mortal, to redeem | |
| Man’s mortal crime, and just, the unjust to save? | 215 |
| Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear?” | |
| He asked, but all the Heavenly Quire stood mute, | |
| And silence was in Heaven: on Man’s behalf | |
| Patron or intercessor none appeared— | |
| Much less that durst upon his own head draw | 220 |
| The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set. | |
| And now without redemption all mankind | |
| Must have been lost, adjudged to Death and Hell | |
| By doom severe, had not the Son of God, | |
| In whom the fulness dwells of love divine, | 225 |
| His dearest mediation thus renewed:— | |
| “Father, thy word is passed, Man shall find grace; | |
| And shall Grace not find means, that finds her way, | |
| The speediest of thy winged messengers, | |
| To visit all thy creatures, and to all | 230 |
| Comes unprevented, unimplored, unsought? | |
| Happy for Man, so coming! He her aid | |
| Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost— | |
| Atonement for himself, or offering meet, | |
| Indebted and undone, hath none to bring. | 235 |
| Behold me, then: me for him, life for life, | |
| I offer; on me let thine anger fall; | |
| Account me Man: I for his sake will leave | |
| Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee | |
| Freely put off, and for him lastly die | 240 |
| Well pleased; on me let Death wreak all his rage. | |
| Under his gloomy power I shall not long | |
| Lie vanquished. Thou hast given me to possess | |
| Life in myself for ever; by thee I live; | |
| Though now to Death I yield, and am his due, | 245 |
| All that of men can die, yet, that debt paid, | |
| Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave | |
| His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soul | |
| For ever with corruption there to dwell; | |
| But I shall rise victorious, and subdue | 250 |
| My vanquisher, spoiled of his vaunted spoil. | |
| Death his death’s wound shall then receive, and stoop | |
| Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarmed; | |
| I through the ample air in triumph high | |
| Shall lead Hell captive maugre Hell, and show | 255 |
| The powers of Darkness bound. Thou, at the sight | |
| Pleased, out of Heaven shalt look down and smile, | |
| While, by thee raised, I ruin all my foes— | |
| Death last, and with his carcase glut the grave; | |
| Then, with the multitude of my redeemed, | 260 |
| Shall enter Heaven, long absent, and return, | |
| Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud | |
| Of anger shall remain, but peace assured | |
| And reconcilement: wrauth shall be no more | |
| Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire.” | 265 |
| His words here ended; but his meek aspect’ | |
| Silent yet spake, and breathed immortal love | |
| To mortal man, above which only shon | |
| Filial obedience: as a sacrifice | |
| Glad to be offered, he attends the will | 270 |
| Of his great Father. Admiration seized | |
| All Heaven, what this might mean, and whither tend, | |
| Wondering; but soon the Almighty thus replied:— | |
| “O thou in Heaven and Earth the only peace | |
| Found out for mankind under wrauth, O thou | 275 |
| My sole complacence! well thou know’st how dear | |
| To me are all my works; nor Man the least, | |
| Though last created, that for him I spare | |
| Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save, | |
| By losing thee a while, the whole race lost! | 280 |
| Thou, therefore, whom thou only canst redeem, | |
| Their nature also to thy nature join; | |
| And be thyself Man among men on Earth, | |
| Made flesh, when time shall be, of virgin seed, | |
| By wondrous birth; be thou in Adam’s room | 285 |
| The head of all mankind, though Adam’s son. | |
| As in him perish all men, so in thee, | |
| As from a second root, shall be restored | |
| As many as are restored; without thee, none. | |
| His crime makes guilty all his sons; thy merit, | 290 |
| Imputed, shall absolve them who renounce | |
| Their own both righteous and unrighteous deeds, | |
| And live in thee transplanted, and from thee | |
| Receive new life, So Man, as is most just, | |
| Shall satisfy for Man, be judged and die, | 295 |
| And dying rise, and, rising, with him raise | |
| His brethren, ransomed with his own dear life. | |
| So Heavenly love shall outdo Hellish hate, | |
| Giving to death, and dying to redeem, | |
| So dearly to redeem what Hellish hate | 300 |
| So easily destroyed, and still destroys | |
| In those who, when they may, accept not grace. | |
