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Him,  fast  sleeping,  soon  he  found 
In  labyt  inth  of  many  a  round,  self-rolled. 


Page  213. 


anaa.<svi>rfi# 


THE    POETICAL    WORKS 


John    Milton 


REPRINTED    FROM    THE   ORIGINAL   EDITION, 


AND   CONTAINING 


NUMEROU S    EXPLANATORY    NOTES. 


WITH    MEMOIR 


DAVID    MASSON,  M.  A.,  LL.  D., 
1 

Author  cf  "THE  LIFE  AND    TIMES  OF  JOHN  MILTON.' 


THE    ARUNDEL    PRINT.    NEW    YORK. 


COPTRIGHT,   18  SO, 

BY 

THE    ARUNDEI4    TBINT. 


3S$797 


d^ ^ 


s- 


CONTENTS. 


Life  of  Milton, ix 


PARADISE    LOST; 


Book  L 

IL 

IIL 

IV. 

V. 

VI. 


VIL 
VIII. 
IX. 
X. 


XI. 
XII. 


PARADISE    REGAINED; 


Book  I. 
"   II. 
"   III. 
"   IV. 


I 
28 
60 

83 
114 
141 
168 
188 
207 
242 
276 
303 


323 

339 
355 
369 

389 


SAMSON   AGONISTES 

EARLY   POEMS: 

On  the  Death  of  a  Fair  Infant .         .        '..   , 445 

At  a  Vacation  Exercise  ...........  448 

ODES: 

On  the  morning  of  Christ's  Nativity 452 

The  Hymn     .............  453 

Upon  the  Circumcision 461 

The  Passion 462 

On  Time    . .  464 

At  a  Solemn  ^lusic 464 

Song  on  May  Morning       .  ' 465 


■^ 


4" 


^ 


^ 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


Odes — Continued  :  page 

Epitaph  on  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester  .......  466 

"       on  W.  Shakespeare 468 

On  the  University  Carrier      .          .          ........  469 

Another  on  the  same          ...         .......  469 

L'AIlegro •          .  471 

II  Penseroso       .............  475 

Arcades, 481 

Comus,       .............  486 

Lycidas  .         .         .  .         .         .         -         .         .         ■  •  .  .5^8 

SONNETS: 

To  the  Nightingale 525 

On  his  having  arrived  at  the  age  of  twenty-three  ......  525 

Canzone,    .............  527 

When  the  Assault  was  Intended  to  the  City .......  529 

To  a  Virtuous  Young  Lady         .........  530 

To  the  Lady  Margaret  Ley    ..........  530 

On  the  Detraction  which  followed  upon  my  Treatises        ....  531 

On  the  Same           ............  532 

On  the  New  Forc-es  of  Conscience  under  the  Long  Parliament         .          .  532 

To  Mr.  II.  Lawes  on  his  Airs 533 

On  the  Religious  Memory  of  Mrs.  Catherine    ......  534 

On  the  Lord  General  Fairfax 535 

To  the  Lord  General  Cromwell         ........  535 

To  Sir  Henry  Vane,  the  Younger           ........  536 

On  the  Late  Massacre  in  Piedmont  ........  537 

On  his  Blindness  .          ...........  537 

To  Mr.  Lawrence       ...........  538 

To  Cyriack  Skinner       ...........  538 

To  the  Same      .....         .         .....         .  539 

On  his  Deceased  Wife  ...........  540 

TRANSLATIONS  : 

The  Fifth  Ode  of  Horace.  Lib.  i 541 

Psalm  LXX'X. 542 

"       LXXXI 544 

"        LXXXII 546 

LXXXIII 547 

"        LXXXIV 549 

"       LXXXV 551 

"        LXXXVI 553 

LXXXVII 554 

LXXXVIII 555 

"1 557 

"II 558 


^ 


4 


^ 


<b 


CONTENTS. 


Vll 


Translations — Continued 


Psalr 


III. 

IV. 

V.    . 

VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 


SCRAPS  FROM  THE  PROSE  WRITINGS: 

From — Of  Reformation  Touching  Church  Discipline 
"  The  Apology  for  Smectymnuus 

"  Areopogitica    ...... 

"  Tetrachordon       ..... 

"  The  Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magistrates    . 

"  The  History  of  Britain 


LATIN  POEMS: 

De  Auctore  Testimonia      .... 
Elegiarum  Liber  : 

Elegia  Prima      ..... 

"      Secunda       .         . 

"      Tertia 

"      Quarta  ..... 

"      Quinta      ..... 

"      Sexta  ...... 

"      Septima  ..... 

Epigrammata  ...... 

Sylvarum  Liber  ..... 

Psalm  CXIV 

Philosophus  ad  Regem  Queudam 

In  Effigiei  Ejus  Sculptorem  .... 

Ad  Salsillum  Poetam  Romanuni  tEgrotantem 
Mansus  ........ 

Epitaphium  Damonis         .... 

Ad  Joannem  Rousium    ..... 

In  Salmash  Hundredam    .... 

In  Salmasium 


559 
560 

561 
562 
563 
565 


566 

566 

567 
567 
567 
567 


570 

574 
577 
577 
579 
583 
587 
590 
593 
596 
612 
613 
613 
613 

frS 
618 
624 
627 
627 


^ 


4 


s- ^ 


MEMOIR  'OF    MILTON. 


BREAD   STREET,    CHEAPSIDE,   OLD    LONDON. 
1608 — 1625  :  (p/af.  I — 17. 

Born  in  Bread  Street,  Cheapside,  on  Friday,  December  9,  1608,  in  a  house 
known  as  "The  Spread  Eagle,"  and  baptized  in  Allhallows  Church  in  the  same 
street,  on  the  20th  of  the  same  December,  Milton  was  for  the  first  sixteen  years 
of  his  life  a  denizen  of  the  verj'  heart  of  Old  London. 

His  father,  John  Milton,  originally  from  Oxfordshire,  was  a  prosperous 
London  scrivener,  and  owner  of  the  Spread  Eagle,  which  served  him  both 
as  residence  and  as  place  of  business.  As  to  the  name  of  Milton's  mother 
there  has  hitherto  been  some  uncertainty.  One  tradition  calls  her  Sarah 
'Bradshaw,  and  another  Sarah  Caston ;  and  yet  in  the  register  of  Allhallows 
Parish,  Bread  Street,  there  is  this  distinct  record  :  "  The  xxiind  daye  of 
February,  A°.  1610  [1610-11],  was  buried  in  this  parishe  Mrs.  Ellen  Jefiferys, 
the  mother  of  Mr.  John  Mylton's  wyffe  of  this  parishe."  The  Mrs.  Ellen 
Jeffer}-s  who  seems  thus  to  have  lived  with  the  scrivener  and  his  wife  till  two 
years  after  the  birth  of  her  grandchild,  the  future  poet,  is  ascertained  to  have 
been  the  wudow  of  a  Paul  Jeffray  or  Jeffreys,  citizen  and  Merchant  Taylor  of 
London,  who  had  lived  in  St.  Swithin's  Parish,  but  was  dead  in  1602.  She  had 
another  daughter,  Margaret  Jeffray  or  Jeffreys,  who  was  married  in  1602,  at  the 
age  of  twenty,  to  a  "  William  Truelove,  gentleman,  of  the  parish  of  Hatfield 
Peverell,  in  the  county  of  Essex,  widower,"  afterwards  designated  as  "ot 
Blakenham  upon  the  Hill,  co.  Suffolk,"  and  heard  of  as  owning  various 
properties  in  Essex  and  Herts.  At  the  time  of  that  marriage  the  widow's 
consent  to  it  was  signified  through  her  son-in-law,  the  bride's  brother-in-law, 
John  Milton,  of  Allhallows,  Bread  Street.* 

At  the  death  of  the  widowed  grandmother  Jefferys  in  Februarj',  i6io-ir, 
the  Bread  Street  household  consisted  of  the  scrivener,  his  wife,  and  two 
children — Anne  and  John.  Three  children  were  subsequently  born  ;  of  whom 
only  one,  Christopher,  seven  years  younger  than  John,  outlived  infancy.  Anne, 
John,  and  Christopher,  therefore,  are  to  be  remembered,  and  in  that  order,  as 
the  surviving  children. 

*  With  the  exception  of  the  burial  entry  of  Mrs.  Ellen  Jefferys  in  the  register  of  Allhallows,  the 
documents  that  have  yielded  the  above  particulars  of  Milton's  maternal  pedigree  have  been  recently 
discovered  by  the  research  of  Colonel  J.  L.  Chester,  a  distinguished  American  antiquary  and  genealogist, 
living  in  London. 

^ -^4^ 


s- 


^ 


X  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

The  first  sixteen  years  of  Milton's  life  were  the  last  sixteen  of  the  reign  of 
James  I.  Amid  the  events  of  those  sixteen  years,  and  the  growing  discontent 
of  the  mass  of  the  English  people  with  the  rule  of  James  and  his  minister 
Buckingham,  Milton  passed  his  boyhood.  He  was  most  carefully  educated,  on 
the  principles  of  a  pious  Puritan  household  of  superior  means  and  tastes,  the 
head  of  which  was  himself  distinguished  as  a  musical  composer.  To  be 
remembered,  as  having  shared  with  this  excellent  father  the  honour  of  Milton's 
early  education,  are  the  Scottish  preacher  Thomas  Young,  his  first  domestic 
tutor,  and  the  two  Alexander  Gills,  father  and  son,  respectively  head-master 
and  under-master  of  St.  Paul's  School,  close  to  Bread  Street.  At  this  public 
school  Milton  was  for  some  years  a  day-scholar;  and  here  he  first  became 
acquainted  with  the  young  half-Italian  Charles  Diodati,  his  friendship  with 
whom  he  has  made  touchingly  and  everlastingly  memorable  in  his  Letters  and 
his  Latin  poetry.  He  was  still,  it  seems,  a  scholar  at  St.  Paul's  when  his  sister, 
Anne  Milton,  who  was  a  year  or  two  older  than  himself,  married  (1624)  a  Mr. 
Edward  Phillips,  from  Shrewsbury,  second  clerk  in  the  important  Government 
office  called  the  Crown  Office  in  Chancery.  As  the  married  couple  took  up 
their  residence  in  the  Strand,  near  Charing  Cross,  Milton  and  his  younger 
brother  Christopher  were  then  the  only  children  left  in  the  paternal  home. 

From  his  childhood  Milton  was  not  only  a  ceaseless  student  and  insatiable 
reader,  but  also  a  writer  of  verses.  The  earliest  preserved  specimens  of  his 
Muse,  however,  belong  to  the  year  1624,  his  last  year  at  St.  Paul's  School. 
They  are : 

A  Paraphrase  on  Psalm  cxiv. 
"  "  "        "      cxxxvi. 

CAMBRIDGE. 

1625 — 1632:  cctat.  \y — 24. 

If  we  deduct  the  two  Psalm-paraphrases,  which  belong  to  the  last  year  of 
the  reign  of  James  L,  Milton's  literary  life  may  be  said  to  begin  exactly  with 
the  reign  of  Charles  L 

That  king  succeeded  his  father  on  the  27th  of  March,  1625.  Six  weeks 
before  that  event,  z.  e.  February  12,  1624-5,  Milton,  at  the  age  of  sixteen  years 
and  two  months,  had  been  entered  in  the  grade  of  a  "  Lesser  Pensioner  "  on 
the  books  of  Christ's  College,  Cambridge  ;.  and  his  matriculation  in  the  Register 
of  the  University  is  dated  April  9,  1625,  when  Charles  had  been  on  the  throne 
a  fortnight.  From  that  time  to  July,  1632,  or  for  a  period  of  more  than  seven 
years,  Milton  resided  habitually  in  Cambridge,  though  with  frequent  visits,  in 
vacation  and  at  other  times,  to  London  and  his  father's  house.  The  rooms  he 
occupied  in  Christ's  College  are  still  pointed  out. 

When  Milton  was  at  Cambridge,  the  total  number  of  persons  on  the  books 
of  all  the  sixteen  colleges  of  the  University  was  about  2,900.  Christ's  College 
had  about  265  members  on  its  books.  The  master  of  the  college  v.-as  Dr. 
Thomas  Bainbrigge ;  and  among  the  fellows  were  Joseph  Meade,  remembered 


s -<b 


MEMOIR    OF  MILTON.  xi 

as  a  commentator  on  the  Apocalypse,  Mr.  William  Chappell,  who  was  Milton's 
first  tutor,  and  became  afterwards  an  Irish  bishop,  and  Mr.  Nathaniel  Tovey, 
to  whose  tutorship  Milton  was  transferred,  and  who  was  afterwards  Rector  of 
Lutterworth  in  Leicestershire.  Among  Milton's  fellow  students  at  Christ's 
were  Edward  King,  afterwards  commemorated  as  Lycidas,  John  Cleveland, 
afterwards  the  well-known  satirist,  and  Henry  More,  afterwards  the  Cambridge 
Platonist.  They  were  all  Milton's  juniors;  and,  indeed,  More  entered  the 
college  in  Milton's  last  year.  Milton's  brother  Christopher  joined  him  at 
Christ's,  in  February  1630-1,  and  was  put  under  Tovey's  tutorship.  Among 
the  eminent  heads  of  colleges,  when  Milton's  academic  course  began,  were 
Dr.  John  Preston  of  Emanuel,  Dr.  Samuel  Collins  of  King's,  Dr.  Samuel 
Ward  of  Sidney,  Sussex,  and  John  Gostlin,  M.  D.,  of  Caius.  The  Public 
Orator  of  the  University  was  George  Herbert,  the  poet ;  Andrew  Downcs,  of 
St.  John's,  was  Regius  Professor  of  Greek  ;  Robert  Metcalfe,  of  the  same 
college,  was  Regius  Professor  of  Hebrew  ;  Thomas  Thornton,  also  of  St.  John's, 
was  Lecturer  in  Logic  ;  and  Abraham  Whelock,  the  Orientalist,  was  University 
Librarian.  Among  the  Fellows  or  more  advanced  graduates  of  the  different 
colleges  were  about  ten  men  who  afterwards  rose  to  be  Bishops  or  Archbishops, 
others  who  rose  to  be  heads  of  colleges,  and  some  who  became  noted  as  Puritan 
divines.  Contemporaries  of  Milton  at  Cambridge,  only  a  little  his  seniors  in 
their  respective  colleges,  were  the  Church  historian  Thomas  Fuller,  of  Queen's, 
and  the  poet  Edmund  Waller,  of  King's,  and  Thomas  Randolph,  of  Trinity. 
Jeremy  Taylor,  who  was  a  native  of  Cambridge,  entered  Caius  College,  as  a 
pauper  scholar,  in  August,  1626,  eighteen  months  after  Milton  had  entered 
Christ's. 

Although  Milton  never  looked  back  on  Cambridge  with  any  great  affection, 
and  although  it  is  certain  that  in  the  beginning  of  his  undergraduateship  he  was 
unpopular  among  the  rougher  men  in  his  own  college  (where  he  was  nicknamed 
"  The  Lady,"  on  account  of  his  fair  complexion,  feminine  and  graceful  appear- 
ance, and  a  certain  haughty  delicacy  in  his  tastes  and  morals),  there  is,  never- 
theless, the  most  positive  evidence  that  his  career  at  the  University  was  one  of 
industrious  and  persevering  success,  and  that,  even  before  the  close  of  his 
undergraduateship,  he  had  beaten  down  all  opposition,  and  gained  a  reputation 
quite  extraordinary.  "  Performed  the  Collegiate  and  Academical  Exercises  to 
"  the  admiration  of  all,  and  was  esteemed  to  be  a  virtuous  and  sober  person, 
"yet  not  to  be  ignorant  of  his  own  parts,"  is  Anthony  Wood's  summary  of  the 
information  he  had  received  on  the  subject.  He  took  his  B.  A.  degree,  at  the 
proper  time,  in  January,  1628-9,  ^'^^  ^^e  M.  A.  degree,  also  at  the  proper  time, 
in  July,  1632.  On  each  occasion,  with  the  other  graduates,  he  went  through 
the  formality  of  signing  Articles  of  Religion  implying  faith  in  the  constitution, 
worship,  and  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  England  ;  and  on  the  second  occasion 
his  signature  "  Joannes  Millon  "  stands  at  the  head  of  the  list  of  twenty-seven 
who  so  signed  from  Christ's  College.  This  looks  as  if  the  foremost  place  in  his 
college  was  then  unanimously  accorded  to  him.  By  that  time,  I  should  say,  he 
was  recognised  as  without  an  equal  among  his  coevals  in  the  University. 

^ ^ ^ -^ 


a— — — ^ 


xii  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

The  reputation  won  by  Milton  during  his  seven  years  at  Cambridge  was 
doubtless  due  in  part  to  his  personal  impressiveness  in  walks  and  talks  with 
select  companions,  and  in  all  those  daily  chances  of  intercourse  between  seniors 
and  juniors,  in  hall  or  in  college-rooms,  which  University  life  affords.  There 
were,  however,  the  more  formal  opportunities  of  those  scholarly  displays  called 
by  Wood  "the  Collegiate  and  Academical  Exercises,"  viz.  :  the  periodical  Latin 
debates  and  declamations,  in  College  or  in  the  Public  Schools  of  the  University, 
which  formed  so  conspicuous  a  part  of  the  old  system  of  Cambridge  training. 
Seven  specimens  of  Milton's  ability  in  such  things  have  been  preserved  under 
the  title  of  Prohisiones  Qucsdam  Oratorice,  and  are  interesting  both  as  revela- 
tions of  Milton's  own  character  and  habits  of  intellect  at  this  period,  and  also 
as  curious  glimpses  of  old  Cambridge  life.  There  are  preserved  also  four  Latin 
Familiar  Epistles  written  by  Milton  during  the  Cambridge  period — two  of  them 
to  his  former  preceptor,  Thomas  Young,  and  two  to  Alexander  Gill  the  younger, 
his  former  teacher  at  St.  Paul's  School.  More  important  products  of  the  seven 
Cambridge  years,  however,  were  the  poems,  in  English  or  in  Latin,  written  at 
intervals.  Here  is  a  list  of  these  in  chronological  order,  the  more  important 
printed  in  capitals,  and  the  Latin  distinguished  from  the  English  by  italics  ; — 

Ox  THE  Death  of  a  Fair  Infant.     1626. 

Ad  CaROLVM  DlODATUM  {Elegia  Prima).      1626. 

In  obituiit  Pncstilis  Wintoiiiensis  {EUgia  Tertia).     1626. 

In  obiliim  Pficsulis  Eliensis  (among  the  Sylva).     1626. 

In  obitwn  Praconis  Acadcmici  Canlabrigiensis  {Elegia  Secunda).      1626. 

In  obitum  Procancellarii  Medici  (among  the  Sylva:).      1626. 

/.V  QUINTUM  A^OVEMBRIS  (among  the  Syha:).     1626. 

//*  Prodiiioncin  Bombardicam  ;  In  Eandcm  ;  In  Eandem  ;  In  Eandem  ;  In  In- 

ventorcm  Boiuhardie  (annexed  to  the  Elcgiaritin  Liber). 
Ad  Thomain  ynniiim,  PnTceptorcm  Siniin  {^Elegia  Quarto).     1627. 
"  Nondiim  blandit  tiias"  &c.  {Elegia  Septimd).     1628. 
NaTURAM  KON  PATf  SEmu.M  (among  the  Sylviv).     1628. 
At  a  Vacation  Exercise  in  the  College.     1628. 
De  Idcd  PlatonicA  quemadmodtim  Aristoteles  intelltxit  (among  tlie  Sylvit). 
In  Adventiun  Veris  {Elegia  Quintd).     1628-g. 
On  the  Morning  of  Christ's  Nativity.     1629. 

Ad  CaROLUM  DIODATUM,  RURI  COM.MORANTEM  {Elcgia  Sexto).      1629. 
Upon  the  Circumcision. 
The  Passion. 
On  Time. 

At  a  Solemn  Music. 
Song  on  May  Morning. 
On  Shakespeare.     1630. 
On  the  University  Carrier.      1630-I. 
Another  on  the  Same.     1630-1. 

An  Epitaph  on  the  Marchioness  of  Winchester.     1631. 
Sonnet  to  the  Nightingale. 
Sonnet  on  Arriving  at  tup.  Age  of  TvVENTY-three.     Dec,  1631, 

d^ ___ . ^ 


S -<b 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xiii 

From  these  pieces  may  be  gathered  many  particulars  of  Milton's  life  and  the 
nature  of  his  occupations  during  his  seven  years  at  Cambridge.  If  published 
in  a  little  volume  in  1632,  they  would  have  given  young  Milton  a  place  of  some 
distinction  among  contemporary  poets.  With  the  exception,  however,  oi  Natu- 
ram  non  pati  Senium,  of  which  printed  copies  were  made  at  Cambridge  for 
an  academic  purpose,  and  the  lines  "  On  Shakespeare,"  which  appeared  anony- 
mously in  the  Second  Folio  Edition  of  Shakespeare,  published  in  1632,  all  the 
pieces  appear  to  have  remained  in  manuscript. 

The  Sonnet  which  closes  the  list  of  the  Cambridge  pieces  is  especially  inter- 
esting. When  Milton  went  to  Cambridge,  he  had  been  destined,  by  himself  and 
his  friends,  for  the  Church ;  but  the  seven  years  of  his  residence  there  had 
entirely  changed  his  purpose.  This  was  owing,  in  part,  to  the  great  change 
that  had  occurred  in  the  political  condition  of  England.  Charles  I.,  married  in 
May,  1625,  to  the  French  princess  Henrietta-Maria,  had  adopted  a  policy  in 
Church  and  State  compared  with  which  his  father's  efforts  towards  Absolutism 
had  been  mild.  Having  quarrelled  successively  with  four  Parliaments,  and  dis- 
missed the  last  of  them  with  anger  and  insult  in  March,  1628-9,  he  had  resolved 
to  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  Parliaments,  but  to  govern  in  future  by  his  own 
authority  through  ministers  responsible  only  to  himself.  England  was  in  the 
fourth  year  of  this  Rcig7t  of  Thorough,  as  it  has  been  called,  when  Milton's 
course  at  the  University  came  to  an  end.  Since  the  assassination  of  the  Duke 
of  Buckingham  in  August,  1628,  Charles's  chief  advisers  and  ministers  had  been 
Laud,  Wentworth,  Cottington,  and  a  few  other  select  Lords  of  his  Privy  Coun- 
cil. In  ecclesiastical  matters.  Laud,  Bishop  of  London  since  1628,  and  with  the 
Archbishopric  of  Canterbury  in  prospect,  was  single  and  paramount.  Under 
his  vigilant  supervision  there  had  been  going  on,  in  all  the  dioceses  of  England, 
that  systematic  repression  and  even  persecution  of  Calvinistic  Theology  and  all 
forms  of  Puritan  opinion  and  practice,  and  that  equally  systematic  promotion 
and  encouragement  of  Arminian  Theology,  the  rights  of  high  Prelacy,  and  a 
strict  and  florid  ceremonial  of  worship,  which  had  already,  as  the  Puritans 
thought,  undone  all  that  was  essential  in  the  English  Reformation,  and  brought 
the  Church  of  England  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Nor  did 
there  seem  any  hope  of  deliverance.  Laud's  supremacy  in  England  seemed  to 
be  growing  surer  and  surer  eveiy  day  ;  Wentworth,  as  Viceroy  of  Ireland,  was 
to  impose  the  same  system  on  that  country  ;  even  Scotland,  though  an  inde- 
pendent kingdom,  was  to  be  reclaimed,  as  soon  as  Laud  should  be  at  leisure, 
from  the  meagre  half-episcopacy  which  was  all  that  King  James  had  persuaded 
her  to  adopt,  and  brought  into  conformity  with  Laud's  ideal  of  a  Church.  Un- 
able to  endure  this  state  of  things,  many  of  the  bolder  Puritans  had  gone  into 
exile  in  Holland  or  had  emigrated  to  America,  while  those  that  remained  at 
home,  forming  a  large  mass  of  the  population  of  England,  lay  in  a  dumb  agony 
of  discontent,  sighing  for  a  Parliament,  but  not  daring  to  mutter  the  word. 
With  these  Milton  was  in  sympathy.  Whatever  he  had  intended  in  1625,  it  was 
clear  to  him  in  1632  that  he  could  not  take  orders  in  the  Church  of  England. 


a- ^ -^ 


xiv  MEMOIR    OF  MILTON. 

This  necessarily  involved  also  the  abandonment  of  all  idea  of  continued  resi- 
dence in  the  University  in  a  Fellowship  or  for  other  chances. 

HORTON,    BUCKINGHAMSHIRE. 

1632 — 1638  :  (etat.  24 — 30. 

On  leaving  the  University,  in  July,  1632,  Milton  went  to  reside  at  Horton,  in 
Buckinghamshire,  a  small  village  near  Windsor,  and  about  tvi^enty  miles  from 
London,  where  his  father,  who  had  meanwhile  retired  from  business,  had  taken 
a  country  house.  At  first  there  seems  to  have  been  some  gentle  remonstrance 
on  his  father's  part  0:1  his  abandonment  of  the  Church  and  his  disinclination  to 
any  other  profession  ;  but  very  soon  the  excellent  man,  whose  trust  in  his  son 
was  boundless,  acquiesced  generously  in  what  was  proposed.  That  was  that 
Milton  should  devote  himself  henceforward  exclusively  to  study,  speculation, 
and  literature.  The  tenor  of  the  five  years  and  eight  months  which  he  spent  at 
Horton  is,  accordingly,  thus  described  by  himself:  "At  my  father's  country 
"  residence,  whither  he  had  retired  to  pass  his  old  age,  I  was  wholly  intent, 
"  through  a  period  of  absolute  leisure,  on  a  steady  perusal  of  the  Greek  and 
"  Latin  writers,  but  still  so  that  occasionally  I  exchanged  the  country  for  the 
"  city,  either  for  the  purpose  of  buying  books,  or  for  that  of  learning  anything 
"  new  in  Mathematics  or  ii\  Music,  in  which  I  then  took  delight."  From  this 
succinct  account  we  should  not  gather  that  it  was  also  during  those  five  sum- 
mers and  winters,  passed  mainly  in  the  flat,  verdant,  well-wooded  and  well- 
watered  scenery  about  Horton,  with  the  towers  of  Windsor  in  view,  that  Milton 
composed  the  finest  and  most  classic  of  his  minor  English  poems.  Such,  how- 
ever, is  the  fact.     Here  is  the  list  : — 

Ad  Patrcm  (among  the  Syk'cr).     1632  ? 

L'Allkgro. 

Il  Penseroso. 

Arcades:  Part  of  an  Entertainment  at  Harefield.     1633  or  earlier? 

CoMUS  :  A  Masque  presented  at  Ludlow  Castle.     1634. 

Greek  translation  of  Psalm  CXIV.  (among  the  Sylvcv).     1634. 

LvciDAS.     Nov.,  1637. 

The  admission  of  Milton  to  the  W.  A.  degree  at  Oxford  in  1635  may,  however, 
be  noted  here.  Three  of  his  Latin  Familiar  Epistles,  it  ought  also  be  added, 
belong  to  the  period.  One  of  these  (December  4,  1634)  is  again  to  his  former 
teacher,  Alexander  Gill  the  younger  ;  the  other  two  (both  dated  September, 
1637)  are  to  his  friend  Charles  Diodati.  In  the  last  he  speaks  of  leaving  Horton 
permanently,  and  taking  chambers  in  London.  The  intention  was  not  fulfilled. 
He  went  back  to  Horton  to  write  his  Lycidas  there  (so  it  may  be  guessed),  and 
to  remain  there  till  April,  1638.  Three  incidents  mark  the  closing  months  of 
his  Horton  life.  One  was  the  appearance  in  1637,  with  his  permission,  but 
anonymously,  of  a  printed  edition  of  his  Coinus  by  itself  at  the  charge  of  his 
friend,  Henry  Lawes,  the  musical  composer.  Another  was  his  introduction, 
early  in  1638,  to  the  celebrated  Sir  Henry  Wotton,  Provost  of  Eton,  not  far 


^ 


B -^ 


C7 


MEATOIR   OF  MILTON.  xv 

from  Horton.  The  third  was  the  actual  appearance  of  his  Lycidas,  with  his 
initials,  "J.  M.,"  at  the  end  of  a  collection  cf  obituary  poems  in  Latin,  Greek, 
and  English,  in  memory  of  Edward  King,  contributed  by  thirty-two  friends  of 
the  deceased,  and  printed  at  the  Cambridge  University  press.  But  an  event 
earlier  than  any  of  these,  and  which  had  already  made  Horton  a  sadder  home 
to  Milton  than  it  had  been,  was  the  death  of  his  mother.  She  died  at  Horton, 
April  3,  1637,  and  was  buried  in  the  old  church  there.  A  visit  to  Horton  any 
summer's  day,  to  see  the  simple  stone  that  covers  her  grave,  and  then,  after 
having  the  spot  near  the  church  pointed  out  to  one  where  the  house  of  Milton's 
father  stood,  to  stroll  among  the  meadows  and  pollards  by  the  banks  of  the 
sluggish  Colne,  where  Milton  must  have  so  often  walked  and  mused,  may  be 
recommended  to  lovers  of  Literature  and  English  History. 

The  quiet  time  at  Horton  bringing  Milton  from  the  twenty-fourth  to  the 
thirtieth  year  of  his  age,  was  a  continuation  of  the  Reigti  of  TJiorough  in  the 
British  Islands.  Laud,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  since  1633,  was  still  crashing 
Calvinism  and  Puritanism  in  England  ;  Wentworth  was  ruling  Ireland  with 
a  rod  of  iron  ;  and  the  business  of  re-shaping  the  rough  semi-Episcopal  Kirk 
of  Scotland  into  a  more  perfect  practical  representation  of  Laud's  ideal  Beauty 
of  Holiness  had  been  steadily  in  progress.  Precisely  in  this  business  of  the 
Scottish  Kirk,  however,  had  the  policy  of  Thorough  struck  against  a  rock  of 
opposition.  In  July,  1637,  the  Scots  had  risen  in  riot  and  revolt  against  the 
attempt  to  introduce  Laud's  new  Scotch  Liturgy;  and  in  March,  1638,  the 
leaders  of  the  Scottish  people  of  all  ranks,  Nobles,  Lairds,  Burgesses  and  Clergy, 
leagued  themselves  for  open  resistance  to  the  death,  and  swore  their  famous 
Covenant.  The  news  ran  through  England,  stirring  strange  hopes  in  the 
hearts  of  the  Puritans. 

ITALIAN   JOURNEY. 

April,  1638 — August,  1639:  at  at.  30 — 31. 

The  Scottish  Covenant  ("the  damnable  Covenant,"  as  Charles  called  it) 
was  the  last  word  in  all  English  mouths  when  Milton,  in  April,  1638,  set  out 
on  that  journey  to  Italy  of  which  he  had  long  had  dreams,  and  to  which  his 
father  had  at  last  given  consent.  He  took  one  English  man  servant  wilh  him. 
His  father  meanwhile  was  to  live  on  at  Horton,  wliere  his  younger  son 
Christopher,  already  a  married  man,  though  only  passing  his  terms  for  the  Bar, 
was  to  keep  him  company,  with  his  newly  wedded  wife,  Thomasine  Webber,  of 
London. 

Taking  letters  of  introduction  with  him,  one  of  which  was  from  Sir  Henry 
Wotton,  Milton  arrived  in  Paris.  Here  he  spent  some  days,  receiving  great 
attention  from  Lord  Scudamore,  English  joint-ambassador  with  the  Earl  of 
Leicester,  at  the  Court  of  Louis  XIII.  He  specially  mentions  an  interview 
procured  for  him  by  Lord  Scudamore  with  the  learned  Dutchman,  Hugo 
Grotius,  then  residing  in  Paris  as  ambassador  from  Sweden.  From  Paris  he 
proceeded  to  Italy  by  way  of  Nice.     After  visiting  Genoa,  Leghorn  and  Pisa,  he 

^ _# 


a- 


^-^y 


xvi  MEMOIR    OF  MILTON. 

reached  Florence.  Here  he  remained  about  two  months  (August — September, 
1638),  enchanted  with  the  beauties  and  antiquities  of  the  famous  city,  and 
forming'  acquaintanceships  with  many  of  the  wits  and  scholars  then  living  in  it. 
Seven  Florentines,  most  of  them  young  men,  leaders  in  the  chief  Academies 
or  literary  cluljs  of  Florence,  are  particularly  named  by  him  as  friends,  whose 
merits  and  whose  courttfsies  to  himself  he  would  never  forget.  These  were 
Jacopo  Caddi,  Carlo  Dati,  Pietro  Frescobaldi,  Agostino  Coltellini,  Benedetto 
Buommattei.ValerioChimentelli,  and  Antonio  Francini,  They  have  all  left  some 
traces  cf  themselves  in  Italian  literary  history,  though  some  of  them  are  now 
best  remembered  by  the  happy  accident  of  their  contact  with  Milton.  It  was 
either  in  Florence,  or  in  its  close  neighborhood,  that  he  also  "  found  and  visited 
"  the  famous  Galileo,  grown  old,  a  prisoner  to  the  Inquisition  for  thinking  in 
"  Astronomy  otherwise  than  the  Franciscan  and  Dominican  licensers  thought." 
From  Florence,  through  Siena,  Milton  went  to  Rome.  His  stay  here  extended 
over  nearly  two  months  more  (October — November,  1638)  ;  and  here  again, 
besides  musing  amid  the  ruins  of  the  Eternal  City,  seeing  the  galleries  and 
other  sights,  and  being  present  at  a  concert  in  the  palace  of  Cardinal  Francesco 
Barberini,  where  he  heard  Leonora  Baroni  sing,  he  enjoyed  the  society  of  the 
literary  clubs  or  Academies.  He  made  especial  acquaintance  with  Lucas  Holste 
or  Holstenius,  a  learned  German,  settled  in  Rome  as  secretary  to  Cardinal 
Barberini,  and  one  of  the  librarians  of  the  Vatican,  and  also  with  Alessandro 
Cherubini,  Giovanni  Salzilli,  and  a  certain  more  obscure  Selvaggi.  Leaving 
Rome,  in  company  with  "  a  certain  Eremite  Friar,"  he  spent  some  little  time 
(November — December,  1638)  in  Naples.  Here,  through  his  travelling  com- 
panion, he  was  introduced  to  the  great  man  of  the  place,  the  venerable  Giovanni 
Battista  Manso,  Marquis  of  Villa,  then  nearly  eighty  years  of  age.  From 
Naples  it  was  his  intention  to  cross  over  into  Sicily  and  thence  to  extend  his 
tour  into  Greece  ;  but  "  the  sad  news  of  civil  war  in  England  "  determined  him 
to  return,  "inasmuch,"  he  says,  "as  I  thought  it  base  to  be  travelling  at  my 
"  ease  for  intellectual  culture  while  my  fellow  countrymen  at  home  were  fighting 

"for  liberty." The  news  that  had  reached  Milton  in  Naples,  however,  was 

not  quite  that  of  civil  war  in  England  itself,  but  only  of  such  a  course  of  events 
in  Scotland  as  seemed  to  make  civil  war  inevitable.  The  Covcnajtt  having 
been  adopted  all  but  universally  by  the  population  of  Scotland,  Charles  had  been 
obliged  to  temporize  so  far  as  to  permit  the  meeting  of  a  General  Assembly  of 
the  Kirk  at  Glasgow  for  the  consideration  of  affairs  ;  and  at  this  Assembly 
(Nov.  21 — Dec.  20,  1638)  the  result  of  the  consideration  of  affairs  had  been 
defiance  to  Charles  and  Laud  in  every  particular.  Not  only  had  the  recent 
ecclesiastical  innovations  been  condemned,  but  all  the  Scottish  Bishops  had 
been  deposed  and  disgraced,  Episcopacy  of  every  kind  had  been  declared  at  an 
end  in  Scotland,  and  the  Kirk  and  nation  had  returned  absolutely  to  the  old 
Presbyterian  system  of  Knox.  To  punish  the  Scots  for  such  audacity  Charles 
was  certainly  levying  forces  in  England  and  Ireland,  so  that  in  a  sense  civil 
war  in  Britain  had  actually  begun. It  was  probably  the  receipt  of  much 

^fe ^ 


^ -^ 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xvii 

more  correct  information  that  made  Milton's  homeward  journey  more  leisurely 
than  he  purposed  when  he  left  Naples.  He  spent,  at  all  events,  a  second  two 
months  in  Rome  (January — February,  1639),  going  about  freely,  and  also  talking 
freely,  though  warned,  he  says,  that  the  English  Jesuits  in  the  city  were  on  the 
watch  to  entrap  him  into  some  danger  from  the  Papal  police ;  and  he  also  spent 
a  second  two  months  in  Florence  (February— April,  1639),  where  his  Florentine 
friends  were  rejoiced  at  his  reappearance.  From  Florence  he  made  an  excur- 
sion to  Lucca ;  after  which,  crossing  the  Apennines,  and  passing  through 
Bologna  and  Ferrara,  he  came  to  Venice.  He  spent  one  month  in  that  city 
(May,  1639)  ;  whence,  having  despatched  to  England  by  sea  the  books  he  had 
collected  in  Italy,  he  made  his  way,  by  Verona  and  Milan,  and  over  the  Pennine 
Alps,  to  Geneva.  Here  he  passed  a  week  or  two  (June,  1639),  once  more 
among  Protestants,  and  conversing  daily  with  the  theologian  Dr.  Jean  Diodati, 
the  uncle  of  his  friend  Charles.  Thence  his  route  through  France  took  him 
again  to  Paris  ;  and  early  in  August,  1639,  he  was  back  in  England. 

Milton's  fifteen  or  sixteen  months  of  foreign  travel  and  residence  contributed 
but  few  additions  to  the  list  of  his  writings.  Besides  two  Latin  Familiar 
Epistles,  written  at  Florence,  one  to  the  Flprentine  grammarian  Buommattei 
(September  10,  1638),  and  one  to  Holstenius,  at  Rome  (March  30,  1639),  we 
have  to  note  only  the  following  : 

Ad  Leonoram   Roma:   canentein    (three   pieces   annexed    to   the  Elegiaruin  Liber). 

1638. 
Ad  Sahillum,  Poetatn  Romanum,  ccgrotantcm  (among  the  Sylvcc).     1638. 
M ANSI'S  (among  the  Sylv<i).     1638. 
Five  Italian  Sonnets,  zvith  a  Canzone.     1639  ? 

BACK    AT    H.ORTON    AND    IN    LONDON  :    LODGINGS    IN    ST.   BRIDE'S   CHURCH- 
YARD,   FLEET   STREET. 

1639 — 1640:  (Xtat  '^l — 32. 

At  Horton,  where  Milton  found  all  well,  there  had  been  born  in  his  absence 
a  little  nephew,  the  first  child  of  Christopher  Milton  and  his  young  wife.  The 
infant,  however,  had  died  and  been  buried  five  months  before  (March  26,  1639). 

Another  death  that  had  happened  in  Milton's  absence  was  that  of  his  friend, 
Charles  Diodati.  Milton  had  vaguely  heard  of  the  fact  while  abroad  ;  but  not 
till  his  return  did  he  learn  the  full  particulars.  Till  now,  the  exact  place  and 
date  of  the  death  have  eluded  research  ;  but,  while  I  am  writing  this  Memoir, 
I  am  in  receipt  of  the  long  desired  information.  "  Charles  Diodati,"  I  am  in- 
formed by  Colonel  Chester,  whose  contributions  to  our  knowledge  of  Milton's 
family  history  I  have  already  had  occasion  to  acknowledge,  "  was  buried  at  St. 
"Anne,  Blackfriars,  London,  27  Aug.,  1638.  The  entry  in  the  Register  is 
"  simply  'Mr.  Charles  Deodate,  from  Mr.  Dollam's.'  Seventeen  days  before, 
"  viz.,  10  Aug.,  1638,  was  also  buried  there  '  Mrs.  Philadelphia  Deodate,  from 
"Mr.  Dollam's.'  On  the  29th' of  June,  1638,  was  baptised  'Richard,  son  of 
"  John  and  Isabell  Deodate  ;  '  and  on  the  23d  of  June  in  the  same  year  was 


^ 


d3 "^ -^ 


xviii  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

"  buried  Isabell,  wife  io  JoJm  Deodate.'  These  are  all  the  entries  of  the  name 
"  that  occur  in  the  Register  of  St.  Anne,  Blackfriars."  The  interpretation  of 
these  records  is  as  follows  : — When  Milton  had  gone  abroad,  he  had  left  his 
friend,  the  young  physician  Charles  Diodati,  living  in  lodgings  with  a  sister  of 
his,  called  Philadelphia,  in  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Dollam  in  Blackfriars,  near  the 
house  of  their  married  brother,  John  Diodati,  and  therefore  at  some  little  dis- 
tance from  the  house  of  their  father,  the  naturalized  Italian  physician,  Dr.  Theo- 
dore Diodati,  in  Little  St.  Bartholomew,  whose  recent  second  marriage  in  his 
old  age  seems  to  have  somewhat  alienated  from  him  these  grown-up  children 
by  his  first  wife.  Milton  had  left  all  three  well  in  Blackfriars  ;  but  in  June, 
1638,  only  two  months  after  he  had  set  out  on  his  foreign  tour,  John  Diodati 
had  lost  his  wife  in  childbirth,  and  in  August,  1638,  when  he  was  in  Florence 
for  the  first  time,  and  little  dreaming  of  any  such  calamity,  his  friend,  Charles 
Diodati,  had  been  carried  off  by  some  epidemic  of  which  his  sister  also  had  been 
a  victim,  and  both  had  been  buried  from  Mr.  Dollam's  house. 

There  w-as  no  more  profound  private  feeling  in  all  Milton's  life  than  that 
which  he  experienced  in  the  loss  of  Charles  Diodati.  He  gave  expression  to  it 
in  that  Latin  pastoral  of  lament  which  he  wrote  immediately  after  his  return  to 
England  (probably  at  Horton),  and  which  deserves  here  to  stand  by  itself: 

EfitAPHWM  Da.WOjVIS  (among  the  Sy/vcs).     1639. 

