Where no ill seems; which now for once beguiled Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held The sharpest-sighted spirit of all in heav'n: Who to the fraudulent imposter foul In his uprightness answer thus return'd.
Fair angel, thy desire which tends to know The works of GOD, thereby to glorify The great Work-master, 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 Contented with report hear only in heav'n : 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 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 Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung. Swift to their several quarters hasted then The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire, And this ethereal quintessence of heav'n Flew upward, spirited with various forms, That roll'd orbicular, and turn'd to stars Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move; Each had his place appointed, each his course, 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 th' other hemisphere
Night would invade, but there the neighbouring moon So call that opposite fair star, her aid
Timely interposes, and her monthly round
Still ending, still renewing, through mid heav'n, With borrow'd light her countenance triform Hence fills and empties to enlighten th' earth, And in her pale dominion checks the night. That spot to which I point is paradise, Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bow'r: Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires, Thus said, he turn'd, 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 th' ecliptic, sped with hoped success, Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel, Nor stay'd, till on Niphates' top' he lights.
A mountain bordering on Mesopotamia, near which the earthly paradise is supposed to have bee placed.-From HUME.
Satan now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against GoD and man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions, fear, envy, and despair; but at length confirms himself in evil, journeys on to paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described, overleaps the bounds, sits in the shape of a cormorant on the Tree of life, as the highest in the garden to look about him. The garden described; Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall: overhears their discourse, thence gathers that the Tree of knowledge was forbidden them to eat of, under penalty of death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing them to transgress: then leaves them awhile to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel descending on a sunbeam warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of paradise, that some evil spirit had escaped the deep, and passed at noon by his sphere in the shape of a good angel down to paradise, discovered afterwards by his furious gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest: their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel drawing forth his bands of nightwatch to walk the round of paradise, appoints two strong angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping; there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers, preparos resistance; but hindered by a sign from heaven flies out of paradise.
O FOR that warning voice, which he,' who s▼ Th' Apocalypse, heard cry in heaven aloud, Then when the Dragon,2 put to second rout Came furious down to be revenged on men, "Woe to the inhabitants on earth!" that new. While time was, our first parents had been warn'd The coming of their secret foe, and 'scaped, Haply so 'scaped his mortal snare; for now Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down. The tempter ere th' accuser of mankind, To wreak on innocent frail man his loss Of that first battle, and his flight to hell: Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold, Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast, Begins his dire attempt, which, nigh the birth Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast, And like a devilish engine back recoils
Upon himself; horror and doubt distract His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The hell within him, for within him hell
He brings, and round about him, nor from hell One step, no more than from himself, can fly By change of place: now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue. Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad; Sometimes towards heav'n and the full-blazing sun, Which now sat high in his meridian tow'r : Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began.
O thou that, with surpassing glory crown'd,1 Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, Warring in heav'n against heav'n's matchless King. Ah, wherefore! He deserved no such return From me, whom He created what I was In that bright eminence, and with His good Upbraided none; nor was His service hard. What could be less than to afford Him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay Him thanks, How due! yet all His good proved ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I sdein'd subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe;
1 Milton originally designed to write a tragedy on the Fall, and this grand speech was intended to begin it. This
is asserted by Porson on the authority of Milton's nephew, Edward Philips 2 Disdained.
Forgetful what from Him I still received, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharged; what burden then? O had his powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised Ambition! Yet why not? some other power As great might have aspired, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse But heav'n's free love dealt equally to all ?
Be then His love accursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe:
Nay cursed be thou; since against His thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall 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 suffer seems a heav'n. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue . Th' Omnipotent. Ay me! they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain, Under what torments inwardly I groan; While they adore me on the throne of hell, With diadem and sceptre high advanced The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds. But say I could repent, and could obtain
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