| Nor shalt thou, by descending to assume | |
| Man’s nature, lessen or degrade thine own. | |
| Because thou hast, though throned in highest bliss | 305 |
| Equal to God, and equally enjoying | |
| God-like fruition, quitted all to save | |
| A world from utter loss, and hast been found | |
| By merit more than birthright Son of God,— | |
| Found worthiest to be so by being good, | 310 |
| Far more than great or high; because in thee | |
| Love hath abounded more than glory abounds; | |
| Therefore thy humiliation shall exalt | |
| With thee thy manhood also to this Throne: | |
| Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt reign | 315 |
| Both God and Man, Son both of God and Man, | |
| Anointed universal King. All power | |
| I give thee; reign for ever, and assume | |
| Thy merits; under thee, as Head Supreme, | |
| Thrones, Princedoms, Powers, Dominions, I reduce: | 320 |
| All knees to thee shall bow of them that bide | |
| In Heaven, or Earth, or, under Earth, in Hell. | |
| When thou, attended gloriously from Heaven, | |
| Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send | |
| The summoning Archangels to proclaim | 325 |
| Thy dread tribunal, forthwith from all winds | |
| The living, and forthwith the cited dead | |
| Of all past ages, to the general doom | |
| Shall hasten; such a peal shall rouse their sleep. | |
| Then, all thy Saints assembled, thou shalt judge | 330 |
| Bad men and Angels; they arraigned shall sink | |
| Beneath thy sentence; Hell, her numbers full, | |
| Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Meanwhile | |
| The World shall burn, and from her ashes spring | |
| New Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell, | 335 |
| And, after all their tribulations long, | |
| See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, | |
| With Joy and Love triumph’ing, and fair Truth. | |
| Then thou thy regal sceptre shalt lay by; | |
| For regal sceptre then no more shall need; | 340 |
| God shall be All in All. But all ye Gods, | |
| Adore Him who, to compass all this, dies; | |
| Adore the Son, and honour him as me.” | |
| No sooner had the Almighty ceased but—all | |
| The multitude of Angels, with a shout | 345 |
| Loud as from numbers without number, sweet | |
| As from blest voices, uttering joy—Heaven rung | |
| With jubilee, and loud Hosannas filled | |
| The eternal regions. Lowly reverent | |
| Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground | 350 |
| With solemn adoration down they cast | |
| Their crowns, inwove with amarant and gold,— | |
| Immortal amarant, a flower which once | |
| In Paradise, fast by the Tree of Life, | |
| Began to bloom, but, soon for Man’s offence | 355 |
| To Heaven removed where first it grew, there grows | |
| And flowers aloft, shading the Fount of Life, | |
| And where the River of Bliss through midst of Heaven | |
| Rowls o’er Elysian flowers her amber stream! | |
| With these, that never fade, the Spirits elect | 360 |
| Bind their resplendent locks, inwreathed with beams. | |
| Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright | |
| Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shon, | |
| Impurpled with celestial roses smiled. | |
| Then, crowned again, their golden harps they took— | 365 |
| Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side | |
| Like quivers hung; and with preamble sweet | |
| Of charming symphony they introduce | |
| Their sacred song, and waken raptures high: | |
| No voice exempt, no voice but well could join | 370 |
| Melodious part; such concord is in Heaven. | |
| Thee, Father, first they sung, Omnipotent | |
| Immutable, Immortal. Infinite, | |
| Eternal King; thee, Author of all being, | |
| Fountain of light, thyself invisible | 375 |
| Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sitt’st | |
| Throned inaccessible, but when thou shad’st | |
| The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud | |
| Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine | |
| Dark with excessive bright thy skirts appear, | 380 |
| Yet dazzle Heaven, that brightest Seraphim | |
| Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes. | |
| Thee next they sang, of all creation first, | |
| Begotten Son, Divine Similitude, | |
| In whose conspicuous countenance, without cloud | 385 |
| Made visible, the Almighty Father shines, | |
| Whom else no creature can behold: on thee | |
| Impressed the effulgence of his glory abides; | |
| Transfused on thee his ample Spirit rests. | |
| He Heaven of Heavens, and all the Powers therein, | 390 |
| By thee created; and by thee threw down | |