Not  long  after  Milton's  return  to  England,  the  household  at  Horton  was 
broken  up.  The  father,  with  Christopher  Milton  and  his  wife,  remained  at 
Horton,  indeed,  to  as  late  as  August,  1640,  Christopher  having  been  called  to 
the  Bar  of  the  Iniier  Temple  January  26,  1639-40  ;  but  soon  afterwards  Chris- 
topher, his  wife,  and  a  second  child,  born  at  Horton,  went  to  live  at  Reading, 
the  father  accompanying  them.  Some  time  before  that  removal  (probably  in 
the  winter  of  1639-40),  Milton  had  taken  lodgings  in  London,  "in  St.  Bride's 
"Churchyard,  Fleet  Street,  at  the  house  of  one  Russel,  a  tailor."  consenting  at 
the  same  time  to  an  arrangement  which  can  hardly  have  added  to  his  comfort. 
His  only  surviving  sister,  whom  we  saw  married  to  Mr.  Edward  Phillips  of  the 
Crown  Office  in  1624,  was  no  longer  Mrs.  Phillips.  Her  first  husband  had  died 
in  1631  ;  and,  after  some  time  of  widowhood,  she  married  his  successor  in  the 
Crown  Office,  Mr.  Thomas  Agar.  There  had  been  left  her,  however,  two 
young  boys  by  the  first  marriage — Edward  Phillips  and  John  Phillips.  The 
younger  of  these  (probably  his  godson),  aged  only  nine  years,  Milton  now  took 
wholly  into  his  charge  ;  while  the  elder,  only  about  a  year  older,  went  daily,  from 
his  mother's  house,  near  Charing  Cross,  to  the  lodging  in  St.  Bride's  Church- 
yard, for  the  benefit  also  of  his  uncle's  lessons.  And  so,  teaching  his  two  young 
nephews,  meditating  literary  projects,  and  looking  round  him  on  public  affairs, 
Milton  found  himself  in  the  famous  year  1640. 

What  a  year  that  was!  In  the  previous  year  there  had  been  the  First 
Bishops  War — /.  e.,  the  first  war  of  Charles  for  restoration  of  Episcopacy 
among  the  Scots.     It  had  ended  in  collapse  on  the  King's  side.     Charles  had 

^ ^ -^ 


S- -Qy 


MEMOIR    OF  MILTON.  xix 

advanced  to  the  Scottish  border  with  a  reluctant  English  army  ;  but,  met  there 
by  an  army  of  the  Scottish  Covenanters,  he  had  not  risked  a  battle,  but  had 
agreed  to  terms,  granting  the  Scots  their  Presbyterian  Kirk,  and  substantially 
all  else  they  asked  (June  i8,  1639).  That  war,  therefore,  had  been  begun  and 
ended  while  Milton  was  still  abroad.  But  Charles  had  again  broken  with  the 
Scots,  and  resolved  on  their  subjugation  and  chastisement.  In  his  straits  for 
money  and  means  for  that  purpose  he  had  even  ventured,  after  eleven  years  of 
uninterrupted  absolutism,  to  call  another  English  Parliament.  That  Parliament, 
which  met  April  13, 1640,  proved  as  stubbornly  Puritan  as  its  predecessors,  and, 
instead  of  yielding  supplies  against  the  Scots,  with  whom  it  was  in  secret 
sym.pathy,  fell  on  the  question  of  English  grievances.  It  was,  therefore,  dis- 
missed, after  little  more  than  a  fortnight  (May  5),  and  is  remembered  as  the 
Short  Fa7'liavicnt.  Milton,  who  had  been  observing  all  this,  with  the  feelings 
of  an  English  Puritan,  then  saw  Charles  plunge,  nevertheless,  with  resources 
otherwise  raised,  into  iho.  Second  Bishops'  IVar.  In  August,  1640,  he  was  at 
York,  with  the  Irish  Viceroy  Wentworth,  now  Earl  of  Strafford,  in  his  company, 
on  his  way  to  Scotland,  and  with  an  English  army  between  him  and  the 
doomed  country.  But  the  Scots  did  not  wait  this  time  on  their  Own  side  of  the 
border.  They  invaded  England,  August  20 ;  they  beat  a  detachment  of  the 
English  at  Newburn,  near  Newcastle,  August  28 ;  they  entered  that  town, 
August  29 ;  and  they  spread  themselves  thence  over  the  northern  counties. 
With  the  Puritans  of  England  all  in  sympathy  with  them,  and  welcoming  their 
invasion  rather  than  resenting  it ;  they  had  thus,  by  one  bold  push,  and  but 
small  effort  besides,  utterly  checked  the  King.  His  army  disorganized  and 
deserting  he  summoned  a  Great  Council  of  Peers  to  meet  at  York,  September  24, 
and  help  him  in  his  negotiation  with  the  Scots  ;  but  some  of  the  leading  Peers 
themselves  petitioning  for  a  Parliament,  and  petitions  to  the  same  effect  arriving 
from  the  city  of  London,  he  was  obliged  to  yield.  A  preliminary  treaty  with 
the  Scots,  agreed  upon  by  commissioners  of  the  two  nations,  was  signed  by 
him  at  York,  October  27  ;  and  thence  he  hastened  to  London,  to  open  the 
new  Parliament.  It  was  to  be  known  as  the  Lonj  Parliament,  the  most 
famous  Parliament  in  the  annals  of  England.     It  met  November  3,  1640. 

ALDERSGATE   STREET,    LONDON. 
1640 — 1645  •  <^t<^t-  32 — 37. 

The  lodgings  in  St.  Bride's  Churchyard,  Fleet  Street,  were  but  a  temporary 
arrangement.  "Looking  round,"  says  Milton,  "where  best  I  could,  in  the 
"midst  of  affairs  so  disturbed  and  fluctuating,  for  a  place  to  settle  in,  I  hired  a 
"  house  in  the  city  sufficiently  large  for  myself  and  books."  His  nephew, 
Edward  Phillips,  who  soon  went  to  be  a  fellow-boarder  in  the  new  house  with 
his  younger  brother  John,  describes  it  more  particularly  as  "a  pretty  garden- 
"  house  in  Aldersgate  Street,  at  the  end  of  an  entry,  and,  therefore,  the  fitter 
"  for  his  turn  by  reason  of  the  privacy,  besides  that  there  are  few  streets  in 
"  London  more  free  from  noise  than  that."     Aldersgate  Street  is  very  different 


s- -e, 


XX  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

now,  and  not  a  vestige  of  Milton's  house  remains.  It  stood  at  the  back  of  that 
part  of  the  street  on  the  right  hand  as  you  go  from  St.  Martin's-le-Grand, 
where  there  is  now  Maidenhead  Court. 

The  Aldersgate  Street  house,  which  Milton  entered  some  time  in  1640,  prob- 
*  ably  before  the  meeting  of  the  Long  Parliament,  was  to  be  a  very  memorable 
one  in  his  biography.  "There,  in  tolerable  comfort,"  he  says,  "I  betook 
"  myself  to  my  interrupted  studies,  trusting  the  issue  of  public  affairs  to 
"  God  in  the  first  place,  and  to  those  to  whom  the  people  had  committed  that 
"charge."  In  other  words,  his  hope  was  that  now  at  last  he  might  begin  in  real 
earnest  that  life  of  sustained  literary  exertion  in  his  own  English  speech,  after  a 
higher  and  nobler  fashion  than  England  had  heretofore  known,  to  which  he  had 
secretly  pledged  himself.  Especially,  during  his  Italian  journey,  he  had  been 
revolving  the  project  of  some  one  great  English  poem,  to  be  begun  on  his 
return,  and  to  be  his  occupation  through  as  many  years  as  might  be  necessary. 
As  we  learn  from  his  poem  to  Manso,  and  still  more  distinctly  from  his 
Epitaphium  Damoiiis,  an  epic  on  the  subject  of  Arthur,  involving  the  whole 
cycle  of  Arthurian  or  ancient  British  Legends,  was  the  scheme  that  had 
principally  fascinated  him.  Within  the  first  year  after  his  return,  however,  the 
Arthurian  subject  had  been  set  aside,  and  Milton's  mind,  weighing  and 
balancing  the  comparative  advantages  of  the  epic  form  and  the  stately  tragedy 
of  the  Greeks  with  its  lyrics  and  choruses,  was  at  sea  among  a  great  number 
of  possible  subjects,  suitable  for  either,  collected  from  Biblical  History  and  the 
History  of  Britain  before  the  Conquest.  Paradise  Lost,  in  the  form  of  a 
tragedy,  was  already  the  favorite  ;  but  all  was  uncertain.  To  end  this  un- 
certainty, by  actually  choosing  a  subject  and  setting  to  work,  was  the  business 
which  Milton,  while  daily  teaching  his  young  nephews,  and  showing  them  "  an 
example  of  hard  study  and  spare  diet,"  had  prescribed  for  himself  in  Aiders- 
gate  Street. 

Alas  !  it  had  to  be  postponed,  and  for  a  longer  series  of  years  than  could 
have  been  anticipated.  Milton,  at  this  juncture  of  his  life,  was  whirled  into 
politics ;  and  for  nearly  twenty  years  (1640-1660),  with  but  moments  of  excep- 
tion, he  had  to  cease  to  be  "  a  poet  soaring  in  the  high  region  of  his  fancies 
with  his  garland  and  singing  robes  about  him,"  and  to  "sit  below  in  the  cool 
element  of  prose."  It  was  not  only  Milton's  life,  indeed,  that  was  so  affected 
by  the  great  Puritan  Revolution.  The  lives  of  almost  all  his  English  literary 
contemporaries  were  similarly  affected,  and  through  the  twenty  years  between 
1640  and  1 660  there  was  an  almost  total  cessation  of  Pure  Literature  in  England 
in  consequence  of  the  drafting  of  the  literary  intellect  of  the  country  into  the 
service  of  the  current  controversies.  In  no  life,  however,  is  the  phenomenon 
more  marked  than  in  Milton's ;  and  there  are  some  to  whom  its  exhibition  in 
that  life  in  particular  is  matter  for  regret.  They  judge,  I  believe,  poorly  and 
wrongly.  It  may  be  admitted  that  in  controversial  prose,  though  such  prose 
with  Milton  was  to  be  far  from  a  "cool  element,"  he  had,  as  he  himself 
expresses  it,  "the  use  but  of  his  left  hand."     To  lend  even  that  hand,  however, 

^ -^ 


S : ^ 


MEMOIR  OF  MILTON.  xxi    " 

with  all  its  force,  to  what  he  deemed  the  cause  of  God,  Truth,  Liberty,  and  his 
Country,  seemed  to  him  a  more  important  duty,  so  long  as  there  should  be 
need,  than  scheming  and  writing  poems. 

It  was  on  the  Church  question  that  Milton  first  spoke  out.  The  Long 
Parliament  had,  with  singular  rapidity,  in  the  first  months  of  its  sitting,  swept 
away  accumulated  abuses  in  State  and  Law,  brought  Strafford  to  trial  and 
execution,  impeached  and  imprisoned  Laud  and  others  of  the  chief  ministers  of 
Thorough,  subjected  Charles  to  constitutional  checks,  made  a  satisfactory 
treaty  with  the  Scots,  and  sent  them  home  with  thanks  for  their  great  services 
to  England.  •  They  had  also  taken  measures  for  their  own  security  and  the 
permanence  of  English  Parliamentary  government.  All  this  having  been  done 
unanimously  or  nearly  so,  the  Church  question  had  at  length  emerged  as  the 
most  difficult  of  all,  and  that  in  which  there  was  most  difference  of  opinion. 
That  the  Laudian  Episcopacy  must  no  longer  exist  in  England  all,  with 
hardly  an  exception,  were  agreed  ;  but,  for  the  rest,  people  divided  themselves 
into  two  parties.  There  were  the  advocates  of  a  Limited  Episcopacy,  excluding 
the  Bishops,  perhaps,  from  the  House  of  Lords  and  from  other  places  of 
political  and  judicial  power,  and  also  surrounding  them  even  in  Church  matters 
with  Councils  of  Presbyters  ;  and  there  were  the  Root-and-Branch  Reformers, 
who  were  for  abolishing  Episcopacy  utterly,  and  reconstructing  the  Church  of 
England  after  some  Presbyterian  model  like  that  of  the  Scots.  Into  this  contro- 
versy Milton,  in  May,  1641,  flung  his  first  pamphlet,  entitled,  "  Of  Reformation 
touching  Church  Discipline  in  England  and  the  Causes  that  have  hitherto 
hindered  it."  It  was  a  Root-and-Rranch  pamphlet  of  most  tremendous 
earnestness,  and  was  followed  within  a  year  by  four  more  of  the  same  sort,  viz., 
"Of  Prclatical  Episcopacy,"  (June,  1641)  ;  "Animadversions  upon  the 
Remonstrant' s  Defence  against  Sinectymnuus,"  (July,  1641)  ;  "  The  Reason  of 
Church  government  urged  against  Prelaty,"  (about  Feb.,  1641-42);  "Apology 
against  a  Pamphlet  called  A  modest  Confutation  of  the  Animadversions 
upojt  the  Remonstrajit  against  Smectymmius,"  (March,  1641-42).  These  five 
pamphlets  of  Milton  are  to  be  remembered  in  a  group  by  themselves,  and  may 
be  called  his  "Anti-Episcopal  Pamphlets."  The  first  of  them  is  general ;  in 
the  others  there  are  replies  to  defenders  of  Episcopacy,  and  especially  to  Bishop 
Hall  and  Archbishop  Usher.  The  "  Remonstrant  "  is  Bishop  Hall,  whose 
Humble  Remonstrance  was  regarded  as  the  chief  manifesto  of  High  Prelacy  ; 
"  Smectymnuus  "  was  the  fancy  name  put  on  the  title-page  of  a  large  reply  to 
Hall  by  five  leading  Puritan  Divines,  whose  initials  put  together  made  up  the 
odd  word  (one  of  them  Thomas  Young,  Milton's  old  tutor,  now  Vicar  of  Stow-, 
market,  in  Suffolk)  ;  and  there  were  other  pamphlets  of  retort  and  rejoinder, 
between  Hall  and  the  Smectymnuans,  in  all  of  which  Milton  advised  and 
assisted  the  five  Smectymnuans.  Altogether  by  the  power  of  his  Anti- 
Episcopal  pamphlets,  and  especially  by  his  vehement  invectives  against  Hall, 
Milton  became  a  man  of  public  note,  admired  by  the  Root-and-Branch  Puritans, 
but  detested  by  those  who  wanted  to  see  Episcopacy  preserved. 


s -^ 


xxii  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

In  August,  1642,  Charles  having  in  the  meantime  assented  to  a  Bill 
excluding  the  Bishops  from  the  House  of  Lords,  but  having  broken  decisively 
with  the  Parliament  on  other  questions,  there  began  the  great  CiVIL  War. 
From  that  date  Englishmen  were  divided  into  two  opposed  masses — the 
Parliamentarians,  taking  the  side  of  that  majority  of  the  Commons  and 
small  minority  of  the  Lords,  which  still  sat  on  as  the  two  Houses  ;  and  the 
Royalists,  taking  the  side  of  the  King  and  of  the  bulk  of  the  nobility,  with  the 
adherin<T  minority  of  the  Commons.  Milton,  of  course,  attached  himself 
resolutely  to  the  Parliamentarians.  He  did  not,  indeed,  serve  in  the  Parlia- 
mentary Army ;  but  he  watched  the  progress  of  the  contest  with  the  most 
eao-er  interest.  For  the  first  year  all  was  dubious.  The  Parliamentary  generals, 
Essex,  Manchester,  and  Sir  William  Waller,  moved  about;  the  King  and  his 
generals  moved  about,  advancing  at  one  time  close  to  London  ;  there  were 
skirmishes,  fights,  even  battles  ;  but,  when  Midsummer,  1643,  had  come,  all 
that  could  be  said  was  that  London  and  the  Eastern  Counties  were  the 
fastnesses  of  Parliament,  while  the  King  had  his  headquarters  at  Oxford,  and 
the  rest  of  England  lay  torn  into  districts,  some  Royalist,  others  Parliamen- 
tarian, and  others  of  Royalists  and  Parliamentarians  all  but  equally  mixed. 

That  Milton  should  have  chosen  such  a  time  for  his  marriage  is  less 
surprising  than  that  he  should  have  brought  his  bride  from  the  very  head- 
quarters of  Royalism.  That,  however,  is  the  fact.  "  About  Whitsuntide 
"  [May  21,  1643]  it  was,  or  a  little  after,"  says  his  nephew  Phillips,  "that  he 
"  took  a  journey  into  the  country,  nobody  about  him  certainly  knowing  the 
"reason,  or  that  it  was  any  more  than  a  journey  of  recreation  ;  but  home  he 
"  returns  a  married  man  that  went  out  a  bachelor,  his  wife  being  Mary,  the 
"eldest  daughter  of  Mr.  Richard  Powell,  then  a  Justice  of  the  Peace  of  Forest- 
"hill,  near  Shotover,  in  Oxfordshire."  What  was  a  mystery  to  the  boy  Phillips 
at  the  time  is  very  much  a  mystery  yet  ;  but  research  has  revealed  a  few  particu- 
lars.  Forest-hill  is,  and  was,  a  village  about  four  miles  to  the  east  of  O.-cford, 

in  the  very  neighbourhood  where  Milton's  paternal  ancestors  had  lived,  and 
whence  his  father  had  come.  The  estate  and  mansion  of  Forest-hill  had  been 
for  some  little  time  in  the  possession  of  a  family  called  Powell,  not  originally 
of  that  neighbourhood.  The  family,  though  apparently  well-to-do,  with  a 
carriage  and  what  not,  was  really  in  somewhat  embarrassed  circumstances. 
There  were  several  mortgag2S  on  the  property  ;  and  among  other  debts  owing 
by  Mr.  Powell  was  one  of  500/.  to  Milton  himself.  It  had  been  owing  (on  what 
account  one  does  not  know,  but  probably  through  some  transaction  with  Milton's 
father)  since  1627,  when  Milton  was  a  student  at  Cambridge.  The  family,  as 
their  vicinity  to  Oxford  required,  were  strongly  Royalist.  Besides  Mr.  Powell 
and  his  wife,  there  were  eleven  children,  six  sons  and  five  daughters,  the  eldest 
one-and-twenty  years  of  age,  the  youngest  four.  Mary  Powell,  the  eldest 
daughter,  whom  Milton  took  home  to  Aldersgate  Street  as  his  wife,  was  seven- 
teen years  and  four  months  old  (born  January  24,  1625-6),  while  Milton  him- 
self was  in  the  middle  of  his  thirty-fifth  year,  or  exactly  twice  as  old. In  the 

(^ _^ 


^- 


^ 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xxiii 

house  in  Aldersgate  Street,  whither  some  of  the  bride's  relatives  accompanied 
her,  "  there  was  feasting  held  for  some  days  in  celebration  of  the  nuptials."  So 
we  are  told  by  Phillips,  who  was  in  the  house  at  the  time,  a  boy  of  thirteen. 
"  At  length,"  he  continues,  "  they  [the  bride's  relatives]  took  their  leave,  and 
"  returning  to  Forest-hill,  left  the  sister  behind  :  probably  not  much  to  her  satis- 
"  faction,  as  appeared  by  the  sequel.  By  that  time  she  had  for  a  month  or  there- 
"  about  led  a  philosophical  life  (after  having  been  used  to  a  great  house  and 
"much  company  and  jollity),  her  friends,  possibly  incited  by  her  own  desire, 
"  made  earnest  suit  by  letter  to  have  her  company  the  remaining  part  of  the 
"summer;  which  was  granted,  on  condition  of  her  returning  at  the  time  ap- 

"  pointed,  Michaelmas  [Sept.  29,   1643]  or  thereabout." In   short,  it   had 

been  a  hasty  marriage,  unsuitable  on  both  sides,  and  the  greatest  blunder  of 
Milton's  life.  "  Michaelmas  being  come,"  Phillips  proceeds,  "and  no  news  of 
"  his  wife's  return,  he  sent  for  her  by  lettei',  and,  receiving  no  answer,  sent  several 
"  other  letters,  which  were  also  unanswered,  so  that  he  despatched  down  a  foot- 
"  messenger  with  a  letter,  desiring  her  return  ;  but  the  messenger  came  back, 
"not  only  without  an  answer,  at  least  a  satisfactory  one,  but  to  the  best  of  my 
"remembrance,  reported  that  he  was  dismissed  with  some  sort  of  contempt. 
"  This  proceeding,  in  all  probability,  was  grounded  upon  no  other  cause  but 
"  this  :  viz.,  that  the  family  being  generally  addicted  to  the  Cavalier  Party,  as  they 

"  called  it,  and  some  of  them  possibly  engaged  in  the  King's  service 

"  they  began  to  repent  them  of  having  matched  the  eldest  daughter  of  the 
"  family  to  a  person  so  contrary  to  them  in  opinion,  and  thought  it  would  be  a 
"  blot  on  their  escutcheon  whenever  the  Court  should  come  to  flourish  again. 
"  However,  it  so  incensed  our  author  that  he  thought  it  would  be  dishonourable 
"ever  to  receive  her  again  after  such  a  repulse;  so  that  he  forthwith  prepared 
"  to  fortify  himself  with  arguments  for  such  a  resolution,  and  accordingly 
"wrote     .     .     .     ."     What  he  wrote  will  appear  presently. 

The  Parliament  meanwhile  had  virtually  decreed  the  entire  abolition  of  Epis- 
copacy in  England,  and  had  called  an  Assembly  of  Puritan  Divines  to  advise  it  as 
to  the  forms  and  creed  of  the  future  National  Church.  This  Assembly  met  at 
Westminster,  July  i,  1643,  just  at  the  time  when  Milton's  wife  left  him  to  go  back 
to  her  friends.  In  the  following  month  the  Parliament,  findingthat  they  had  made 
but  little  advance  in  the  war  with  Charles,  applied  to  the  Scots  for  armed  aid. 
The  Scots  having  agreed  to  this  on  the  condition  that  the  Parliament  would  do 
all  it  could  to  bring  England  into  religious  and  ecclesiastical  conformity  with 
Scotland,  an  alliance  was  formed  between  the  two  nations  on  the  basis  of  what 
was  called  the  Solemn  Leag  lie  and  Covenant,  to  be  signed  by  all  the  English  Par- 
liamentarians on  the  one  hand  and  by  the  whole  people  of  Scotland  on  the  other 
(Sept.  1643).  Some  Scottish  Divines  then  took  their  places  in  the  West- 
minster Assembly  ;  and  in  January,  1643-4,  a  Scottish  auxiliary  army  of  21,000 
men  entered  England.  For  some  time  they  were  rather  inactive  ;  but  on  the 
2nd  of  July,  1644,  they  took  part  in  the  great  battle  of  Marston  Moor.  In  this 
battle,  won  chiefly  by  the  exertions  of  Cromwell,  then  Lieutenant-general  under 


^B- 


■^y 


xxiv  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

the  Earl  of  Manchester,  the  King's  forces  were  disastrously  beaten,  and  the 

North  of  England  was  secured  for  the  Parliament. By  this  time  there  had 

appeared  a  dispute  among  the  Parliamentarians  themselves,  which  interfered 
much  with  the  farther  prosecution  of  the  war,  and  was  to  be  of  immense  conse- 
quence in  the  history  of  England  for  many  years  to  come.  It  was  the  dispute 
between  the  Presbyterians  and  the  Independents.  It  began  first  in  the  West- 
minster Assembly,  when  that  body  was  required  to  advise  Parliament  as  to  the  form 
of  Church-government  to  be  set  up  in  England.  The  great  majority  of  the  Eng- 
lish Divines,  and  of  course  all  the  Scottish  Divines  present,  were  for  strict  Presby- 
ter)-, on  the  Scottish  system  of  a  gradation  of  Church  Courts,  from  the  small  court 
of  each  parish  or  congregation,  up  to  the  district  or  Presbyterial  Court,  the  Synod 
or  Provyncial  Court,  and  so  to  the  supreme  authority  of  the  whole  Church  exer- 
cised by  annual  representative  assemblies.  They  were  also  for  the  compulsory  in- 
clusion of  every  man,  woman  and  child,  within  the  pale  of  such  a  Church  in  attend- 
ance on  its  worship  and  subject  to  its  disciphne.  A  very  small  minority  of  the 
English  Divines,  however,  dissented  from  these  views.  They  maintained  that 
according  to  the  Scriptural  constitution  of  the  Church,  every  voluntary  congre- 
gation of  Christians  ought  to  be  independent  within  itself,  and  that,  though  occa- 
sional meetings  of  ministers  and  members  of  different  congregations  might  be  use- 
ful for  the  purposes  of  consultation,  any  governing  apparatus  of  Presbyteries, 
Synods,  and  Assemblies,  for  the  control  of  individual  congregations,  was  un- 
lawful. They  demanded  farther  that,  if  a  Presbyterian  National  Church  were 
to  be  set  up  in  England  (which  the  overwhelming  drift  of  opinion  in  its  favour 
seemed  to  make  inevitable),  there  should  at  least  be  a  toleration  of  dissent  from 
it,  and  liberty  for  all  respectable  Sects  to  form  congregations  for  themselves. 
The  debate  soon  extended  itself  through  the  English  community  at  large  ;  where, 
though  the  Presbyterians  were  also  largely  in  the  majority,  there  were  yet  scat- 
tered thousands  of  persons  favourable  to  Independency.  To  the  Independents 
there  attached  themselves  the  Baptists,  the  Brovvnists,  the  Antinomians,  and  a 
g^eat  many  other  sects  that  had  lurked  in  English  society  since  Elizabeth's 
time,  as  well  as  free  opinionists  of  all  sorts,  and  many  who,  though  agreeing 
suflRciently  with  the  Presbyterians  in  their  theology,  yet  held  by  the  principle  of 
Liberty  of  Conscience,  and  regarded  spiritual  compulsion  by  a  Presbyterian 
Church  as  no  less  monstrous  than  the  same  under  the  Papacy  or  Prelacy.  In- 
dependency, in  all  these  various  forms,  had  come  to  prevail  largely  in  the  Par- 
liamentarian Army,  and  Cromwell  was  already  marked  there  as  the  head  of  the 
Independents.  Hence  the  English  Presbyterians  and  the  Scots  had  begun  to 
look  with  great  suspicion  on  the  success  of  Cromwell  and  the  Army-Indepen- 
dents in  the  field.  They  declared  that  Independency,  with  its  principle  of  toler- 
ation, opened  the  door  to  all  kind^  of  schisms,  heresies,  and  blasphemies  ;  they 
called  the  Army,  all  but  the  Scottish  auxiliary  portion  of  it,  an  Army  of  Sec- 
taries ;  and  they  prophesied  ruin  to  England  if  victory  over  the  King  should  be 
won  by  their  means.  In  these  circumstances  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  Pres- 
byterians and  the  Scottish  auxiliaries  should  have  contented  themselves  with  a 

^- -4^ 


^B- 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xxv 

slow  and  cautious  strategy,  calculated  to  bring  the  King  to  terms  rather  than 
to  beat  him  thoroughly,  while  Cromwell  and  the  Independents  had  no  such 
hesitation,  but  found  both  their  duty  and  their  safety  in  audacity  and  energy. 
In  fact,  before  the  end  of  1644  it  had  become  evitlent  that  the  Independents 
were  more  extreme  revolutionists  than  the  Presbyterians,  with  peculiar  demo- 
cratic ideas  bound  up  with  their  principle  of  religious  freedom.  Nominally,  the 
Presbyterians  and  Independents,  with  the  Scots,  were  united  against  the  King 
in  the  basis  of  the  same  Solemn  League  and  Coveiiant ;  but,  in  reality,  the  In- 
dependents had  begun  to  doubt  the  utility  of  that  document,  to  resent  the  inter- 
ference of  the  Scots  in  English  affairs,  and  to  follow  such  courses  as  were  sug- 
gested by  free  English  reasonings  on  the  Church  ciuestion  and  on  others. 

There  was  no  real  objection  on  the  part  of  the  Independents  to  the  establish- 
ment of  a  Presbyterian  National  Church  in  England,  since  that  seemed  to  be 
the  wish  of  the  majority  of  the  Parliamentarians.  Accordingly,  in  January, 
1644-5,  the  establishment  of  such  a  Church  was  voted  by  Parliament.  But 
Cromwell  and  the  Independents  took  care  that  the  question  of  a  toleration  of 
Dissent  should  be  reserved.  They  were  also  powerful  enough  in  Parliament  to 
carry  about  the  same  time  certain  very  important  resolutions.  The  Parlia- 
mentary general-in-chief,  Essex,  having  recently  sustained  a  great  defeat,  and 
the  war  having  turned  otherwise  in  the  King's  favour,  it  was  resolved,  really 
through  Cromwell's  influence,  that  the  Army  should  be  entirely  remodelled, 
that  Essex,  Waller,  Manchester,  and  all  the  chief  officers  till  then  in  command, 
should  lay  down  their  commissions,  and  that  the  New-modelled  Army  should 
be  commanded  by  Fairfax  as  general-in-chief,  with  officers  under  him  not  having 
seats  in  Parliament  (Feb. — April,  1645).  The  New-modelled  Army  having 
taken  the  field,  with  Cromwell  exceptionally  retained  in  it  as  second  in  com- 
mand to  Fairfax,  the  result  was  at  once  seen.  On  June  14,  1645,  there  was 
fought  the  great  battle  of  Naseby,  in  which  the  King  was  utterly  ruined.  The 
war  was  to  straggle  on  in  detail  for  a  year  more ;  but  Naseby  had  virtually 
finished  it.  After  that  battle,  of  course,  the  Independents  and  Sectaries,  with 
their  principle  of  Religious  Toleration,  had  fuller  sway  in  the  politics  of  Eng- 
land, and  the  Presbyterians  and  their  Scottish  friends  were  checked. 

Through  those  two  important  years  Milton,  deserted  by  his  wife,  had  been 
living  on  in  Aldersgate  Street.  Shortly  after  his  wife's  departure,  his  aged 
father,  dislodged  from  Christopher  Milton's  house  in  Reading  by  the  capture  of 
that  town  by  the  Parliamentarians  in  April,  1643,  had  come  permanently  to  live 
with  him.  The  teaching  of  his  two  nephews,  and  of  a  few  sons  of  friends  who 
were  admitted  daily  to  share  their  lessons,  had  been  one  of  the  occupations  of 
his  enforced  bachelorhood.  His  industry  otherwise  is  attested  by  the  fact  that 
six  new  pamphlets  came  from  his  pen  during  the  two  years.  One  was  a  little 
Trad  on  Education,  addressed  (June,  1644)  to  a  friend  of  his,  Samuel  Hartlib, 
a  well-known  German,  living  in  London,  and  busy  with  all  kinds  of  projects 
and  speculations.  It  expounded  Milton's  views  of  an  improved  system  of  educa- 
tion for  gentlemen's  sons,  that  should  supersede  the  existing  public  schools  and 

0^ -4^ 


K&~ a? 


xxvi  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

universities.  It  was  followed  (Nov.  1644)  by  his  famous  "  Areopagitica,  or 
Speech  for  the  Liberty  of  Unlicensed  Printing,"  addressed  to  the  Parliament, 
and  urging  them  to  repeal  an  Ordinance  they  had  passed  in  June,  1643,  for  the 
Regulation  of  the  Press  by  a  staff  of  official  censors.  In  this  pamphlet  there 
was  abundant  evidence  that  Milton,  as  might  have  been  inferred  from  his  passion 
for  intellectual  liberty  from  his  earliest  youth,  was  in  political  sympathy  with  the 
Independents.  It  was  the  most  eloquent  plea  for  freedom  of  opinion  and  speech 
on  all  subjects  that  had  yet  appeared  in  the  English  or  in  any  other  tongue. 
But,  indeed,  by  this  time  Milton  and  the  Presbyterians  were  at  open  war  for 
reasons  more  peculiar  and  personal.  Hardly  had  his  wife  left  him  when  he  had 
published  (August,  1643)  an  extraordinary  pamphlet  entitled  "  The  Doctrine 
and  Discipline  of  Divorce  Restored,  to  the  Good  of  both  Sexes,"  in  which, 
without  mention  of  his  own  case,  but  with  implied  reference  to  it,  he  argued 
that  obstinate  incompatibility  of  mind  or  temper  between  husband  and  wife  was 
as  lawful  a  ground  for  divorce  as  infidelity,  and  that  any  two  persons  who,  after 
marriage,  found  that  they  did  not  suit  each  other,  should  be  at  liberty,  on  com- 
plying with  certain  public  formalities,  to  separate  and  marry  again.  A  second 
and  much  enlarged  edition  of  this  treatise  appeared  in  February,  1643-4,  openly 
dedicated  to  the  Parliament ;  and  the  same  doctrine  was  advocated  in  three 
subsequent  tracts  :  viz.,  "  The  fudgmcnt  of  Martin  Biicer  concerning  Divorce" 
(July,  1644);  "  Tetrachordon,  or  Expositions  upon  the  four  chief  places  in 
Scripture  which  treat  if  Marriage"  (March,  1644-5)  >  '^"d  "  Colasterion :  a 
Reply  to  a  nameless  Answer  against  the  Doctrine  and  Discipline  of  Divorce" 
(March,  1644-5).  ^^  is  impossible  now  to  imagine  adequately  the  commotion 
caused  in  the  religious  world  of  London  and  of  England  by  Milton's  four 
Divorce  Pamphlets.  He  was  denounced  and  stigmatized  at  once  as  a  heretic  of 
the  worst  kind,  the  promulgator  of  a  doctrine  of  hideous  import,  that  would 
corrupt  public  morals  and  sap  the  very  foundations  of  society.  He  was  preached 
against  from  the  pulpit,  written  against  in  books,  named  everywhere  among  the 
orthodox  with  horror  and  execration.  The  Presbyterian  Divines,  in  particular, 
were  violent  in  their  attacks  upon  him,  coupling  him  with  the  most  notorious 
heretics  and  sectaries  of  the  time,  and  pointing  to  him  as  an  example  of  the 
excesses  to  which  Toleration  would  lead.  They  complained  of  him  to  Parlia- 
ment, so  that  actually  twice  he  and  his  writings  were  the  subject  of  parliamentary 
notice  and  inquiry.  There  were  men  in  Parliament,  liowever,  who  knew  him  ; 
and  though  his  Divorce  doctrine  shocked  many  of  the  Independents  as  well  as 
the  Presbyterians,  the  general  feeling  among  the  Independents  was  that  it  ought 
to  be  regarded  in  his  case  only  as  the  eccentric  speculation  of  a  very  able  and 
noble  man.  He  was  therefore  let  alone ;  and  his  pamphlets,  circulating  in 
English  society,  then  in  a  ferment  of  new  ideas  of  all  kinds,  did  make  some 
converts,  so  that  Milronists  or  Divorcers  came  to  be  recognised  as  one  of  the 
Sects  of  the  time.  Thus,  though  Milton  had  been  th2  friend  and  adviser  of  the 
five  Smectymnuans  who  were  now  leading  Presbyterians  in  the  Westminster 
Assembly,  though  he  had  himself  in  his  Anti-Episcopal  pamphlets  advocated 


^ 


S- -^ 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xxvii 

what  was  substantially  a  Presbyterian  constitution  for  the  Church  of  England, 
and  though,  with  hundreds  of  thousands  of  other  Englishmen,  he  had  signed 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant  and  welcomed  the  Scots,  he  had,  by  a  natural 
course  of  events,  been  led  to  repudiate  utterly  the  Presbyterians,  the  Scots,  and 
their  principles,  and  to  regard  them  as  narrow-minded  and  pragmatical  men, 
enemies  to  English  freedom. 

Phillips  believes  that  his  uncle  was  so  resolute  in  his  Divorce  views  that  he 
was  prepared  to  put  them  in  practice  and  risk  the  consequences.  In  or  before 
1645  there  were  proposals  of  marriage,  Phillips  had  heard,  to  a  Miss  Davis, 
though  that  lady  was  naturally  reluctant.  Unexpectedly,  however,  and  just  at 
the  crisis,  the  wife  reappeared.  The  shattering  of  the  King's  fortunes  at 
Naseby  had  led  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Powell  of  Forest-hill  to  reconsider  the  state  of 
affairs,  with  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be  better  for  their  daughter  to  go  back 
to  her  husband.  Arrangements  having  been  made,  she  came  to  London  ;  Mil- 
ton was  entrapped  into  an  interview  with  her;  and  a  reconciliation  was  effected. 
This  was  in  July  or  August,  1645,  after  two  years  of  separation,  and  exactly  at 
the  time  when  Milton,  having  had  pressing  applications  to  receive  more  pupils 
than  the  Aldersgate  Street  house  could  accommodate,  had  taken  a  larger  house 
in  the  same  neighbourhood. 

How  completely  Milton  had  desisted  from  Poetry  during  his  five  years  in 
Aldersgate  Street  appears  from  the  extreme  slenderness  of  the  list  of  his  poeti- 
cal pieces  belonging  to  this  period  : — 

Sonnet,  "  When  the  Assault  was  intended  to  the  City."     1642. 

Sonnet  to  a  Lady.     1644. 

Sonnet,  "  To  ihe  Lady  Margaret  Ley."     1644. 

Translated  Scraps  from  Dante,  Petrarch,  Ariosto,  Horace,  Sophocles,  and  Eurip- 
ides, in  the  Prose  Pamphlets  (now  appended  to  the  Minor  English  Poems). 
1641-1645. 

Philosophus  ad  Regent  Quendam  (Greek  Verses). 

BARBICAN,    LONDON. 

1645 — 164S:  CEtat.  2,7 — 39. 

The  house  to  which  Milton  removed  was  in  the  street  called  Barbican,  going 
off  from  Aldersgate  Street  at  right  angles,  and  within  a  walk  of  two  or  three 
minutes  from  the  former  house.  As  you  went  from  Aldersgate  Street  it  was  on 
the  right  side  of  Barbican.  It  existed  entire  till  only  the  other  day,  when  one 
of  the  new  city  railways  was  cut  through  that  neighbourhood.  Milton,  with  his 
wife,  his  father,  the  two  nephews,  and  other  pupils,  entered  the  house,  as  I  cal- 
culate, in  September,  1645,  and  it  was  to  be  his  house  for  two  years. 

One  of  the  first  incidents  after  the  removal  to  Barbican  was  the  publication 
by  the  bookseller  Moseley  of  the  First  or  1645  edition  of  Milton's  Minor  Poems. 
Milton  evidently  attached  some  importance  to  the  appearance  of  the  little  vol- 
ume at  that  particular  time.     It  would  remind  people  that  he  was  not  merely  a 

"B- ^ -^ 


^ 


^ 


xxviii  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

controversial  prose  writer,  but  something  more.  Nor  was  this  unnecessary. 
Although  he  wrote  no  more  upon  Divorce,  his  opinions  on  the  subject  were  un- 
changed, and  the  infamy  with  the  orthodox  brought  upon  him  by  his  past 
Divorce  Pamphlets  still  pursued  him.  The  little  volume  of  Poems  might  do 
something  to  counteract  such  unfavourable  judgments.  Not  but  that  Milton  had 
many  friends  whose  admiration  and  respect  for  him  were  undisturbed,  if  indeed 
they  were  not  enhanced,  by  the  boldness  of  his  opinions.  Such  were  those, 
some  of  them  relatives  of  his  own,  and  others  of  considerable  rani<  in  London 
society,  who  accounted  it  a  favour  that  he  should  receive  their  sons  or  nephews 
as  his  pupils.  The  two  years  in  Barbican,  we  learn  from  Phillips,  were  his 
busiest  time  in  pedagogy.  The  house  seems  to  have  been,  in  fact,  a  small  pri- 
vate academy,  in  which  Milton  carried  out,  as  far  as  he  could  with  about  a 
dozen  day  scholars  and  boarders,  the  plan  of  education  explained  in  his  tract  to 
Hartlib,  and  especially  his  method  for  expeditiously  acquiring  the  Latin  tongue, 
and  at  the  same  time  a  great  deal  of  useful  knowledge,  by  readings  in  a  course 
of  books  different  from  those  usually  read  in  schools. 

The  King's  cause  having  been  desperate  since  Naseby,  he  at  length  left 
Oxford  in  disguise,  to  avoid  being  taken  there  by  the  New-model  army  of  Eng- 
lish Independents,  and  surrendered  himself  to  the  Scottish  auxiliaries  (May, 
1646),  who  immediately  withdrew  with  him  to  Newcastle.  The  Civil  War  was 
then  over,  and  the  garrisons  that  still  held  out  for  the  King  yielded  one  by  one. 
Oxford  surrendered  to  Fairfax  in  June,  1646  ;  and  Milton's  father-in-law,  Mr. 
Powell,  who  had  been  shut  up  in  that  city,  availed  himself  of  the  Articles  of 
Surrender,  and  came  to  London,  with  his  wife  and  several  of  their  children. 
Through  losses  in  the  Civil  War  and  sequestration  of  their  small  remaining 
property,  they  were  in  a  very  poor  condition,  and  were  glad  of  the  shelter  of 
Milton's  house.  Here  Mr.  Powell  died  January  i,  1646-7,  leaving  his  affairs  in 
sad  confusion.  Two  months  and  a  half  afterwards  Milton's  own  father  died. 
He  was  buried  in  the  church  of  St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  March  15,  1646-7.  The 
birth  of  Milton's  first  child,  a  daughter  named  Anne,  had  preceded  these  deaths 
by  a  few  months  (July  29,  1646).  After  the  death  of  Milton's  father,  Mrs. 
Power  and  her  children  removed  from  the  house  in  Barbican  to  some  other  part 
of  London,  Milton  making  her  an  allowance  out  of  a  small  property  in  Oxford- 
shire of  which  he  took  legal  possession  as  one  of  the  creditors  of  his  late  father- 
in-law.  Mrs.  Powell  and  her  affairs  were  to  cause  him  a  good  deal  of  trouble, 
at  intervals,  for  the  next  seven  years. 

