And choral fymphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven,
On earth join all ye creatures to extol

Him firft, him laft, him midst, and without end.
Fairest of stars, laft in the train of night,

If better thou belong not to the dawn,

Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
While day arifes that sweet hour of prime.

Thou fun, of this great world both eye and foul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; found his praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'ft,
And when high noon haft gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meet'ft the orient fun, now fly'st
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wand'ring fires, that move
In myftic dance not without fong, refound.
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth
Of nature's womb, that in quaternian run
Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix,

And nourish all things; let your ceafeless change
Vary to our great Maker ftill new praise.
Ye mifts, and exhalations, that now rife
From hill or ftreaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the fun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise,
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rifing or falling, still advance his praise.

His praife, ye winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe foft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
With every plant, in fign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.

Join voices all ye. living fouls; ye birds,
That finging up to heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide,' and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
Witness if I be filent, morn or even,

To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my fong, and taught his praise.
Hail, univerfal Lord! be bounteous ftill
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light difpels the dark.

MILTON.

CHAP. VI.

SATAN'S SOLILOQUY.

O THOU that, with furpaffing glory crown'd,
Look'ft from thy fole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose fight all the stars
Hide their diminish'd heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
O fun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;
'Till pride, and worse ambition threw me down,
Warring in heav'n against heav'n's matchlefs King.
Ah, wherefore he deserv'd no fuch return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good
Upbraided none: nor was his fervice hard.
What could be less than to afford him praife,
The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks,
How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up fo high

I 'fdain'd fubjection, and thought one step higher
Would fet me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immenfe of endless gratitude,
So burdenfome, ftill paying, ftill to owe;a
Forgetful what from him I ftill receiv'd;
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing, owes not, but ftill pays, at onces
Indebted and discharg'd: what burthen then ?
O had his pow'rful destiny ordain'd

Me fome inferior angel, I had stood

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Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd
Ambition. Yet why not? fome other pow'r
As great might have afpir'd; and me though mean
Drawn to his part; but other pow'rs as great
Fell not, but ftand unfhaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
Had'st thou the fame free will and pow'r to stand?
Thou had'ft. Whom haft thou then, or what t' accufe,
But heav'n's free love, dealt equally to all ?
Be then his love accurs'd, fince love or hate,
To me alike it deals eternal woe.

Nay, curs'd be thou; fince against his thy will
Chofe freely what it now fo juftly rues. ››
Me miferable! which way fhall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell ;
And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep
Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide,
To which the hell I fuffer feèm's a heaven.
O then at last relent: is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left ?t
None left but by fubmiffion; and that word
Difdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the fpirits beneath, whom I fedue'd,
With other promifes, land other vaunts,

Than

Than to fubmit, boasting I could subdue, nula angolo
Th' Omnipotent. Ah me, they little know!
How dearly abide that boaft fo vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,,
While they adore me on the throne of hell:
With diadem and fceptre high advanc'd,
The lower ftill I fall, only fupreme
In mifery; fuch joy ambition finds

But fay could repent, and could obtain,

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By act of grace, my former ftate; how foon,

Would height recall high thoughts, how foon unfay
What feign'd fubmiffion fwore! ease would recapt, 5-
Vows made in pain, as violent and void :
For never can true reconcilement grow

.}

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd fo deep:
Which would, but lead us to a worse relapse,
And heavier fall: fo fhould I purchase dear
Short intermiffion, bought with double fmart.
This knows my punisher: therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging peace:
All hope excluded thus, behold instead
Of us outcast, exil'd, his new delight,
Mankind created, and for him this world.
So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,
Farewell remorfe; all good to me is loft;
Evil be thou my good by thee at least
Divided empire with heav'n's king I hold,,

By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign.c
As man ere long, and this new world, fhall know.
OMILTON,}'

་ ་ CHAP VIL: Hert also a

3

JUBA AND SYPH'A'XSunfra

JUB. SYPHAX, I joy to meet thee thus alone, 1 hafe obferv'd of late thy looks are fallen,

. O'ercaft

O'ercaft with gloomy cares and difcontent;

Then tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee tell me,
What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns,
And turn thine eyes thus coldly on thy prince?

SYPH. 'Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts,
Or carry smiles and funshine in my face,
When discontent fits heavy at my heart: EL
I have not yet so much the Roman in me.

JUB. Why doft thou caft out fuch ungen'rous terms.
Against the lords and fov'reigns of the world?
Doft thou not fee mankind fall down before them,
And own the force of their fuperior virtue ?
Is there a nation in the wilds of Afric,
Amidft our barren rocks and burning fands,

That does not tremble at the Roman name ?

SYPH. Gods! where's the worth that fets this people up Above your own Numidia's tawny fons ?

Do they with tougher finews bend the bow?
Or flies the jav'lin fwifter to its mark,
Launch'd from the vigour of a Roman arm ?
Who like our active African instructs

The fiery fteed, and trains him to his hand ?
Or guides in troops th' embattled elephant,
Loaden with war? Thefe, these are arts, my prince,
In which your Zama does not ftoop to Rome.

JUB. Thefe all are virtues of a meaner rank,
Perfections that are plac'd in bones and nerves.
A Roman foul is bent on higher views :
To civilize the rude unpolish'd world,
To lay it under the restraint of laws;
To make man mild, and fociable to man ;
To cultivate the wild licentious favage
With wisdom, discipline, and lib'ral arts;
Th' embellishments of life: virtues like thefe,

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