| The aspiring Dominations. Thou that day | |
| Thy Father’s dreadful thunder didst not spare, | |
| Nor stop thy flaming chariot-wheels, that shook | |
| Heaven’s everlasting frame, while o’er the necks | 395 |
| Thou drov’st of warring Angels disarrayed. | |
| Back from pursuit, thy Powers with loud acclaim | |
| Thee only extolled, Son of thy Father’s might, | |
| To execute fierce vengeance on his foes. | |
| Not so on Man: him, through their malice fallen, | 400 |
| Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doom | |
| So strictly, but much more to pity encline. | |
| No sooner did thy dear and only Son | |
| Perceive thee purposed not to doom frail Man | |
| So strictly, but much more to pity enclined, | 405 |
| He, to appease thy wrauth, and end the strife | |
| Of mercy and justice in thy face discerned, | |
| Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat | |
| Second to thee, offered himself to die | |
| For Man’s offence. O unexampled love! | 410 |
| Love nowhere to be found less than Divine! | |
| Hail, Son of God, Saviour of men! Thy name | |
| Shall be the copious matter of my song | |
| Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise | |
| Forget, nor from thy Father’s praise disjoin! | 415 |
| Thus they in Heaven, above the Starry Sphere, | |
| Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent. | |
| Meanwhile, upon the firm opacous globe | |
| Of this round World, whose first convex divides | |
| The luminous inferior Orbs, enclosed | 420 |
| From Chaos and the inroad of Darkness old, | |
| Satan alighted walks. A globe far off | |
| It seemed; now seems a boundless continent, | |
| Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of Night | |
| Starless exposed, and ever-threatening storms | 425 |
| Of Chaos blustering round, inclement sky, | |
| Save on that side which from the wall of Heaven, | |
| Though distant far, some small reflection gains | |
| Of glimmering air less vexed with tempest loud. | |
| Here walked the Fiend at large in spacious field. | 430 |
| As when a vultur, on Imaus bred, | |
| Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds, | |
| Dislodging from a region scarce of prey, | |
| To gorge the flesh of lambs or yearling kids | |
| On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs | 435 |
| Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams, | |
| But in his way lights on the barren plains | |
| Of Sericana, where Chineses drive | |
| With sails and wind their cany waggons light; | |
| So, on this windy sea of land, the Fiend | 440 |
| Walked up and down alone, bent on his prey: | |
| Alone, for other creature in this place, | |
| Living or lifeless, to be found was none:— | |
| None yet; but store hereafter from the Earth | |
| Up hither like aerial vapours flew | 445 |
| Of all things transitory and vain, when sin | |
| With vanity had filled the works of men— | |
| Both all things vain, and all who in vain things | |
| Built their fond hopes of glory or lasting fame, | |
| Or happiness in this or the other life. | 450 |
| All who have their reward on earth, the fruits | |
| Of painful superstition and blind zeal, | |
| Naught seeking but the praise of men, here find | |
| Fit retribution, empty as their deeds; | |
| All the unaccomplished works of Nature’s hand, | 455 |
| Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mixed, | |
| Dissolved on Earth, fleet hither, and in vain, | |
| Till final dissolution, wander here— | |
| Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some have dreamed: | |
| Those argent fields more likely habitants, | 460 |
| Translated Saints, or middle Spirits hold, | |
| Betwixt the angelical and human kind. | |
| Hither, of ill—joined sons and daughters born, | |
| First from the ancient world those Giants came, | |
| With many a vain exploit, though then renowned: | 465 |
| The builders next of Babel on the plain | |
| Of Sennaar, and still with vain design | |
| New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build: | |
| Others came single; he who, to be deemed | |
| A god, leaped fondly into Ætna flames, | 470 |
| Empedocles; and he who, to enjoy | |
| Plato’s Elysium, leaped into the sea, | |
| Cleombrotus; and many more, too long, | |
| Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars, | |
| White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery. | 475 |
| Here pilgrims roam, that strayed so far to seek | |
| In Golgotha him dead who lives in Heaven; | |
| And they who, to be sure of Paradise, | |
| Dying put on the weeds of Dominic, | |
| Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised. | 480 |
| They pass the planets seven, and pass the fixed, | |
| And that crystal’lin sphere whose balance weighs | |
| The trepidation talked, and that first moved; | |
| And now Saint Peter at Heaven’s wicket seems | |
| To wait them with his keys, and now at foot | 485 |
| Of Heaven’s ascent they lift their feet, when, lo! | |
| A violent cross wind from either coast | |
| Blows them transverse, then thousand leagues awry, | |
| Into the devious air. Then might ye see | |
| Cowls, hoods, and habits, with their wearers, tost | 490 |
| And fluttered into rags; then reliques, beads, | |
| Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls | |
| The sport of winds: all these, upwhirled aloft, | |
| Fly o’er the backside of the World far off | |
| Into a Limbo large and broad, since called | 495 |
| The Paradise of Fools; to few unknown | |
| Long after, now unpeopled and untrod. | |
| All this dark globe the Fiend found as he passed; | |
| And long he wandered, till at last a gleam | |
| Of dawning light turned thitherward in haste | 500 |
| His travelled steps. Far distant he descries, | |
| Ascending by degrees magnificent | |
| Up to the wall of Heaven, a structure high; | |
| At top whereof, but far more rich, appeared | |
| The work as of a kingly palace-gate, | 505 |
| With frontispiece of diamond and gold | |
| Imbellished; thick with sparkling orient gems | |
| The portal shon, inimitable on Earth | |
| By model, or by shading pencil drawn. | |
| The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw | 510 |
| Angels ascending and descending, bands | |
| Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled | |
| To Padan-Aram, in the field of Luz | |
| Dreaming by night under the open sky, | |
| And waking cried, This is the gate of Heaven. | 515 |
| Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood | |
| There always, but drawn up to Heaven sometimes | |
| Viewless; and underneath a bright sea flowed | |
| Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon | |
| Who after came from Earth sailing arrived | 520 |
| Wafted by Angels, or flew o’er the lake | |
| Rapt is a chariot drawn by fiery steeds. | |
| The stairs were then let down, whether to dare | |
| The Fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate | |
| His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss: | 525 |
| Direct against which opened from beneath, | |
| Just o’er the blissful seat of Paradise, | |
| A passage down to the Earth—a passage wide; | |
| Wider by far than that of after—times | |
| Over Mount Sion, and, though that were large, | 530 |
| Over the Promised Land to God so dear, | |
| By which, to visit oft those happy tribes, | |
| On high behests his Angels to and fro | |
| Passed frequent, and his eye with choice regard | |
| From Paneas, the fount of Jordan’s flood, | 535 |
| To Beërsaba, where the Holy Land | |
| Borders on Ægypt and the Arabian shore. | |
| So wide the opening seemed, where bounds were set | |
| To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave. | |
| Satan from hence, now on the lower stair, | 540 |
| That scaled by steps of gold to Heaven-gate, | |
| Looks down with wonder at the sudden view | |
| Of all this World at once. As when a scout, | |
| Through dark and desart ways with peril gone | |
| All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn | 545 |
| Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, | |
| Which to his eye discovers unaware | |
| The goodly prospect of some foreign land | |
| First seen, or some renowned metropolis | |
| With glistering spires and pinnacles adorned, | 550 |
| Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams; | |
| Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen, | |
| The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized, | |
| At sight of all this World beheld so fair. | |
| Round he surveys (and well might, where he stood | 555 |
| So high above the circling canopy | |
| Of Night’s extended shade) from eastern point | |
| Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears | |
| Andromeda far off Atlantic seas | |
| Beyond the horizon; then from pole to pole | 560 |
| He views in breadth,—and, without longer pause, | |
| Down right into the World’s first region throws | |
| His flight precipitant, and winds with ease | |
| Through the pure marble air his oblique way | |
| Amongst innumerable stars, that shon | 565 |
| Stars distant, but nigh-hand seemed other worlds. | |
| Or other worlds they seemed, or happy isles, | |