The  possession  of  the  King  by  the  Scots  at  Newcastle  had  greatly  com- 
plicated for  a  time  the  struggle  between  the  English  Presbyterians  and  the 
English  Independents.  The  Presbyterians  wanted  to  treat  with  him  in  such  a 
way  as  to  get  rid  of  the  Army  of  Sectaries  which  the  Civil  War  had  created, 
and  establish,  after  all,  a  strict  and  universal  system  of  Presbytery  in  England, 
without  any  toleration.  The  Independents,  on  the  other  hand,  if  they  were  to 
treat  with  him  at  all.  wanted  to  make  terms  that  should  prevent  such  a  universal 
Presbyterian  tyranny,  and  secure  religious  liberty  for  themselves  and  the  sects. 

4)- ^ ^ 


n _n^ 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xxix 

Thinking  that  the  possession  of  him  by  the  Scots  gave  the  Presbyterians  the 
advantage,  the  Independents  and  the  Army  w^ere  for  a  time  furious  against  the 
Scots,  and  threatened  to  chase  them  out  of  England  and  take  Charles  from 
them  by  force.  At  length,  however,  Charles  refusing  to  take  the  Covenant  and 
consent  to  complete  Presbytery,  which  were  the  only  terms  on  which  the  Scots 
would  stand  by  him,  they  accepted  the  arrears  due  to  them  from  the  English, 
and  retired  into  Scotland,  leaving  the  King  to  the  custody  of  the  English  Par- 
liament (January,  1646-7).  Confined  by  the  Parliament  at  Holmby  House  in 
Northamptonshire,  and  still  refusing  to  come  to  any  definite  treaty  on  the  basis 
of  nineteen  Propositions  which  had  been  sent  to  him,  Charles  then  watched  the 
chances  in  his  favour  arising  out  of  the  contest  between  the  Presbyterians  and 
the  Independents  on  the  question  whether  the  Army  shouid  be  disbanded.  The 
Presbyterians,  as  the  war  was  over,  and  the  expense  of  the  Army  was  great, 
insisted  that  it  should  ;  but  the  Army  itself  refused  to  be  disbanded,  and  the 
Independents  abetted  them,  on  the  ground,  among  others,  that  there  would  be 
no  security  then  for  a  right  settlement  with  the  King  or  for  Liberty  of  Con- 
science in  England.  So  violent  grew  the  disput,  ethat  at  last  the  Army  dis- 
owned Parliamentary  authority,  moved  about  in  revolt,  and  seized  the  King  at 
Holmby  (June,  1647),  with  a  view  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  him  in  their 
own  way.  The  indignation  among  the  Presbyterians  was  then  tremendous; 
and  the  Londoners,  who  were  in  the  main  zealous  for  Presbyterian  uniformity, 
rose  in  tumult,  stormed  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  and  tried  to  coerce  them 
into  a  conflict  with  the  Army  for  its  forcible  disbandment  and  the  rescue  of  the 
King.  But  the  excitement  was  brief.  Fairfax  marched  the  Army  into  London ; 
the  tumults  were  quietly  suppressed  ;  a  few  of  the  leading  Presbyterians  in  Par- 
liament, whom  the  Army  regarded  as  its  chief  enemies,  were  expelled  from  their 
seats ;  and  the  Parliament  and  the  Army  fraternized,  and  agreed  to  forget  their 
differences  (Aug.  1647). — • — The  Army,  in  fact,  had  assumed  the  political  mastery 
ot  England.  It  was  a  strange  crisis  for  the  country,  but  for  the  King  it 
brought  chances  which  were  the  best  he  ever  had.  Since  the  Army  had  taken 
him  in  charge  they  had  treated  him  very  generously,  permitting  him  to  reside 
where  he  liked,  and  pay  visits  and  receive  visits  freely,  only  within  military 
bounds.  And  now,  restored  to  his  own  Palace  of  Hampton  Court,  v.-ith  his 
episcopal  chaplains  and  others  of  his  old  courtiers  about  him,  he  was  more  like 
a  sovereign  again  than  a  prisoner,  the  Army  only  guarding  him,  or  massed  in 
his  near  vicinity,  while  their  chiefs,  Fairfax,  Cromwell,  and  Ireton,  held  inter- 
views with  him,  and  tried  to  bring  him  to  a  compact.  The  terms  they  offered 
were  more  liberal  than  those  of  the  Presbyterians.  They  were  anxious  to  try 
the  experiment  of  a  restored  Royalty,  with  strong  constitutional  safeguards,  and 
with  an  arrangement  on  the  Church  question  which,  while  it  should  not  disturb 
the  Presbyterian  establishment  so  far  as  it  had  been  already  set  up,  should  save 
Charles's  personal  scruples  in  religion  as  much  as  possible,  and  guarantee  to  all 
non-Presbyterians  a  general  liberty  of  belief  and  worship. 

No  man  in  England  was  more  interested  in  all  this  than  Milton  in  Barbican. 


s- -a? 


XXX  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

Not  only  had  a  general  system  of  Presbyterian  Church  government  been  voted 
for  England ;  but  the  system  was  by  this  time  in  actual  operation  in  London 
and  in  Lancashire.  Each  London  parish  had  its  parochial  Church  Court ;  the 
parishes  had  been  grouped  into  "classes  "  or  Presbyteries,  each  with  its  Presby- 
terial  Court ;  nay,  the  First  Provincial  Synod  of  all  London  had  actually  met 
(May  1647).  Now,  if  this  system  had  been  as  strict  practically  as  it  ought  to 
have  been  by  the  theory  of  those  who  had  set  it  up  and  those  who  administered 
it,  Milton  and  all  men  like  him  would  have  fared  rather  badly.  A  marked 
heretic  and  sectary,  whose  name  stood  prominently  in  the  black  list  again  and 
again  published  by  the  London  Presbyterians,  he  would  have  been  called  to  ac- 
count by  the  Church  Courts,  and  remitted  by  them  to  the  Civil.  Only  the  fact 
that  the  Presbytery  set  up  was  imperfect  and  tentative,  with  no  real  powers 
as  yet  over  any  but  its  voluntary  adherents,  prevented  such  consequences  to 
Milton.  Little  wonder  then  that  he  followed  with  interest  the  movements  of 
those  whose  activity  stood  between  him  and  that  Presbyterian  domination  which 
would  have  made  such  consequences  inevitable.  Little  wonder  that  he  ap- 
proved heartily  of  all  the  Army  had  done,  and  regarded  their  march  into 
London  and  seizure  of  the  political  mastery  in  August,  1647,  as  not  only  a 
deliverance  for  England,  but  also  a  protection  to  himself. 

With  the  exception  of  one  Latin  Familiar  Epistle,  dated  April,  1647,  and 
addressed  to  his  well  remembered  friend,  Carlo  Dati  of  Florence,  we  can  assign 
to  Milton's  two  years  in  Barbican  only  the  following  pieces  of  writing : 

In  EJjigiei  ejus  Sculptorem  (Greek  Verses).     1645. 

Sonnet,  "  On  the  Detraction  which  followed  upon  my  writing  certain  Treatises." 

1645. 
Sonnet,  "On  the  same."     1645. 

Sonnet,  "  To  Mr.  Henry  I^awes  on  his  Airs."     1646. 
Sonnet,  "  On  the  Religious  Memory  of    Mrs.  Catherine  Thomson,  my  Christian 

Friend."     1646. 
On  the  New  Forcers  of  Conscience  (among  the  Sonnets).     1646. 
Ad  Joannein  Kousium,   Oxonicnsis  Academice  Bibliothecarium  (among  the  Sylva). 

1646-47. 
Apologus  de  Rustico  ei  Hero  (appended  to  Ekgiarum  Liber). 

LINCOLN'S   INN    FIELDS,    HIGH    HOLBORN,    LONDON. 

1647 — 1649:  cetat.  39 — 41, 

It  was  just  after  the  entry  of  the  Army  into  London,  Phillips  tells  us  (/.  e.  it 
was  in  September  or  October,  1647),  that  Milton,  tired  by  this  time  of  the  drudgery 
of  teaching,  and  desiring  quiet  for  his  own  pursuits,  "  left  his  great  house  in 
Barbican,  and  betook  himself  to  a  smaller  in  High  Holborn,  among  those  that 
open  backward  into  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields."  The  house  cannot  be  distinguished, 
and  is  probably  not  now  extant ;  but  its  site  was  somewhere  in  the  present  block 
between  Great  Turnstile  and  Little  Turnstile.  That  was  then  a  pleasant  and 
airy  neighbourhood. 


a- 6b 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xxxi 

Of  Milton's  occupations  during  the  eighteen  months  or  so  of  his  residence 
in  this  house  we  know  little  else  than  that  he  was  busy  over  three  prose  enter- 
prises he  had  projected  long  ago  and  had  prosecuted  at  intervals.  One  was  a 
collection  of  materials  for  a  Latin  Dictionary  ;  a  second  was  the  preparation  of 
a  System  of  Divinity  directly  from  the  Bible  ;  the  third  was  the  compilation  of  a 
History  of  Britain.  It  was  while  he  was  thus  studiously  engaged  that  the 
tragedy  of  the  Reign  of  Charles  came  to  a  conclusion. 

After  Cromwell  and  the  other  Army  Chiefs  had  persisted  in  negotiating  with 
Charles  at  Hampton  Court  till  the  Army  had  grown  impatient,  and  had  begun 
to  suspect  their  chiefs,  and  to  call  out  for  a  pure  Democracy  as  the  only  fit  con- 
summation, Charles  had  himself  precipitated  matters  by  escaping  from  the 
negotiation  and  the  Army  at  the  same  time,  and  taking  refuge  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight  (November,  1747).  Committed  to  safe  keeping  in  Carisbrooke  Castle, 
he  was  followed  thither  by  commissioners  from  Parliament,  charged  to  treat 
with  him  peremptorily  on  a  severe  recast  of  the  old  terms.  He  was  still  obdurate 
on  the  essential  points,  and  Parliament  formally  decreed  all  negotiation  with  him 
at  an  end  (January,  1647-8).  By  that  time  he  had  made  a  secret  treaty  with 
the  Scots,  from  which  he  expected  vast  results.  On  his  promise  to  confirm 
the  Covenant  and  Presbyterian  government  in  England,  and  to  suppress  Inde- 
pendency and  all  sects  and  heresies,  the  Scottish  Government,  then  in  power, 
had  undertaken  to  invade  England  in  his  behalf,  rouse  the  English  Presbyterians, 
and  restore  him  to  his  royal  rights.  Thus  in  May,  1648,  began  the  SECOND 
Civil  War.  Masses  of  the  English  Presbyterians,  including  the  Londoners, 
forgetting  all  the  past,  and  exulting  only  in  the  prospect  of  subduing  the  Inde- 
pendents, the  Army  and  the  Sectaries,  were  hurried  into  a  phrenzy  of  Royalism 
in  common  with  the  Old  Royalists  or  Cavaliers.  There  were  risings  in  various 
districts,  and  threats  of  rising  everywhere ;  and,  when  the  Scots  did  invade 
England  under  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  (July,  1648),  even  the  Parliament  began 
to  falter.  Cromwell's  marvellous  defeat  of  the  Scots  in  the  three  days'  battle 
of  Preston  (August  17-19),  and  Fairfax's  extinction  of  the  insurrection  in  the 
South-Eastern  Counties  by  the  capture  of  Colchester  after  a  six  weeks'  siege 
(August  28),  ended  the  brief  tempest  and  brought  Charles  to  his  doom.  There 
was  still  a  farther  treaty  with  him  in  the  Isle  of  Wight  on  the  part  of  the 
Parliament,  the  Army  looking  on  with  anger,  but  reserving  its  interference  to 
the  last.  The  treaty  having  failed  like  all  the  rest,  the  Army,  which  had  resolved 
in  no  case  to  be  bound  by  it,  did  interfere.  They  brought  Charles  from  the 
Isle  of  Wight ;  they  purged  the  Parliament  of  some  scores  of  its  members,  so 
as  to  reduce  it  to  a  body  fit  for  their  purposes  ;  they  compelled  the  Parliament 
so  purged  to  set  up  a  Court  of  High  Justice  for  the  trial  of  the  King ;  and, 
though  many  even  of  the  Independents  shrank  at  the  final  moment,  the  sen- 
tence of  this  Court  was  executed,  Jan.  30,  1648-9,  in  front  of  Whitehall.  Eng- 
land then  passed  into  the  condition  of  a  Republic,  to  be  governed  by  the  Rump 
of  the  Lotig  Parliament,  i.  e.,  that  fragment  of  the  Commons  House  which  the 
Army  had  left  in  existence,  in  conjunction  with  a  Council  of  State,  consisting 

^ ^ 


^ ^ 


xxxii  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

of  forty-one  members  of  the  Rump  chosen  as  a  Ministry  or  Executive.  Scot- 
land, monarchical  still,  proclaimed  Charles  II.,  and  sent  envoys  to  him  in 
Holland. 

The  pieces  from  Milton's  pen  in  High  Holborn  during  this  rapid  rush  of 
events  are  few  enough,  but  are  characteristic  : — 

Nine  of  the  Psalms  (Psalms  LXXX. — LXXXVlil.)  done  into  Metre.     April,  1648. 
Sonnet,  "On  the  Lord  General  Fairfax  at  the  Siege  of  Colchester."     September, 
1648. 

AT   CHARING   CROSS:    AND    IN    SCOTLAND    YARD,  WHITEHALL. 

1649 — 1652  :  (Xtai.  41 — 44, 

Milton  at  once  adhered  to  the  Republic,  and  in  a  very  public  and  emphatic 
manner,  by  the  publication  (Feb.,  1648-9)  of  his  "  Tenure  of  Kings  and  Magis- 
trates, proTing  that  it  is  lawful,  and  hath  been  held  s^  through  all  ages,  for 
any  who  hai>e  the  poiaer,  to  call  to  account  a  Tyrant,  or  wicked  King,  and, 
after  due  conviction,  to  depose  and  put  him  to  death,  if  the  ordinary  Ilfagis- 
trate  have  neglected  to  do  it.''  It  was  a  thorough-going  Republican  pamphlet, 
defending  in  every  particular  the  recent  proceedings  of  the  English  Army,  and 
containing  also  a  severe  invective  against  the  whole  life  and  reign  of  Charles. 
It  had  been  begun  and  almost  finished  before  the  King's  death. 

What  more  natural  than  that  the  Government  of  the  new  Commonwealth 
should  seek  to  attach  to  its  official  service  the  author  of  such  a  pamphlet,  who 
was  moreover  a  man  of  such  merits  and  antecedents  otherwise .''  Hardly,  in 
fact,  had  the  first  Council  of  State  been  constituted,  with  Bradshaw  for  its 
President,  when  Milton  was  offered,  and  accepted  (March,  1649),  the  post  of 
Secretary  for  Foreign  Tongues  to  the  Council.  The  salary  was  to  be  about 
300/.  a  year  in  the  money  of  that  day  ;  which  was  equivalent  to  about  1,050/.  a 
year  now.  The  General  Secretary  to  the  Council,  at  a  somewhat  higher  salary, 
was  a  Mr.  Walter  Frost,  appointed  by  the  Parliament ;  under  whom  was  his 
son,  Walter  Frost,  junior,  as  Assistant-Secretary,  with  the  necessary  clerks. 
The  Secretaryship  for  Foreign  Tongues,  called  also  the  Latin  Secretaryship, 
was  a  special  and  independent  office,  instituted  by  the  Council  itself,  chiefly  in 
view  of  expected  correspondence  between  the  Commonwealth  and  Foreign 
Powers.  It  had  been  agreed  that  all  letters  from  the  Commonwealtlxto  Foreign 
States  and  Princes  should  be  in  Latin  ;  but,  as  the  replies  might  be  in  various 
foreign  tongues,  a  knowledge  of  such  tongues  would  be  useful  in  the  Secretary. 
Altogether  Mr.  Milton  was"  thought  the  very  man  for  the  post.  While  Mr. 
Frost,  as  the  General  Secretary,  would  be  always  present  at  the  Council  meet- 
ings, and  engrossed  in  their  ordinary  and  multifarious  business,  Mr.  Milton 
would  have  to  give  attendance  for  the  most  part  daily,  but  only  for  portions  of 
the  day.  His  duties,  I  should  say,  were  to  be  very  much  those  of  the  head 
Secretary  of  our  present  Foreign  Office  under  the  Minister  for  that  department, 
with  the  difference  that  the  Council  of  State  then  managed  the  Foreign  minis- 

^ ^ 


S~^ : -e, 


MEMO/ J?   OF  MILTON.  xxxili 

tr^-  as  well  as  every  other  department  of  State,  and  that  the  diplomatic  corre- 
spondence of  the  Commonwealth  was  not  likely  to  be  so  extensive  but  that  one 
head  Secretary,  with  a  clerk  or  two,  could  manage  it  all. 

The  duties,  at  all  events,  made  it  convenient  that  Milton  should  reside  near 
to  the  Council,  the  meetings  of  which  were,  for  the  first  month  or  two,  in  Derby 
House,  close  to  the  Houses  of  Parliament,  but  afterwards  permanently  in  White- 
hall. Accordingly,  immediately  on  his  appointment,  he  left  his  house  in  High 
Holborn,  and  took  lodgings  "at  one  Thomson's,  next  door  to  the  Bull  Head 
Tavern  at  Charing  Cross,  opening  into  the  Spring  Garden."  This  was  only  till 
official  apartments  could  be  prepared  for  him  in  Whitehall ;  and  in  November, 
1649,  seven  or  eight  months  after  he  had  began  his  Secretarysh'p,  such  apart- 
ments were  assigned  him  by  the  Council.  They  were  in  that  end  of  the  exten- 
sive palace  of  Old  Whitehall  which  was  called  Scotland  Yard.  Not  a  few 
members  of  the  Council  of  State,  and  others  of  the  Parliament,  were  similarly 
accommodated  in  Whitehall ;  which  had,  in  fact,  been  converted  into  a  range  of 
Government  offices.  Milton  occupied  his  Whitehall  or  Scotland  Yard  rooms 
for  a  little  more  than  two  years,  or  till  near  the  end  of  the  third  year  of  his 
Secretaryship.  After  he  had  been  in  them  for  some  time  the  Council  voted 
him  some  of  the  late  King's  hangings,  or  curtains  and  tapestry,  for  the  better 
furnishing  of  the  rooms. 

To  give  the  details  of  Milton's  liie  in  ths  first  years  of  his  Latin  Secretary- 
ship to  the  Council  of  State  would  be  really,  in  some  measure,  to  narrate  the 
historj'  of  the  English  Com.monwealth,  so  exactly  at  the  centre  of  affairs  was 
he  by  his  official  position,  and  with  so  many  of  the  public  proceedings  of  the 
time  was  he  personally  concerned.  It  would  be  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  his 
sole  employment  was  in  drafting  letters  in  Latin  to  foreign  Governments. 
Among  the  State  Documents  of  English  histor}',  indeed,  from  1649  onwards, 
there  is  a  long  series  of  Latin  letters  to  Foreign  Courts  and  Princes,  all  of  Mil- 
ton's penning,  and  some  of  them,  though  Milton  only  embodied  his  instructions, 
unm.istakeably  his  own  in  form  and  expression.  It  was  part  of  his  duty,  how- 
ever, not  only  to  prepare  such  letters  for  the  approbation  of  the  Council  or  of 
Parliament  (for  some  of  them  had  to  be  read  in  Parliament  and  approved  there 
before  the  Speaker  signed  and  despatched  them),  but  also  to  translate  foreign 
papers  and  be  in  attendance  at  interviews  of  the  Council,  or  of  Committees  of 
the  Council  or  of  Parliament,  with  foreign  ambassadors  and  envoys.  Indeed, 
sometimes  he  had  himself  to  wait  on  such  ambassadors  or  envoys,  and  convey 
delicate  messages  to  them,  in  the  name  of  the  Council.  In  this  way  his 
acquaintanceship  among  eminent  foreigners  living  in  London,  or  visiting  Lon- 
don, came  gradually  to  be  very  extensive.  Gradually  only  ;  for  in  the  first 
years  of  his  official  life,  while  Foreign  Powers  as  yet,  with  few  exceptions,  held 
aloof  from  the  Commonwealth,  the  particular  duties  of  the  Foreign  Secretary- 
ship were  far  from  onerous.  A  despatch  once  in  two  months  to  the  King  of 
Spain,  the  King  of  Portugal,  the  Hamburg  Senate,  etc.,  is  about  the  measure 
of  the  preserved  Foreign  Correspondence  for  the  years  1649-1651.     From  the 


s- -^ 


xxxiv  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

first,  therefore,  the  Council  had  availed  themselves  of  Milton's  services  in  very 
miscellaneous  work.  If  they  wanted  a  book,  or  a  set  of  dangerous  papers,  re- 
ported on,  with  a  view  to  a  prosecution  for  sedition,  they  referred  the  task  to 
Mr.  Milton  ;  if  there  were  any  dealing  with  an  author  or  a  printer  about  some- 
thing to  be  published,  Mr.  Milton  was  requested  to  see  to  it ;  everything,  in 
short,  involving  literary  knowledge  or  judgment  went  to  Mr.  Milton  rather  than 
to  Mr.  Frost.  Occasionally  he  brought  some  matter  of  his  own  accord  before 
the  Council,  or  used  his  influence  in  behalf  of  some  scholar  or  man  of  letters, 
such  as  Davenant,  who  had  got  into  difficulty  through  his  Royalism.  One  would 
hardly  have  expected  to  find  the  author  of  the  Areopagitica  acting  as  an  official 
licenser  of  the  press ;  but,  for  a  whole  year,  I  have  distinctly  ascertained, 
Milton  was  the  official  licenser  of  the  newspaper  called  Mercicrius  Poliiicus. 
As  it  was,  in  fact,  a  Government  organ,  conducted  by  Mr.  Marchamount  Need- 
ham,  who  had  formerly  been  a  Royalist  pamphleteer  and  journalist,  the  censor- 
ship may  be  supposed  to  have  implied  a  superintending  edito—hip.  To  Milton's 
Secretaryship  was  also  attached  an  "  inspection  into  "  the  State  Paper  Office  in 
Whitehall,  i.e.  a  kind  of  keepership  of  the  Records.  Nor  was  this  all.  When 
the  Council  of  State  had  chosen  Milton  as  their  Secretary  for  Foreign  Tongues, 
they  had  secured,  as  they  knew,  a  man  fit  to  be  the  Literary  Champion  of  the 
still  struggling  Commonwealth.  Three  publications  of  Milton,  accordingly,  all 
done  at  the  order  or  by  the  request  of  the  Council  of  State,  have  to  be  especially 
mentioned  as  feats  of  the  first  three  years  of  his  Secretaryship.  "  Obsc!"i>aiioiis 
on  Orniond's  Articles  of  Peace  with  iJte  Irish  Rebels  and  on  a  Representation 
of  the  Scotch  Presbytery  of  Belfast"  is  the  title  (somewhat  abbreviated)  of  a 
pamphlet  of  Milton's,  published  by  authority  in  May,  1649,  when  Charles  II. 
had  been  proclaimed  in  Ireland,  and  the  Marquis  of  Ormond  was  trying  to 
unite  in  his  cause  the  native  Irish  Roman  Catholics,  the  English  settlers,  and 
the  Ulster  Presbyterians.  Of  far  greater  importance  was  the  Eikonoklastes 
{i.  e.  Image  Breaker),  published  in  October,  1649,  in  answer  to  the  famous 
"^//'i';/  ^a^////v  (/.  ^.  Royal  Image)  or  Portraiture  of  his  Sacred  Majesty  in 
his  solitudes  and  sufferings,"  professing  to  be  meditations  and  prayers  written 
by  Charles  I.  in  his  last  years.  The  "  King's  Book,"  as  it  was  called,  then  all 
but  universally  believed  to  be  really  by  Charles,  though  the  evidence  that  it  was 
a  fabrication  in  his  interest,  has  long  been  regarded  as  conclusive,  had  appeared 
immediately  after  Charles'  death,  had  circulated  in  different  forms  and  in 
thousands  of  copies,  and  had  become  a  kind  of  Bible  with  the  Royalists. 
Milton's  answer  to  it,  in  which  he  criticised  both  the  book  and  the  dead  King 
with  merciless  severity,  was  received,  therefore,  as  a  signal  service  to  the 
Commonwealth.  More  momentous  still  was  \\\s  l^Mm  "  Defensio  pro  Populo 
A7iglica:io  "  ("  Defence  for  the  People  of  England  "),  published  in  April,  1651, 
in  reply  to  the  defence  of  Charles  I.  and  attack  upon  the  English  Commonwealth, 
which  had  been  published  in  Holland  more  than  a  year  before  by  the  great 
Leyden  Professor,  Salmasius,  at  the  instance  and  at  the  expense  of  Charles  II. 
(see  Introduction  to  the  Latin  Epigrams  on  Salmasius).     Never  in  the  world  had 

^fe- ^ 


S (b 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xxxv 

one  human  being  inflicted  on  another  a  more  ruthless  or  appalling-  castigation 
than  Milton  here  inflicted  on  perhaps  the  most  renowned  scholar  of  his  day  in  all 
Europe,  the  veteran  whom  his  learned  contemporaries  called  "  The  Wonderful," 
and  for  the  honour  of  possessing  whom  Princes  and  Courts  contended  ;  and  just 
in  proportion  to  the  celebrity  of  the  victim  so  murdered,  trampled  on,  and 
gashed,  was  the  amazement  over  the  man  that  had  done  the  deed.  The  book 
had  been  out  a  little  more  than  two  months  when  the  Council  of  State,  after 
offering  a  money  reward  to  Milton,  which  he  declined,  passed  and  inserted  in 
their  Minutes  (June  17,  165 1)  this  vote  of  thanks  to  him  :  "  The  Council,  taking 
"  notice  of  the  many  good  services  performed  by  Mr.  John  Milton,  their  Secre- 
"  tary  for  Foreign  Tongues,  to  this  State  and  Commonwealth,  particularly  of 
"his  Book  in  vindication  of  the  Parliament  and  the  People  of  England  against 
"  the  calumnies  and  invectives  of  Salmasius,  have  thought  fit  to  declare  their 
"  resentment  and  good  acceptance  of  the  same,  and  that  the  thanks  of  the 
"Council  be  returned  to  Mr.  Milton,  and  their  sense  represented  in  that 
"  behalf."  But  it  was  abroad,  and  among  foreigners  in  London,  that  the  Reply 
to  Salmasius  excited  the  most  lively  interest.  From  all  the  embassies  in 
London  Milton  received  formal  calls  or  speedy  messages  of  compliment  ex- 
pressly on  account  of  the  book ;  and  in  Holland,  France,  Germany,  Sweden, 
Denmark,  and  elsewhere,  copies  were  in  extraordinary  demand,  and  a  topic  of 
talk  among  scholars  for  months  was  the  mangling  which  the  great  Salmasius  had 
received  from  one  of  "the  English  mastiffs."  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that 
before  the  end  of  the  year  1651,  in  consequence  of  this  one  book,  Milton's  name 
was  more  widely  known  on  the  Continent  than  that  of  any  other  Englishman 
then  living,  except  Oliver  Cromwell. 

Though  Cromwell  had  been,  of  course,  a  member  of  the  Council  of  State 
from  the  first,  his  labours  through  the  greater  part  of  the  years  1649-1651  had 
been  elsewhere  than  at  Whitehall.  From  August,  1649,  to  June,  1650,  he  had 
been  in  Ireland,  as  Lord  Lieutenant  for  the  Commonwealth,  crushing  the  Roy- 
alist confederacy  there,  and  reconquering  the  country  after  its  eight  years  of 
Rebellion.  From  July,  1650,  to  August,  1651,  he  had  been  in  Scotland,  where 
Charles  II.  had  meanwhile  been  received  as  King,  and  whence  the  Scots  threat- 
ened to  bring  him  into  England.  The  battle  of  Dunbar  (Sept.  3,  1650),  and 
subsequent  successes,  had  already  made  Cromwell  master  of  all  the  South  of 
Scotland,  when,  by  a  sudden  movement,  Charles  and  the  Scottish  Army  escaped 
his  vigilance  and  burst  into  England,  obliging  him  to  follow  in  pursuit.  Having 
beaten  them  in  the  great  battle  of  Worcester  (Sept.  3,  1651),  he  was  back  at 
Whitehall  at  last,  the  acknowledged  saviour  of  the  Commonwealth  and  supreme 
chief  of  England.  The  young  King  was  again  in  exile,  and  the  Commonwealth, 
now  including  Scotland,  Ireland,  and  the  English  colonies  and  dominions,  was 
to  all  appearance  one  of  the  most  stable,  as  it  was  certainly  one  of  the  most 
powerful,  of  the  European  States.  Such  foreign  Princes  and  Governments  as 
had  hitherto  stood  aloof,  hastened  to  send  their  embassies  and  apologies,  and 
Milton's  duties  in  the  special  work  of  his  Secretaryship  for  Foreign  Tongues 
were  likely  to  be  more  burdensome  than  they  had  been. 

^ -4^ 


s -^ 


xxxvi  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

It  is  significant  that  the  only  pieces  of  verse  known  to  have  come  from  Mil- 
ton's pen  during  the  three  years  of  his  life  just  sketched  are  these  : — 

Scrap  of  Verse  from  Seneca,  inculcating  Tyrannicide,  translated  in  Tenure  of 
Kings  and  Magistrates  (now  appended  to  Minor  English  Poems).   1649. 

In  Salmasii  Htoidredam  :  Scrap  of  Latin  parody  in  Defensio  Pt  itiia  (now  annexed 
to  the  Sylvie). 

PETTY    FRANCE,    WESTMINSTER. 

1652 — l66o:^/rt/.  44 — 52. 

In  the  beginning  of  1652,  for  some  reason  or  other,  Milton  removed  from 
the  official  rooms  in  Whitehall  into  a  house  which  he  had  taken  close  at  hand. 
It  was  "  a  pretty  garden-house  in  Petty  France,  Westminster,  next  door  to  the 
Lord  Scudamore's,  and  opening  into  St.  James's  Park."  It  still  exists,  and  is, 
I  believe,  the  only  one  of  Milton's  many  London  houses  now  left.  No  one  look- 
ing now  at  No.  1 9  York  Street,  Westminster,  a  dingy  old  house,  let  out  in  apart- 
ments, in  a  dense  and  dingy  street  of  poor  houses  and  shops,  can  imagine  with- 
out difficulty  that  it  was  once  the  pretty  garden-house,  opening  into  St.  James's 
Park,  which  Milton  occupied.  That  is  the  house,  however ;  and  any  one  can 
go  and  see  it.  Jeremy  Bentham,  whose  residence  was  in  the  neighbourhood,  was 
afterwards  its  proprietor:  and  William  Hazlitt  lived  in  it  from  18 ri  onwards. 
Milton  was  to  inhabit  it  for  eight  years,  the  longest  term  in  which  we  have  found 
him  in  any  one  house  yet  since  he  left  his  native  I5read  Street.  This  term 
of  eight  years,  however,  subdivides  itself  biographically  into  three  portions  : 

Last  Fifteen  Months  of  the  Commonwealth  {Jan.,  165 1-2 — April, 
^653) '. — As  the  Council  of  State  was  itself  elected  annually  by  the  Parliament, 
with  changes  oi  \{?>  personnel  tve:ry  year,  Milton's  Latin  Secretaryship,  it  will  be 
understood,  had  also  been  renewed  from  year  to  year  by  express  appointment  of 
each  Council.  In  1652  he  entered  on  his  fourth  year  of  office.  There  was 
more  to  do  this  year  in  the  way  of  drafting  foreign  despatches  and  attending  at 
meetings  with  ambassadors  than  there  had  been  previously  ;  and,  accordingly, 
Milton's  preserved  Latin  despatches  of  the  year,  as  given  in  his  printed  works, 
are  about  as  numerous  as  those  for  the  three  preceding  years  put  together.  Yet 
it  was  precisely  in  the  midst  of  this  increase  of  work  that  Milton  became  inca- 
pable, as  one  would  suppose,  of  Secretarial  work  of  any  kind.  The  blindness 
which  had  been  gradually  coming  on  for  some  years  (one  eye  having  failed 
before  the  other),  and  which  had  been  accelerated  by  his  persistence  in  his  book 
against  Salmasius  in  spite  of  the  warnings  of  his  physicians,  had  become  serious 
before  his  removal  to  Petty  France,  and  was  total  about  the  middle  of  1652. 
With  such  a  calamity  added  to  his  almost  constant  ill  health  otherwise,  one 
would  have  expected  the  resignation  of  his  Secretaryship.  But  the  Common- 
wealih  had  no  disposition  to  part  with  its  literary  champion  ;  and  arrangements 
were  made  for  continuing  him  in  office.  Mr.  Walter  Frost,  senior,  having  died 
in  March,  1652,  Mr.  John  Thurloe  had  been  appointed  his  successor  in  the 

^ ^ 


^ Q? 


MEMOIR    OF  MILTON.  xxxvii 

General  Secretaryship  to  the  Council,  with  a  salary  of  600/.  a  year  (worth  about 
2000/.  a  year  now)  ;  a  naturalized  German,  Mr.  Weckherlin,  formerly  in  the 
service  of  Charles  I.  and  of  Parliament,  was  brought  in  to  assist  Milton  in  the 
Foreign  department ;  and  for  occasional  service  in  translating  documents  Mr. 
Thurloe  found  other  persons  as  they  were  wanted.  Milton  was  distinctly  retained 
with  his  full  rank  and  title  as  Secretary  for  Foreign  Tongues  to  the  Council ;  and 
there  is  positive  evidence  that  he  went  on  performing  some  portion  of  his 
old  duties.  What  one  sees,  in  fact,  from  the  middle  of  1652  onwards,  is  the 
blind  Milton  led  across  the  Park  every  other  day,  when  his  health  permitted, 
from  his  house  in  Petty  France  to  "Whitehall,  sitting  in  the  Council  as  before 
when  he  had  to  catch  the  substance  of  any  resolution  that  had  to  be  embodied 
in  a  Latin  letter,  or  perhaps  sometimes  only  receiving  the  necessary  information 
from  Mr.  Thurloe,  and  then  either  dictating  the  required  document  on  the  spot, 
or  returning  home  to  compose  it  more  at  leisure,  Whatever  Weckherlin  and 
others  did  to  help,  all  the  more  important  despatches  were  still  expected  from 
Milton  himself,  and  at  receptions  of  ambassadors  and  other  foreign  agents 
he  was  still  the  proper  official. 

Salmasius,  who  had  been  in  Sweden  when  Milton's  Answer  to  him  appeared, 
had  returned  to  Holland  in  no  enviable  state  of  mind.  He  had  been  vowing 
revenge,  and  was  even  rumoured  to  have  a  reply  ready  for  the  press  ;  but  none 
was  forthcoming.  Meanwhile  several  attacks  on  Milton  in  his  behalf  by  other 
persons  were  published  abroad  anonymously  and  in  Latin.  One  of  these,  a  very 
poor  thing,  attributed  at  the  time  to  the  Irish  ex-Bishop  Bramhall,  I:)ut  really  by 
a  refugee  English  preacher  named  Rowland,  was  handed  over  by  Milton  for 
answer  to  his  younger  nephew,  John  Phillips.  The  result  w-as  "  Joanm's 
Philippi  Angli  Responsio  ad  Apologiatn  aiionytni  ctijitsdavi  teiicbrt'oiiis" 
(1652),  a  pamphlet  so  revised  and  touched  by  Milton  that  it  may  be  accounted 
partly  his.  He  reserved  wholly  for  himself  the  task  of  replying  to  a  far  more 
formidable  and  able  attack  made  upon  him  by  an  anonymous  friend  of  Salmasius 
under  the  title  "  Regit  Clamor  ad  Calian  advcrsics  Parrzci'das  Angli'cajios" 
("  Cry  of  the  King's  Blood  to  Heaven  against  the  English  Parricides").  Pub- 
lished at  the  Hague  late  in  1652,  this  book  contained  such  charges  against  Mil- 
ton's personal  character  that  he  could  not  let  it  pass;  but  the  Answer  was 
deferred.  For  the  rest,  the  literary  relics  of  the  last  fifteen  months  of  his  Secre- 
taryship to  the  Commonwealth  consist  only  of  three  Latin  Familiar  Epistles,  two 
of  them  to  foreigners,  and  the  following  two  Sonnets  : — 

Sonnet,   "  To  the  Lord  General  Cromwell."     May,  1652.  • 

Sonnet,  "  To  Sir  Henry  Vane  the  younger."     Put  into  Vane's  liands  July  3,  1652. 

Cromwell's  Dictatorship  and  Protectorate  {April,  1653 — Sept., 
1658)  : — The  Sonnets  to  Cromwell  and  Vane  were  written  just  at  the  time  when 
these  two  chiefs  of  the  Republic  were  coming  to  an  irreconcileable  difference. 
Cromwell,  and  the  whole  Army  at  his  back,  had  made  up  their  minds  that  the 
time  had  come  for  a  more  regular  Government  of  the  Commonwealth  than  the 


^ ^ 


s- -^ 


xxxviii  MEMOIR    OF  MILTON. 

anomalous  makeshift  by  the  Rump  of  the  Long  Parhament,  consisting  of  about 
a  hundred  and  twenty  persons  at  the  utmost,  surviving  out  of  a  House  of  five 
hundred  that  had  been  returned  by  EngUsh  constituencies  as  far  back  as  1640. 
The  question  of  a  dissolution  and  the  election  of  a  new  and  complete  Parlia- 
ment on  a  reformed  system  of  popular  suffrage,  including  all  that  would  be 
faithful  to  the  Commonwealth,  had  again  and  again  been  discussed,  and  a 
rather  distant  day  for  a  dissolution  at  last  fixed.  There  were,  however,  mis- 
understandings on  the  subject,  with  signs  that  Vane  and  others  were  bent  on  a 
policy  antagonistic  to  the  views  of  Cromwell  and  the  Army.  On  the  20th  of 
April,  1653,  Cromwell  concluded  the  business  by  going  to  the  House  with  a 
company  of  musketeers,  turning  out  Vane  and  the  other-fifty-two  members  who 
were  then  sittmg,  locking  the  doors,  and  giving  the  key  and  the  mace  into  the 
keeping  of  one  of  his  colonels.  He  dissolved  the  Council  of  State  the  same 
dav.  The  Commonwealth  proper  being  thus  at  an  end,  there  ensued  the  five 
years  and  four  months  of  Cromwell's  supremacy.  It  was  divided  into  (i)  what 
maybe  called  his  Interim  Dictatorship  (April — Dec,  1653),  when  he  governed, 
still  as  "  Lord  General  Cromwell,"  by  the  aid  of  a  Council  of  his  officers,  wait- 
ing the  issue  of  the  special  Parliament  of  select  persons  from  England,  Scotland 
and  Ireland,  which  he  had  summoned  for  the  emergency ;  and  (2)  his  Protec- 
torate (Dec,  1653 — Sept.,  1658),  when  he  ruled  with  the  title  of  "  Lord  Pro- 
tector." The  Protectorate  itself  passed  through  two  phases.  Till  May,  1657, 
Cromwell  was  still  in  a  manner  but  the  elected  head  of  a  Republic  ;  but  thence 
to  his  death,  Sept.  3,  1658,  he  was  virtually  King. 

Though  all  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  were  obliged  to  acquiesce  in 
Cromwell's  supremacy,  and  though  in  the  course  of  his  powerful  rule,  he- 
succeeded  in  winning  general  respect,  and  especially  in  making  the  entire  popu- 
lation of  the  British  Islands  proud  of  the  position  asserted  for  them  in  Europe  by 
his  magnanimous  foreign  policy,  yet  the  Oliverians,  as  his  more  express  and 
thorough  adherents  were  called,  were  but  a  section  of  the  former  Army-men 
and  Republicans.  Milton,  whose  admiration  for  Cromwell  had  all  along  been 
immense,  was  decidedly  one  of  those  Oliverians.  He  had  approved  even  of 
Cromwell's  forcible  dissolution  of  the  Parliament  and  the  Council  of  State  which 
he  himself  served  ;  and  he  regarded  Cromwell's  Dictatorship  and  Protectorate 
as  the  best  possible  embodiment  for  the  time  of  the  principles  of  real  Repub- 
licanism. It  need  be  no  matter  for  surprise,  therefore,  that  Milton  was  con- 
tinued in  his  Latin  Secretaryship.  There  was  conjoined  with  him,  indeed,  in 
1653,  a  Philip  Meadows,  entitled  also  "Latin  Secretary;"  Milton's  friend, 
Andrew  Marvell,  was  brought  in  at  a  later  time  to  give  some  assistance  ;  and 
there  was  some  fluctuation  of  Milton's  salary  in  the  course  of  the  Protectorate. 
In  1655,  on  a  general  reduction  of  official  salaries,  it  was  ordered  that  Milton's 
should  be  reduced  to  1 50/.  per  anman,  but  that  the  same  should  be  settled  on 
him  for  his  life.  Actually,  however,  this  sum  seems  to  have  been  raised  to  200/. 
a  year  (worth  about  700/.  a  year  now)  ;  with  which  salary,  and  with  Meadows  as 
his  coadjutor,  doing  all  the  routine  work,  Milton  remained  the  Latin  Secretary 
E.xtraordinarv. 


4> 


S- Qp 


MEMOIR    OF  MILTON.  xxxix 

Among  his  preserved  Latin  State  Letters,  besides  about  half  a  dozen  written 
in  the  latter  part  of  1653  for  Cromweirs  Council  of  Officers  or  the  special  Par- 
liament he  had  called  in  his  Dictatorship,  there  are  as  many  as  eighty  belonging 
to  the  Protectorate  itself,  and  despatched  as  Cromwell's  own  letters,  with  his 
signature,  "Oliverius,  Anglicp,  Scotia,  Hibernice,  &^c.,  Pro/ecior."  Most 
famous,  perhaps,  among  these  now  are  the  Letters  written  in  1655  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  massacre  of  the  Vaudois  Protestants.  All  in  all,  though  Milton's 
secretarial  services  under  the  Protectorate  must  have  been  confined  mainly  to 
such  eloquent  expression  in  Latin  of  the  Protector's  more  important  messages 
to  Foreign  Powers,  it  is  a  memorable  fact  in  the  history  of  England,  that  he  was 
one  of  Cromwell's  faithful  officials  to  the  last,  often  in  colloquy  with  him,  and 
sometimes  in  ceremonial  attendance  at  his  Court.  For  any  colloquy,  Milton, 
with  his  clear,  vague  eyes,  would  be  led  into  the  room  where  Cromwell  was  ;  and 
at  any  Court  Concert,  or  the  like,  Milton,  if  he  came,  would  be  conducted  gently 
to  a  seat. 

In  1653  or  1654  Milton's  wife  died,  still  a  very  young  woman,  leaving  him, 
at  the  age  of  forty-five,  a  widower  with  three  daughters,  Anne,  Mary  and  Debo- 
rah. The  eldest,  who  was  somewhat  deformed,  was  but  in  her  eighth  year ;  the 
second  was  in  her  sixth  ;  the  youngest  was  a  mere  infant.  A  son,  born  in  Scot- 
land Yard,  between  the  second  daughter  and  the  third,  had  not  survived.  How 
the  motherless  little  creatures  were  brought  up  in  the  house  in  Petty  France, 
under  the  charge  of  their  blind  father,  no  one  knows.  It  may  have  been  a  happy 
change  for  them  when  he  married  again,  Nov.  12,  1656,  But  the  second  wife, 
known  merely  as  Catherine  Woodcock,  daughter  of  a  Captain  Woodcock  of 
Hackney,  died  in  childbirth  Feb.  10,  1657-8,  only  fifteen  months  after  the  mar- 
riage, the  child  dying  also  ;  and  thus,  in  the  last  year  of  Cromwell's  Protectorate, 
Milton,  in  his  fiftieth  year,  was  again  a  widower,  with  his  three  motherless  girls, 
the  eldest  not  twelve  years  old.  Fancy,  in  the  house  in  Petty  France,  the  blind 
father,  a  kind  of  stern  King  Lear,  mostly  by  himself,  and  the  three  young  things 
pattering  about,  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  at  their  own  will  or  in  the  charge  of 
some  servant !     It  was  to  be  tragic  in  the  end  both  for  him  and  them. 

What  of  Milton's   independent  literary  activity  through  the  five  years  of 

Cromwell's  Protectorate  ?     For  a  blind  man  it  was  considerable. Besides 

fourteen  of  his  Latin  Familiar  Epistles,  most  of  them  to  foreign  friends,  there 
belong  to  the  period  of  the  Protectorate  two  of  Milton's  most  substantial  Latin 
pamphlets.  The  first,  which  appeared  in  1654,  was  his  Reply  to  that  attack 
upon  him,  already  mentioned,  which  had  been  published  at  the  Hague  in  1652 
by  some  anonymous  friend  of  Salmasius.  While  defending  his  own  character 
in  this  Reply,  Milton  made  it  also  a  new  defence  of  the  English  nation  ;  and 
hence  it  was  entitled  "  yoanm's  Milioni  Atigli pro  Populo  Anglicano  Defe^isio 
Sectinda  "  ("  Second  Defence  of  John  Milton,  Englishman,  for  the  English 
People").  Both  historically  and  autobiographically  it  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  of  Milton's  pamphlets.  It  contains  a  splendid  panegyric  on  Crom- 
well, with  notices  of  Fairfax,  Bradshaw,  Fleetwood,  Lambert,  Whalley,  Overton, 


s -^ 


xl  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

and  others.  Milton  assumes  throughout  that  the  author  of  the  book  to  which  he 
was  replying  was  a  certain  Alexander  More,  and  the  license  he  gives  himself  in 
his  personal  abuse  of  this  More  is  something  frightful.  More,  who  had  only  had 
a  hand  in  the  publication  of  the  book  that  had  given  the  offence  (the  real  author 
of  which  was  Peter  Du  Moulin,  afterwards  Prebendary  of  Canterbury),  replied 
to  Milton's  attack,  and  so  drew  from  him  in  1655  another  pamphlet,  entitled 
"  Joamn's  Mil  font  Angli  pro  se  Defctisio  cotitra  Alcxandrit7n  Moriim  " 
("Defence  of  John  Milton,  Englishman,  for  Himself,  against  Alexander  More  "), 
to  which  was  annexed  "  Author  is  ad  AlexaJtdri  Mori  Supplement  urn  Re- 
sponsio"  ("The  Author's  Reply  to  Alexander  More's  Supplement").      This 

closed  the  controversy. In  the  shape  of  Verse  we  have  from  Milton,  through 

the  time  of  Cromwell's  rule,  the  following : — 

Eight  of  the  Psalms  (Psalms  i. — viii.)  done  into  Verse.     Aug.,   1653. 

The  Fifth  Ode  of  Horace,  Lib.  I.,  translated. 

De  A/oro  (Scrap  from  the  Defensio  Secitnda,  now   appended  to  Elegiarum  Liber). 

1654. 
In  Salmasium  (another   scrap  from  the  Defensio  Seciinda,  now  appended  to  the 

Sylvce).     1654. 
Ad  Cknstinani,  Suecornm  /!egi7tain,  nomine  Croinwelli  (appended  to  the  Elegiarum 

Liber,  as  attributed  to  Milton).     1654. 
Sonnet,  "On  the  late  Massacre  in  Piedmont."     1655. 
Sonnet  on  his  Blindness. 
Sonnet  to  Mr.  Lawrence. 
Sonnet  to  Cyriack  Skinner. 
Sonnet  to  the  Same.     1655. 
Sonnet  to  the  Memory  of  his  Second  Wife.     1658. 

A  fact  of  special  interest,  for  which  there  is  very  good  authority,  is  that  the 
actual  composition  of  Paradise  Lost  was  begun  in  the  last  year  of  Cromwell's 
Protectorate,/,  e.  in  1658,  about  the  date  of  the  last  of  Milton's  Sonnets.  In 
resuming  the  subject,  first  projected  in  1639  or  1640,  Milton  abandoned  the 
Dramatic  form  then  contemplated,  and  settled  on  the  Epic. 

Protectorate  of  Richard  Cromwell,  and  Anarchy  preceding 
THE  Restoration  {Sept.,  idz^Z—May,  1660):— Eleven  printed  Letters  by 
Milton  in  the  name  of  the  Protector  Richard,  and  two  written  by  him  for  the 
restored  Rump  Parliament  after  Richard's  abdication  (April,  1659),  attest  the 
continuance  of  Milton's  Secretaryship  into  this  wretched  period.  Indeed  as 
late  as  October,  1659,  he  and  Andrew  INIarvell  are  found  in  receipt  of  their 
salaries  of  200/.  a  year  each  as  colleagues  in  the  office.  But  "  a  little  before 
the  King's  coming  over,"  Phillips  informs  us,  he  was  sequestered  from  his 
office  and  "  the  salary  thereunto  belonging."  O  how  Milton  struggled  to  the 
last  to  avert  that  catastrophe,  as  he  regarded  it,  of  "  the  King's  coming  over  "! 
"A  Treatise  of  Civil  Power  in  Ecclesiastical  Causes";  "Considerations 
touching  the  likeliest  7neans  to  remove  Hirelings  out  of  the  Church  ":  "  A 


-Pv 


^ — ^ 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xli 

Letter  to  a  Friend  concerning  the  Ruptures  of  the  Commonwealth  ";  such  are 
the  titles  of  three  short  pamphlets  addressed  by  Milton  in  1659  to  his  perplexed 
and  bewildered  countrymen.  They  were  followed  in  the  beginning  of  1660  by 
three  more — "  The  Present  Means  and  Brief  Delineation  of  a  Free  Common- 
wealth, easy  to  be  put  in  practice  and  without  delay:  in  a  Letter  to  General 
Monk";  "  The  Ready  and  Easy  Way  to  establish  a  Free  Cojnmonwealth" ; 
"Brief  Notes  upon  a  late  Serjnon  [a  Royalist  Sermon]  preached  and  since 
published  by  Matthew  Griffith,  D.  Z>."  All  in  vain  !  "  No  Blind  Guides," 
was  the  title  of  a  Reply  by  the  Royalist,  Roger  L'Estrange.  to  the  last  pam- 
phlet. The  Restoration  of  Charles  II.  had  come  to  be  generally  desired  through- 
out England,  Scotland  and  Ireland,  as  the  only  escape  from  anarchy ;  Monk 
managed  it ;  and  on  the  29th  of  May,  1660,  Charles  made  his  triumphant  tniry 
into  London. No  piece  of  verse  came  from  Milton  in  this  period  ;  but  it  con- 
tains three  of  his  Latin  Familiar  Letters. 

IN    HIDING   AND    IN    CUSTODY. 

1660 :  ceiat.  52. 

The  wonder  is  that,  at  the  Restoration,  Milton  was  not  hanged.  At  a  time 
when  they  brought  to  the  scaffold  all  the  chief  living  Regicides  and  their  accom- 
plices that  were  within  reach,  including  even  Hugh  Peters,  and  when  they  dug 
up  Cromwell's  body  and  hanged  it  at  Tyburn,  and  tore  also  from  the  earth  at 
Westminster  the  body  of  Cromwell's  mother  and  other  "  Cromwellian  bodies  " 
that  had  been  buried  there  with  honour,  the  escape  of  Milton,  the  supreme 
defender  of  the  Regicide  through  the  press,  the  man  who  had  attacked  the 
memory  of  Charles  I.  with  a  ferocity  which  even  some  of  the  actual  Regicides 
must  have  thought  unnecessary  and  outrageous,  is  all  but  inexplicable.  He 
was  for  some  time  in  real  danger.  Quitting  his  house  in  Petty  France,  his 
nephew  tells  us,  he  lay  concealed  in  "  a  friend's  house  in  Bartholomew  Close," 
near  Smithfield,  till  the  Act  of  general  Oblivion  and  Indemnity  came  forth 
(August,  1660)  ;  and  there  is  a  story,  on  mere  vague  authority,  that  his  friends, 
while  he  was  in  hiding,  spread  a  report  that  he  was  dead,  and  even  arranged  a 
mock-funeral,  to  stop  search  for  him.  Meanwhile  his  Eikonoklastes  and  his 
Defensio  pro  Populo  Anglicano  had  been  condemned  by  Parliament  and  burnt 
by  the  hands  of  the  hangman.  Even  after  the  Act  of  Indemnity  Milton  was 
not  safe.  He  was  in  custody  of  the  Sergeant-at-Arms  for  some  time,  but  was 
finally  released  December  15.  There  had  been,  doubtless,  powerful  interces- 
sion in  his  behalf;  and  the  tradition  is,  that  among  those  who  exerted  them- 
selves for  him  was  Sir  William  Davenant,  now  the  restored  Poet-laureate  of 
the  new  reign,  for  whom  Milton  had  done  a  like  good  service  under  the  Com- 
monwealth. However  his  pardon  was  effected,  the  spirit  in  which  it  was 
granted  was  exactly  as  if,  in  some  meeting  of  Charles's  Council,  when  the  pro- 
priety of  bringing  Milton  to  trial  was  discussed,  the  conclusion  had  been,  "  It  is 
not  worth  while:  let  the  blind  blackguard  live." 


4 


xHi  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

HOLBORN    AGAIN    (NEAR   RED    LION    FIELDS):   JEWIN    STREET. 

1660 — 1664:  atat.  52 — 56. 

For  some  little  time  after  Milton's  release  and  pardon  he  lived  in  Holborn, 
near  what  is  now  Red  Lion  Square,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  great  Holborn 
thoroughfare  from  that  which  contained  his  former  house  in  that  neighbourhood. 
As  soon  as  possible,  however,  he  removed  to  his  old  and  favourite  Aldersgate 
Street  vicinity,  having  taken  a  house  in  Jewin  Street,  which  goes  off  from  Aiders- 
gate  Street  on  the  same  side  as  Barbican,  but  nearer  to  St.  Martin's-le-Grand 
than  either  Barbican  or  the  site  of  Milton's  former  Aldersgate  Street  house.  If 
this  Jewin  Street  house  exists,  it  has  not  been  identified. 

It  was  from  those  two  houses,  in  Holborn  and  in  Jewin  Street,  that  Milton  wit- 
nessed, or  rather  heard  of,  all  those  miscellaneous  events  and  proceedings  which 
were  to  undo,  as  far  as  was  possible,  the  achievements  of  the  preceding  twenty 
years,  and  which  are  comprised  now  in  English  Histories  in  the  single  phrase 
1  he  Restoration.  What  had  been  the  united  Commonwealth  was  again  broken 
into  its  three  parts,  England,  Scotland  and  Ireland ;  and  in  each  the  partisans 
of  the  late  system  found  themselves  disgraced  and  degraded,  and  the  regulation 
of  affairs  passed  into  the  hands  of  Cavaliers  returned  from  exile,  and  of  such 
renegades  or  new  men  as  these  drew  in  their  train.  In  England  Episcopacy 
was  restored,  with  the  Liturgy,  and  all  else  that  belonged  to  the  old  Anglican 
Church ;  two  thousand  Presbyterian  ministers  were  ejected  from  their  livings 
by  the  Act  of  Uniformity  ;  and  by  other  Acts  civil  penalties  and  disadvantages 
were  attached  to  every  profession  of  Dissent.  In  Scotland  all  Acts  passed 
since  1633  were  repealed  ;  the  Kirk  was  forced  back  into  Prelacy,  with  Arch- 
bishop Sharp  at  its  head  ;  and  there  began,  under  a  ministry  who  were  generally 
drunk,  the  ruthless  barbarities  against  the  Presbyterians  still  remembered  as 
"the  Persecutions."  In  Ireland  there  were  measures  to  correspond.  And, 
with  this  universal  political  reaction,  what  a  change  in  public  morals  and  man- 
ners !  Round  a  Court  which  set  an  example  of  shamelessness,  London  and  the 
general  English  world  were  whirled,  by  a  rebound  from  the  extreme  Puritan 
strictness  that  had  been  in  fashion,  into  an  ostentatious  revelry  in  Anti-Puritan- 
ism. Swearing,  swaggering,  and  an  affectation  of  profligacy,  were  the  proofs 
of  a  proper  abhorrence  of  the  cant  of  the  lately  ruling  Saints,  and  a  proper 
loyalty  to  the  existing  powers.  In  the  new  Literature  that  sprang  up,  as  well 
as  in  other  forms  of  mental  activity,  the  new  social  spirit  was  faithfully  repre- 
sented. Veterans  like  Hobbes  and  Izaak  Walton,  with  Browne  of  Norwich, 
Clarendon,  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  others  among  the  graver  prose-writers  who  had 
survived  from  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  and  Shirley,  Herrick,  Waller,  Davenant, 
Denham,  Cowley,  and  others,  surviving  from  among  the  poets  of  the  same 
reign,  were  very  much  their  former  selves,  only  rejoicing  in  the  restored  Royalty  ; 
the  specific  tendency  to  mathematical  and  physical  science  which  had  already 
grouped  together  such  men  as  Wilkins,  Wallis,  Petty,  Boyle  and  Hooke,  through 
the  Commonwealth  and  Protectorate,  now  only  displayed  itself  more  signally 


S : -^ 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xliii 

in  the  institution  of  the  Royal  Society ;  but  the  literature  belonging  properly  to 
the  Restoration  itself  had  all  the  characteristics  of  its  origin.  To  the  core  it 
was  Anti-Puntan,  reactionary  and  unearnest.  Never  in  English  literary  history 
had  there  been  such  a  run  of  talent  to  the  comic,  the  jocose,  the  witty.  The 
revived  drama  of  the  re-opened  theatres,  to  which  people  rushed  now  with  an 
avidity  all  the  keener  for  the  disuse  of  that  amusement  for  eighteen  years,  con- 
sisted chiefly  of  Comedies  and  Farces,  in  which  wit  was  desirable,  but  indecency 
indispensable.  New  things  called  Tragedies  there  were,  but  of  such  a  texture 
that  Time  has  refused  to  remember  them.  For  what  of  Tragedy  was  wanted, 
reproduction  of  Elizabethan  pieces  was  best ;  in  the  age  itself,  on  the  stage  as 
elsewhere,  the  comic  faculty  was  paramount.  Off  the  stage  it  showed  itself  in 
songs,  stories,  satires,  essays,  character-sketches  and  burlesques.  Even  the 
forms  and  mechanisms  of  English  literature  were  changed.  The  cavaliers  and 
courtiers  had  brought  back  from  their  exile  acquired  French  tastes  in  literature, 
as  in  other  matters.  Experiments  were  made  in  the  Tragedy  of  Rhymed  Dec- 
lamation ;  the  syntax  of  English  prose  was  to  be  neater  and  easier  than  it  had 
been  ;  and  the  English  metrical  ear  was  to  be  tuned  to  stricter  and  more  regular 
rhythms.  Over  this  rising  popular  literature  of  the  Restoration  thft  nominal 
president  was  Davenant,  the  reinstated  Laureate ;  but  the  robust  Dryden  was 
making  his  way  to  the  chief  place  in  the  drama  and  in  other  departments,  with 
Buckinghams,  Dorsets  and  Howards  about  him,  and  Ethereges,  Wycherlys  and 
Shadwells  appearing  on  the  horizon,  Butler's  Hudibras  was  out,  and  Charles 
and  his  courtiers  were,  laughing  over  it. 

On  the  verge  of  this  new  world  of  the  Restoration,  disowned  by  it,  and  dis- 
daining it,  the  blind  Milton  lived— 

"  On  evil  days  now  fallen,  and  evil  tongues. 
In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compassed  round. 
And  solitude." 

Such  friends  as  did  still  come  about  him  were  chiefly  Nonconformists  of  the 
more  devout  and  extreme  sects.  Independents,  Baptists,  or  Quakers.  One  was 
Alderman  Isaac  Pennington,  once  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  and  recently,  as  mem- 
ber of  the  Long  Parliament  and  of  the  Council  of  State,  a  prominent  man  in  the 
Commonwealth.  Andrew  Marvell,  young  Lawrence,  Marchamount  Needham, 
Cyriack  Skinner,  and  the  high-minded  Lady  Ranelagh,  sister  of  Robert  Boyle, 
who  had  been  among  his  most  frequent  visitors  in  the  house  in  Petty  France, 
would  find  their  way  occasionally  as  far  as  Jewin  Street.  Dr.  Paget,  a  physician 
of  that  neighbourhood,  was  very  intimate  with  him ;  and  his  old  friend  Hartlib 
would  appear  sometimes,  bringing  some  foreigner  who  desired  to  be  introduced. 
Such  visits  to  Milton  by  foreigners,  it  seems,  had  become  customan- ;  they  did  not 
like  to  leave  London  without  having  seen  him,  and  even  the  house  in  Bread  Street 
where  he  had  been  born.  Still  "  solitude,"  the  word  which  Milton  himself  uses, 
describes  his  condition  too  truly.  The  house  in  Jewin  Street  must  have  been  a 
small  one  ;  and,  as  Milton  had  now  no  official  income,  and  had  lost  by  the 
Restoration  several  thousands  of  pounds,  invested  in  Commonwealth  securities, 


s- ^ 


xliv  MEMOIR    OF  MILTON. 

or  others  as  bad,  the  economy  of  his  household  must  have  been  veiy  frugal.  He 
had  always  a  man  or  a  boy  to  read  to  him,  write  to  his  dictation,  and  lead  him 
al)out  in  his  walks ;  one  or  other  of  his  two  nephews,  now  shifting  for  them- 
selves in  or  near  London  by  tutorship  and  literary  hackwork,  would  sometimes 
drop  in,  and  yield  him  superior  help  ;  and  there  were  young  men  ready  to  volun- 
teer their  occasional  services  as  amanuenses  for  the  privilege  of  his  conversation 
or  of  lessons  from  him.  The  young  Quaker,  Thomas  Ellwood,  recommended 
to  him  by  Alderman  Pennington  and  Dr.  Paget,  made  his  acquaintance  this  way 
in  Jewin  Street,  in  1662,  valuing  the  privilege  much,  and  taking  a  lodging  near 
on  purpose.  For  the  management  of  his  house  and  of  his  daily  life,  however, 
Milton  had  to  depend  on  his  daughters,  and  the  dependence  was  a  sad  one. 
The  poor  girls,  the  eldest  in  her  seventeenth  year  in  1 662,  the  next  in  her  fifteenth, 
and  the  youngest  in  her  eleventh,  had  been  growing  up  ill  looked-after,  and, 
though  one  does  hear  of  a  governess,  but  slenderly  educated.  The  eldest,  the 
deformed  one,  could  not  write ;  the  other  two  could  write  but  indifferently 
But,  though  he  can  therefore  hardly  have  employed  them  as  amanuenses,  he  did 
exact  from  them  attendance  which  they  found  irksome.  When  no  one  else  was 
at  hand,  |je  would  make  them,  or  at  least  the  two  younger,  read  to  him  ;  and  by 
some  extraordinary  ingenuity  in  his  method,  or  by  sheer  practice  on  their  part, 
they  came  at  last  to  be  able  to  read  sufficiently  well  for  his  purpose  in  Latin, 
Greek,  Italian,  French,  Spanish,  and  even  Hebrew,  without  themselves  under- 
standing a  word.  This  drill,  as  far  as  the  youngest  daughter  was  concerned,  can 
have  been  little  more  than  begun  in  the  Jewin  Street  house  ;  but  there  all  three 
were  already  in  rebellion.  They  "  made  nothing  of  deserting  him  ;"  "  they  did 
combine  together  and  counsel  his  maid-servant  to  cheat  him  in  her  marketings ;" 
they  "  had  made  away  with  some  of  his  books,  and  would  have  sold  the  rest  to  the 
dunghill-women."  Things  had  at  last  come  to  such  a  pass  that,  on  the  recom- 
mendation of  Dr.  Paget,  Milton,  Feb.  12,  1662-3.  married  a  third  wife.  She  was 
an  Elizabeth  Minshull,  from  Cheshire,  a  relation  of  Dr.  Paget's,  and  not  more 
than  twenty-five  years  of  age,  Milton  being  fifty-four.  A  very  excellent  and 
careful  wife  she  was  to  prove  to  him  through  the  rest  of  his  life.  When  Mary, 
the  second  daughter,  heard  of  the  intended  marriage,  she  said  "  that  that  was  no 
news,  to  hear  of  his  wedding,  but,  if  she  could  hear  of  his  death,  that  was  some- 
thing."    This,  which  is  certified  on  oath,  is  almost  too  horrible  for  belief. 

A  small  elementary  Latin  Grammar,  published  in  1661,  under  the  title  of 
"Accedence  Commenced  Grammar  "  is  all  of  a  literary  kind  that  came  from 
Milton  while  he  was  in  Holborn  or  Jewin  Street.  It  had  doubtless  been  long  lying 
by  him.     Other  works,  however,  had  been  in  progress,  especially  Paradise  Lost. 

ARTILLERY    WALK,    BUNHILL    FIELDS. 

1664 — 1674;  cetat.  56 — 66. 

Not  long  after  his  third  marriage  (possibly  in  1663,  though  I  make  it  :664), 
Milton  left  Jewin  Street  for  what  was  to  be  the  last  of  all  his  London  houses. 


%■ 


S- ~(h 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xlv 

It  was  in  "  Artillery  Walk,  leading-  to  Bunhill  Fields,"  /.  e.,  as  has  been  ascer- 
tained with  some  trouble,  in  that  part  of  the  present  Bunhill  Row  where  there  is 
now  a  clump  of  newer  houses  "  to  the  left  of  the  passenger  who  turns  northward 
from  Chiswell  Street  towards  St.  Luke's  Hospital  and  Peerless  Pool."  It  was 
close  to  the  Artillery  Ground,  or  exercising-place  of  the  old  London  Trained 
Bands  ;  and  hence  the  name.  Bunhill  Fields  Burying  Ground,  long  the  place 
of  sepulture  for  London  Dissenters,  and  where  Bunyan  and  Defoe  are  buried,  did 
not  exist  when  Milton  went  to  the  neighbourhood.  On  the  whole,  the  remove, 
though  it  did  not  take  him  far  from  his  former  residence,  was  into  greater  privacy 
and  obscurity.  The  three  daughters  still  accompanied  him,  better  managers 
now  that  the  third  wife  had  the  charge  of  the  housekeeping,  but  naturally  in 
warfare  with  her. 

Of  Milton's  habits,  in  his  house  near  Bunhill  Fields,  through  the  last  ten 
years  of  his  life,  we  have  pretty  distinct  accounts  from  various  persons,  as  fol- 
lows : — He  used  to  get  up  very  early,  generally  at  four  o'clock  in  summer  and 
five  in  winter.  After  having  a  chapter  or  two  of  the  Hebrew  Bible  read  to  him, 
he  worked,  first  in  meditation  by  himself,  and  then,  after  breakfast,  by  dictation 
to  his  amanuensis  for  the  time  being,  interspersed  with  farther  readings  to  him 
from  the  books  he  wanted  to  consult,  till  near  his  mid-day  dinner.  A  good 
part  of  the  afternoon  was  then  given  to  walking  in  the  garden  (and  a  garden  of 
some  kind  had  been  always  a  requisite  with  him),  or  to  playing  on  the  organ, 
and  singing,  or  hearing  his  wife  sing,  within  doors.  His  wife,  he  said,  had  a 
good  voice,  but  no  ear.  Later  in  the  afternoon  he  resumed  work  ;  but  about  six 
o'clock  he  was  ready  to  receive  evening  visitors,  and  to  talk  with  them  till  about 
eight,  when  there  was  a  supper  of  "  olives  or  some  light  thing."  He  was  very 
temperate  at  meals,  drinking  very  little  "  wine  or  strong  liquors  of  any  kind  "; 
but  his  conversation  at  dinner  and  supper  was  very  pleasant  and  cheerful,  with 
a  tendency  to  the  satirical.  This  humour  for  satire  was  connected  by  some  of  his 
hearers  with  his  strong  way  of  pronouncing  the  letter  r  :  "  litera  cam'na,  the 
dog-letter,  the  certain  sign  of  a  satirical  wit,"  as  Dryden  said  to  Aubrey  when 
they  were  talking  of  this  personal  trait  of  Milton.  After  supper,  when  left  to 
himself,  he  smoked  his  pipe  and  drank  a  glass  of  water  before  going  to  bed ; 
which  was  usually  at  nine  o'clock.  "  He  was  visited  by  the  learned,"  said 
Aubrey,  "  much  more  than  he  did  desire,"  Aubrey  himself  and  Dryden  being 
latterly  among  those  who  went  sometimes  to  see  him.  He  attended  no  church, 
nor  belonged  to  no  communion  ;  nor  had  he  any  regular  prayers  in  his  family, 
having  some  principle  of  his  own  on  that  subject  which  his  friends  did  not 
understand.  His  favourite  attitude  in  dictating  was  sitting  somewhat  aslant  in 
an  elbow-chair,  with  his  leg  thrown  over  one  of  the  arms.  He  v.'ould  dictate 
his  verses,  thirty  or  forty  at  a  time,  to  any  one  that  happened  to  be  at  hand  ;  but 
his  two  younger  daughters.  Mary  and  Deborah,  whom  he  had  by  this  time  per- 
fected in  the  art  of  reading  to  him  in  all  languages  without  understanding 
what  they  read,  had  more  than  their  share  in  such  daily  drudgery  with  him 
over  his  books.     His  poetical  vein,  Phillips  tells  us,  flowed  most  happily  "  from 


^ 


4 


s ^ 


xlvi  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

the  autumnal  equinox  to  the  vernal,"  /.  c,  from  the  end  of  September  to  the  end 
of  March,  so  that,  with  all  his  exertions  through  the  other  half  of  the  year,  he 
was  never  so  well  satisfied  with  the  results.  His  poor  health,  and  frequent 
headaches  and  other  pains,  were  another  interference  with  his  work,  but  less 
than  might  have  been  supposed.  Gout  was  his  most  confirmed  ailment,  and  it 
begun  to  stiffen  his  hands. 

And  so  at  last,  before  Milton  had  been  two  years  in  the  house  in  Artillery 
Walk,  Paradise  Lost  had  been  completed.  For,  when  the  Great  Plague  broke 
out  in  London  in  1665,  and  Milton  (perhaps  driven  from  his  house  by  the  fact 
that  Bunhill  Fields  had  been  chosen  as  a  "  pest-field  "  where  the  dead  could  be 
buried  in  pits)  went  to  spend  the  summer  in  a  cottage  which  Ellwood  had 
taken  for  him  at  Chalfont-St. -Giles,  Buckinghamshire,  he  took  the  finished 
manuscript  with  him.  That  country-cottage,  therefore,  has  to  be  remembered, 
in  this  exact  place,  and  with  this  interesting  association,  as  one  of  Milton's  resi- 
dences. It  still  exists,  a  very  small  cottage,  indeed,  with  a  very  small  garden, 
standing  on  the  slope  of  the  public  road  at  one  end  of  the  quiet  old  village  of 
Chalfont ;  and,  when  it  was  in  good  tending  and  there  were  honeysuckles  about 
it,  the  summer  air  in  its  tiny  rooms,  with  the  lattices  open,  may  have  been 
pleasant.  The  old  lattices,  with  their  lozenges  of  glass  set  in  lead,  still  remained 
when  I  was  there ;  but  the  cottage  was  empty  and  to  let.  A  few  pounds,  I 
suppose,  would  buy  it  altogether. 

Back  in  London  in  1666,  Milton  may  have  been  prevented  from  publishing 
his  Paradise  Lost  in  that  "  Annus  Mirabilis  "  by  the  Great  Fire.  It  did  not 
reach,  indeed,  to  his  neighbourhood  ;  but  it  left  a  vast  space  of  the  city  in  ruins, 
with  his  native  Bread  Street  in  the  very  heart  of  the  space.  From  that  date 
there  could  be  no  more  visits  of  admiring  foreigners  to  the  old  "  Spread  Eagle," 
where  he  had  been  born ;  but  all  his  other  London  residences  remained.  In 
1667.  the  year  after  the  Fire,  the  due  licence  having  been  obtained  and  other 
arrangements  made,  the  epic  was  published.  The  publication  must  have  been 
an  event  of  some  consequence  to  Milton  personally.  It  threv/  between  him  and 
all  that  past  part  of  his  life  which  lay  under  public  obloquy  the  atonement  of  a 
gjeat  Poem.  Whatever  he  had  been,  was  he  not  now  the  author  of  Paradise 
Lost?  Gradually,  as  the  poem  was  read,  though  here  and  there  some  of  the 
poorer  creatures  put  in  their  sarcasms,  this  was  the  feeling  among  all  the  abler 
leaders  of  the  Restoration  Literature  itself.  "  This  man  cuts  us  all  out,  and  the 
ancients  too,"  is  reported  to  have  been  Dryden's  immediate  criticism ;  and  it 
was  probably  after  Dryden  had  read  th2  poem,  and  said  this,  that  he  first  sought 
out  Milton.  Indeed,  it  was  probably  after  the  fame  of  Paradise  Lost  was  estab- 
lished that  the  straggling  of  admiring  visitors,  especially  foreigners,  to  Milton's 
house,  which  had  followed  him  ever  since  the  Restoration,  swelled  into  that  con- 
flux of  the  learned  about  him,  "much  more  than  he  did  desire,"  of  which 
Aubrey  speaks.  Certain  it  is  that  Dryden,  not  nearly  yet  at  his  best  in  the 
world,  but  the  manliest  and  greatest  figure  already  in  the  whole  society  of  the 
Restoration  wits,  had  contracted  a  profound  reverence  for  the  blind  Repub- 

t^ ^ 


s- ^ -^ 


MEMOIR   OF  MILTON.  xlvii 

lican,  from  which  he  never  swerved,  and  to  which  on  every  possible  occa- 
sion he  gave  the  most  generous  expression.  As  Dryden  was  appointed  to 
the  Laureateship  in  1670,  in  succession  to  Davenant,  who  had  died  in  1668, 
it  was  an  odd  fact,  at  which  Dryden  would  have  been  the  first  to  smile,  that 
he  could  count  Milton  for  a  time  among  his  literary  subjects.  The  last  four 
or  five  years  of  Milton's  life  were  the  first  four  or  five  of  Dryden's  Laureate- 
ship,  and  they  include  the  following  interesting  series  of  publications  by  Mil- 
ton :  his  History  of  Britain  to  the  Conquest,  with  his  portrait  by  Faithorne 
prefixed,    1670 ;    his    Paradise   Regained  and    Samson    Agonist es   together, 

1671  ;  his  Latin  treatise  on  Logic,  according  to  the  system  of  Ramus,  entitled, 
"  Artis  Logicce  Plenior  Instiiniio,  ad  Petri  Rami  Methodum  Concinnata'' 

1672  (probably  an  old  performance  lying  among  his  MSS.)  ;  his  English  tract 
"  0/  true  Religion,  Heresy,  Schism,  Toleration,  and  what  best  meaiis  may  be 
nscd  against  the  growth  of  Popery,"  1673  ;  the  Second  Edition  of  his  Minor 
Poems,  1673;  the  Second  Edition  of  Paradise  Lost,  1674;  a  translation  of 
Letters  Pate7it  for  the  Election  of  Johfi  IIL  [Sobieski],  King  of  Poland,  1674; 
his  EpistolcB  Familiares,  with  his  juvenile  Prolusiones  Oratorice  at  Cambridge 
added,  1674.  There  is  evidence  in  the  number  of  these  publications,  and  in  the 
nature  of  some  of  them,  that  Milton's  name  prefixed  to  a  book  was  again  of 
some  value. 

To  complete  our  formal  chronology  of  the  Poems  we  have  now  only  to  ex- 
tricate from  among  the  productions  of  the  ten  years  in  Artillery  Walk,  Bunhill 
Fields,  the  following  separately  : — 

Paradise  Lost.     1667.     Re-edited  1674. 

Two  Scraps  of  translated  Verse  fi-om  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  in  History  of  Britain 

(annexed  now  to  the  Minor  English  Poems).     1670. 
Paradise  Regained.     1671. 
Samson  Agonistes.     1671. 

During  the  last  four  or  five  years  of  Milton's  life  his  three  daughters  had  ceased 
to  reside  with  him.  In  or  about  1669,  the  eldest  being  then  twenty-three  years 
of  age  and  the  youngest  seventeen,  they  had  all,  by  what  seems  to  have  been  a 
really  judicious  arrangement  of  their  step-mother,  been  sent  out,  at  their  father's 
expense,  "  to  learn  some  curious  and  ingenious  sorts  of  manufacture  that  are 
"proper  for  women  to  learn,  particularly  embroideries  in  gold  and  silver." 
From  that  time,  therefore,  Milton  and  his  wife  Elizabeth  had  been  by  them- 
selves in  the  house  near  Bunhill  Fields,  with  one  maid-servant.  It  was  prob- 
ably the  calmest  time  in  Milton's  life  for  many  a  day.  Our  best  glimpse  of  him 
in  those  closing  years  is  from  the  Notes  of  the  painter  Richardson.  "  An  aged 
"  clergyman  of  Dorsetshire,"  he  says,  "  found  John  Milton  in  a  small  chamber 
"  hung  with  rusty  green,  sitting  in  an  elbow  chair,  and  dressed  neatly  in  black ; 
"  pale,  but  not  cadaverous  ;  his  hands  and  fingers  gouty,  and  with  chalk-stones. 
"  He  used  also  to  sit  in  a  grey  coarse  cloth  coat  at  the  door  of  his  house  near 
«'  Bunhill  Fields  in  warm,  sunny  weather ;  and  so,  as  well  as  in  his  house, 


s -^ 


xlviii  MEMOIR   OF  MILTON. 

"  received  the  visits  of  people  of  distinguished  parts,  as  well  as  quality."  A 
day  soon  came  when  the  slight  figure  in  coarse  grey  was  no  more  to  be  seen  by 
the  inhabitants  of  the  obscure  neighbourhood.  He  died  peacefully,  of  what  was 
called  "gout  struck  in,"  on  Sunday,  Nov.  8,  1674,  aged  sixty-five  years  and 
eleven  months  ;  and  he  was  buried,  Nov.  12,  beside  his  father,  in  the  church  of  St. 
Giles,  Cripplegate,  attended  to  the  grave  by  "  all  his  learned  and  great  friends 
in  London,  not  without  a  friendly  concourse  of  the  vulgar."  Andrew  Marvell, 
who  may  have  been  among  the  mourners,  promised  Aubrey  to  write  some 
account  of  Milton  to  be  sent  to  Anthony  Wood  for  his  Fasti  Oxonienses  ;  but, 
Marvell  having  died  in  1678,  without  having  fulfilled  the  promise,  Aubrey  him- 
self collected  what  information  he  could  from  Milton's  widow,  his  brother,  the 
elder  Phillips  a.nd  others. 

POSTHUMOUS   DETAILS. 

Milton,  before  his  death,  estimated  his  estate  at  about  1,000/.  in  money, 
besides  household  goods.  Actually  about  900/.  in  money  (worth  about 
2,700/.  now)  was  the  sum  at  once  realized.  It  was  the  subject  of  litigation 
between  the  widow  and  the  three  daughters.  A  few  months  before  his  death, 
Milton,  in  a  conversation  with  his  brother  Christopher,  then  a  bencher  of  the 
Inner  Temple,  had  signified  his  intentions  as  to  the  disposition  of  his  property 
thus ;  "  The  portion  due  ta  me  from  Mr.  Powell,  my  former  [first]  wife's 
"  father,  I  leave  to  the  unkind  children  I  had  by  her,  having  received  no  part  of 
"  it ;  but  my  meaning  is  that  they  shall  have  no  other  benefit  of  my  estate  than 
"  the  said  portion  and  what  I  have  besides  done  for  them,  they  having  been  very 
"  undutiful  to  me.  All  the  rest  of  my  estate  I  leave  to  the  disposal  of  Eliza- 
'•  beth,  my  loving  wife."  For  the  right  understanding  of  this,  it  is  to  be 
explained  that  there  was  due  to  Milton's  estate  a  promised  marriage-portion  of 
1,000/.  w'ith  his  first  wife,  and  arrears  of  interest  on  the  same  since  1643,  and 
that,  though  there  had  been  little  prospect  of  a  recovery  of  the  money  at  Mr. 
Powell's  death  in  1647,  the  Powell  family  were  now  in  circumstances  to  bear 
the  debt,  and  were  under  obligations  to  do  so  by  Mr.  Powell's  will.  Milton's 
meaning,  therefore,  was  that  his  daughters  should  have  a  claim  on  their  rela- 
tives, the  Powells,  for  the  1,000/.  and  arrears  of  their  grandfather's  money, 
while  his  widow  should  have  the  whole  of  his  own  actual  estate.  The  daugh- 
ters, however,  probably  with  the  Powells  urging  them  (their  grandmother,  Mrs. 
Powell,  was  still  alive),  disputed  the  "nuncupative"  or  word-of-mouth  will  of 
their  father,  alleging  that  they  had  been  and  were  "  great  frequenters  of  the 
church  and  good  livers ;"  and  insinuating  that  their  uncle  Christopher  had  an 
interest  in  upholding  the  will,  inasmuch  as  there  was  a  private  understanding 
that  the  widow  should  hand  over  to  his  children,  according  to  a  desire  which 
the  deceased  had  expressed,  any  overplus  that  the  estate  might  yield  above 
1,000/.  The  result  was  that,  though  there  was  perfect  evidence  of  the  facts,  it. 
was  decided  (Feb.,  1674-5)  o^i  technical  grounds,  that  the  widow  should  have 
two-thirds  and  the  daughters  one-third  among  them.     The  widow  acquiesced, 

i^ '. ^ 


a ^ 


MEMOIR    OF  MILTON.  xlix 

and  punctually  paid  to  the  three  daughters  about  loo/.  each,  having  about  600/. 
left  for  herself.  She  was  then  thirty-seven  years  of  age,  and  the  money  would 
yield  her  a  meagre  annuity. 