| Like those Hesperian Gardens famed of old, | |
| Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales; | |
| Thrice happy isles! But who dwelt happy there | 570 |
| He staid not to inquire: above them all | |
| The golden Sun, in splendour likest Heaven, | |
| Allured his eye. Thither his course he bends, | |
| Through the calm firmament (but up or down, | |
| By centre or eccentric, hard to tell, | 575 |
| Or longitude) where the great luminary, | |
| Aloof the vulgar constellations thick, | |
| That from the lordly eye keep distance due, | |
| Dispenses light from far. They, as they move | |
| Their starry dance in numbers that compute | 580 |
| Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp | |
| Turn swift their various motions, or are turned | |
| By his magnetic beam, that gently warms | |
| The Universe, and to each inward part | |
| With gentle penetration, though unseen | 585 |
| Shoots invisible virtue even to the Deep; | |
| So wondrously was set his station bright. | |
| There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps | |
| Astronomer in the Sun’s lucent orb | |
| Through his glazed optic tube yet never saw. | 590 |
| The place he found beyond expression bright, | |
| Compared with aught on Earth, metal or stone— | |
| Not all parts like, but all alike informed | |
| With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire. | |
| If metal, part seemed gold, part silver clear; | 595 |
| If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite, | |
| Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shon | |
| In Aaron’s breast-plate, and a stone besides; | |
| Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen— | |
| That stone, or like to that, which there below | 600 |
| Philosophers in vain so long have sought; | |
| In vain, though by their powerful art they bind | |
| Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound | |
| In various shapes old Proteus from the sea, | |
| Drained through a limbec to his native form. | 605 |
| What wonder then if fields and regions here | |
| Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run | |
| Potable gold, when, with one virtuous touch, | |
| The arch-chimic Sun, so far from us remote, | |
| Produces, with terrestrial humour mixed, | 610 |
| Here in the dark so many precious things | |
| Of colour glorious and effect so rare? | |
| Here matter new to gaze the Devil met | |
| Undazzled. Far and wide his eye commands; | |
| For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, | 615 |
| But all sunshine, as when his beams at noon | |
| Culminate from the equator, as they now | |
| Shot upward still direct, whence no way round | |
| Shadow from body opaque can fall; and the air, | |
| Nowhere so clear, sharpened his visual ray | 620 |
| To objects distant far, whereby he soon | |
| Saw within ken a glorious Angel stand, | |
| The same whom John saw also in the Sun. | |
| His back was turned, but not his brightness hid; | |
| Of beaming sunny rays a golden tiar | 625 |
| Circled his head, nor less his locks behind | |
| Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings | |
| Lay waving round: on some great charge imployed | |
| He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep. | |
| Glad was the Spirit impure, as now in hope | 630 |
| To find who might direct his wandering flight | |
| To Paradise, the happy seat of Man, | |
| His journey’s end, and our beginning woe. | |
| But first he casts to change his proper shape, | |
| Which else might work him danger or delay: | 635 |
| And now a stripling Cherub he appears, | |
| Not of the prime, yet such as in his face | |
| Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb | |
| Suitable grace diffused; so well he feigned. | |
| Under a coronet his flowing hair | 640 |
| In curls on either cheek played; wings he wore | |
| Of many a coloured plume sprinkled with gold; | |
| His habit fit for speed succinct; and held | |
| Before his decent steps a silver wand. | |
| He drew not nigh unheard; the Angel bright, | 645 |
| Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turned, | |
| Admonished by his ear, and straight was known | |
| The Archangel Uriel—one of the seven | |
| Who in God’s presence, nearest to his throne, | |
| Stand ready at command, and are his eyes | 650 |
| That run through all the Heavens, or down to the Earth | |
| Bear his swift errands over moist and dry, | |
| O’er sea and land. Him Satan thus accosts:— | |
| “Uriel! for thou of those seven Spirits that stand | |
| In sight of God’s high throne, gloriously bright, | 655 |