The  widow,  after  remaining  in  London  for  some  years,  retired  to  Nantwich, 
in  her  native  Cheshire,  where  she  lived  to  as  late  as  1727,  a  pious  member  of  a 
Baptist  congregation,  having  survived  her  husband  nearly  fifty-three  years. 
The  inventory  of  her  effects  at  her  death  has  been  recovered,  and  shows  that  she 
retained  to  the  last  some  trinkets  that  had  belonged  to  Milton,  and  two  juvenile 

portraits  of  him. Milton's  eldest  daughter,  Anne,  "  lame,  and  with  a  defect 

in  her  speech,  but  with  a  very  handsome  face,"  married  "a  master-builder," 
and  died  in  her  first  childbirth,  the  child  dying  also.  Mary,  the  second  daugh- 
ter, never  married,  and  was  dead  before  1694.  Deborah,  the  youngest  and  the 
best,  and  "  very  like  her  father,"  had  gone  to  Dublin,  as  companion  to  a  lady, 
before  her  father's  death,  and  married  there  an  Abraham  Clarke,  described  as 
a  weaver  or  silk-mercer.  They  came  to  London  about  1687,  and  settled  in  the 
weaving  business  in  Spitalfields.  She  lived  till  1727,  and  was  visited  in  her  later 
years  by  Addison  and  others,  who  were  much  pleased  with  her,  and  whom  she 
surprised  by  repeating  stray  lines  she  remembered  from  Homer,  Euripides  and 
Ovid.  The  Princess  Caroline  of  Wales  sent  her  fifty  guineas.  Of  her  ten 
children,  only  two  survived  to  have  issue.  A  son,  Caleb  Clarke,  had  gone  to 
Madras  before  1703,  and  had  died  as  "parish-clerk  of  Fort  George"  in  1719, 
leaving  progeny  who  are  supposed  to  have  all  died  out  in  India.  The  last  trace 
of  them  is  the  registration  at  Madras,  April  2,  1727,  of  the  birth  of  a  daughter 
of  Abraham  Clarke,  the  son  of  Caleb  (/.  e.,  a  great-great-granddaughter  of 
Milton,  actually  born  while  Milton's  widow  was  still  alive  at  Nantwich)  ;  but 
there  is  just  a  possibility  that  there  was  other  and  farther  descent  from  Milton  in 
these  Indian  Clarkes.  Otherwise,  the  direct  descent  from  Milton  ended  in  his 
granddaughter,  Elizabeth  Clarke,  the  youngest  daughter  of  Deborah.  She  mar- 
ried a  Thomas  Foster,  a  Spitalfields  weaver  ;  she  afterwards  kept  "  a  small  chand- 
ler's shop  "  in  Holloway  ;  she  removed  thence  to  Shoreditch,  where  she  and  her 
husband  had  some  little  dispute  in  1750  as  to  the  investment  of  about  130/.,  the 
proceeds  of  a  performance  of  Comus,  which  Dr.  Johnson  and  others  had  got 
up  for  her  benefit  ;  and  she  died  in  Islington  in  1754.  She  struck  those  who 
visited  her  as  "a  good,  plain,  sensible  woman,"  in  very  infirm  health.  Seven 
children  of  hers  had  all  died  in  infancy. Christopher  Milton,  the  poet's  lawyer- 
brother,  but  who  had  always  been  opposite  to  him  in  politics,  was  not  only  a 
bencher  of  the  Inner  Temple  at  the  time  of  his  brother's  death,  but  also  Deputy- 
Recorder  of  Ipswich.  In  the  reign  of  James  II.,  having  pushed  his  compliance 
so  far  as  to  turn  Roman  Catholic,  he  became  Sir  Christopher  Milton,  Knt.,  and 
a  Judge.  At  the  Revolution  he  retired  into  private  life  at  or  near  Ipswich, 
where  he  died  in  1692,  in  his  seventy-seventh  year.  He  left  a  son,  Thomas  Milton, 
and  two  or  three  daughters,  who  are  traced  some  way  into  the  eighteenth  century. 
So  far  as  is  known,  the  Milton  pedigree  was  transmitted  farthest  and  most  re- 
spectably in  the  descent  from  Milton's  sister  Anne,  who  was  first  Mrs.  Phillips  and 

^ ^ 


^ ^ 


1  MEMOIR  OF  AflLTON. 

afterwards  Mrs.  Agar,  and  wlio  seems  to  have  died  some  years  before  the  poet, 
leaving  Mr.  Agar  still  alive.  Her  two  sons  by  the  first  marriage,  Edward  and 
John  Phillips,  Milton's  two  nephews,  and  educated  by  him  (John  wholly,  but  with 
two  years  at  Oxford  added  in  Edward's  case),  can  "hardly,  indeed,  be  reckoned 
among  fortunate  men.  They  struggled  on  cleverly  and  industriously,  but  never 
very  prosperously,  in  private  tutorship,  schoolmastering,  and  hack  authorship ; 
and  their  numerous  publications  in  prose  and  verse,  lists  of  which  have  been 
made  out,  are  among  the  curiosities  of  the  minor  literature  of  England  in  the 
latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Edward  died  not  long  after  1694,  in 
which  year  he  had  published  his  brief,  but  valuable,  "  Life  of  Milton,"  prefixed 
to  an  English  translation  of  Milton's  State  Letters  ;  John,  who  seems  to  have 
been  the  less  reputable  in  his  life  and  the  more  reckless  in  the  spirit  and  style  of 
his  writings,  was  ahve  till  1706.  Their  families  have  not  been  traced.  Mean- 
while, their  half  sister,  Ann  Agar,  their  mother's  only  surviving  child  by  her 
second  marriage,  had  carried  the  pedigree,  in  more  flourishing  circumstances, 
into  another  line,  with  another  change  of  name.  Her  father,  Mr.  Thomas 
Agar,  resuming  his  post  of  Deputy  Clerk  of  the  Crown  at  the  Restoration,  had 
come  to  be  a  man  of  some  wealth  ;  and,  before  his  death  in  1673  (when  he  was 
succeeded  in  his  office  by  Thomas  Milton,  the  son  of  Christopher),  she  had 
married  a  David  Moore,  of  Sayes  House,  Chertsey,  in  the  county  of  Surrey,  Esq. 
From  this  marriage  came  a  Thomas  Moore,  of  Sayes  House,  who  was  knighted 
in  171 5;  and  from  him  have  descended,  branching  out  by  intermarriages,  a 
great  iwax\-^  Moore s  andFitsmoores,  traceable  in  the  squirearchy,  the  church,  or 
the  public  service  of  England,  to  the  present  day.  All  these  are  related  to 
Milton  in  so  far  as  they  are  descended  from  his  sister,  the  mother  of  the  "  Fair 
Infant"  of  his  early  Elegy. 

In  1682,  eight  years  after  Milton's  death,  there  was  published  from  his 
manuscript  a  compilation  called  "A  Brief  History  of  Moscoria,  and  of  other 
less  known  coiintries  lying  eastward  of  Russia  as  far  as  Cathay."  The  col- 
lections he  had  made  towards  a  Latin  Dictionary  went  into  the  hands  of  Edward 
Phillips,  were  used  by  Phillips  in  some  compilations  of  his  own,  and  hav'e  been 
embodied  in  subsequent  Dictionaries.  Two  packets  of  manuscript  left  by  Mil- 
ton, about  the  fate  of  which  he  was  somewhat  anxious,  Vv^ere  his  Latin  System 
of  Divinity  drawn  direct  from  the  Bible,  and  his  Latin  Letters  of  State  to  For- 
eign Powers,  written  in  his  Secretaryship  to  the  Commonwealth  and  Pro- 
tectorate. These  packets  he  had  entrusted  to  one  of  his  latest  amanuenses,  a 
young  Cambridge  man,  Daniel  Skinner,  a  relative  of  his  friend  Cyriack.  They 
were  conveyed  by  Skinner  to  Amsterdam  for  publication  by  Daniel  Elzevir ;  but, 
the  English  Government  having  heard  of  them,  the  publication  was  stopped,  and 
they  were  sent  back  to  London  in  a  brown-paper  parcel,  which  was  thrown 
aside  in  the  State  Paper  Office.  This  was  in  1676;  in  which  year,  however,  a 
London  bookseller,  who  had  somehow  obtained  imperfect  copies  of  the  Latin 
State  Letters,  published  a  surreptitious  edition  of  them,  entitled  Literce  Psetido- 
Senatics  Anglicant,  necnon  Croniwelli,  nomine  et  jussu  Conscriptce.     A  better 

■^ -^ 


cB"^ *-67 


MEMOIR  OF  MILTON.  li 

edition  was  printed  at  Leipsic  in  1690,  and  Phillips'  English  translation  appeared 
in  1694.  Quite  different  from  these  Milton  State  Letters,  though  sometimes 
called  The  Milton  Papers,  is  a  thin  folio  edited  in  1743  by  John  Nickolls,  and 
consisting  of  Letters  and  Addresses  to  Cromwell,  and  other  public  and  private 
documents,  from  1650  onwards,  which  had  somehow  been  in  Milton's  keeping, 
and  which  were  afterwards  in  possession  of  the  Quaker  Elhvood.  Finally,  in  1 825, 
attention  having  been  at  last  called  to  the  brown-paper  parcel  that  had  been 
lying  in  the  State  Paper  Office  since  1676,  Milton's  long  lost  treatise  De  Doctrind 
CJirisiiand,  part  of  the  contents  of  the  parcel,  was  published  by  Dr.  Sumner, 
afterwards  Bishop  of  Winchester,  with  the  addition  of  an  English  translation  in 
the  same  year.  It  is  from  this  treatise  that  Milton's  theological  opinions,  so  far 
as  they  could  be  expressed  in  formal  and  systematic  language,  are  to  be  most 
authentically  learnt.  The  original  manuscript  of  the  treatise  in  the  hands  of 
several  of  Milton's  amanuenses,  and  the  transcript  for  press  of  his  State  Letters 
in  the  hand  of  Daniel  Skinner,  are  still  in  the  State  Paper  Office. 


^ ^ 


f^ 


Paradise  Lost. 


,ffl  >"';,! 


THE  VERSE  OF  "PARAD[SE  LOST." 

"The  measure  is  English  Heroic  Verse  without  Rime,"  as  that  of  Homer  in  Greek,  and 
of  Virgil  in  Latin;  Rime  being  no  necessary  Adjunct  or  true  Ornament  of  Poem  or  good 
Verse,  in  longer  Works  Cbpecially,  but  the  Invention  of  a  barbarous  Age,  to  set  off  wretched 
matter  and  lame  Meeter;  grac't  indeed  since  by  the  use  of  some  famous  modern  Poets, 
carried  away  by  Custom,  but  much  to  thir  own  vexation,  hindrance,  and  constraint,  to  ex- 
press many  things  otherwise,  and  for  the  most  part  worse  than  else  they  would  have  exprest 
them.  Not  without  cause,  therefore,  some  both  Italian  and  Spanish  Poats  of  prime  note, 
have  rejected  Rime  bo.h  in  longer  and  shorter  Works, as  have  also,  long  slnc2,  our  best 
English  Tragedies,  as  a  thing  of  itself,  to  all  judicious  eares,  triveal  and  of  no  true  musical 
delight;  which  consists  only  in  apt  Numbers,  fit  quantity  of  Syllables,  and  the  sense  variously 
drawn  out  from  one  verse  into  another,  not  in  the  jingling  sound  of  like  endings,  a  fault 
avoyded  by  the  learned  Ancients  both  in  Poetry  and  all  good  Oratory.  This  neglect  then 
of  Rime,  so  little  is  to  be  taken  for  a  defect,  though  it  may  seem  so  perhaps  to  vulgar 
readers,  that  it  rather  is  to  be  esteem'd  an  example  set,  the  first  in  English,  ofancient  liberty 
recover'd  to  Heroic  Poem  from  the  troublesom  and  modern  bondage  of  Rimeing." 

From  Milton's  own  Edition,  1669. 

BOOK  I. 

The  Argument. 

This  First  Book  proposes,  first  in  brief,  the  whole  subject,  Man's  disobedience,  and  the 
loss  thereupon  of  Paradise,  wherein  he  was  placed.  Then  touches  the  prime  cause  of  his 
fall,  the  serpent,  or  rather  Satan  in  the  serpent ;  who,  revolting  from  God,  and  drawing  to 
liis  side  many  legions  of  Angels,  was  by  the  command  of  God  driven  out  of  heaven  with  all 
his  crew  into  the  great  deep.  Which  action  passed  over,  the  Poem  hastes  into  the  midst  of 
things,  presenting  Satan  with  his  Angels  now  fallen  into  hell,  described  here,  not  in  the  cen- 
tre, for  heaven  and  earth  m.ay  be  supposed  as  yet  not  made,  certainly  not  yet  accursed,  but 
m  a  place  of  utter  darkness,  fitliest  called  Chaos.  Here  Satan  with  his  Angels  lying  on  the 
burning  lake,  thunderstruck  and  astonished,  after  a  certain  space  recovers,  as  from  confusion, 
calls  up  him  who  next  in  order  and  dignity  lay  by  him  :  they  confer  of  their  miserable  fall. 
Satan  awakens  all  his  legions,  who  lay  till  then  in  the  same  manner  confotmded  ;  they  rise ; 


^ 


vb- 


<b 


2  PARADISE  LOST. 

their  numbers,  array  of  battle,  their  chief  leaders  named,  according  to  the  idols  known  after- 
wards in  Canaan  and  the  countries  adjoining.  To  these  Satan  directs  his  speech,  comforts 
them  with  hope  yet  of  regaining  heaven,  but  tells  them  lastly  of  a  new  world  and  new  kind 
of  creature  to  be  created,  according  to  an  ancient  prophecy  or  report  in  heaven;  for  that 
Angels  were  long  before  this  visible  creation,  was  the  opinion  of  many  ancient  Fathers.  To 
find  out  the  truth  of  this  prophecy,  and  what  to  determine  thereon,  he  refers  to  a  full  council . 
What  his  associates  thence  attempt.  Pandaemonium,  the  palace  of  Satan,  rises,  suddenly 
built  out  of  the  deep :  the  infernal  Peers  there  sit  in  council. 

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, 

Sing  heav'nly  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  heav'ns  and  earth 

Rose  out  of  Chaos  ;  or  if  Sion  hill 

Delight  thee  more,  and  Siloa's  brook^  that  fliow'd 

Fast  by  the  oracle  of  God ;  I  thence 

Invoke  thy  aid  to  my  advent'rous  song, 

That  with  no  middle  flight  intends  to  soar 

Above  th'  Aonian  mount,^  while  it  pursues 

Things  unattempted  yet  in  prose  or  rhyme. 

And  chiefly  thou,  O  Spirit,  that  dost  prefer 
Before  a"ll  temples  th'  upright  heart  and  pure, 
Instruct  me,  for  thou  know'st ;  thou  from  the  first 
Wast  present,  and  with  mighty  wings  outspread 
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  height  of  this  great  argument 
I  may  assert  eternal  Providence, 


1  Moses. 

2  A  small  brook  that  flowed  near  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem. 

3  A  mountain  in  Boeotia.     In  mythology,  the  Muses  were  said  to  dwell  on  it. 
*  Gen.  i.  2. 

b- •- ^ -# 


€7 


PARADISE  LOST. 

And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men. 

Say  first,  for  heav'n  hides  nothing  from  thy  vieWj 
Nor  the  deep  tract  of  hell — say  first,  what  cause 
Moved  our  grand  Parents  in  that  happy  state, 
Favour'd  of  heaven  so  highly,  to  fall  off 
From  their  Creator,  and  transgress  his  will 
For  one  lestraint,  lords  of  the  world  besides? 
Who  first  seduced  them  to  that  foul  revolt  ? 
Th'  infernal  serpent ;  he  it  was,  whose  guile, 
Stirr'd  up  with  envy  and  revenge,  deceived 
The  mother  of  mankind,  what  time  his  pride 
Had  cast  him  out  from  heav'n,  with  all  his  host 
Of  rebel  Angels,  by  whose  aid  aspiring 
To  set  himself  in  glory  above  his  peers, 
He  trusted  to  have^quall'd  the  Most  High/ 
If  he  opposed;  and  with  ambitious  aim 
Against  the  throne  and  monarchy  of  God 
Raised  impious  war  in  heav'n,  and  battle  proud, 
With  vain  attempt.     Him  the  almighty  Power 
Hurl'd  headlong  flaming  from  th'  ethereal  sky, 
With  hideous  ruin  and  combustion,  down 
To  bottomless  perdition,  there  to  dwell 
In  adamantine  chains  and  penal  fire, 
Who  durst  defy  th'  Omnipotent  to  arms. 
Nine  times  the  space  that  measures  day  and  night 
To  mortal  men,  he  with  his  horrid  crew 
Lay  vanquish'd,  rolling  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 
Torments  him ;  round  he  throws  his  baleful  eyes, 
That  witness'd  huge  affliction  and  dismay, 
Mix'd  with  obdurate  pride  and  stedfast  hate. 
At  once,  as  far  as  angels  ken,  he  views 

^  Isaiah  xiv.  13-15. 


■fr 


4> 


^ -^ 

4  PARADISE  LOST. 

The  dismal  situation  waste  and  wild ; 

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 

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 

For  those  rebellious  ;  here  their  prison  ordain'd 

In  utter  darkness,  and  their  portion  set 

As  far  removed  from  God  and  light  of  heav'n, 

As  from  the  centre  thrice  to  th'  utmost  pole, 

O  how  unlike  the  place  from  whence  they  fell ,' 

There  the  companions  of  his  fall,  o'erwhelm'd 

With  floods  and  whirlwinds  of  tempestuous  fire, 

He  soon  discerns,  and  welt'ring  by  his  side 

One  next  himself  in  power,  and  next  in  crime, 

Long  after  known  in  Palestine,  and  named 

Beelzebub  :^  To  whom  th'  arch-enemy, 

And  thence  in  heav'n  call'd  Satan,^  with  bold  words 

Breaking  the  horrid  silence,  thus  began. 

If  thon  beest  he — But  O  how  fall'n  !  how  changed 
From  him,  who  in  the  happy  realms  of  light. 
Clothed  with  transcendent  brightness,  didst  outshine 
Myriads,  though  bright !  If  he,  whom  mutual  league. 
United  thoughts  and  counsels,  equal  hope 


1  "Lasciate  ogni  speranza  voi  ch'  intrate,"  was  the  inscription  placed  by  Dante  over  the 
gates  of  his  "Inferno." 

'■*  The  god  of  flies,  worshipped  by  the  Philistines  (a  Kings  i.  2).  The  Jews  considered 
Beelzebub  the  greatest  of  the  devils.  See  their  accusation  of  our  Lord,  St.  Matt.  xii.  24-27; 
where  it  appears  that  with  them  Beelzebub  and  <  'Satan"  were  synonymous  names.  Milton 
makes  them  two  different  fallen  angels. 

3  Satan  is  a  Hebrew  word,  signifying  "enemy."     T/tecnemy  both  of  God  and  man, 

^  ■ -^ 


^ — . 

PARADISE  LOST.  5 

And  hazard  in  the  glorious  enterprise, 

Join'd  with  me  once,  now  misery  hath  join'd 

In  equal  ruin  :  into  what  pit  thou  seest 

From  what  height  fall'n,  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 

Can  else  inflict,  do  I  repent,  or  change. 

Though  changed  in  outward  lustre,  that  fix'd  mind 

And  high  disdain  from  sense  of  injured  merit. 

That  with  the  Mightiest  raised  me  to  contend, 

And  to  the  fierce  contention  brought  along 

Innumerable  force  of  Spirits  arm'd, 

That  durst  dislike  his  reign  ;  and,  me  preferring, 

His  utmost  power  with  adverse  power  opposed 

In  dubious  battle  on  the  plains  of  heav'n, 

And  shook  his  throne.     What  though  the  field  be  lost  ? 

All  is  not  lost ;  th'  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 

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 

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 

To  wage  by  force  or  guile  eternal  war, 

Irreconcileable  to  our  grand  foe. 

Who  now  triumphs,  and  in  th'  excess  of  joy 

Sole  reigning  holds  the  tyranny  of  heav'n. 

^ & 


^ 


^ 


6  PARADISE  LOST. 

So  spake  th'  apostate  Angel,  though  in  pain, 
Vaunting  aloud,  but  rack'd  with  deep  despair  : 
And  him  thus  answer'd  soon  his  bold  compeer. 
O  Prince,  O  Chief  of  many  throned  Powers. 
That  led  th'  imbattell'd  Seraphim  to  war 
Under  thy  conduct,  and,  in  dreadful  deeds 
Fearless,  endanger'd  heav'n'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 
Hath  lost  us  heav'n,  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  vigor  soon  returns, 
Though  all  our  glory  extinct,  and  happy  state 
Here  swallow'd  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'erpower'd  such  force  as  ours, 
Has  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. 
Here  in  the  heart  of  hell  to  work  in  fire. 
Or  do  his  errands  in  the  gloomy  deep  : 
What  can  it  then  avail,  though  yet  we  feel 
Strength  undiminish'd,  or  eternal  being 
To  undergo  eternal  punishment  ? 
Whereto  with  speedy  words  th'  Arch-fiend  replied. 

Fall'n  Cherub,  to  be  weak  is  miserable, 
Doing  or  suffering  :  but  of  this  be  sure, 
To  do  ought  good  never  will  be  our  task, 
1  But  ever  to  do  ill  our  sole  delight ; 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST, 

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  labor  must  be  to  pervert  that  end, 

And  out  of  good  still  to  find  means  of  evil ; 

Which  oft-times  may  succeed,  so  as  perhaps 

Shall  grieve  him,  if  I  fail  not,  and  disturb 

His  inmost  counsels  from  their  destined  aim. 

But  sec  !  the  angry  victor  hath  recall'd 

His  ministers  of  vengeance  and  pursuit 

Back  to  the  gates  of  heav'n :  the  sulphurous  hail, 

Shot  after  us  in  storm,  o'erblown  hath  laid 

The  fiery  surge,  that  from  the  precipice 

Of  heav'n  received  us  falling,  and  the  thunder, 

Wing'd  with  red  lightning  and  impetuous  rage, 

Perhaps  hath  spent  his  shafts,  and  ceases  now 

To  bellow  through  the  vast  and  boundless  deep. 

Let  us  not  slip  th'  occasion,  whether  Scorn 

Or  satiate  fury  yield  it  from  our  foe. 

Secst  thou  yon  dreary  plain,  forlorn  and  wild. 

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  harbor  there, 

And,  reassembling  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, 

If  not,  what  resolution  from  despair. 

Thus  Satan  talking  to  his  nearest  mate, 
With  head  up-lift  above  the  wave,  and  eyes 
That  sparkling  blazed ;  his  other  parts  besides 
Prone  on  the  flood,  extended  long  and  large. 
Lay  floating  many  a  rood,  in  bulk  as  huge 


^ 


■^ 


8  PARADISE  LOST. 

As  whom  the  fables  name  of  monstrous  size, 

Titanian,  or  Earth-born,  that  warred  on  Jove/ 

Briareus,  or  Typhon,  whom  the  den 

By  ancient  Tarsus  held,  or  that  sea-beast 

Leviathan,  which  God  of  all  his  works 

Created  hugest  that  swim  th'  ocean  stream  ; 

Him  haply  slumbering  on  the  Norway  foam 

The  pilot  of  some  small  night-founder'd  skiff 

Deeming  some  island,  oft,  as  seamen  tell. 

With  fixed  anchor  in  his  scaly  rind 

Moors  by  his  side  under  the  lee,  while  night 

Invests  the  sea,  and  wished  morn  delays^ 

So  stretched  out  huge  in  length  the  Arch-fiend  lay, 

Chain'd  on  the  burning  lake,  nor  ever  thence 

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 

Evil  to  others,  and  enraged  might  see 

How  all  his  malice  served  but  to  bring  forth 

Infinite  goodness,  grace,  and  mercy  shown 

On  man  by  him  seduced ;  but  on  himself 

Treble  confusion,  wrath,  and  vengeance  pour'd. 

Forthwith  upright  he  rears  from  off  the  pool 

His  mighty  stature  ;  on  each  hand  the  flames 

Driven  backward  slope  their  pointing  spires,  and  roll'd 

In  billows  leave  i'  th'  midst  a  horrid  vale. 

Then  with  expanded  wings  he  steers  his  flight 

Aloft,  incumbent  on  the  dusky  air. 

That  felt  unusual  weight,  till  on  dry  land 

He  lights,  if  it  were  land  that  ever  burn'd 

1  The  Titans  were  monstrous  giants,  said  to  have  made  war  against  the  gods.  Rriareus 
had  a  hundred  hands.  Typhon  was  the  same  as  Typhoeus,  who  was  imprisoned  by  Jupiter 
in  a  cave  near  Tarsus,  in  Cihcia. 

*  The  whale  is  evidently  here  intended. 

4) ^ 


Forthwith  upright  he  rears  from  off  the  pool 
His  mighty  stature. 


Page  8. 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  9 

With  solid,  as  the  lake  with  liquid,  fire  ; 

And  such  appear'd  in  hue,  as  when  the  force 

Of  subterranean  wind  transports  a  hill 

Torn  from  Pelorus,^  or  the  shatter'd  side 

Of  thund'ring  yEtna,  whose  combustible 

And  fuel'd  entrails  thence  conceiving  fire. 

Sublimed  with  mineral  fury,  aid  the  winds. 

And  leave  a  singed  bottom,  all  involved 

With  stench  and  smoke  :  such  resting  found  the  sole 

Of  unbless'd  feet.     Him  follow'd  his  next  mate. 

Both  glorying  to  have  'scaped  the  Stygian  flood. 

As  Gods,  and  by  their  own  rccover'd  strength, 

Not  by  the  sufferance  of  supernal  power. 

Is  this  the  region,  this  the  soil,  the  clime 
Said  then  the  lost  Arch-Angel,  this  the  seat 
That  we  must  change  for  heav'n,  this  mournful  gloom 
For  that  celestial  light?  be  it  so,  since  he. 
Who  now  is  Sov' reign,  can  dispose  and  bid 
What  shall  be  right :  farthest  from  him  is  best, 
Whom  reason  hath  equall'd,  force  hath  made  supreme 
Above  his  equals.     Farewell  happy  fields, 
Where  joy  for  ever  dwells:  hail  horrors  ;  hail 
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  heav'n  of  hell,  a  hell  of  heav'n.^ 
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  ;  th'  Almighty  hath  not  built 
Here  for  his  envy,  will  not  drive  us  hence : 


Capo  di  Faro,  in  Sicily.  '  "  There 's  nothing  either  good  or  bad,  but 

Thinking  makes  it  so." — Shakespeare. 


^ ^ ^^ 


^ ■ -^ 

lo  PARADISE  LOST. 

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  heav'n. 
But  wherefore  let  we  then  our  faithful  friends, 
Th'  associates  and  copartners  of  our  loss, 
Lie  thus  astonish'd  on  th'  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 
Regain'd  in  heav'n,  or  what  more  lost  in  hell  ? 

So  Satan  spake,  and  him  Beelzebub 
Thus  answer'd :  Leader  of  those  armies  bright. 
Which  but  th'  Omnipotent  none  could  have  foil'd, 
If  once  they  hear  that  voice,  their  liveliest  pledge 
Of  hope  in  fears  and  dangers,  heard  so  oft 
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 
Grov'ling  and  prostrate  on  yon  lake  of  fire. 
As  we  erewhile,  astounded  and  amazed. 
No  wonder,  fall'n  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, 
Behind  him  cast;  the  broad  circumference 
Hung  on  his  shoulders  like  the  moon,  whose  orb 
Through  optic  glass  the  Tuscan  artist^  views 
At  ev'ning,  from  the  top  of  Fesole 
Or  in  Valdarno,  to  descry  new  lauds, 
Rivers  or  mountains  in  her  spotty  globe. 
His  spear,  to  equal  which  the  tallest  pine, 


1  Height. 

2  Galileo,     Milton  became  acquainted  with  the  great  astronomer  when  travelling  in  Italy 
Optic-glass  was  the  name  given  then  and  some  lime  after  to  the  telescope. 

^^— ^ 


a- ^ ^ — -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  ii 

Hewn  on  Norwegian  hills  to  be  the  mast 

Of  some  great  Ammiral,  were  but  a  wand, 

He  walk'd  with  to  support  uneasy  steps 

Over  the  burning  marie,  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  inflamed  sea  he  stood  and  call'd 

His  legions,  Angel  forms,  who  lay  entranced, 

Thick  as  autumnal  leaves  that  strow  the  brooks 

In  Vallombrosa/  where  th'  Etrurian  shades 

High  overarch'd  embower  ;  or  scatter'd  sedge 

Afloat,  when  with  fierce  winds  Orion  arm'd  ^ 

Hath  vex'd  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 

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, 

Warriors,  the  flow'r  of  heav'n,  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 

To  slumber  here,  as  in  the  vales  of  heav'n  ? 

Or  in  this  abject  posture  have  ye  sworn 

To  adore  the  conqueror  ?  who  now  beholds 


1  In  Tuscany. 

2  Orion  is  the  constellation  representing  an  armed  warrior.  "It  was  supposed  to  be  at- 
tended with  stormy  weather.  'Assurgens  fluctu  nimbosus  Orion.'  ViB.  ^n.  1.  S39-"— 
Newton. 

3  The  Pharaoh  of  Exodus  xiv. 

4- -—4^ 


a- 


<b 


12  PARADISE  LOST. 

Cherub  and  Seraph  rolHng  in  the  flood 
With  scatter'd  arms  and  ensigns,  till  anon 
His  swift  pursuers  from  heav'n  gates  discern 
Th'  advantage,  and  descending  tread  us  down 
Thus  drooping,  or  with  linked  thunderbolts 
Transfix  us  to  the  bottom  of  this  gulf. 
Awake,  arise,  or  be  for  ever  fall'n. 

They  heard,  and  were  abash'd,  and  up  they  sprung 
Upon  the  wing,  as  when  men  wont  to  watch 
On  duty,  sleeping  found  by  whom  they  dread, 
Rouse  and  bestir  themselves  ere  well  awake. 
Nor  did  they  not  perceive  the  evil  plight 
In  which  they  w^ere,  or  the  fierce  pains  not  feel ; 
Yet  to  their  General's  voice  they  soon  obey'd, 
Innumerable.     As  when  the  potent  rod 
Of  Amram's  Son,  in  Egypt's  evil  day, 
Waved  round  the  coast  up  call'd  a  pitchy  cloud 
Of  locusts,  warping  on  the  eastern  wind, 
That  o'er  the  realm  of  impious  Pharaoh  hung 
Like  night,  and  darken'd  all  the  land  of  Nile  ■} 
So  numberless  were  those  bad  angels  seen 
Hovering  on  wing  under  the  cope  of  hell, 
'Twixt  upper,  nether,  and  surrounding  fires  ; 
Till,  as  a  signal  given,  th'  uplifted  spear 
Of  their  great  Sultan  waving  to  direct 
Their  course,  in  even  balance  down  they  light 
On  the  firm  brimstone,  and  fill  all  the  plain ; 
A  multitude  like  which  the  populous  north* 
Pour'd  never  from  her  frozen  loins,  to  pass 


1  Exodus  X.  15. 

2  The  "populous  north,"  as  the  northern  parts  of  the  world  are  observed  to  be  more  fruitful 
of  people  than  the  hotter  countries.  Sir  William  Temple  calls  it  "  the  northern  hive." 
"Poured  never  ; "  a  very  proper  word  to  express  the  inundations  of  these  northern  nations. 
"From  her  frozen  loins  ;"  it  is  the  Scripture  expression  of  children  and  descendants  "coming 
out  of  the  loins,"  as  Gen.  xxxv.  11,  "Kings  shall  come  out  of  thy  loins  ;"  and  these  are  called 
frozen  loins  only  on  acci^unt  of  the  coldness  of  the  climate. — Newton. 


^ 


--^:^ 


They  heard,  and  were  abashed,  and  up  they  sprung 


Page  12. 


* 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  13 

Rhene  or  the  Danaw/  when  her  barbarous  sons''^ 

Came  hke  a  deluge  on  the  south,  and  spread 

Beneath  Gibraltar  to  the  Libyan  sands. 

Forthwith  from  ev'ry  squadron  and  each  band 

The  heads  and  leaders  thither  haste,  where  stood 

Their  great  Commander ;  God-like  shapes  and  forms 

Excelling  human,  Princely  Dignities, 

And  powers,  that  erst  in  heaven  sat  on  thrones  ; 

Though  of  their  names  in  heavenly  records  now 

Be  no  memorial,  blotted  out  and  razed 

By  their  rebellion  from  the  books  of  life.^ 

Nor  had  they  yet  among  the  sons  of  Eve 

Got  them  new  names  ;  till  wand'ring  o'er  the  earth, 

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  th'  invisible 

Glory  of  him  that  made  them  to  transform 

Oft  to  the  image  of  a  brute,  adorn'd 

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. 

Say,  Muse,  their  namss  then  known,  who  firjt,  who  last, 

1  "To  pass  Rhene  or  the  Danaw."  He  ir.ight  have  said,  consistenlly  with  his  verse,  the 
Rhine  or  Danube,  but  he-  chose  the  more  uncommon  names,  Rhene,  of  the  Latin,  and 
Danaw,  of  the  German,  both  which  words  are  used  too,  in  Spenser. — Newton. 

2  "When  her  barbarous  sorss,"  &c.  They  were  truly  barbarous  ;  for  besides  exercising 
several  cruelties,  they  destroyed  all  the  monuments  of  learning  and  politeness  wherever  they 
came.  "  Came  like  a  deluge."  Spenser,  describing  the  sime  psople,  has  the  same  simile, 
"Faerie  Queen,  B.  II.  cant.  ist.  15  : — 

".A.nd  overflowed  all  countries  far  away, 
Like  Noye's  great  flood,  with  their  importune  sway." 
They  were  the  Goths  and  Huns,  and  Vandals,  who  overran  all  the  southern  provinces  of 
Europe,  and,  crossing  the  Mediterranean  beneath  Gibraltar,  landed  in  Africa,  and  spread 
themselves  as  f.ir  as  Libya.     Beneath  Gibraltar  means  more  southward. — Newto.v, 
•■'  Psalm  ix.  5,  6.     Rev.  iii.  5. 
*  Levit.  xvii.  7.     Psalm  cvi.  37. 

^ ■ —^ 


-^ 


14  PARADISE  LOST. 

Roused  from  the  slumber  on  that  fiery  couch 

At  their  great  Emp'ror's  call,  as  next  in  worth, 

Came  singly  where  he  stood  on  the  bare  strand, 

While  the  promiscuous  crowd  stood  yet  aloof? 

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 

Jehovah  thund'ring  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, 

And  with  their  darkness  durst  affront  his  light. 

First  Moloch,  horrid  King,^  besmear'd  with  blood 

Of  human  sacrifice,  and  parents'  tears. 

Though  for  the  noise  of  drums  and  timbrels  loud 

Their  children's  cries  unheard,  that  past  through  fire^ 

To  his  grim  idol.     Him  the  Ammonite 

Worshipp'd  in  Rabba  and  her  wat'ry  plain, 

In  Argob,  and  in  Basan,  to  the  stream 

Of  utmost  Arnon.     Nor  content  with  such 

Audacious  neighborhood,  the  wisest  heart 

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  call'd,^  the  type  of  hell.^ 

1  Ezek.  viii.  15,  16. 

2  The  word  Moloch,  means  King.  He  is  styled  horrid  on  account  of  the  awful  human 
sacrifices  offered  to  him. 

3  Moloch  was  represented  byan  idol  of  brass  sitting  on  a  throne,  crowned.  Before  him 
was  a  furnace.  His  extended  arms  sloped  down  to  it.  Infants  placed  in  his  arms  fell  into 
the  furnace  and  were  consumed.  *  i  Kings  xi.  7. 

5  It  was  called  Tophet  from  toph,  a  drum,  the  noise  of  drums  being  employed  to  drown 
the  cries  of  the  poor  babes  offered  to  the  idol.    ^  Sq  used  by  our  Lord. 

^ •- -^ 


s- 


PARADISE  LOST.  15 

Next  Chemos/  th'  obscene  dread  of  Moab's  sons, 

From  Aroer  to  Nebo,  and  the  wild 

Of  southmost  Abarim  ;  in  Hesebon 

And  Heronaim,  Seon's  realm,  beyond 

The  flow'ry  dale  of  Sibma  clad  with  vines, 

And  Eleale,  to  the  Asphaltic  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 

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  bord'ring  flood 

Of  old  Euphrates  to  the  brook  that  parts 

^gypt  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; 

Nor  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  airy  purposes. 

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 

Bow'd  down  in  battle,  sunk  before  the  spear 

Of  despicable  foes.     With  these  in  troop 


1 1  Kings  xi.  7.  2  2  Kings  xxiii. 

3  Frequently  named  together  in  Scripture.    They  were  the  sun,  Baal ;  the  moon,  Astaroth ; 
and  the  stars ;  im  being  the  plural  termination  of  the  name  Baal. 


i6  PARADISE  LOST 

Came  Astoreth,  whom  the  Phcenicians  called 
Astarte,  queen  of  heaven,  with  crescent  horns ; 
To  whose  bright  image  nightly  by  the  moon 
Sidonian  virgins  paid  their  vows  and  songs, 
In  Sion  also  not  unsung,  where  stood 
Her  temple  on  th'  offensive  mountain,  built 
By  that  uxorious  king,^  whose  heart  though  large, 
Beguiled  by  fair  idolatresses,  fell 
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 
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 
His  eyes  survey'd  the  dark  idolatries 
Of  alienated  Judah.     Next  came  one 
Who  mourn'd  in  earnest,  when  the  captive  ark 
Maim'd  his  brute  image,  head  and  hands  lopt  off 
In  his  own  temple,  on  the  grunsel^  edge, 
^Where  he  fell  flat,  and  shamed  his  worshippers  : 
Dagon  his  name;''  sea  monster,  upward  man 
And  downward  fish :  yet  had  his  temple  high 


1  Solomon  ;  who  built  a  temple  to  Astoreth,  the  moon,  on  the  Mount  of  Olives. 

2  Adonis.  See  Maundrell's  "Travels,"  p.  34.  "We  had  the  fortune  to  see  what  may  be 
supposed  to  be  the  occasion  of  that  opinion  which  Lucian  relates  concerning  this  river  (the 
Adonis;  called  by  the  Turks,  Ibrahim  Bassa),  viz.,  that  this  stream,  at  certain  seasons  of  the 
year,  especially  about  the  feast  of  Adonis,  is  of  a  bloody  color;  which  the  Heathens  looked 
upon  as  proceeding  from  a  kind  of  sympathy  in  the  river  for  the  death  of  Adonis.  Some- 
thing like  this,  we  saw,  actually  came  to  pass ;  for  the  water  was  stained  to  a  surprising 
redness,  and,  as  we  observed  in  travelling  had  discolored  the  sea  a  great  \\ay  into  a  reddish 
hue,  occasioned,  doubtless,  by  a  sort  of  minium,  or  red  earth,  washed  into  the  river  by  the 
violence  of  the  rain,  and  not  by  any  stain  from  Adonis'  blood." 

3  Ezek.  viii.  12.  *  Threshold, ^roundse/.  ^  1  Sam.  v.  4. 

^fe- -^ 


a -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  17 

Rear'd  in  Azotus,  dreaded  through  the  coast 

Of  Palestine,  in  Gath,  and  Ascalon, 

And  Accaron,  and  Gaza's  frontier  bounds. 

Him  follow'd  Rimmon/  whose  dehghtful  seat 

Was  fair  Damascus,  on  the  fertile  banks 

Of  Abbana  and  Pharphar,  lucid  streams. 

He  also  against  the  house  of  God  was  bold 

A  leper  once  he  lost,"  and  gain'd  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  off'rings,  and  adore  the  gods 

Whom  he  had  vanquish'd.     After  these  appear'd 

A  crew,  who  under  names  of  old  renown, 

Osiris,  Isis,  Orus,^  and  their  train, 

With  monstrous  shapes  and  sorceries  abused 

Fanatic  ^gypt  and  her  priests,  to  seek 

Their  wand'ring  Gods  disguised  in  brutish  forms,'^ 

Rather  than  human.     Nor  did  Israel  'scape 

Th'  infection,  when  their  borrow'd  gold  composed 

The  calf  in  Oreb  f  and  the  rebel  king 

Doubled  that  sin  in  Bethel  and  in  Dan, 

Lik'ning  his  Maker  to  the  grazed  ox,'' 

Jehovah,  who  in  one  night,  when  he  pass'd 

From  ^gypt  marching^  equall'd  with  one  stroke 

Both  her  first-born  and  all  her  bleating  gods. 

Belial  ^  came  last,  than  whom  a  spirit  more  lewd 

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  fiU'd 

1  A  Syrian  god.     2  Naaman.    See  2  Kings  v.  17.-  ^2.  Kings  xvi.  10.     2  c;;hron.  xxviii.  23. 
*  Orus  was  the  son  of  Osiris  (the  sun)  and  Isis  (the  moon.) 

5  The  sacred  calf,  the  ram,  &c.  6  Exod.  xxxii.  t  i  Kings  xii.  28. 

"  The  god  of  lewdness  and  luxury. 

2 

^fe ^ 


a -^ 

1 8  PARADISE  LOST. 

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 
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. 

These  were  the  prime  in  order  and  in  might; 
The  rest  were  long  to  tell,  though  far  renown'd 
Th'  Ionian  gods,  of  Javan's  issuc,^  held 
Gods,  yet  confess'd  later  than  hcav'n  and  earth. 
Their  boasted  parents.     Titan,  heav'n's  first-born,^ 
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  usurping  reign'd :  these  first  in  Crete 
And  Ida  known  ;^  thence  on  the  snowy  top 
Of  cold  Olympus  ruled  the  middle  air. 
Their  highest  heaven  ;  or  on  the  Delphian  clifif* 
Or  in  Dodona,^  and  through  all  the  bounds 
Of  Doric  land;^  or  who  with  Saturn  old 
Fled  over  Adria  to  th'  Hesperian  fields,'^ 
And  o'er  the  Celtic  roam'd  the  utmost  isles.^ 


^  Javiin,  the  fourth  son  of  Japhet,  was  supposed  to  have  settled  Ionia,  in  the  south-west 
part  of  Asia  Minor.     The  gods  of  the  Greek  mythology  are  here  meant. 

2  Titan,  supposed  to  be  the  son  of  Heaven  and  Earth,  was  the  father  of  the  giants.  Saturn, 
his  younger  brother,  seized  his  empire,  and  was,  in  his  turn,  deposed  by  his  son  Jupiter. 

3  /upiter  was  said  to  have  been  born  on  Mount  Ida,  in  the  island  of  Crete  (now  Candia). 
He  and  the  other  Greekgods  then  passed  to  Greece,  and  Jupiter  reigned  on  Mount  Olympus, 
in  Thessaly. 

*  Mount  Parnassus,  where  the  city  of  Delphi,  famous  for  its  Oracle,  was  situated. 
6  A  city  and  wood  sacred  to  Jupiter,  famous  also  for  its  Oracle. 

*  "Doric  land,"  Greece.  7  Italy. 

*  France,  the  abode  of  the  Celts.     "Utmost  isles,"  Great  Britain,  &c.,  &c.:  Ultima  ThuU, 


a ^ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  19 

All  these  and  more  came  flocking;  but  with  looks 
Down-cast  and  damp,  yet  such  wherein  appear'd 
Obscure  some  glimpse  of  joy,  to  have  found  their  chief 
Not  in  despair,  to  have  found  themselves  not  lost 
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  not  substance,  gently  raised 
Their  fainted  courage,  and  dispell'd  their  fears. 
Then  straight  commands,  tliat  at  the  warlike  sound 
Of  trumpets  loud  and  clarions  be  uprearVl 
His  mighty  standard :  that  proud  honor  claim'd 
Azazel  ^  as  his  right,  a  cherub  tall ;  ( 

Who  forthwith  from  the  glittering  staff  unfurl'd  I 

Th'  imperial  ensign,  which,  full  high  advanced,  ! 

Shone  like  a  meteor,  streaming  to  the  wind,  f 

With  gems  and  golden  lustre  rich  emblazed, 
Seraphic  arms  and  trophies ;  all  the  while 
Sonorous  metal  blowing  martial  sounds: 
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 
With  orient  colors  waving:  with  them  rose 
A  forest  huge  of  spears  ;  and  thronging  helms 
Appear'd,  and  serried  shields  in  thick  array 
Of  depth  immeasurable  :  anon  they  move 
In  perfect  phalanx  to  the  Dorian  mood" 
Of  flutes  and  soft  recorders  f  such  as  raised 
To  highth  of  noblest  temper  heroes  old 


-  This  name  is  used  for  some  demon  or  devil  by  several  ancient  authors,  Jewish  and 
Christian. — Newton. 

2  A  solemn  style  of  music,  exciting  to  cool  and  deliberate  courage. — Newton.  The 
ancients  had  three  different  styles  of  mus  ic  :  the  Lydian,  soft  and  languishing  ;  the  Phrygian, 
gay  and  animated;  the  Dorian,  solemn  and  majestic.  3  A  species  of  flute  or  flageolet. 


c-x 


4" 


^ 


^ 


20  PARADISE  LOST. 

Arming  to  battle;  and  instead  of  rage 
Deliberate  valor  breath'd,  firm,  and  unmoved 
With  dread  of  death  to  flight  or  foul  retreat ; 
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, 
Moved  on  in  silence  to  soft  pipes,  that  charm'd 
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, 
Awaiting  what  command  their  mighty  chief 
Had  to  impose :  he  through  the  armed  files 
Darts  his  experienced  eye,  and  soon  traverse 
The  whole  batallion  views ;  their  order  due, 
Their  visages  and  stature  as  of  Gods  ; 
Their  number  last  he  sums.     And  now  his  heart 
Distends  with  pride,  and  hard'ning  in  his  strength 
Glories  ;  for  never,  since  created  man, 
Met  such  embodied  force,  as  named  with  these 
Could  merit  more  than  that  small  infantry  ' 
Warr'd  on  by  cranes ;  though  all  the  giant  brood 
Of  Phlegra^  with  th'  heroic. race  were  join'd 
That  fought  at  Thebes^  and  Ilium,*  on  each  side 
Mix'd  with  auxiliar  Gods ;.  and  what  resounds 
In  fable  or  romance  of  Uther's  son,^ 
Begirt  with  British  and  Armoric  knights ; 


1  The  Pigmies.     See  "Basilides  Athenasi."  IX.  43. 

2  Phlegra,  a  city  of  Macedonia,  where  the  Titans,  or  giants,  dwelt  who  made  war  against 
the  gods. 

3  Thebes,  a  city  of  Boeotia,  famous  for  the  war  between  the  sons  of  CEdipus,  Eteocles  and 
Polynices.    The  subject  of  Statiuss  "ThebaVd." 

*  Troy,  the  siege  of  which  is  the  subject  of  Homer's  "Iliad."      The  gods  took  different 
sides  in  this  war. 
"  Arthur.    Armoric  knights  were  knights  of  Armorica,  or  Brittany, 


^ 


■& 


c: 


3 ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  o,  ^ 


And  all  who  since,  baptized  or  infidel 
Jousted  in  Aspra'mont  or  Montalban/ 
Damasco,  or  Marocco,  or  Trebisond, 
Or  whom  Biserta  sent  from  Afric  shore, 
When  Charlemain  with  all  his  peerage  fell 
By  Fontarabia.     Thus  far  these  beyond 
Compare  of  mortal  prowess,  yet  observed 
Their  dread  commander  :  he,  above  the  rest 
In  shape  and  gesture  proudly  eminent, 
Stood  like  a  tow'r ;  his  form  had  yet  not  lost 
All  her  original  brightness,  nor  appear'd 
Less  than.Arch  angel  ruin'd,  and  th  excess 
Of  glory  obscured:  as  when  the  sun  new-risen 
Looks  through  the  horizontal  misty  air^ 
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  :^  darken'd  so,  yet  shone 
Above  them  all  th'  Arch  angel :  but  his  face 
Deep  scars  of  thunder  had  intrench'd,  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 
The  fellows  of  his  crime,  the  followers  rather, 
Far  other  once  beheld  in  bliss,  condemn'd 
For  ever  now  to  have  their  lot  in  pain, 
Millions  of  spirits  for  his  fault  amerced^ 
Of  heav'n,  and  from  eternal  splendors  flung 
For  his  revolt,  yet  faithful  how  they  stood, 
Their  glory  wither'd  :  as  when  heaven's  fire 


1  Romantic  names  of  places  mentioned  in  Ariosto'spoem,  "Orlando  Furioso,"  and  in  the 
old  romances. 
'^  Alluding  to  the  superstition  that  an  eclipse  or  comet  foretold  the  disturbance  of  nations. 
3  Deprived  of  by  forfeiture.     See  Quarles's  "Divine  Poems,"  p.  i8. 


^ 


d^ 


22 


PARADISE  LOST. 


Hath  scath'd  the  forest  oaks  or  mountain  pines, 
With  singed  top  their  stately  growth,  though  bare. 
Stands  on  tlie  blasted  heath.     He  now  prepared 
To  speak;  whereat  their  doubled  ranks  tlicy  bend 
From  wing  to  wing,  and  half  enclose  him  round 
With  all  his  peers  :  attention  held  tliem  mute. 
Thrice  he  assay'd,  and  thrice  in  spite  of  scc-i'n 
Tears,  such  as  angels  weep,  burst  forth ;  at  last 
Words  interwove  with  sighs  found  out  their  way. 

O  myriads  of  immortal  spirits,  O  Powers 
Matchless,  but  with  th'  Almighty,  and  that  strife 
Was  not  inglorious,  though  th'  event  was  dire, 
As  this  place  testifies,  and  this  dire  change 
Hateful  to  utter  :  but  what  power  of  mind. 
Foreseeing  or  presaging,  from  the  depth 
Of  knowledge  past  or  present,  could  have  fear'd. 
How  such  united  force  of  Gods,  how  such 
As  stood  like  these,  could  ever  know  repulse  ? 
For  who  can  yet  believe,  though  after  loss, 
That  all  these  puissant  legions,  whose  exile 
Hath  emptied  heav'n,^  shall  fail  to  reascend 
Self-raised,  and  repossess  their  native  seat  ? 
For  me,  be  witness  all  the  host  of  heav'n, 
If  counsels  different  or  danger  shunn'd 
By  me  have  lost  our  hopes  :  but  he,  who  reigns 
Monarch  in  heav'n,  .till  then  as  one  secure 
Sat  on  his  throne,  upheld  by  old  repute. 
Consent,  or  custom,  and  his  regal  state 
Put  forth  at  full,  but  still  his  strength  conceal'd, 
Which  tempted  our  attempt,  and  wrought  our  fall. 
Henceforth  his  might  we  know,  and  know  our  own, 
So  as  not  cither  to  provoke,  or  dread 
New  war,  provoked ;  our  better  part  remains 
To  work  in  close  design,  by  fraud  or  guile, 

J  Rev.  xii.  4. 


^ 


-4" 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  23 

Whac  lorce  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 
There  went  a  fame  in  heav'n,  that  he  ere  long 
Intended  to  create,  and  therein  plant 
A  generation,  whom  his  choice  regard 
Should  favor  equal  to  the  sons  of  hea\fen: 
Thither,  if  but  to  pry,  shall  be  perhaps 
Our  first  eruption,  thither  or  elsewhere  ;    . 
For  this  infernal  pit  shall  never  hold 
Celestial  spirits  in  bondage,  nor  th'  Abyss 
Long  under  darkness  cover.     But  these  thoughts 
Full  counsel  must  mature  :  peace  is  despair'd; 
For  who  can  think  submission?  war  then,  war 
Open  or  understood,  must  be  resolved. 

He  spake :  and  to  confirm  his  words  outflew 
Millions  of  flaming  swords,  drawn  from  the  thighs 
Of  mighty  Cherubim ;  the  sudden  blaze 
Far  round  illumined  hell :  highly  they  raged 
Against  the  highest,  and  fierce  with  grasped  arms 
Clash'd  on  their  sounding  shields  the  din  of  war, 
Hurling  defiance  toward  the  vault  of  heav'n. 

There  stood  a  hill  not  far,  whose  grisly  top 
Belch'd  fire  and  rolling  smoke  ;  the  rest  entire 
Shone  with  a  glossy  scurf,  undoubted  sign 
That  in  his  womb  was  hid  metallic  ore. 
The  work  of  sulphur.     Thither,  wing'd  with  speed, 
A  numerous  brigade  hasten'd;  as  when  bands 
Of  pioneers,  with  spade  and  pickaxe  arm'd, 
Forerun  the  royal  camp,  to  trench  a  field. 
Or  cast  a  rampart.     Mammon^  led  them  on, 
Mammon,  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 
From  heav'n ;  for  ev'n  in  heav'n  his  looks  and  thoughts 


1  The  word  Mammon  isSyriac  for  riches  (Matt.  vi.  24)  ;  personified  also  by  Spenser. 


^ 


^ 


s- 


24 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Were  always  downward  bent,  admiring  more 

The  riches  of  heav'n's  pavement,  trodden  gold, 

Than  aught  divine  or  holy  else  enjoy'd 

In  vision  beatific.     By  him  first 

Men  also,  and  by  his  suggestion  taught, 

Ransack'd  the  centre,  and  with  impious  hands 

Rifled  the  bowels  of  their  mother  earth 

For  treasures  bfetter  hid.     Soon  had  his  crew 

Open'd  into  the  hill  a  spacious  wound. 

And  digg'd  out  ribs  of  gold.     Let  none  admire 

That  riches  grow  in  hell ;  that  soil  may  best 

Deserve  the  precious  bane.     And  here  let  those 

Who  boast  in  mortal  things,  and  wond'ring  tell 

Of  Babel  and  the  works  of  Memphian  kings, 

Learn  how  their  greatest  monuments  of  fame 

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, 

That  underneath  had  veins  of  liquid  fire 

Sluiced  from  the  lake,  a  second  multitude 

With  wond'rous  art  founded  the  massy  ore, 

Severing  each  kind,  and  scumm'd  the  bullion  dross. 

A  third  as  soon  had  formed  within  the  ground 

A  various  mould,  and  from  the  boiling  cells 

By  strange  conveyance  fill'd  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 

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 

Cornice  or  fneze  with  bossy  sculptures  graven ; 


4> 


-^ 


a — ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  25 

The  roof  was  fretted  gold.     Not  Babylon, 

Nor  great  Alcairo'  such  magnificence 

Equall'd  in  all  their  glories,  to  inshrine 

Belus  or  Serapis  their  Gods,  or  seat 

Their  kings,  when  ^gypt  with  Assyria  strove 

In  wealth  and  luxury.     Th'  ascending  pile 

Stood  fixt  her  stately  highth,  and  straight  the  doors 

Op'ning  their  brazen  folds,  discover,  wide 

Within,  her  ample  spaces,  o'er  the  smooth 

And  level  pavement :  from  the  arched  roof. 

Pendant  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 

Admiring  enter'd,  and  the  work  some  praise, 

And  some  the  architect :  his  hand  was  known 

In  heav'n  by  many  a  towered  structure  high. 

Where  sceptered  angels  held  their  residence, 

And  sat  as  princes ;  whom  the  supreme  King 

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  call'd  him  Mulciber;^  and  how  he  fell 

From  heav'n  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, 

On  Lemnos,  th'  ^Egean  isle ;  thus  they  relate. 

Erring;  for  he  with  this  rebellious  rout 

Fell  long  before  ;  nor  aught  avail'd  him  now 

To  have  built  in  heav'n  high  towers;  nor  did  he  'scape 

By  all  his  engines,  but  was  headlong  sent 

'  Cairo,  in  Egypt.  2  Vulcin.    See  Homer,  "Iliad,"  1-590. 

"^ ■ ^ 


^ ^ 

26  PARADISE  LOST. 

With  his  industrious  crew  to  build  in  hell. 

Meanwhile  the  winged  heralds  by  command 
or  sov'reign  power,  with  awful  ceremony 
And  trumpets  sound,  throughout  the  host  proclaim 
A  solemn  council  forthwith  to  be  held 
At  Pandaimonium,  the  high  capital 
Of  Satan  and  his  peers :  their  summons  call'd 
From  every  band  and  squared  regiment 
By  place  or  choice  the  worthiest ;  they  anon 
With  hundreds  and  with  thousands  trooping  came 
Attended :  all  access  was  throng'd,  the  gates 
And  porches  wide,  but  chief  the  spacious  haU, 
■  Though  like  a  cover'd  field,  where  champions  bold 
Wont  ride  in  arm'd,  and  at  the  Soldan's  chair 
Defied  the  best  of  Panim  chivalry 
To  mortal  combat  or  career  with  lance, 
Thick  swarm'd  both  on  the  ground  and  in  the  air, 
Brush'd  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 
In  clusters  ;  they  among  fresh  dews  and  flowers 
Fly  to  and  fro,  or  on  the  smoothed  plank, 
The  suburb  of  their  straw-built  citadel, 
New  rubb'd  with  balm,  expatiate,  and  confer 
Their  state  affairs  :  So  thick  the  aery  crowd 
Swarm'd  and  were  straiten'd ;  till,  the  signal  giv'n. 
Behold  a  wonder  !  they,  but  now  who  seem'd 
In  bigness  to  surpass  earth's  giant  sons, 
Now  less  than  smallest  dwarfs,  in  narrow  room 
Throng  numberless,  like  that  Pygmean  race 
Beyond  the  Indian  mount,  or  Fairy  Elves, 
Whose  midnight  revels,  by  a  forest  side. 
Or  fountain,  some  belated  peasant  sees. 
Or  dreams  he  sees,  while  over  head  the  moon 
Sits  arbitress,^  and  nearer  to  the  earth 


1  Spectatress HOR.  Ep.  V.  49. 

0^ ^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  27 

Wheels  her  pale  course;  they,  on  their  mirth  and  dance 

Intent,  with  jocund  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 

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, 

A  thousand  Demi-gods  on  golden  seats, 

Frequent  and  full.     After  short  silence  then 

And  summons  read,  the  great  consult  began. 


(^ -4' 


^ 


<b 


28 


PARADISE  LOST. 


BOOK  11. 

The  Argument. 

The  consultation  begun,  Satan  debates  whether  another  battle  be  to  be  hazarded  for  the 
recovery  of  heaven  :  some  advise  it,  others  dissuade.  A  third  proposal  is  preferred,  men- 
tioned before  by  Satan,  to  search  the  truth  of  that  prophecy  or  tradition  in  heaven  concern- 
ing another  world,  and  another  kind  of  creature,  equal,  or  not  much  inferior  to  themselves, 
about  this  time  to  be  created  :  their  doubt  who  shall  be  sent  on  this  difficult  search  :  Satan 
their  chief  undertakes  alone  the  voyage,  is  honored  and  applauded.  The  council  thus 
ended,  the  rest  betake  them  several  ways,  and  to  several  employments,  as  their  inclinations 
lead  them,  to  entertain  the  time  till  Satan  return.  He  passes  on  his  journey  to  hell  gates, 
finjls  them  shut,  and  who  sat  there  to  guard  them,  by  whom  at  length  they  are  opened,  and 
discover  to  him  the  great  gulf  between  hell  and  heaven :  with  what  difficulty  he  passes 
through,  directed  by  Chaos,  the  Power  of  that  place,  to  the  sight  of  this  new  world  which 
he  sought. 

High  on  a  throne  of  royal  state,  which  far 

Outshone  the  wealth  of  Ormus*  and  of  Ind, 

Or  where  the  gorgeous  east  with  richest  hand 

Show'rs  on  her  kings  Barbaric  pearl  and  gold,^ 

Satan  exalted  sat,  by  merit  raised 

To  that  bad  eminence  ;  and,  from  despair 

Thus  high  uplifted  beyond  hope,  aspires 

Beyond  thus  high,  insatiate  to  pursue 

Vain  war  with  heav'n,  and  by  success  untaught 

His  proud  imaginations  thus  display'd. 

Powers  and  dominions.  Deities  of  heav'n,^ 
For  since  no  deep  within  her  gulf  can  hold 
Immortal  vigor,  though  oppress'd  and  fall'n, 
I  give  not  heav'n  for  lost:  from  this  descent 
Celestial  virtues  rising  will  appear 
More  glorious  and  more  dread,  than  from  no  fall, 


J  In  the  Persian  Gulf. 

2  It  was  the  Eastern  custom  for  ihe  princes  of  the  blood  royal  and  the  emirs  to  sprinkle 
gold  dust  and  seed  pearl  on  the  head  of  the  monarch  at  his  coronation.  See  "Vie  de 
Tamerlane"  (translated  by  M.  Petit  de  la  Croix),  B.  II.  c.  i.  3  Colos.  i.  i6. 


^ 


-^ 


s- 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  29 

And  trust  themselves  to  fear  no  second  fate. 
Me  though  just  right  and  the  fix'd  laws  of  heav'n 
Did  first  create  your  leader,  next  free  choice, 
With  what  besides,  in  council  or  in  fight, 
Hath  been  achieved  of  merit ;  yet  this  loss, 
Thus  far  at  least  recover'd,  hath  much  more 
Establish'd  in  a  safe  unenvied  throne, 
Yielded  with  full  consent.     The  happier  state 
In  heav'n,  which  follows  dignity,  might  draw 
Envy  from  each  inferior  ;  but  who  here 
Will  envy  whom  the  highest  place  exposes 
Foremost  to  stand  against  the  Thund'rer's  aim 
Your  bulwark,  and  condemns  to  greatest  share 
Of  endless  pain  ?     Where  there  is  then  no  good 
For  which  to  strive,  no  strife  can  grow  up  there 
From  faction ;  for  none  sure  will  claim  in  hell 
Precedence,  none,  whose  portion  is  so  small 
Of  present  pain„that  with  ambitious  mind 
Will  covet  more.     With  this  advantage  then 
To  union,  and  firm  faith,  and  firm  accord, 
More  than  can  be  in  heav'n,  we  now  return 
To  claim  our  just  inheritance  of  old. 
Surer  to  prosper  than  prosperity 
Could  have  assured  us  ;  and  by  what  best  way, 
Whether  of  open  war  or  covert  guile, 
We  now  debate  ;  who  can  advise,  may  Speak. 

He  ceased ;  and  next  him  Moloch,  scepter'd  king. 
Stood  up,  the  strongest  and  the  fiercest  spirit 
That  fought  in  heav'n,  now  fiercer  by  despair : 
His  trust  was  with  th'  Eternal  to  be  deem'd 
Equal  in  strength,  and  rather  than  be  less 
Cared  not  to  be  at  all ;  with  that  care  lost 
Went  all  his  fear :  of  God,  or  hell,  or  worse. 
He  reck'd  not ;  and  these  words  thereafter  spake : 

My  sentence  is  for  open  war :  of  wiles. 
More  unexpert,  I  boast  not :  them  let  those 

^ ' -^ 


^ 


<b 


30  PARADISE  LOST. 

Contrive  who  need,  or  when  they  need,  not  now : 

For  while  they  sit  contriving,  shall  the  rest, 

Millions  that  stand  in  arms  and  longing  wait 

The  signal  to  ascend,  sit  ling'ring  here 

Heav'n's  fugitives,  and  for  their  dwelling-place 

Accept  this  dark  opprobrious  den  of  shame, 

The  prison  of  his  tyranny  who  reigns 

By  our  delay  ?  no,  let  us  rather  choose, 

Arm'd  with  hell  flames  and  fury,  all  at  once 

O'er  heav'n's  high  towers  to  force  resistless  way, 

Turning  our  tortures  into  horrid  arms 

Against  the  torturer ;  when  to  meet  the  noise 

Of  his  almighty  engine  he  shall  hear 

Infernal  thunder,  and  for  lightning  see 

Black  fire  and  horror  shot  with  equal  rage 

Among  his  angels ;  and  his  throne  itself 

Mixt  with  Tartarean  sulphur  and  strange  fire, 

His  own  invented  torments.     But  perhaps 

The  way  seems  difficult  and  steep  to  scale 

With  upright  wing  against  a  higher  foe. 

Let  such  bethink  them,  if  the  sleepy  drench 

Of  that  forgetful  lake  benumb  not  still, 

That  in  our  proper  motion  we  ascend 

Up  to  our  native  seat :  descent  and  fall 

To  us  is  adverse.     Who  but  felt  of  late. 

When  the  fierce  foe  hung  on  our  broken  rear 

Insulting,  and  pursued  us  through  the  deep, 

With  what  compulsion  and  laborious  flight 

We  sunk  thus  low  ?  th'  ascent  is  easy  then  ; 

Th'  event  is  fear'd  ;  should  we  again  provoke 

Our  stronger,  some  worse  way  his  wrath  may  find 

To  our  destruction :  if  there  be  in  hell 

Fear  to  be  worse  destroy'd  :  what  can  be  worse 

Than  to  dwell  here,  driv'n  out  from  bliss,  condemn'd 

In  this  abhorred  deep  to  utter  woe ; 

Where  pain  of  unextinguishable  fire 


^ 


-& 


s- 


PARADISE  LOST.  31 

Must  exercise  us  without  hope  of  end, 
The  vassals  of  his  anger,  when  the  scourge 
Inexorably,  and  th^  torturing  hour 
Calls  us  to  penance  ?  more  destroy'd  than  thus 
We  should  be  quite  abolish'd  and  expire. 
What  fear  we  then  ?  what  doubt  we  to  incense 
His  utmost  ire?  which,  to  the  highth  enraged, 
Will  either  quite  consume  us,  and  reduce 
To  nothing  this  essential ;  happier  far, 
Than  miserable  to  have  eternal  being. 
Or  if  our  substance  be  indeed  divine, 
And  cannot  cease  to  be,  we  are  at  worst 
On  this  side  nothing ;  and  by  proof  we  feel 
Our  power  sufficient  to  disturb  his  heav'n, 
And  with  perpetual  inroads  to  alarm. 
Though  inaccessible,  his  fatal  throne  } 
Which,  if  not  victory,  is  yet  revenge. 

He  ended  frowning,  and  his  look  denounced 
Desperate  revenge  and  battle  dangerous 
To  less  than  Gods.     On  th'  other  side  up  rose 
Belial,  in  act  more  graceful  and  humane; 
A  fairer  person  lost  not  heav'n  ;  he  seem'd 
For  dignity  composed  and  high  exploit : 
But  all  was  false  and  holIoAv^ ;  though  his  tongue 
Dropp'd  Manna,  and  could  make  the  worse  apppear 
The  better  reason,  to  perplex  and  dash 
Maturest  counsels ;  for  his  thoughts  were  low  ; 
To  vice  industrious,  but  to  nobler  deeds 
Timorous  and  slothful :  yet  he  pleased  the  ear, 
And  with  persuasive  accent  thus  began. 

I  should  be  much  for  open  war,  O  Peers, 
As  not  behind  in  hate,  if  what  was  urged, 
Main  reason  to  persuade  immediate  war. 
Did  not  dissuade  me  most,  and  seem  to  cast 

1  Upheld  by  fate. — Newton. 


^ 


4 


^ 


-^ 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Ominous  conjecture  on  the  whole  success  ; 

When  he,  who  most  excels  in  fact  of  arms, 

In  what  he  counsels  and  in  what  excels 

Mistrustful,  grounds  his  courage  on  despair 

And  utter  dissolution,  as  the  scope 

Of  all  his  aim,  after  some  dire  revenge. 

First,  what  revenge  ?  the  towers  of  heav'n  are  filled 

With  armed  watch,  that  render  all  access 

Impregnable  ;   oft  on  the  bordering  deep 

Encamp  their  legions,  or  with  obscure  wing 

Scout  far  and  wide  into  the  realm  of  night, 

Scorning  surprise.     Or  could  we  break  our  way 

By  force,  and  at  our  heels  all  hell  should  rise. 

With  blackest  insurrection  to  confound 

Heav'n's  purest  light,  yet  our  great  enemy 

All  incorruptible  would  on  his  throne 

Sit  unpolluted;  and  th'  ethereal  mould 

Incapable  of  stain  would  soon  expel 

Her  mischief,  and  purge  off  the  baser  fire, 

Victorious.     Thus  repulsed,  our  final  hope 

Is  flat  despair  :  we  must  exasperate 

Th'  almighty  Victor  to  spend  all  his  rage, 

And  that  must  end  us,  that  must  be  our  cure, 

To  be  no  more:  sad  cure  ;   for  who  would  lose, 

Though  full  of  pain,  this  intellectual  being. 

Those  thoughts  that  wander  through  eternity. 

To  perish  rather,  swallowed  up  and  lost 

In  the  wide  womb  of  uncreated  night. 

Devoid  of  sense  and  motion?  and  who  knows. 

Let  this  be  good,  whether  our  angry  foe 

Can  give  it,  or  will  ever  ?  how  he  can, 

Is  doubtful ;  that  he  never  will,  is  sure. 

Will  he,  so  wise,  lot  loose  at  once  his  ire, 

Belike  through  impotence  or  unaware, 

To  give  his  enemies  their  wish,  and  end 

Them  in  his  anger,  whom  his  anger  saves 


^ 


-4 


<b 


PARADISE  LOST.  33 

To  punish  endless  ?     Wherefore  cease  we  then  ? 

Say  they  who  counsel  war;— We  are  decreed. 

Reserved,  and  destined  to  eternal  woe ; 

Whatever  doing,  what  can  we  suffer  more. 

What  can  we  suffer  worse? — Is  this  then  worst, 

Thus  sitting,  thus  consulting,  thus  in  arms  ? 

What,  when  we  fled  amain,  pursued  and  struck 

With  heav'n's  afflicting  thunder,  and  besought 

The  deep  to  shelter  us  ?  this  hell  then  seem'd 

A  refuge  from  those  wounds.      Or  when  we  lay 

Chain'd  on  the  burning  lake?  that  sure  was  worse. 

What  if  the  breath  that  kindled  those  grim  fires ' 

Awaked  should  blow  them  into  sevenfold  rage, 

And  plunge  us  in  the  flames  ?  or  from  above 

Should  intermitted  vengeance  arm  again 

His  red  right  hand  to  plague  us  ?  what,  if  all 

Her  stores  were  open'd  and  this  firmament 

Of  hell  should  spout  her  cataracts  of  fire, 

Impendent  horrors,  threatening  hideous  fall 

One  day  upon  our  heads;  while  we,  perhaps 

Designing  or  exhorting  glorious  war. 

Caught  in  a  fiery  tempest  shall  be  hurl'd 

Each  on  his  rock  transfix'd,  the  sport  and  prey 

Of  racking  whirlwinds;  or  for  ever  sunk 

Under  yon  boiling  ocean,  wrapt  in  chains. 

There  to  converse  with  everlasting  groans, 

Unrespited,  unpitied,  unreprieved, 

Ages  of  hopeless  end  ?  this  would  be  worse. 

War  therefore  open  or  conceal'd,  alike 

My  voice  dissuades ;  for  what  can  force  or  guile 

With  him,  or  who  deceive  his  mind,  whose  eye 

Views  all  things  at  one  view  ?     He  from  heav'n's  highth 

All  these  our  motions  vain  sees  and  derides ; 

Not  more  almighty  to  resist  our  might. 


d> 


34 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Than  wise  to  frustrate  all  our  plots  and  wiles. 

Shall  we  then  live  thus  vile,  th'  race  of  heav'n 

Thus  trampled,  thus  expell'd,  to  suffer  here 

Chains  and  these  torments  ?  better  these  than  worse 

By  my  advice;  since  fate  inevitable 

Subdues  us,  and  omnipotent  decree, 

The  victor's  will.     To  suffer,  as  to  do, 

Our  strength  is  equal,  nor  the  law  unjust 

That  so  ordains  :  this  was  -at  first  resolved. 

If  we  were  wise,  against  so  great  a  foe 

Contending,  and  so  doubtful  what  might  fall. 

I  laugh,  when  those,  who  at  the  spear  are  bold 

And  vent'rous,  if  that  fail  them,  shrink  and  fear 

What  yet  they  know  must  follow,  to  endure 

Exile,  or  ignominy,  or  bonds,  or  pain. 

The  sentence  of  their  conqueror  :  this  is  now 

Our  doom;   which  if  we  can  sustain  and  bear, 

Our  supreme  foe  in  time  may  much  remit 

His  anger,  and  perhaps  thus  far  removed 

Not  mind  us  not  offending,  satisfied 

With  what  is  punish'd  :  whence  these  raging  fires 

Will  slacken,  if  his  breath  stir  not  their  flames. 

Our  purer  essence  then  will  overcome 

Their  noxious  vapor,  or  enured  not  feel  ; 

Or  changed  at  length,  and  to  the  place  conform'd 

In  temper  and  in  nature,  will  receive 

Familiar  the  fierce  heat,  and  void  of  pain  ; 

This  horror  will  grow  mild,  this  darkness  light: 

Besides  w^hat  hope  the  never  ending  flight 

Of  future  days  may  bring,  what  chance,  what  change 

Worth  waiting,  since  our  present  lot  appears 

For  happy  though  but  ill,  for  ill  not  worst. 

If  we  procure  not  to  ourselves  more  woe. 

Thus  Belial  with  words  cloth'd  in  reason's  garb 
Counsell'd  ignoble  ease,  and  peaceful  sloth. 
Not  peace  :  and  after  him  thus  Mammon  spake. 


I 


^ 


-# 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  35 

Either  to  disenthrone  the  Kinj  of  heav'n 
We  war,  if  war  be  best,  or  to  regain 
Our  own  right  lost :  Him  to  unthrone  we  then 
May  hope,  when  everlasting  Fate  shall  yield 
To  fickle  Chance,  and  Chaos  judge  the  strife  : 
The  former  vain  to  hope  argues  as  vain 
The  latter  :  for  what  place  can  be  for  us 
Within  heav'n's  bound,  unless  heav'n's  Lord  supreme 
We  overpower  ?  suppose  He  should  relent 
And  publish  grace  to  all,  on  promise  made 
Of  new  subjection  ;  with  what  eyes  could  we 
Stand  in  his  presence  humble,  and  receive 
Strict  laws  imposed,  to  celebrate  his  throne 
With  warbled  hymns,  and  to  his  Godhead  sing 
Forced  hallelujahs;  while  he  lordly  sits 
Our  envied  Sov'reign,  and  his  altar  breathes 
Ambrosial  odors  and  ambrosial  flowers, 
Our  servile  offerings?     This  must  be  our  task 
In  heav'n,  this  our  delight ;  how  wearisome 
Eternity  so  spent  in  worship  paid 
To  whom  we  hate !     Let  us  not  then  pursue 
By  force  impossible,  by  leave  obtain'd 
Unacceptable,  though  in  heav'n,  our  state 
Of  splendid  vassalage,  but  rather  seek 
Our  own  good  from  ourselves,  and  from  our  own 
Live  to  our  selves,  though  in  this  vast  recess, 
Free,  and  to  none  accountable,  preferring 
Hard  liberty  before  the  easy  yoke 
Of  servile  pomp.      Our  greatness  will  appear 
Then  most  conspicuous,  when  great  things  of  small, 
Useful  of  hurtful,  prosperous  of  adverse, 
We  can  create  ;  and  in  what  place  so  e'er 
Thrive  under  evil,  and  work  ease  out  of  pain 
Through  labor  and  endurance.     This  deep  world 
Of  darkness  do  we  dread  ?  how  oft  amidst 
Thick  clouds  and  dark  doth  heav'n's  all-ruline  Sire 


a- 


^ 


,6  PARADISE  LOST. 

Choose  to  reside,  his  glory  unobscured, 

And  with  the  majesty  of  darkness  round 

Covers  his  throne  ;^  from  whence  deep  thunders  roar 

Must'ring  their  rage,  and  heav'n  resembles  hell  ? 

As  he  our  darkness,  cannot  we  His  light 

Imitate  when  we  please?  this  desert  soil 

Wants  not  her  hidden  lustre,  gems  and  gold  ; 

Nor  want  we  skill  or  art,  from  whence  to  raise 

Magnificence  ;  and  what  can  heav'n  shew  more  ? 

Our  torments  also  may  in  length  of  time 

Become  our  elements,  these  piercing  fires 

As  soft  as  now  severe,  our  temper  changed 

Into  their  temper;  which  must  needs  remove 

The  sensible  of  pain.     All  things  invite 

To  peaceful  counsels,  and  the  settled  state 

Of  order,  how  in  safety  best  we  may 

Compose  our  present  evils,  with  regard 

Of  what  we  are  and  were,  dismissing  quite 

All  thoughts  of  war.     Ye  have  what  I  advise. 

He  scarce  had  finish'd,  when  such  murmur  fill'd 
Th'  assembly,  as  when  hollow  rocks  retain 
The  sound  of  blustering  winds,  which  all  night  long 
Had  roused  the  sea,  now  with  hoarse  cadence  lull 
Sea-faring  men  o'er  watch'd,  whose  bark  by  chance 
Or  pinnace  anchors  in  a  craggy  bay 
After  the  tempest :  such  applause  was  heard 
As  Mammon  ended,  and  his  sentence  pleased, 
Advising  peace :  for  such  another  field 
They  dreaded  worse  than  hell  :  so  much  the  fear 
Of  thunder  and  the  sword  of  Michael 
Wrought  still  within  them  ;  and  no  less  desire 
To  found  this  nether  empire,  which  might  rise, 
By  policy  and  long  process  of  time, 
In  emulation  opposite  to  heav'n. 


1  Psalm  xviii.  11-13;  xcvii.  2. 


^ 


4 


PARADISE  LOST.  t^j  \ 

Which  when  Beelzebub  perceived,  than  whom, 

Satan  except,  none  higher  sat,  with  grave 

Aspect  he  rose,  and  in  his  rising  secm'd 

A  pillar  of  state  :  deep  on  his  front  engraven 

Deliberation  sat  and  public  care ; 

And  princely  counsel  in  his  f  ice  yet  shone, 

Majestic  though  in  ruin  :  sage  he  stood. 

With  Atlantean^  sho.ulders  fit  to  bear 

The  weight  of  mightiest  monarchies  ;  his  look 

Drew  audience  and  attention  still  as  night 

Or  summer's  noon-tide  air,  while  thus  he  spake. 

Thrones  and  imperial  Powers,  offspring  of  heav'n, 
Ethereal  Virtues;  or  these  titles  now 
Must  we  renounce,  and  changing  style  be  call'd 
Princes  of  hell  ?  for  so  the  popular  vote 
Inclines,  here  to  continue,  and  build  up  here 
A  growing  empire.     Doubtless  ;  while  we  dream, 
And  know  not  that  the  King  of  heav'n  hath  doom'd 
This  place  our  dungeon,  not  our  safe  retreat 
Beyond  his  potent  arm,  to  live  exempt 
From  heav'n's  high  jurisdiction,  in  new  league 
Banded  against  his  throne,  but  to  remain 
In  strictest  bondage,  though  thus  far  removed, 
Under  the  inevitable  curb,  reserv'd 
His  captive  multitude  :  for  he,  be  sure. 
In  highth  or  depth,  still  first  and  last  will  reign 
Sole  King,  and  of  his  kingdom  lose  no  part 
By  our  revolt,  but  over  hell  extend 
His  empire,  and  with  iron  sceptre  rule,^ 
Us  here,  as  with  his  golden  those  in  heav'n. 
What  sit  we  then  projecting  peace  and  war  ? 
War  hath  determined  us,  and  foil'd  with  loss 
Irreparable ;  terms  of  peace  yet  none 
Vouchsafed  or  sought ;  for  what  peace  will  be  giv'n 

1  Atlas  was  fabled  to  have  held  the  heavens  on  his  shoulders.  *  Psalm  ii.  g. 

0^ : ^ 


^ 


38  PARADISE  LOST. 

To  us  enslaved,  but  custody  severe, 

And  stripes,  and  arbitrary  punishment 

Inflicted?  and  what  peace  can  we  return. 

But  to  our  power  hostility  and  hate, 

Untamed  reluctance,  and  revenge,  though  slow. 

Yet  ever  plotting  how  the  conqueror  least 

May  reap  his  conquest,  and  may  least  rejoice 

In  doing  what  we  most  in  suffering  feel? 

Nor  will  occasion  want,  nor  shall  we  need 

With  dangerous  expedition  to  invade 

Heav'n,  whose  high  walls  fear  no  assault,  or  siege. 

Or  ambush  from  the  deep.     What  if  we  find 

Some  easier  enterprize  ?     There  is  a  place, 

(If  ancient  and  prophetic  fame  in  heav'n 

Err  not,)  another  world,  the  happy  seat 

Of  some  new  race  call'd  Man,  about  this  time 

To  be  created  like  to  us,  though  less 

In  power  and  excellence,  but  favor'd  more 

Of  Him  who  rules  above  ;  so  was  His  will 

Pronounced  among  the  Gods,  and  by  an  oath. 

That  shook  heav'n's  whole  circumference,  confirm'd. 

Thither  let  us  bend  all  our  thoughts,  to  learn 

What  creatures  there  inhabit,  of  what  mould 

Or  substance,  how  endued,  and  what  their  power, 

And  where  their  Aveakness,  how  attempted  best, 

By  force  or  subtilty.     Though  heav'n  be  shut, 

And  heav'n's  high  Arbitrator  sit  secure 

In  his  own  strength,  this  place  may  lie  exposed, 

The  utmost  border  of  his  kingdom,  left 

To  their  defence  who  hold  it :  here  perhaps 

Some  advantageous  act  may  be  achieved 

By  sudden  onset,  either  with  hell  fire 

To  waste  his  whole  creation,  or  possess 

All  as  our  own,  and  drive  as  we  were  driven 

The  puny  habitants  ;  or  if  not  drive, 

Seduce  them  to  our  party,  that  their  God 


^ 


-& 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  39 

May  prove  their  foe,  and  with  repenting  hand 
AboHsh  his  own  works.     This  would  surpass 
Common  revenge,  and  interrupt  his  joy- 
In  our  confusion,  and  our  joy  upraise 
In  his  disturbance ;  when  his  darhng  sons, 
Hurl'd  headlong  to  partake  with  us,  shall  curse 
Their  frail  original,  and  faded  bliss. 
Faded  so  soon.     Advise  if  this  be  worth 
Attempting,  or  to  sit  in  darkness  here 
Hatching  vain  empires. — Thus  Beelzebub 
Pleaded  his  devilish  counsel,  first  devised 
By  :5atan,  and  in  part  proposed  ;  for  whence, 
But  from  the  author  of  all  ill,  could  spring 
So  deep  a  malice,  to  confound  the  race 
Of  mankind  in  one  root,  and  earth  with  hell 
To  mingle  and  involve,  done  all  to  spite 
The  great  Creator  ?  but  their  spite  still  serves 
His  glory  to  augment      The  bold  design 
Pleased  highly  those  infernal  states,  and  joy 
Sparkled  in  all  their  eyes  ;  with  full  assent 
They  vote  :  whereat  his  speech  he  thus  renews. 

Well  have  ye  judged,  well  ended  long  debate,' 
Synod  of  Gods,  and,  like  to  what  ye  are. 
Great  things  resolved ;  which  from  the  lowest  deep 
Will  once  more  lift  us  up,  in  spite  of  fate, 
Nearer  our  ancient  seat ;  perhaps  in  view 
Of  those  bright  confines,  whence  with  neighboring  arms 
And  opportune  excursion  we  may  chance 
Re-enter  heav'n  :  or  else  in  some  mild  zone 
Dwell,  not  unvisited  of  heav'n's  fair  light, 
Secure,  and  at  the  brigt'ning  orient  beam 
Purge  off  this  gloom  ;  the  soft  delicious  air 
To  heal  the  scar  of  these  corrosive  fires 
Shall  breathe  her  balm.     But  first  whom  shall  we  send 
In  search  of  this  new  world  ?  whom  shall  we  find 
Sufficient  ?  who  shall  tempt  with  wand'ring  feet 

^ ^ 


^ 


-67 


40 


PARADISE  LOST. 

The  dark  unbottom'd  infinite  abyss, 
And  through  the  palpable  obscure  find  out 
His  uncouth  way,  or  spread  his  airy  flight, 
Upborne  with  indefatigable  wings. 
Over  the  vast  abrupt,  ere  he  arrive  ^ 
The  happy  isle?^  what  strength,  what  art  can  then 
Suffice,  or  what  evasion  bear  him  safe 
Through  the  strict  sentries  and  stations  thick 
Of  angels  watching  round  ?  here  he  had  need 
All  circumspection,  and  we  now  no  less 
Choice  in  our  suffrage;  for  on  whom  we  send 
The  weight  of  all,  and  our  last  hope,  relies. 

This  said,  he  sat;  and  expectation  held 
His  look  suspense,  awaiting  who  appear'd 
To  second,  or  oppose,  or  undertake 
The  perilous  attempt :  but  all  sat  mute. 
Pondering  the  danger  with  deep  thoughts  ;  and  each 
In  others'  count'nance  read  his  own  dismay 
Astonish'd  ;  none  among  the  choice  and  prime 
Of  those  heav'n-warring  champions  could  be  found 
So  hardy,  as  to  proffer  or  accept 
Alone  the  dreadful  voyage ;  till  at  last 
Satan,  whom  now  transcendent  glory  raised 
Above  his  fellows,  with  monarchal  pride. 
Conscious  of  highest  worth,  unmoved  thus  spake. 