| The first art wont his great authentic will | |
| Interpreter through highest Heaven to bring, | |
| Where all his Sons thy embassy attend, | |
| And here art likeliest by supreme decree | |
| Like honour to obtain, and as his eye | 660 |
| To visit oft this new Creation round— | |
| Unspeakable desire to see and know | |
| All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man | |
| His chief delight and favour, him for whom | |
| All these his works so wondrous he ordained, | 665 |
| Hath brought me from the quires of Cherubim | |
| Alone thus wandering. Brightest Seraph, tell | |
| In which of all these shining orbs hath Man | |
| His fixed seat—or fixèd seat hath none, | |
| But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell— | 670 |
| That I may find him, and with secret gaze | |
| Or open admiration him behold | |
| On whom the great Creator hath bestowed | |
| Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces poured; | |
| That both in him and all things, as is meet, | 675 |
| The Universal Maker we may praise; | |
| Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes | |
| To deepest Hell, and, to repair that loss, | |
| Created this new happy race of Men | |
| To serve him better. Wise are all his ways!” | 680 |
| So spake the false dissembler unperceived; | |
| For neither man nor angel can discern | |
| Hypocrisy—the only evil that walks | |
| Invisible, except to God alone, | |
| By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth; | 685 |
| And oft, though Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleeps | |
| At Wisdom’s gate, and to Simplicity | |
| Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no ill | |
| Where no ill seems: which now for once beguiled | |
| Uriel, though Regent of the Sun, and held | 690 |
| The sharpest-sighted Spirit of all in Heaven; | |
| Who to the fraudulent impostor foul, | |
| In his uprightness, answer thus returned:— | |
| “Fair Angel, thy desire, which tends to know | |
| The works of God, thereby to glorify | 695 |
| The great Work-maister, leads to no excess | |
| That reaches blame, but rather merits praise | |
| The more it seems excess, that led thee hither | |
| From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, | |
| To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps, | 700 |
| Contented with report, hear only in Heaven: | |
| For wonderful indeed are all his works, | |
| Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all | |
| Had in remembrance always with delight! | |
| But what created mind can comprehend | 705 |
| Their number, or the wisdom infinite | |
| That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep? | |
| I saw when, at his word, the formless mass, | |
| This World’s material mould, came to a heap: | |
| Confusion heard his voice, and wild Uproar | 710 |
| Stood ruled, stood vast Infinitude confined; | |
| Till, at his second bidding, Darkness fled, | |
| Light shon, and order from disorder sprung. | |
| Swift to their several quarters hasted then | |
| The cumbrous elements—Earth, Flood, Air, Fire; | 715 |
| And this ethereal quint’ essence of Heaven | |
| Flew upward, spirited with various forms, | |
| That rowled orbicular, and turned to stars | |
| Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move: | |
| Each had his place appointed, each his course; | 720 |
| The rest in circuit walls this Universe. | |
| Look downward on that globe, whose hither side | |
| With light from hence, though but reflected, shines: | |
| That place is Earth, the seat of Man; that light | |
| His day, which else, as the other hemisphere, | 725 |
| Night would invade; but there the neighbouring Moon | |
| (So called that opposite fair star) her aid | |
| Timely interposes, and, her monthly round | |
| Still ending, still renewing, through mid-heaven, | |
| With borrowed light her countenance triform | 730 |
| Hence fills and empties, to enlighten the Earth, | |
| And in her pale dominion checks the night. | |
| That spot to which I point is Paradise, | |
| Adam’s abode; those lofty shades his bower. | |
| Thy way thou canst not miss; me mine requires.” | 735 |
| Thus said, he turned; and Satan, bowing low, | |
| As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven, | |
| Where honour due and reverence none neglects, | |
| Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth beneath, | |
| Down from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success, | 740 |
| Throws his steep flight in many an aerie wheel, | |
| Nor staid till on Niphates’ top he lights. | |
| |