O  Progeny  of  heav'n,  empyreal  Thrones, 
With  reason  hath  deep  silence  and  demur 
Seized  us,  though  undismay'd:  long  is  the  way 
And  hard,  that  out  of  hell  leads  up  to  light ; 
Our  prison  strong;  this  huge  convex  of  fire, 
Outrageous  to  devour,  immures  us  round 
Ninefold,  and  gates  of  burning  adamant 
Barr'd  over  us  prohibit  all  egress. 

■>  An  old  English  idiom. — See  Shakespeare's  Henry  VI.  Part  iii.  Act  v. 
2  The  earth  surrounded  by  air.~ 


^ 


'^ 


^ 


■e 


PARADISE  LOST.  41 

These  pass'd,  if  any  pass,  the  void  profound 

Of  unessential '  night  receives  him  next 

Wide  gaping,  and  with  utter  loss  of  being 

Threatens  him,  plunged  in  that  abortive  gulf. 

If  thence  he  'scape  into  whatever  world, 

Or  unknown  region,  what  remains  him  less 

Than  unknown  dangers  and  as  hard  escape  ? 

But  I  should  ill  become  this  throne,  O  Peers, 

And  this  imperial  sov'reignty,  adorn'd 

With  splendor,  arm'd  with  power,  if  aught  proposed 

And  judged  of  public  moment,  in  the  shape 

Of  difficulty  or  danger,  could  deter 

Me  from  attempting.     Wherefore  do  I  assume 

These  royalties,  and  not  refuse  to  reign. 

Refusing  to  accept  as  great  a  share 

Of  hazard  as  of  honor,  due  alike  , 

To  him  who  reigns,  and  so  much  to  him  due 

Of  hazard  more,  as  he  above  the  rest 

High  honor'd  sits?     Go,  therefore,  mighty  Powers, 

Terror  of  heav'n  though  fall'n  !  intend  at  home. 

While  here  shall  be  our  home,  what  best  may  ease 

The  present  misery,  and  render  hell 

More  tolerable ;  if  there  be  cure  or  charm 

To  respite,  or  deceive,  or  slack  the  pain 

Of  this  ill  mansion.     Intermit  no  watch 

Against  a  wakeful  foe,  while  I  abroad 

Through  all  the  coasts  of  dark  destruction  seek 

Deliverance  for  us  all :  this  enterprize 

None  shall  partake  with  me.     Thus  saying 

Rose  the  monarch  and  prevented  all  reply; 

Prudent,  lest  from  his  resolution  raised 

Others  among  the  chief  might  offer  now. 

Certain  to  be  refused,  what  erst  they  fear'd ; 

And  so  refused  might  in  opinion  stand 

1  Void  of  being. 


a— 


<b 


42  PARADISE  LOST. 

His  rivals,  winning  cheap  the  high  repute, 

Which  he  through  hazard  huge  must  earn.     But  they 

Dreaded  not  more  the  adventure,  than  his  voice 

Forbidding  ;  and  at  once  with  him  they  rose  : 

Their  rising  all  at  once  was  as  the  sound 

Of  thunder  heard  remote.     Towards  him  they  bend 

With  awful  reverence  prone  ;  and  as  a  God 

Extol  him  equal  to  the  highest  in  heav'n : 

Nor  failed  they  to  express  how  much  they  praised, 

That  for  the  general  safety  he  despised 

His  own ;  for  neither  do  the  spirits  damn'd 

Lose  all  their  virtue,  lest  bad  men  should  boast 

Their  specious  deeds  on  earth,  which  glory  excites, 

Or  close  ambition  varnish'd  o'er  with  zeal. 

Thus  they  their  doubtful  consultations  dark 

Ended,  rejoicing  in  their  matchless  chief: 

As  when  from  mountain  tops  the  dusky  clouds 

Ascending,  while  the  north  wind  sleeps,  o'erspread 

Heav'n's  cheerful  face,  the  low'ring  element 

Scowls  o'er  the  darken'd  landscape  snow,  or  shower; 

If  chance  the  radiant  sun  with  farewell  sweet 

Extend  his  ev'ning  beam,  the  fields  revive, 

The  birds  their  notes  renew,  and  bleating  herds 

Attest  their  joy,  that  hill  and  valley  rings. 

O  shame  to  men  !  devil  with  devil  damn'd 

Firm  concord  holds,  men  only  disagree 

Of  creatures  rational,  though  under  hope 

Of  heav'nly  grace  ;  and  God  proclaiming  peace, 

Yet  live  in  hatred, enmity,  and  strife 

Among  themselves,  and  levy  cruel  wars. 

Wasting  the  earth,  each  other  to  destroy  •} 

As  if,  which  might  induce  us  to  accord, 

Man  had  not  hellish  foes  enow  besides, 

That  day  and  night  for  his  destruction  wait. 

'  An  allusion  to  the  age  of  civil  strife  and  controversies  in  which  Milton's  lot  was  cast. 


^ 


4" 


a ^ : ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  43 

The  Stygian  council  thus  dissolved  ;  and  forth 
In  order  came  the  grand  infernal  peers ; 
Midst  came  their  mighty  paramount,  and  seem'd 
Alone  the  antagonist  of  heav'n,  nor  less 
Than  hell's  dread  emperor,  with  pomp  supreme 
And  God  like  imitated  state  :  him  round 
A  globe  of  fiery  Seraphim  inclosed 
With  bright  emblazonry  and  horrent^  arms 
Then  of  their  session  ended  they  bid  cry 
Witli  trumpets  regal  sound  the  great  result : 
Toward  the  four  winds  four  speedy  Cherubim 
Put  to  their  mouths  the  sounding  alchymy,^ 
By  heralds'  voice  explain'd  :  the  hollow  abyss 
Heard  far  and  wide,  and  all  the  host  of  hell 
With  deaf 'ning  shout  returned  them  loud  acclaim. 

Thence  more  at  ease  their  minds,  and  somewhat  raised 
By  false  presumptuous  hope,  the  ranged  Powers 
Disband,  and  wand'ring  each  his  several  way 
.  Pursues,  as  inclination  or  sad  choice 
Leads  him  perplex'd,  where  he  may  likeliest  find 
Truce  to  his  restless  thoughts,  and  entertain 
The  irksome  hours,  till  his  great  chief  return. 
Part,  on  the  plain  or  in  the  air  sublime, 
Upon  the  wmg  or  in  swift  race  contend, 
As  at  the  Olympian  games,  or  Pythian  fields : 
Part  curb  their  fiery  steeds,  or  shun  the  goal 
With  rapid  wheels,  or  fronted  brigades  form. 
As  when  to  warn  proud  cities  war  appears 
Waged  in  the  troubled  sky,^  and  armies  rush 
To  battle  in  the  clouds,  before  each  van ' 
Prick  forth  the  aery  knights,  and  couch  their  spears 
Till  thickest  legions  close ;  with  feats  of  arms 

1  Bristling.  «  Gold  or  silver  trumpets.     Herald's  alchemy  would  be  "or  and  argent." 

^  These  appearances  in  the  clouds  have  been  frequently  recorded.     On  the  Mont  d'Or,  the 

night  before  the  battle  in  which  Philip  von  Arteveldt  was  killed,  an  armed  host  was  seen 

contending  in  the  sky. 

^ ~& 


^ 


<b 


44 


PARADISE  LOST. 

From  either  end  of  heav'n  the  welkin  burns. 

Others  with  vast  Typhcean  rage  more  fell 

Rend  up  both  rocks  and  hills,  and  ride  the  air 

In  whirlwind  ■}  hell  scarce  holds  the  wild  uproar. 

As  when  Alcides^  from  CEchalia  crown'd 

With  conquest  feltth'  envenom'd  robe,  and  tore 

Through  pain  up  by  the  roots  Thessalian  pines, 

And  Lichas  from  the  top  of  Qita  threw 

Into  th'  Euboic  sea.     Others  more  mild. 

Retreated  in  a  silent  valley,  sing 

With  notes  angelical  to  many  a  harp 

Their  own  heroic  deeds  and  hapless  fall 

By  doom  of  battle ;  and  complain  that  fate 

Free  virtue  should  enthral  to  force  or  chance. 

Their  song  was  partial ;  but  the  harmony, 

What  could  it  less  when  spirits  immortal  sing? 

Suspended  hell,  and  took  with  ravishment 

The  thronging  audience.     In  discourse  more  sweet. 

For  eloquence  the  soul,  song  charms  the  sense. 

Others  apart  sat  on  a  hill  retired, 

In  thoughts  more  elevate,  and  reason'd  high 

Of  providence,  foreknowledge,  will,  and  fate, 

Fix'd  fate,  free  will,  foreknowledge  absolute  ; 

And  found  no  end,  in  wand'ring  mazes  lost. 

Of  good  and  evil  much  they  argued  then, 

Of  happiness  and  final  misery. 

Passion  and  apathy,  and  glory  and  shame. 

Vain  wisdom  all,  and  false  philosophy  : 

Yet  with  a  pleasing  sorcery  could  charm 

Pain  for  a  while  or  anguish,  and  excite 


1  Alluding  to  the  war  of  the  Titans. 

2  Hercules,  named  Alcides  after  his  grandfather,  Alceus.  On  his  return  from  the  conquest 
of  CEchalia,  a  city  of  Boeotia,  he  received  from  his  wife  the  envenomed  robe  of  the  Centaur. 
It  clung  to  him  and  could  only  be  removed  with  the  flesh.  In  his  agony  the  demigod  tore 
up  pines  by  the  roots,  and  threw  Lichas,  the  messenger  who  had  brought  him  the  robe,  from 
the  top  of  Mount  CEta  into  the  Eubean  Sea. 


^ 


■-P 


'I 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  45 

Fallacious  hope,  or  arm  th'  obdured  breast 

With  stubborn  patience  as  with  triple  steel. 

Another  part  in  squadrons  and  gross  bands, 

On  bold  adventure  to  discover  v/ide 

That  dismal  world,  if  any  clime  perhaps, 

Might  yield  them  easier  habitation,  bend 

Four  ways  their  flying  march,  along  the  banks 

Of  four  infernal  rivers,  that  disgorge 

Into  the  burning  lake  their  baleful  streams  ; 

Abhorred  Styx,^  the  flood  of  deadly  hate  ; 

Sad  Acheron  of  sorrow,  black  and  deep ; 

Cocytus,  named  of  lamentation  loud 

Heard  on  the  rueful  stream ;  fierce  Phlegethon, 

Whose  waves  of  torrent  fire  inflame  with  rage. 

Far  off  from  these*  a  slow  and  silent  stream, 

Lethe  the  river  of  oblivion,  rolls 

Her  wat'ry  labyrinth,  whereof  who  drinks. 

Forthwith  his  former  state  and  being  forgets, 

Forgets  both  joy  and  grief,  pleasure  and  pain. 

Beyond  this  flood  a  frozen  continent 

Lies,  dark  and  wild,  beat  with  perpetual  storms 

Of  whirlwind  and  dire  hail ;  which  on  firm  land 

Thaws  not,  but  gathers  heap,  and  ruin  seems 

Of  ancient  pile  ;  all  else  deep  snow  and  ice  ; 

A  gulf  profound  as  that  Serbonian^  bog 

Betwixt  Damiata  and  mount  Casius  old, 

Where  armies  whole  have  sunk  :  the  parching  air 

Burns  frore,^  and  cold  performs  th'  effect  of  fire. 

Thither  by  harpy-footed  Furies  haled 

At  certain  revolutions  all  the  damn'd 

Are  brought;  and  feel  by  turns  the  bitter  change 

Of  fierce  extremes,  extremes  by  change  more  fierce, 

1  The  names  and  qualities  of  these  rivers  are  all  taken  from  the  Greek  mythology, 

2  Serbonis  was  a  huge  bog  in  Egypt,  sometimes  so  covered  with  sand  as  to  be  indistinguish- 
able from  the  land.  It  was  200  furlongs  long,  and  1,000  round.  Damietta  was  a  city  on 
one  of  the  eastern  mouths  of  the  Nile.  s  Frostily.     See  Ecclus.  xlii.  20,  21. 

^ 


s- 


<b 


46  PARADISE  LOST. 

From  beds  of  raging  fire  to  starve  in  ice 

Their  soft  ethereal  warmth,  and  there  to  pine 

Immovable,  infix'd,  and  frozen  round, 

Periods  of  time  ;  thence  hurried  back  to  fire. 

They  ferry  over  this  Lethean  sound 

Both  to  and  fro,  their  sorrow  to  augment, 

And  wish  and  struggle,  as  they  pass  to  reach 

The  tempting  stream,  with  one  small  drop  to  lose 

In  sweet  forgetfulness  all  pain  and  woe. 

All  in  one  moment,  and  so  near  the  brink  : 

But  fate  withstands,  and  to  oppose  th'  attempt 

Medusa,^  with  Gorgonian  terror  guards 

The  ford,  and  of  itself  the  water  flies 

All  taste  of  living  wight,  as  once  it  fled 

The  lip  of  Tantalus.     Thus  roving  on 

In  confused  march  forlorn,  th'  advent'rous  bands, 

With  shudd'ring  horror  pale,  and  eyes  aghast, 

Viewed  first  their  lamentable  lot,  and  found 

No  rest :  through  many  a  dark  and  dreary  vale 

They  pass'd,  and  many  a  region  dolorous, 

O'er  many  a  frozen,  many  a  fiery  Alp, 

Rocks,  caves,  lakes,  fens,  bogs,  dens,  and  shades  of  death, 

A  universe  of  death,  which  God  by  curse 

Created  evil,  for  evil  only  good, 

Where  all  life  dies,  death  lives,  and  nature  breeds. 

Perverse,  all  monstrous,  all  prodigious  things, 

Abominable,  inutterable,  and  worse 

Than  fables  yet  have  feign'd,  or  fear  conceived, 

Gorgons,  and  Hydras,  and  Chimaeras^  dire. 

Meanwhile  the  adversary  of  God  and  man, 
Satan,  with  thoughts  inflamed  of  highest  design, 
Puts  on  swift  wings,  and  toward  the  gates  of  hell 


1  Medusa  was  a  Gorgon  of  horrid  beauty,  who  had  the  power  ot  turning  those  who  gazed 
-  her  into  stone.     Forgetfulness  could  never  be  permitted  to  the  lost  spirits. 

2  Monsters  of  the  heathen  mythology. 


^ 


4 


Before  the  gates  there  sat 
On  either  side  a  formidable  shape. 


Page  47. 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  47 

Explores  his  solitary  flight ;  sometimes 

He  scours  the  right-hand  coast,  sometimes  the  left  ; 

Now  shaves  with  level  wing  the  deep,  then  soars 

Up  to  the  fiery  concave  towering  high. 

As  when  far  off  at  sea  a  fleet  descried 

Hangs  in  the  clouds,  by  equinoctial  winds 

Close  sailing  from  Bengala,  or  the  isles 

Of  Ternate  and  Tidore/  whence  merchants  bring 

Their  spicy  drugs  :  they  on  the  trading  flood 

Through  the  wide  /Ethiopian  to  the  Cape 

Ply,  stemming  nightly  toward  the  pole :  so  seem'd 

Far  off  the  flying  fiend.     At  last  appear 

Hell  bounds,  high  reaching  to  the  horrid  roof; 

And  thrice  threefold  the  gates ;  three  folds  were  brass, 

Three  iron,  three  of  adamantine  rock, 

Impenetrable,  impaled  with  oircling  fire, 

Yet  unconsumed.     Before  the  gates  there  sat 

On  either  side  a  formidable  shape  f 

The  one  seem'd  woman  to  the  waist,  and  fair, 

But  ended  foul  in  many  a  scaly  fold, 

Voluminous  and  vast,  a  serpent  arm'd 

With  mortal  sting :  about  her  middle  round 

A  cry  of  hell  hounds  never  ceasing  bark'd 

With  wide  Cerberean^  mouths  full  loud,  and  rung 

A  hideous  peel :  yet,  when  they  list,  would  creep. 

If  aught  disturb'd  their  noise,  into  her  womb, 

And  kennel  there ;  yet  there  still  bark'd  and  howl'd 

Within  unseen.     Far  less  abhorr'd  than  these 

Vex'd  Scylla  bathing  in  the  sea  that  parts 

Calabria  from  the  hoarse  Trinacrian  shore  :* 

*  Two  of  the  Molucca  islands. 

2  Here  begins  the  famous  allegory  of  Milton,  which  is  a  sort  of  paraphrase  of  St.  James 
i.  15  :  "  Then  when  lust  hath  conceived,  it  bringeth  forth  sin;  and  sin,  when  it  is  finished, 
bringeth  forth  death." 

3  Like  those  of  Cerberus,  the  dog  witn  three  heads,  supposed  to  keep  the  gate  of  hell. 

*  Trinacria  was  the  ancient  name  for  Sicily.  Scylla  Charybdis  were  the  whirlpools  be- 
tween it  and  Italy. 


^ 


-^:^ 


^ 


<b 


48  PARADISE  LOST. 

Nor  uglier  follow  the  Night-hag,  when  call'd 
In  secret  riding  through  the  air  she  comes, 
Lured  with  the  smell  of  infant  blood,  to  dance 
With  Lapland  witches,  while  the  laboring  moon 
Eclipses  at  their  charms.     The  other  shape, 
If  shape  it  might  be  call'd,  that  shape  had  none 
Distinguishable  in  member,  joint,  or  limb, 
Or  substance  might  be  call'd  that  shadow  seem'd, 
For  each  seem'd  either ;  black  it  stood  as  night. 
Fierce  as  ten  furies,  terrible  as  hell 
And  shook  a  dreadful  dart ;  what  seem'd  his  head 
The  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown  had  on. 
Satan  was  now  at  hand,  and  from  his  seat 
The  monster  moving  onward  came  as  fast, 
With  horrid  strides  ;  hell  trembled  as  he  strode. 
The  undaunted  fiend  what  this  might  be  admired ; 
Admired,  not  fear'd ;  God  and  his  Son  except, 
Created  thing  naught  valued  he,  nor  shunn'd  ; 
And  with  disdainful  look  thus  first  began. 

Whence  and  what  art  thou,  execrable  shape, 
That  dar'st,  though  grim  and  terrible,  advance 
Thy  miscreated  front  athwart  my  way 
To  yonder  gates  ?  through  them  I  mean  to  pass, 
That  be  assured  without  leave  ask'd  of  thee. 
Retire,  or  taste  thy  folly,  and  learn  by  proof, 
Hell-born,  not  to  contend  with  spirits  of  heav'n. 

To  whom  the  goblin  full  of  wrath  replied, 
Art  thou  that  traitor  angel,  art  thou  he. 
Who  first  broke  peace  in  heav'n  and  faith,  till  then 
Unbroken,  and  in  proud  rebellious  arms 
Drew  after  him  the  third  nart  of  heav'n's  sons 
Conjured^  against  the  Highest ;  for  which  both  thou 
And  they,  outcast  from  God,  are  here  condemn'd 
To  waste  eternal  days  in  woe  and  pain  ? 

1  Conspired. 


^ 


4 


C7 


■^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  49 

And  reckon'st  thou  thyself  with  spirits  of  hsav'n, 
Hell-doom'd,  and  breath'st  defiance  here  and  scorn, 
Where  I  reign  king,  and,  to  enrage  thee  more, 
Thy  king  and  lord?     Back  to  thy  punishment, 
False  fugitive,  and  to  thy  speed  add  wings, 
Lest  with  a  whip  of  scorpions  I  pursue 
Thy  lingering,  or  with  one  stroke  of  this  dart 
Strange  horror  seize  thee,  and  pangs  unfelt  before. 

So  spake  the  grisly  terror,  and  in  shape, 
So  speaking  and  so  threat'ning,  grew  tenfold 
More  dreadful  and  deform  :  on  the  other  side 
Incensed  with  indignation  Satan  stood 
Unterrified,  and  like  a  comet  burn'd. 
That  fires  the  length  of  Ophiucus '  huge 
In  th'  arctic  sky,  and  from  his  horrid  hair 
Shakes  pestilence  and  war.     Each  at  the  head 
Levell'd  his  deadly  aim ;  their  fatal  hands 
No  second  stroke  intend,  and  such  a  frown 
Each  cast  at  the  other,  as  when  two  black  clouds, 
With  heav'n's  artillery  fraught,  come  rattling  on 
Over  the  Caspian  f  then  stand  front  to  front 
Hov'ring  a  space,  till  winds  the  signal  blow 
To  join  their  dark  encounter  in  mid  air: 
So  frown'd  the  mighty  combatants,  that  hell 
Grew  darker  at  their  frown,  so  match'd  they  stood  ; 
For  never  but  once  more^  was  either  like 
To  meet  so  great  a  foe  :  and  now  great  deeds 
Had  been  achieved,  whereof  all  hell  had  rung, 
Had  not  the  snaky  sorceress  that  sat 
Fast  by  hell  gate,  and  kept  the  fatal  key, 
Ris'n,  and  with  hideous  outcry  rush'd  between. 

1  Serpentarius,    a   northern    constellation.      Its   length   would  be   about   forty    degrees. 
Comets  were  supposed  to  threaten  "  pestilence  and  war." 

2  The  Caspian  is  a  remarkably  tempestuous  sea. 

3  Jesus  Christ  is  here  intimated,  who  was  to  destroy  death,  and  him  that  has  the  power 
of  death  (Heb.  ii.  14). 

± 


^ 


4^ 


<b 


50  PARADISE  LOST. 

O  father,  what  intends  thy  hand,  she  cried, 
Against  thy  only  son  ?     What  fury,  O  son, 
Possesses  thee  to  bend  that  mortal  dart 
Against  thy  father's  head  ?  and  know'st  for  whom  ? 
For  Him  who  sits  above,  and  laughs  the  while 
At  thee  ordained  His  drudge,  to  execute 
Whate'er  His  wrath,  which  He  calls  justice,  bids  ; 
His  wrath,  which  one  day  will  destroy  ye  both. 

She  spake,  and  at  her  words  the  hellish  pest 
Forbore  ;  then  these  to  her  Satan  return'd  : 

So  strange  thy  outcry,  and  thy  words  so  strange 
Thou  interposest,  that  my  sudden  hand 
Prevented  spares  to  tell  thee  yet  by  deeds 
What  it  intends;  till  first  I  know  of  thee. 
What  thing  thou  art,  thus  double  form'd,  anJ  why, 
In  this  infernal  vale  first  met,  thou  call'st 
Ivle  father,  and  that  phantasm  call'st  my  son  : 
I  know  thee  not,  nor  ever  saw  till  now 
Sight  more  detestable  than  him  and  thee. 
To  whom  thus  the  portress  of  hell  gate  replied. 

Hast  thou  forgot  me  then,  and  do  I  seem 
Now  in  thine  eye  so  foul,  once  deem'd  so  fair 
In  heav'n  ?  when  at  th'  assembly,  and  in  sight 
Of  all  the  seraphim  with  thee  combined 
In  bold  conspiracy  against  heav'n's  King, 
All  on  a  sudden  miserable  pain 
Surprized  thee,  dim  thine  eyes,  and  dizzy  swum 
In  darkness,  while  thy  head  flames  thick  and  fast 
Threw  forth,  till  on  the  left  side  op'ning  wide, 
Likest  to  thee  in  shape  and  countenance  bright, 
Then  shining  heav'nly  fair,  a  Goddess  arm'd, 
Out  of  thy  head  I  sprung  ■}  amazement  seized 
All  the  host  of  heav'n ;  back  they  recoil'd  afraid 


1  The  allegory  here  follows  ihe  Greek  fable  of  the  birth  of  Minerva —  IVisdotn  —said  to 
have  sprang  from  the  head  of  Jupiter  ;  as  Sin  is  here  figured  to  have  sprung  from  the  heart 
of  Satan. 


f ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  5  i 

At  first,  and  call'd  me  Sin,  and  for  a  sign 

Portentous  held  me  :  but  familiar  grown, 

I  pleased,  and  with  attractive  graces  won 

The  most  averse,  thee  chiefly,  who  full  oft 

Thyself  in  me  thy  perfect  image  viewing 

Becam'st  enamour'd,  and  such  joy  thou  took'st 

With  me  in  secret,  that  my  womb  conceived 

A  growing  burthen.     Meanwhile  war  arose, 

And  fields  were  fought  in  heaven;  wherein  remain'd, 

(For  what  could  else  ?)  to  our  almighty  foe 

Clear  victory,  to  our  part  loss  and  rout 

Through  all  the  empyrean :  down  they  fell 

Driv'n  headlong  from  the  pitch  of  heav'n,  down 

Into  this  deep,  and  in  the  general  fall 

I  also ;  at  which  time  this  powerful  key 

Into  my  hand  was  giv'n,  with  charge  to  keep 

These  gates  for  ever  shut,  which  none  can  pass 

Without  my  op'ning.     Pensive  here  I  sat 

Alone,  but  long  I  sat  not,  till  my  womb. 

Pregnant  by  thee,  and  now  excessive  grown, 

Prodigious  motion  felt  and  rueful  throes. 

At  last  this  odious  offspring  whom  thou  seest, 

Thine  own  begotten,  breaking  violent  way, 

Tore  through  my  entrails,  that  with  fear  and  pain 

Distorted  all  my  nether  shape  thus  grew 

Transform'd :  but  he  my  inbred  enemy 

Forth  issued,  brandishing  his  fatal  dart 

Made  to  destroy  }  I  fled,  and  cried  out  Death  ; 

Hell  trembled  at  the  hideous  name,  and  sigh'd 

From  all  her  caves,  and  back  resounded  Death. 

I  fled,  but  he  pursued,  though  more,  it  seems, 

Inflamed  with  lust  than  rage,  and  swifter  far 

Me  overtook  his  mother  all  dismay'd, 

And,  in  embraces  forcible  and  foul. 


1  St.  James  i.  15. 


^ 


^ 


s- 


-^ 


52  PARADISE  LOST. 

Ingend'ring  with  me,  of  that  rape  begot 
These  yelling  monsters  that  with  ceaseless  cry 
Surround  me,  as  thou  saw'st,  hourly  conceived 
And  hourly  born,  with  sorrow  infinite 
To  me ;  for  when  they  list  into  the  womb 
That  bred  them  they  return,  and  howl  and  gnaw 
My  bowels,  their  repast ;  then  bursting  forth 
Afresh  with  conscious  terrors  vex  me  round, 
That  rest  or  intermission  none  I  find. 
Before  mine  eyes  in  opposition  sits 
Grim  Death  my  son  and  foe,  who  sets  them  on, 
And  me  his  parent  would  full  soon  devour 
For  want  of  other  prey,  but  that  he  knows 
His  end  with  mine  involved  ;  and  knows  that  I 
Should  prove  a  bitter  morsel,  and  his  bane, 
Whenever  that  shall  be ;  so  Fate  pronounced. 
But  thou,  O  father,  I  forewarn  thee,  shun 
His  deadly  arrow ;  neither  vainly  hope 
To  be  invulnerable  in  those  bright  arms, 
Though  temper'd  heavenly  ;  for  that  mortal  dint, 
Save  he  who  reigns  above,  none  can  resist. 
She  finish'd,  and  the  subtle  fiend  his  lore 
Soon  learn'd  now  milder,  and  thus  answer'd  smooth. 
Dear  daughter,  since  thou  claim'st  me  for  thy  sire, 
And  my  fair  son  here  show'st  me,  the  dear  pledge 
Of  dalliance  had  with  thee  in  heaven,  and  joys 
Then  sweet,  now  sad  to  mention,  through  dire  change 
Befall'n  us,  unforeseen,  unthought  of,  know 
I  come  no  enemy,  but  to  set  free 
PVom  out  this  dark  and  dismal  house  of  pain, 
Both  him  and  thee,  and  all  the  heav'nly  host 
Of  spirits  that,  in  our  just  pretences  arm'd, 
Fell  with  us  from  on  high :  from  them  I  go 
This  uncouth  errand  sole,  and  one  for  all 
Myself  expose,  with  lonely  steps  to  tread 
Th'  unfounded  deep,  and  through  the  void  immense 


^ 


4 


^ — ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  53 

To  search  with  wandering  quest  a  place  foretold 

Should  be,  and,  by  concurring  signs,  ere  now 

Created,  vast  and  round,  a  place  of  bliss 

In  the  purlieus  of  heaven,  and  therein  placed 

A  race  of  upstart  creatures,  to  supply 

Perhaps  our  vacant  room,  though  more  removed, 

Lest  heav'n  surcharged  with  potent  multitude 

Might  hap  to  move  new  broils.     Be  this,  or  aught 

Than  this  more  secret,  now  designed,  I  haste 

To  know,  and,  this  once  known,  shall  soon  return. 

And  bring  ye  to  the  place  where  thou  and  Death 

Shall  dwell  at  ease,  and  up  and  down  unseen 

Wing  silently  the  buxom  air,  imbalm'd 

With  odors ;  there  ye  shall  be  fed  and  fill'd 

Immeasurably,  all  things  shall  be  your  prey. 

He  ceased,  for  both  seem'd  highly  pleased,  and  Death 
Grinn'd  horrible  a  ghastly  smile,  to  hear 
His  famine  should  be  fill'd,  and  blest  his  maw 
Destined  to  that  good  hour  :  no  less  rejoiced 
His  mother  bad,  and  thus  bespake  her  sire  : 

The  key  of  this  infernal  pit  by  due, 
And  by  command  of  heav'n's  all-powerful  King, 
I  keep,  by  him  forbidden  to  unlock 
These  adamantine  gates  ;  against  all  force 
Death  ready  stands  to  interpose  his  dart. 
Fearless  to  be  o'ermatch'd  by  living  might. 
But  what  owe  I  to  his  commands  above, 
Who  hates  me,  and  hath  hither  thrust  me  down 
Into  this  gloom  of  Tartarus  profound. 
To  sit  in  hateful  office,  here  confined, 
Inhabitant  of  heav'n,  and  heav'nly-born. 
Here,  in  perpetual  agony  and  pain. 
With  terrors  and  with  clamors  compass'd  round 
Of  mine  own  brood,  that  on  my  bowels  feed? 
Thou  art  my  father,  thou  my  author,  thou 
My  being  gav'st  me ;  whom  should  I  obey 
■ 


a- 


■e? 


54  PARADISE  LOST. 

But  thee?  whom  follow?  thou  wilt  bring  me  soon 
To  that  new  world  of  light  and  bliss,  among 
The  Gods  who  live  at  ease,  where  I  shall  reign 
At  thy  right  hand  voluptuous,  as  beseems 
Thy  daughter  and  thy  darling,  without  end. 
Thus  saying,  from  her  side  the  fatal  key, 
Sad  instrument  of  all  our  woe,  she  took; 
And  towards  the  gate  rolling  her  bestial  train, 
Forthwith  the  huge  portcullis  high  up  drew, 
Which  but  herself  not  all  the  Stygian  powers 
Could  once  have  moved ;  then  in  the  keyhole  turns 
Th'  intricate  wards,  and  every  bolt  and  bar 
Of  massy  iron  or  solid  rock  with  ease 
Unfastens :  on  a  sudden  open  fly 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound 
Th'  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder,  that  the  lowest  bottom  shook 
Of  Erebus.     She  open'd,  but  to  shut 
Excell'd  her  power ;  the  gates  wide  open  stood, 
That  with  extended  wings  a  banner'd  host 
Under  spread  ensigns  marching  might  pass  through 
With  horse  and  chariots  rank'd  in  loose  array ; 
So  wide  they  stood,  and  like  a  furnace  mouth 
Cast  forth  redounding  smoke  and  ruddy  flame. 
Before  their  eyes  in  sudden  view  appear 
The  secrets  of  the  hoary  deep,  a  dark 
Illimitable  ocean,  without  bound, 

Without  dimension,  where  length,  breadth,  and  highth, 
And  time  and  place  are  lost;  where  eldest  Night 
And  Chaos,  ancestors  of  Nature,'  hold 
Eternal  anarchy  amidst  the  noise 
Of  endless  wars,  and  by  confusion  stand  : 
For  hot,  cold,  moist,  and  dry,  four  champions  fierce, 


1  AH  the  ancients  believed  that  Night  (or  darkness)  existed  from  the  beginning,  and  that 
Chaos  (or  confusion)  was  the  origin  of  all  things. 


^ 


-^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  55 

Strive  here  for  mast'ry,  and  to  battle  bring 

Their  embryon  atoms;  they  around  the  flag 

Of  each  his  faction,  in  their  several  clans, 

Light-arm'd  or  heavy,  sharp,  smooth,  swift,  or  slow, 

Swarm  populous,  unnumber'd  as  the  sands 

Of  Barca  or  Cyrene's^  torrid  soil, 

Levied  to  side  with  warring  winds,  and  poise 

Their  lighter  wings.     To  whom  these  most  adhere, 

He  rules  a  moment;  Chaos  umpire  sits, 

And  by  decision  more  imbroils  the  fray 

By  which  he  reigns :  next  him  high  arbiter 

Chance  governs  all.     Into  this  wild  abyss. 

The  womb  of  nature  and  perhaps  her  grave, 

Of  neither  sea,  nor  shore,  nor  air,  nor  fire, 

But  all  these  in  their  pregnant  causes  mix'd 

Confus'dly,  and  which  thus  must  ever  fight. 

Unless  th'  almighty  Maker  them  ordain 

His  dark  materials  to  create  more  worlds ; 

Into  this  wild  abyss  the  wary  fiend  * 

Stood  on  the  brink  of  hell,  and  look'd  a  while. 

Pondering  his  voyage  ;  for  no  narrow  frith 

He  had  to  cross.     Nor  was  his  ear  less  peal'd 

With  noises  loud  and  ruinous,  to  compare 

Great  things  with  small,  than  when  Bellona  storms, 

With  all  her  battering  engines  bent  to  rase 

Some  capital  city ;  or  less  than  if  this  frame 

Of  heav'n  were  falling,  and  these  elements 

In  mutiny  had  from  her  axle  torn 

The  stedfast  earth.     At  last  his  sail-broad  vans 

He  spreads  for  flight,  and  in  the  surging  smoke 

Uplifted  spurns  the  ground  ;  thence  many  a  league 

As  in  a  clouded  chair  ascending  rides 

Audacious  ;  but,  that  seat  soon  failing,  meets 

A  vast  vacuity:  all  unawares 

1  A  city  and  province  of  Libya. 


V. 


0 


^ 


56  PARADISE  LOST. 

Flutt'ring  his  pennons  vain  plumb  down  he  drops 
Ten  thousand  fathom  deep,  and  to  this  hour 
Down  had  been  falhng,  had  not  by  ill  chance 
The  strong  rebuff  of  some  tumultuous  cloud 
Instinct  with  fire  and  nitre  hurried  him 
As  many  miles  aloft :  that  fury  stay'd, 
Quenched  in  a  boggy  syrtis,  neither  sea, 
Nor  good  dry  land  :  nigh  foundered  on  he  fares, 
Treading  the  crude  consistence,  half  on  foot, 
Half  flying;  behoves  him  now  both  oar  and  sail. 
As  when  a  gryphon^  through  the  wilderness 
With  winged  course  o'er  hill  or  moory  dale 
Pursues  the  Arimaspian,^  who  by  stealth 
Had  from  his  wakeful  custody  purloin'd 
The  guarded  gold :  so  eagerly  the  fiend 
O'er  bog  or  steep,  through  strait,  rough,  dense,  or  rare, 
With  head,  hands,  wings,  or  feet,  pursues  his  way, 
And  swims,  or  sinks,  or  wades,  or  creeps,  or  flies. 
At  length  a  universal  hubbub  wild 
Of  stunning  sounds  and  voices  all  confused, 
Borne  thiough  the  hollow  dark,  assaults  his  ear 
,  With  loudest  vehemence  :  thither  he  plies. 

Undaunted  to  meet  there  whatever  power 
Or  spirit  of  the  nethermost  abyss 
Might  in  that  noise  reside,  of  whom  to  ask 
Which  way  the  nearest  coast  of  darkness  lies, 
Bordering  on  light ;  when  straight  behold  the  throne 
Of  Choas,  and  his  dark  pavilion  spread 
Wide  on  the  wasteful  Deep:  with  him  enthroned 
Sat  sable-vested  Night,  eldest  of  things. 
The  consort  of  his  reign  ;  and  by  them  stood 
Orcus  and  Ades,^  and  the  dreaded  name 

1  Gryphon,  a  fabulous  creature ;  a  lion  with  an  eagle's  head,  said  to  guard  gold  mines. 
*  The  Arimaspians  were  a  one-eyed  people  of  Scythia,  who  took  gold,  when  they  could 
get  it,  from  the  gryphons  who  guarded  it.     See  Pliny's  "  Natural  History.''  lib.  vii.  c.  2. 
^  Orchus,  Pluto;  Adas,  a  personification,  any  dark  place. — Richard.sont. 


r 


[> 


IVtt/i  head,  hands,  wings,  or  feet,  pursues  his  way. 
And  swims,  or  sinks,  or  wades,  or  creeps,  or  flies. 


Page  56. 


i 


f ^ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  57 

Of  Demogorgon  ;'  Rumor  next,  and  Chance, 
And  Tumult,  and  Confusion,  all  imbroil'd, 
And  Discord  with  a  thousand  various  mouths. 
To  whom  Satan  turning  boldly,  thus. — Ye  Powers, 
And  Spirits  of  this  nethermost  abyss. 
Chaos  and  ancient  Night,  I  come  no  spy, 
With  purpose  to  explore  or  to  disturb 
The  secrets  of  your  realm  ;  but  by  constraint, 
Wand'ring  this  darksome  desert,  as  my  way 
Lies  through  your  spacious  empire  up  to  light, 
Alone,  and  without  guide,  half  lost,  I  seek 
What  readiest  path  leads  where  your  gloomy  bounds 
Confine  with  heav'n  ;  or  if  some  other  place. 
From  your  dominion  won,  th'  ethereal  King 
Possesses  lately,  thither  to  arrive 
I  travel  this  profound;   direct  my  course  ; 
Directed,  no  mean  recompense  it  brings 
To  your  behoof,  if  I  that  region  lost, 
All  usurpation  thence  expell'd,  reduce 
To  her  original  darkness  and  your  sway. 
Which  is  my  present  journey,  and  once  more 
Erect  the  standard  there  of  ancient  Night ; 
Yours  be  th'  advantage  all,  mine  the  revenge. 
Thus  Satan  ;  and  him  thus  the  Anarch  old, 
With  falt'ring  speech  and  visage  incomposed, 
Answer'd.     I  know  thee,  stranger,  who  thou  art, 
That  mighty  leading  angel,  who  of  late 
Made  head  against  heav'n's  King,  though  overthrown, 
I  saw  and  heard ;  for  such  a  numerous  host 
Fled  not  in  silence  through  the  frighted  deep, 
With  ruin  upon  ruin,  rout  on  rout, 
Confusion  worse  confounded;  and  heav'n  gates 
Pour'd  out  by  millions  her  victorious  bands 
Pursuing.     I  upon  my  frontiers  here 

1  A  fiend,  whose  very  name  the  heathen  feared  to  pronounce. 


a— 


<b 


58  FARAD/SB  LOST. 

Keep  residence ;  if  all  I  can  will  serve, 
That  little  which  is  left  so  to  defend, 
Encroach'd  on  still  through  your  intestine  broils 
Weak'ning  the  sceptre  of  old  Night:  first  hell, 
Your  dungeon,  stretching  far  and  wide  beneath  ; 
Now  lately  heaven  and  earth,  another  world. 
Hung  o'er  my  realm,  link'd  in  a  golden  chain 
To  that  side  heav'n  from  whence  your  legions  fell 
If  that  way  be  your  walk,  you  have  not  far; 
So  much  the  nearer  danger  :  go  and  speed  ; 
Havock,  and  spoil,  and  ruin  are  my  gain. 

He  ceased  ;  and  Satan  stay'd  not  to  reply. 
But  glad  that  now  his  sea  should  find  a  shore, 
With  fresh  alacrity  and  force  renew'd 
Springs  upward,  like  a  pyramid  of  fire, 
Into  the  wild  expanse,  and  through  the  shock 
Of  fighting  elements,  on  all  sides  round 
Environ'd,  wins  his  way;  harder  beset 
And  more  endanger'd,  than  when  Argo^  pass'd 
Through  Bosphorus  betwixt  the  justling  rocks  : 
Or  when  Ulysses  on  the  larboard  shunned 
Charybdis,  and  by  th'  other  whirlpool  steer'd, 
So  he  with  difficulty  and  labor  hard 
Moved  on,  with  difficulty  and  labor  he ; 
But  he  once  past,  soon  after  when  man  fell. 
Strange  alteration  !     Sin  and  death  amain 
Following  his  track,  such  was  the  will  of  Heav'n, 
Paved  after  him  a  broad  and  beaten  way 
Over  the  dark  abyss,  whose  boiling  gulf 
Tamely  endured  a  bridge  of  wond'rous  length. 
From  hell  continued,  reaching  th'  utmost  orb 
Of  this  frail  world ;  by  which  the  spirits  perverse 
With  easy  intercourse  pass  to  and  fro 


1  The  ship  in  which  Jason  and  his  companions  sailed  to  fetch  the  golden  fleece  from 
Colchis,  in  the  Black  Sea, 


^ 


--& 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  59 

To  tempt  or  punish  mortals,  except  whom 
God  and  good  angels  guard  by  special  grace. 
But  now  at  last  the  sacred  influence 
Of  light  appears,  and  from  the  walls  of  heav'n 
Shoots  far  into  the  bosom  of  dim  Night 
A  glimmering  dawn  :  here  Nature  first  begins 
Her  farthest  verge,  and  Chaos  to  retire 
As  from  her  outmost  works,  a  broken  foe, 
With  tumult  less  and  with  less  hostile  din, 
That  Satan  with  less  toil  and  now  with  ease 
Wafts  on  the  calmer  wave  by  dubious  light, 
And  like  a  weather-beaten  vessel  holds 
Gladly  the  port,  though  shrouds  and  tackle  torn ; 
Or  in  the  emptier  waste,  resembling  air, 
Weighs  his  spread  wings,  at  leisure  to  behold 
Far  off  th'  empyreal  heav'n,  extended  wide 
In  circuit,  undetermined  square  or  round. 
With  opal  towers  and  battlements  adorn'd 
Of  living  sapphire,  once  his  native  seat ; 
And  fast  by  hanging  in  a  golden  chain 
This  pendant  world,'  in  bigness  as  a  star 
Of  smallest  magnitude  close  by  the  moon. 
Thither  full  fraught  with  mischievous  revenge. 
Accursed,  and  in  a  cursed  hour,  he  hies. 

1  See  Measure  for  Measure,  Act  iii,  Sc.  i. 


^ ^ 


^ 


-^ 


ZJ 


60 


PARADISE  LOST. 


BOOK  III. 

THE  ARGUMENT, 

God  sitting  on  his  throne  sees  Satan  flying  towards  this  world,  thea  newly  created ; 
shows  him  to  the  Son,  who  sat  at  his  right  hand  ;  foretells  the  success  of  Satan  in  perverting 
mankind  ;  clears  his  own  justice  and  wisdom  from  all  imputation,  having  created  Man  free, 
and  able  enough  to  have  withstood  his  tempter  ;  yet  declares  his  purpose  of  grace  towards 
him.  in  regard  he  fell  not  of  his  own  malice,  as  did  Satan,  but  by  him  seduced.  The  Son  of 
God  renders  praises  to  his  Father  for  the  manifestation  of  his  gracious  purpose  towards  Man ; 
but  God  again  declares,  that  grace  cannot  be  extended  towards  Man  without  the  satisfaction  of 
divine  justice  ;  Man  hath  offended  the  majesty  of  God  by  aspiring  to  Godhead,  and  therefore 
with  ai;  liis  progeny  devoted  to  death  must  die,  unless  some  one  can  be  found  sufficient  to 
answer  for  his  offence,  and  undergo  his  punishment.  The  Son  of  God  freely  offers  himself 
a  ransom  for  Man;  the  Father  accepts  him,  ordains  his  incarnation,  pronounces  his  exalta- 
tion above  all  names  in  heaven  and  earth;  commands  all  the  Angels  to  adore  him;  they 
obey,  and,  hymning  to  their  harps  in  full  cnoir,  celebrate  the  Father  and  the  Son.  Mean- 
while Satan  alights  upon  the  bare  convex  of  this  world's  outermost  orb ;  where  wandering 
ha  first  finds  a  place,  since  called  the  Limbo  of  Vanity  ;  what  persons  and  things  fly  up 
thither;  thence  comes  to  the  gate  of  heaven,  described  ascending  by  stairs,  and  the  waters 
above  the  firmament  that  flow  about  it :  his  passage  thence  to  the  orb  of  the  sun  ;  he  finds 
there  Uriel  the  regent  of  that  orb ;  but  first  changes  himself  into  the  shape  of  a  meaner 
angel;  and  pretending  a  zealous  desire  to  behold  the  new  creation,  and  Man  whom  God 
had  placed  here,  inquires  of  him  the  place  of  his  habitation,  and  is  directed;  alights  first 
on  Mount  Niphates. 

Hail  holy  light,  offspring  of  heav'n  first-born 

Or  of  th'  Eternal  co-eternal  beam 

May  I  express  thee  unblamed  ?  since  God  is  light/ 

And  never  but  in  unapproached  light 

Dwelt  from  eternity,  dwelt  then  in  thee, 

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 

The  rising  world  of  waters  dark  and  deep, 

Won  from  the  void  and  formless  infinite. 


1  I  St.  John  i.  s.     I  Tim.  vi.  16. 


*  Job  xxxviii.  19. 


^ 


■P 


* 


"^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  6i 

Thee  I  revisit  now  with  bolder  wing, 

Escaped  the  Stygian  pool,  though  long  detain'd 

In  that  obscure  sojourn,  while  in  my  flight 

Through  utter  and  through  middle  darkness  borne, 

With  other  notes,  than  to  th'  Orphean  lyre/ 

I  sung  of  Chaos  and  eternal  Night, 

Taught  by  the  heav'nly  Muse  to  venture  down 

The  dark  descent,  and  up  to  reascend, 

Though  hard  and  rare  :  thee  I  revisit  safe, 

And  feel  thy  sov'reign  vital  lamp ;  but  thou 

Revisit'st  not  these  eyes,  that  roll  in  vain 

To  find  thy  piercing  ray,  and  find  no  dawn ; 

So  thick  a  drop  serene '  hath  quench'd  their  orbs, 

Or  dim  suffusion  veil'd.     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, 

That  wash  thy  hallow'd  feet,  and  warbling  flow. 

Nightly  I  visit ;  nor  sometimes  forget 

Those  other  two  equall'd  with  me  in  fate, 

So  were  I  equall'd  with  them  in  renown. 

Blind  Thamyris^  and  blind  Maeonides,^ 

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 

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, 


1  Orpheus  wrote  a  hymn  to  Night,  addressing  her  as  "  Mother  of  gods  and  men." 

2  Milton's  blindness  was  caused  by  g'uUa  serena. 

3  A  Thracian  who  invented  the  Doric  measure. — Newton.  *  Homer. 
»  A  blind  Theban  prophet.— NewtON.                                   ^  King  of  Arcadia. — Newton. 


-(b 


62  PARADISE  LOST. 

Or  flocks,  or  herds,  or  human  face  divine; 

But  cloud  instead,  and  ever-during  dark 

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. 

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. 

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 
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 
Of  mankmd,  in  the  happy  garden  placed, 
Reaping  immortal  fruits  of  joy  and  love, 
Uninterrupted  joy,  unrivall'd  love, 
In  blissful  solitude:  He  then  survey'd 
Hell  and  the  gulf  between,  and  Satan  there 
Coasting  the  wall  of  heav'n  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  seem'd 
Firm  land  imbosom'd  without  firmament, 
Uncertain  which,  in  ocean  or  in  air. 
Him  God  beholding  from  His  prospect  high, 
Wherein  past,  present,  futuie.  He  beholds. 
Thus  to  His  only  Son  foreseeing  spake. 


4^ 


4 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  63 

Only  begotten  Son,  seest  thou  what  rage 
Transports  our  adversary,  whom  no  bounds 
Prescribed,  no  bars  of  hell,  nor  all  the  chains 
Heap'd  on  him  there,  not  yet  the  main  abyss 
Wide  interrupt,  can  hold,  so  bent  he  seems 
On  desperate  revenge,  that  shall  redound 
Upon  his  own  rebellious  head.     And  now 
Through  all  restraint  broke  loose  he  wings  his  way 
Not  far  off  heav'n,  in  the  precincts  of  light, 
Directly  towards  the  new  created  world, 
And  man  there  placed,  with  purpose  to  assay 
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  trangress  the  sole  command, 
Sole  pledge  of  his  obedience :  so  will  fall 
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  th'  ethereal  Powers 
And  Spirits,  both  them  who  stood  and  them  who  fail'd: 
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,  appear'd. 
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  despoil'd, 
Made  passive  both,  had  served  necessity, 
Not  me  ?     They  therefore,  as  to  right  belong'd, 
So  were  created,  nor  can  justly  accuse 
Their  Maker,  or  their  making,  or  their  fate ; 
As  if  predestination  over-ruled 
Their  will,  disposed  by  absolute  decree 


^ 


4 


64  PARADISE  LOST. 

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, 
Or  aught  by  me  immutably  foreseen, 
They  trespass,  authors  to  themselves  in  all, 
Both  what  they  judge  and  what  they  choose  ;  for  so 
I  form'd  them  free,  and  free  they  must  remain, 
Till  they  enthrall  themselves ;  I  else  must  change 
Their  nature,  and  revoke  the  high  decree, 
Unchangeable,  eternal,  which  ordain'd 
Their  freedom  ;  they  themselves  ordain'd  their  fall. 
The  first  sort  by  their  own  suggestion  fell, 
Self-tempted,  self-depraved:  man  falls  deceived 
By  the  other  first :  man  therefore  shall  find  grace. 
The  other  none:  in  mercy  and  justice  both, 
Through  heav'n  and  earth,  so  shall  my  glory  excel ; 
But  mercy  first  and  last  shall  brightest  shine. 

Thus  while  God  spake,  ambrosial  fragrance  fiU'd 
All  heav'n,  and  in  the  blessed  spirits  elect 
Sense  of  new  joy  ineffable  diffused. 
Beyond  compare  the  Son  of  God  was  seen 
Most  glorious,  in  him  all  his  father  shone 
Substantially  express'd,'  and  in  his  face 
Divine  compassion  visibly  appear'd, 
Love  without  end,  and  without  measure  grace ; 
Which  uttering  thus  he  to  his  father  spake. 

O  Father,  gracious  was  that  word  which  closed 
Thy  sov'reign  sentence,  that  man  should  find  grace ; 
For  which  both  heav'n  and  earth  shall  high  extol 
Thy  praises,  with  th'  innumerable  sound 
Of  hymns  and  sacred  songs,  wherewith  thy  throne 
Encompass'd  shall  resound  thee  ever  blest. 

J  Heb.  i.  3.— Hume. 

^ ^ -£? 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  65 

For  should  man  finally  be  lost,  should  man 
Thy  creature  late  so  loved,  thy  youngest  son. 
Fall  circumvented  thus  by  fraud,  though  join'd 
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. 
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  accomplish'd,  and  to  hell 
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 
Be  question'd  and  blasphemed  without  defence. 

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, 
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  vouchsafed :  once  more  I  will  renew 
His  lapsed  powers,  though  forfeit  and  enthrall'd 
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 
His  fall'n  condition  is,  and  to  me  owe 
All  his  deliv'rance,  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,  ?.nd  oft  be  warn'd 

5 


'^- 


i 


: ^ -^ 

66  PARADISE  LOST. 

Their  sinful  state,  and  to  appease  betimes 
Th'  incensed  Deity,  wliile  offer'd  grace 
Invites ;  for  I  will  clear  their  senses  dark. 
What  may  suffice,  and  soften  stony  hearts^ 
To  pray,  repent,  and  bring  obedience  due. 
To  prayer,  repentance,  and  obedience  due. 
Though  but  endeavor'd  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, 
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  harden'd,  blind  be  blinded  more, 
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  heav'n, 

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 

Some  other  able,  and  as  willing,  pay 

The  rigid  satisfaction,  death  for  death. 

Say,  lieav'nly  Powers,  where  shall  we  find  such  love? 

Which  of  you  will  be  mortal  to  redeem 

Man's  mortal  crime,  and  just  th'  unjust  to  save  ?^ 

Dwells  in  all  heaven  charity  so  dear  ? 

He  ask'd,  but  all  the  heav'nly  choir  stood  mute, 

And  silence  was  in  heav'n  :  on  man's  behalf 

Patron  or  intercessor  none  appear'd, 

1  Ezek.  xxxvi.  26.  ^  i  Peter  iii.  18. 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  6/  j 

i 

Much  lest  that  durst  upon  liis  own  head  draw 
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. 
His  dearest  mediation  thus  renew'd. 

Father,  thy  word  is  pass'd,  man  shall  find  grace ; 
And  shall  grace  not  find  means,  that  finds  her  way, 
The  speediest  of  thy  wing'd  messengers, 
To  visit  all  thy  creatures,  and  to  all 
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. 
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 
Well  pleased  ;  on  me  let  Death  wreak  all  his  rage  ; 
Under  his  gloomy  power  I  shall  not  long 
Lie  vanquish'd;  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 
All  that  of  me  can  die ;  yet  that  debt  paid, 
Thou  wilt  not  leave  me  in  the  loathsome  grave 
His  prey,  nor  suffer  my  unsjjotted  soul 
For  ever  with  corruption  there  to  dwell  ■} 
But  I  shall  rise  victorious,  and  subdue 
My  vanquisher,  spoil'd  of  his  vaunted  spoil ; 
Death  his  death's  wound  shall  then  receive,  and  stoop 
Inglorious,  of  his  mortal  sting  disarm'd. 

1  John  V.  26.  2  Psalm  xvi.  lo. 

^ ^ 


^ ;- ^ 

68  PARADISE  LOST. 

I  through  the  ample  air  in  triumph  high 
Shall  lead  hell  captive  ^  maugre  hell,  and  show 
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  redeem'd 
Shall  enter  heaven  long  absent,  and  return. 
Father,  to  see  thy  face,  wherein  no  cloud 
Of  anger  shall  remain,  but  peace  assured 
And  reconcilement:  wrath  shall  be  no  more 
Thenceforth,  but  in  thy  presence  joy  entire. 

His  words  here  ended,  but  his  meek  aspect 
Silent  yet  spake,  and  breathed  immortal  love 
To  mortal  men,  above  which  only  shone 
Filial  obedience :  as  a  sacrifice 
Glad  to  be  offer'd,  he  attends  the  will 
Of  his  great  Father.     Admiration  seized 
All  heav'n,  what  this  might  mean  and  whither  tend 
Wond'ring;  but  soon  th'  Almighty  trhus  reply'd : 

O  thou  in  heav'n  and  earth  the  only  peace 
Found  out  for  mankind  under  wrath,  O  thou 
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  spar 
Thee  from  my  bosom  and  right  hand,  to  save. 
By  losing  thee  awhile,  the  whole  race  lost. 
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 
The  head  of  all  mankind,  though  Adam's  son. 
As  in  him  perish  all  men,  so  in  thee, 


1  Psalm  Ixviii.  i8.     Col.  ii.  15.  '  i  Cor.  xv.  26. 


^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  69 

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 
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; 
And  dying  rise,  and  rising  with  him  raise 
His  brethren,  ransom'd  with  his  own  dear  life. 
So  heav'nly  love  shall  outdo  hellish  hate, 
Giving  to  death,  and  dying  to  redeem ; 
So  dearly  to  redeem  what  hellish  hate 
So  easily  destroy'd,  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 
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, 
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 
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 : 
All  knees  to  thee  shall  bow,  of  them  that  bide^ 

1  I  Cor.  XV.  22.  '  Phil.  ii.  lo 

a^ : ^ 


!        70  PARADISE  LOST. 

f 

In  heav'n,  or  earth,  or  under  earth  in  hell ; 
When  thou  attended  gloriously  from  heav'n 
Shalt  in  the  sky  appear,  and  from  thee  send 
The  summoning  archangels  to  proclaim 
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  shall  judge 
Bad  men  and  angels;   they  arraign'd  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  heav'n  and  earth,^  wherein  the  just  shall  dwell. 
And  after  all  their  tribulations  long 
I  See  golden  days,  fruitful  of  golden  deeds, 

)  With  joy  and  love  triumphing,  and  fair  truth  : 

]  Then  thou  thy  regal  sceptre  shalt  lay  by,^ 

For  regal  sceptre  then  no  more  shall  need, 
God  shall  be  all  in  alL^     But  all  ye  Gods 
Adore  him,  who  to  compass  all  this  dies. 
Adore  the  Son,  and  honor  him  as  me. 

No  sooner  had  th'  Almighty  ceased,  but  all 
The  multitude  of  angels  with  a  shout, 
Loud  as  from  numbers  without  number,  sweet 
As  from  blest  voices,  uttering  joy,  heav'n  rung 
W^ith  jubilee,  and  loud  hosannas  fill'd 
Th'  eternal  regions.     Lowly  reverent 
Towards  either  throne  they  bow,  and  to  the  ground 
With  solemn  adoration  down  they  cast  * 
Their  crowns  inwove  with  amarant  and  gold 
Immortal  amarant,^  a  flow'r  which  once 


1  2  Peter  iii.  12,  13.  2  Heb.  i.  6.  ^  i  Cor.  xv.  24.  *  Rev.  iv.  10. 

5  A  flower  of  a  purple  velvet  color.      It  was  supposed  not  to  die  when  g;iihered,  but  re- 
covered its  lustre  when  sprinkled  with  water.    The  name  is  Greek  for  "unfading."— Hume. 


^ 


-e 


s- 


PARADISE  LOST.  yi 

In  Paradise  fast  by  the  Tree  of  Life 

Began  to  bloom,  but  soon  for  man's  offence 

To  heav'n  removed,  where  first  it  grew,  there  grows. 

And  flow'rs  aloft  shading  the  fount  of  life. 

And  where  the  river  of  bliss  through  midst  of  heav'n 

Rolls  o'er  Elysian  flowers  her  amber  stream ; 

With  these  that  never  fade  the  spirits  elect 

Bind  their  resplendent  locks  inwreath'd  with  beams  ; 

Now  in  loose  garlands  thick  thrown  off;  the  bright 

Pavement,  that  like  a  sea  of  jasper  shone, 

Impurpled  with  celestial  roses  smiled. 

Then  crown'd  again  their  golden  harps  they  took, 

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 

Melodious  part,  such  concord  is  in  heav'n. 

Thee  Father  first  they  sung.  Omnipotent, 
Immutable,  Immortal,  Infinite, 
Eternal  King ;  Thee  author  of  all  being, 
Fountain  of  light.  Thyself  invisible 
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 
Draw  round  about  Thee  like  a  radiant  shrine, 
Dark  with  excessive  bright  Thy  skirts  appear; 
Yet  dazzle  heav'n,  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 
Made  visible,  the  Almighty  Father  shines. 
Whom  else  no  creature  can  behold :  on  Thee 
Impress'd  th'  effulgence  of  His  glory  abides  ; 
Transfused  on  Thee  his  ample  Spirit  rests. 


^ 


V0- Qp 

72  PARADISE  LOST. 

He  heav'n  of  heavens  and  all  the  powers  therein 
By  Thee  created,  and  by  Thee  threw  down 
Th'  aspiring  Dominations.     Thou  that  day 
Thy  Father's  dreadful  thunder  didst  not  spare, 
Nor  stop  thy  flaming  chariot  wheels,  that  shook 
Heav'n's  everlasting  frame,  while  o'er  the  necks 
Thou  drov'st  of  warring  angels  disarray'd. 
Back  from  pursuit  Thy  powers  with  loud  acclaim 
Thee  only  extoll'd,  Son  of  Thy  Father's  might, 
To  execute  fierce  vengeance  on  his  foes  ; 
Not  so  on  man ;  him  thro'  their  malice  fall'n, 
Father  of  mercy  and  grace.  Thou  didst  not  doom 
So  strictly ;  but  much  more  to  pity  incline. 
No  sooner  did  Thy  dear  and  only  Son 
Perceive  thee  purposed  not  to  doom  frail  man 
So  strictly,  but  much  more  to  pity  inclined, 
He  to  appease  Thy  wrath,  and  end  the  strife 
Of  mercy  and  justice  in  Thy  face  discern'd, 
Regardless  of  the  bliss  wherein  He  sat 
Second  to  Thee,  offer'd  himself  to  die 
For  man's  offence.     O  unexampled  love. 
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. 

Thus  they  in  heav'n,  above  the  starry  sphere, 
Their  happy  hours  in  joy  and  hymning  spent. 
Pilcanwhile  upon  the  firm  opacous  globe 
Of  this  round  world,  whose  first  convex  divides 
The  luminous  inferior  orbs,  inclosed 
From  Chaos  and  th'  inroad  of  Darkness  old, 
Satan  alighted  walks  :  a  globe  far  off 
It  seem'd,  now  seems  a  boundless  continent. 
Dark,  waste,  and  wild,  under  the  frown  of  night 
Starless  exposed,  and  ever-threat'ning  storms 

4^ ^ ^ 


I 

PARADIS'E  LOST.  73 

Of  Chaos  blust'ring  round,  inclement  sky  ; 

Save  on  that  side  which  from  the  wall  of  heav'n 

Though  distant  far  some  small  reflection  gains 

Of  glimmering  air,  less  vex'd  with  tempest  loud 

Here  walk'd  the  fiend  at  large  in  spacious  field. 

As  when  a  vulture  on  Imaus  ^  bred, 

Whose  snowy  ridge  the  roving  Tartar  bounds, 

Dislodging  from  a  region  scarce  of  prey 

To  gorge  the  flesh  of  lambs  or  yeanling  kids 

On  hills  where  flocks  are  fed,  flies  towards  the  springs 

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  wagons  light : 

So  en  this  windy  sea  of  land  the  fiend 

Walk'd  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  vapors  flew 

Of  all  things  transitory  and  vain,  when  sin 

With  vanity  had  fill'd  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  th'  other  life  ; 

All  who  have  their  reward  on  earth,  the  fruits 

Of  painful  superstition  and  blind  zeal, 

Nought  seeking  but  the  praise  of  men,  here  find 

Fit  retribution,  empty  as  their  deeds  : 

All  th'  unaccomplish'd  works  of  nature's  hand, 

Abortive,  monstrous,  or  unkindly  mix'd, 

Dissolved  en  earth,  fleet  hither,  and  in  vain, 


1  A  mountain  in  Asia.     Its  name  signifies  snowy.     It  is  the  eastern  boundary  of  Western 
Tartary. 

2  Serica  lies  between  China  on  the  east  and  Imaus  on  the  west. — Xevvton'.  ■''  Limbo. 


^ ^ ^ 

74  PARADISE  LOST. 

Till  final  dissolution,  wander  here, 

Not  in  the  neighb'ring  moon,  as  some  have  drearn'd  ;^ 

Those  argent  fields  more  likely  habitants, 

Translated  saints,  or  middle  spirits  hold 

Betwixt  th'  angelical  and  human  kind  : 

Hither  of  ill-join'd  sons  and  daughters  born^ 

First  fi-om  the  ancient  world  those  giants  came 

With  many  a  vain  exploit,  though  then  renown'd : 

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  deem'd 

A  God  leap'd  fondly  into  ^tna  flames, 

Empedocles,^  and  he  who  to  enjoy 

Plato's  Elysium  leap'd  into  the  sea, 

Cleombrotus,^  and  many  more  too  long, 

Embryoes  and  idiots,  eremites  and  friars, 

White,  black,  and  grey,^  with  all  their  trumpery. 

Here  pilgrims  roam,  that  stray'd  so  far  to  seek 

In  Golgotha  him  dead,  who  lives  in  heav'n ; 

And  they  who  to  be  sure  of  paradise 

Dying  put  on  the  weeds  of  Dominic, 

Or  in  Franciscan  think  to  pass  disguised  f 

They  pass  the  planets  seven,  and  pass  the  fix'd. 

And  that  crystalline  sphere  whose  balance  weighs 

The  trepidation  talk'd,''  and  that  first  moved  : 

And  now  St.  Peter  at  heav'n's  wicket  seems 

To  wait  them  with  his  keys,  and  now  at  foot 

1  Ariosto,  in  the  "Orlando  Furioso." 

2  The  sons  of  God  "ill-joined"  with  the  daughters  of  "men."'  See  Gen.  vi.  4.  Subject 
of  Moore's  "Loves  of  the  Angels,"  and  Byron's  "Heaven  and  Earth." 

2  A  Pythagorean  philosopher.  His  attempt  at  disappearing  in  an  extraordinary  m.^nner 
from  the  earth  was  defeated  by  the  volcano  throwing  back  his  iron  pattens. 

■*  An  Epirot.  '•>  Carmelites,  Dominicans,  and  Franciscans. 

•i  In  the  dark  ages,  a  ridiculous  superstition  prevailed  that  a  dying  sinner  who  put  on  the 
habit  of  a  religious  order  was  sure  of  salvation.     It  was  frequently  done. 

'  Milton  speaks  here  according  to  Ptolemy's  astronomy. — Fro?n  Newton, 


s ^ 


/  0 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  heav'n's  ascent  they  lift  their  feet,  when,  lo  ! 

A  violent  cross  wind  from  either  coast 

Blows  them  transverse  ten  thousand  leagues  awry 

Into  the  devious  air  :  then  might  ye  see 

Cowls,  hoods,  and  habits  with  their  wearers  tost 

And  flutter'd  into  rags  ;  then  reliques,  beads. 

Indulgences,  dispenses,  pardons,  bulls, 

The  sport  of  winds  :  all  these  upwhirl'd  alofl 

Fly  o'er  the  back  side  of  the  world  far  off, 

Into  a  limbo  large  and  broad,  since  call'd 

The  Paradise  of  Fools,  to  few  unknown 

Long  after,  now  unpeopled,  and  untrod. 

All  this  dark  globe  the  fiend  found  as  he  pass'd. 

And  long  he  wander'd,  till  at  last  a  gleam 

Of  dawning  light  turn'd  thitherward  in  haste 

His  travelled  steps  ;  far  distant  he  descries. 

Ascending  by  degrees  magnificent 

Up  to  the  wall  of  heav'n  a  structure  high, 

At  top  whereof,  but  far  more  rich  appear'd 

The  work  as  of  a  kingly  palace  gate, 

With  frontispiece  of  diamond  and  gold 

Imbellish'd ;  thick  with  sparkling  orient  gems 

The  portal  shone,  inimitable  on  earth 

By  model  or  by  shading  pencil  drawn. 

The  stairs  were  such  as  whereon  Jacob  saw  ^ 

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,  T/iis  is  the  gate  of  heav?i. 

Each  stair  mysteriously  was  meant,  nor  stood 

There  always,  but  drawn  up  to  heav'n  sometimes 

Viewless,  and  underneath  a  bright  sea  flow'd 

Of  jasper,  or  of  liquid  pearl,  whereon 

1  Gen.  xxviii.  12,  13. 

^fe- ^ 


a- 


^ 


j6  PARADISE  LOST. 

Who  after  came  from  earth  saihng  arrived 

Wafted  by  angels,  or  flew  o'er  the  lake, 

Rapt  in  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: 

Direct  against  which  open'd  from  beneath. 

Just  o'er  the  blissful  seat  of  paradise, 

A  passage  down  to  th'  earth,  a  passage  wide, 

Wider  by  far  than  that  of  after-times 

Over  mount  Sion,  and,  though  that  were  large. 

Over  the  Promised  Land  to  God  so  dear, 

By  which,  to  visit  oft  those  happy  tribes, 

On  high  behests  his  angels  to  and  fro 

Pass'd  frequent,  and  his  eye  with  choice  regard. 

From  Paneas,  the  fount  of  Jordan's  flood, 

To  Beersaba,  where  the  Holy  Land 

Borders  on  Egypt  and  the  Arabian  shore ; 

So  wide  the  op'ning  seem'd,  where  bounds  were  set 

To  darkness,  such  as  bound  the  ocean  wave. 

Satan  from  hence  now  on  the  lower  stair, 

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  desert  ways  with  peril  gone 

All  night,  at  last  by  break  of  cheerful  dawn 

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  renown'd  metropolis. 

With  glistering  spires  and  pinnacles  adorn'd, 

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 

^ ^ ^ 


s-^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  77 

So  high  above  the  cirding  canopy 

Of  night's  extended  shade,  from  eastern  point 

Of  Libra  to  the  fleecy  star  ^  that  bears 

Andromeda  far  off  Atlantic  seas 

Beyond  th'  horizon ;  then  from  pole  to  pole 

He  views  in  breadth,  and  without  longer  pause 

Down  right  into  the  w^orld's  first  region  throws 

His  flight  precipitant,  and  winds  with  ease 

Through  the  pure  marble  air  his  oblique  way 

Amongst  innumerable  stars,  that  shone 

Stars  distant,  but  nigh  hand  seem'd  other  worlds, 

Or  other  worlds  they  seem'd,  or  happy  isles, 

Like  those  Hesperian  gardens'  famed  of  old, 

Fortunate  fields,  and  groves,  and  flow'ry  vales, 

Thrice  happy  isles ;  but  who  dwelt  happy  there 

He  stay'd  not  to  enquire  :  above  them  all 

The  golden  sun  in  splendor  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, 

Or  longitude,  where  the  great  luminary. 

Aloof  the  vulgar  constellations  thick. 

That  from  his  lordly  eye  keep  distance  due, 

Dispenses  light  from  far  ;  they  as  they  move 

Their  starry  dance  in  numbers  that  compute 

Days,  months,  and  years,  towards  his  all-cheering  lamp 

Turn  swift  their  various  motions,  or  are  turn'd 

By  his  magnetic  beam,  that  gently  warms 

The  universe,  and  to  each  inward  part 

With  gentle  penetration,  though  unseen, 

Shoots  invisible  virtue  even  to  the  deep ; 

So  wond'rously  was  set  his  station  bright. 


'  Aries,  i.e.,  from  one  half  of  the  ecliptic  to  the  other,  from  east  to  west.      The  constella- 
tion Andromeda  is  immediately  above  or  over  Aries. — Newton. 
2  The  Cape  Verde  Islands  ;  the  "Fortunate  Islands." 

4) ^ -4" 


.i^^ : -<b 

78  PARADISE  LOST. 

There  lands  the  fiend,  a  spot  like  which  perhaps 
Astronomers  in  the  sun's  lucent  orb 
Through  h-s  glazed  optic  tube  yet  never  saw. 
The  place  he  found  beyond  expression  bright 
Compared  with  aught  on  earth,  metal  or  stone ; 
Not  all  parts  like,  but  all  alike  inform'd 
With  radiant  light,  as  glowing  iron  with  fire  ; 
If  metal,  part  seem'd  gold,  part  silver  clear ; 
If  stone,  carbuncle  most  or  chrysolite, 
Ruby  or  topaz,  to  the  twelve  that  shone 
In  Aaron's  breast-plate,'  and  a  stone  ^  besides 
Imagined  rather  oft  than  elsewhere  seen. 
That  stone,  or  like  to  that  which  here  below 
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, 
Drain'd  through  a  limbeck  to  his  native  form. 
What  wonder  then  if  fields  and  regions  here 
Breathe  forth  elixir  pure,  and  rivers  run 
Portable  gold,  when  with  one  virtuous  touch 
Th'  arch-chemic  sun  so  far  from  us  remote 
Produces  with  terrestrial  humor  mix'd 
Here  in  the  dark  so  many  precious  thmgs 
Of  color  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. 
But  all  sun-shine ;  as  when  his  beams  at  noon 
Culminate  from  th'  Equator,  as  they  now 

1  Exod.  xxviii.  15-21. 

2  The  philosopher's  stone,  supposed  to  have  the  power  (if  found)  of  turning  the  baser 
metals  into  gold. 

3  Quicksilver,  called  Hermes  by  the  alchemists.  The  names  of  heathen  gods  were  applied 
to  the  materials  of  the  alchemist's  laboratory.  Proteus  was  a  sea-god  capable  of  transform- 
ing himself  into  various  shapes. 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  79 

Shot  upward  still  direct,  whence  no  way  round 

Shadow  from  body  opaque  can  fall,  and  the  air, 

Nowhere  so  clear,  sharpen'd  his  visual  ray 

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  turn'd,  but  not  his  brightness  hid  ; 

Of  beaming  sunny  rays,  a  golden  tiar 

Circled  his  head,  nor  less  his  locks  behind 

Illustrious  on  his  shoulders  fledge  with  wings 

Lay  waving  round  ;  on  some  great  charge  employ'd 

He  seem'd,  or  fix'd  in  cogitation  deep. 

Glad  was  the  spirit  impure,  as  now  in  hope 

To  find  who  might  direct  his  wand'ring  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  : 

And  now  a  stripl'ng  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  feign'd  ; 

Under  a  coronet  his  flowing  hair 

In  curls  on  either  cheek  play'd  ;  wings  he  wore 

Of  many  a  color'd  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. 

E'er  he  drew  nigh,  his  radiant  visage  turn'd, 

Admonish'd  by  his  ear,  and  straight  was  known 

Th'  arch-angel  Uriel,^  one  of  the  sev'n 

Who  in  God's  presence  nearest  to  his  throne 


1  Rev.  xix.  17. 

2  Uriel  is  derived  from  two  Hebrew  words,  signifying  God  is  my  light. — NEWTON.      See 
mention  made  of  him  in  Apocrypha,  2  Esdras,  4,  5. 


^ '- — ^ ^ 

80  PARADISE  LOST. 

Stand  ready  at  command,  and  are  his  eyes 

That  run  through  all  the  heav'ns,  or  down  to  th'  earth 

Bear  his  swift  errands,  over  moist  and  dry, 

O'er  sea  and  land :  him  Satan  thus  accosts. 

Uriel,  for  thou  of  those  sev'n  spirits  that  stand 
In  sight  of  God's  high  throne,  gloriously  bright, 
The  first  art  wont  his  great  authentic  will 
Interpreter  through  highest  heav'n  to  bring, 
Where  all  his  son-s  thy  embassy  attend ; 
And  here  art  likeliest  by  supreme  decree 
Like  honor  to  obtain,  and  as  His  eye 
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  favor,  him  for  whom 
All  these  his  works  so  wondrous  he  ordain'd 
Hath  brought  me  from  the  choirs  of  Cherubim 
Alone  thus  wand'ring.     Brightest  Seraph,  tell 
In  which  of  all  these  shining  orbs  hath  man 
His  fixed  seat,  or  fixed  seat  hath  none. 
But  all  these  shining  orbs  his  choice  to  dwell ; 
That  I  may  find  him,  and,  with  secret  gaze 
Or  open  admiration,  him  behold. 
On  whom  the  great  Creator  hath  bestow'd 
Worlds,  and  on  whom  hath  all  these  graces  pour'd ; 
That  both  in  him  and  all  things,  as  is  meet, 
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. 

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  heav'n  and  earth : 

^ ^ 


f ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  8i 

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 
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  ? 
1  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. 
6 

^ ,-4^ 


^ ^ -^ 

S2  PARADISE  LOST. 

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  neighboring  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  bower  : 

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  honor  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. 


1  A  mountain  bordering  on  Mesopotamia,  near  which  the  earthly  paradise  is  supposed  to 
have  been  placed, — fretn  Hume. 


'^ ■ e 


Towards  the  coast  of  Earth  beneath, 
Down  from  the  ecliptic,  sped  with  hoped  success. 
Throws  his  steep  flight  in  many  an  aery  wheel. 


Page  82. 


PARADISE  LOST,  Sx 


BOOK  IV. 

The  ARGUME>rr. 

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  tliem  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  mems. 
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  dis- 
course 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  Evesleeping; 
there  they  find  him  at  the  ear  of  Eve,  tempting  her  in  a  dream,  and  bring  him,  though  un- 
willing, to  Gabriel;  by  whom  questioned,  he  scornfully  answers,  prepares  resistance  ;  but 
hindered  by  a  sign  from  heaven  flies  out  of  paradise. 

O  FOR  that  warning  voice,  which  he,^  who  saw 
Th'  Apocalypse,  heard  cry  in  heaven  aloud, 
Then  when  the  Dragon,^  put  to  second  rout, 
Came  furious  down  to  be  revenged  on  men, 
"  Woe  to  the  inhabitants  on  earth  !  "  that  now, 
While  time  was,  our  first  parents  had  been  warn'd 
The  coming  of  their  secret  foe,  and  'scaped, 
Happily  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 

P  

1  St.  John.  Rev.  xii.  lo.  "And  I  heard  a  loud  voice  saying  in  heaven,  ..."  and 
at  verse  13,  "Woe  to  the  inhabiters  of  the  earth  and  of  the  sea  !  for  the  devil  is  come  down 
unto  you "  2  Devil. 

<^ ■ ^ 


^ ^ -%; 

84  PARADISE  LOST. 

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  suffering  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,^ 

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 

0  Sun,  to  tell  thee  how  I  hate  thy  beams. 
That  bring  to  my  remembrance  frorrt  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  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 


I  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. 


Me  miserable!  -which  way  shall  I  fly 
Inflfiite  ■wrath,  and  infinite  despair? 


Page  85. 


^- 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  85 

Upbraided  none  ;  nor  was  His  service  hard. 

What  could  be  less  than  to  afford  Him  praise, 

The  easiest  recompense,  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  ; 

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  hsU ;  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. 


^ — 

86  PARADISE  LOST. 

O  then  at  last  relent :  is  there  no  place    . 
Left  for  repentance,  none  for  pardon  left  ? 
None  left  but  my  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 
By  act  of  grace  my  former  state ;  how  soon 
Would  highth  recall  high  thoughts,  how  soon  unsay 
What  feign'd  submission  swore :  ease  would  recant 
Vows  made  in  pain,  as  violent  and  void. 
For  never  can  true  reconcilement  grow 
Where  wounds  of  deadly  hate  have  pierced  so  deep ; 
Which  would  but  lead  me  to  a  worse  relapse 
And  heavier  fall :  so  should  I  purchase  dear 
Short  intermission  bought  with  double  smart. 
This  knows  my  Punisher ;  therefore  as  far 
From  granting  He,  as  I  from  begging  peace  : 
All  hope  excluded  thus,  behold  in  stead 
Of  us  out-cast,  exiled,  his  new  delight, 
Mankind,  created,  and  for  him  this  world. 
So  farewell  hope,  and  with  hope  farewell  fear, 
Farewell  remorse  :  all  good  to  me  is  lost ; 
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  ; 
As  man  ere  long  and  this  new  world  shall  know. 
Thus  while  he  spake,  each  passion  dimm'd  his  face 

d^ ^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  ^y 

Thrice  changed  with  pale  ire,  envy,  and  despair, 

Which  marr'd  his  borrow'd  visage,  and  betray'd 

His  counterfeit,  if  any  eye  beheld  : 

For  heav'nly  minds  from  such  distempers  foul 

Are  ever  clear.     Whereof  he  soon  aware 

Each  perturbation  smooth'd  with  outward  calm, 

Artificer  of  fraud  ;  and  was  the  first 

That  practised  falsehood  under  saintly  show, 

Deep  malice  to  conceal,  couch'd  with  revenge. 

Yet  not  enough  had  practised  to  deceive 

Uriel  once  warn'd ;  whose  eye  pursued  him  down 

The  way  he  went,  and  on  th'  Assyrian  mount 

Saw  him  disfigured,  more  than  could  befall 

Spirit  of  happy  sort :  his  gestures  fierce 

He  mark'd  and  mad  demeanor,  then  alone, 

As  he  supposed,  all  unobserved,  unseen. 

So  on  he  fares,  and  to  the  border  comes 

Of  Eden,  where  delicious  Paradise, 

Now  nearer,  crowns  with  her  enclosure  green, 

As  with  a  rural  mound,  the  champain  head 

Of  a  steep  wilderness,  whose  hairy  sides 

With  thicket  overgrown,  grotesque  and  wild, 

Access  denied ;  and  over  head  up  grew 

Insuperable  highth  of  loftiest  shade. 

Cedar,  and  pine,  and  fir,  and  branching  palm, 

A  sylvan  scene,  and  as  the  ranks  ascend 

Shade  above  shade,  a  woody  theatre 

Of  stateliest  view.     Yet  higher  than  their  tops 

The  verdurous  wall  of  Paradise  up  sprung  ; 

Which  to  our  general  sire  gave  prospect  large 

Into  his  nether  empire  neighboring  round. 

And  higher  than  that  wall  a  circling  row 

Of  goodliest  trees  loaden  with  fairest  fruit. 

Blossoms  and  fruits  at  once  of  golden  hue 

Appear'd,  with  gay  enamell'd  colors  mixt: 

On  which  the  sun  more  glad  impress'd  his  beams, 


^ 


83  PARADISE  LOST. 

Than  in  fair  evening  cloud,  or  humid  bow, 
When  God  hath  shower'd  the  earth  ;  so  lovely  seem'd 
That  landscape  :  and  of  pure  now  purer  air 
Meets  his  approach,  and  to  the  heart  inpires 
Vernal  delight  and  joy,  able  to  drive  • 

All  sadness  but  despair  :  now  gentle  gales 
Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings  dispense 
Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
Those  balmy  spoils.     As  when  to  them  who  sail 
Beyond  the  Cape  of  Hope,  and  now  are  past 
Mozambic,  off  at  sea  north-east  winds  blow 
Sabean  odors  from  the  spicy  shore  ^ 
Of  Araby  the  blest,  with  such  delay 
Well  pleased  they  slack  their  course  and  many  a  league 
Cheer'd  with  the  greatful  smell  old  Ocean  smiles  : 
So  entertain'd  those  odorous  sweets  the  fiend 
Who  came  their  bane,  though  with  them  better  pleased 
Than  Asmodeus  ^  with  the  fishy  fume. 
That  drove  him,  though  enamor'd,  from  the  spouse 
Of  Tobit's  son,  and  with  a  vengeance  sent 
From  Media  post  to  Egypt,  there  fast  bound. 
Now  to  th'  ascent  of  that  steep  savage  hill 


'  The  perfumes  from  the  shores  of  India  and  its  islands  can  be  perceived  far  out  at  sea, 
when  the  wind  blows  off  the  land — 

"  The  spicy  breezes 
Blow  soft  from  Ceylon's  isle," 
says  Bishop  Heber  in  his  fine  Missionary  Hymn ;  and  every  one  who  has  lived  in  the  East 
will  remember  how  oppressive  o/t  shore  the  scent-ladened  air,  heavy  with  perfume,  is.     How 
constantly  it  recalls  to  one's  mind  Byron's  exquisite  lines  in  the  "  Bride  of  Abydos  "  — 
"The  light  wings  of  Zephyr,  oppress'd  with  perfume, 
■Wax  faint  o'er  the  gardens  of  Gul  in  her  bloom;" 
but  coming  on  the  briny  sea  breezes  this  fragrance  is  delightful  to  the  mariner.      It  is  in 
spring,  when  the  wind  blows  off  the  shore,  that  the  air  thus  becomes  the  harbinger  of  a  near 
haven.      Milton  is  said  to  have  taken  his  description  from  Diodorus  Siculus,  B.  III.  40. — 
Notes  on  Gray. 

'^  An  evil  spirit,  who,  loving  Sarah,  the  daughter  of  Raguel,  would  not  suffer  any  of  the 
young  men  who  espoused  her  to  live.  He  was  exorcised  by  the  fumes  arising  from  the 
heart  and  liver  of  a  fish,  which  Tobit,  by  the  instruction  of  an  angel,  burnt  on  the  evening 
of  his  wedding.     See  Apocrypha,  Tobit,  viii. 

^ ^ 


a- 


^ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  89 


Satan  had  journey'd  on,  pensive  and  slow  ; 

But  further  way  found  none,  so  thick  entwined 

As  one  continued  brake,  the  undergrowth 

Of  shrubs  and  tanghng  brushes  had  perplex'd 

All  path  of  man  or  beast  that  past  that  way. 

One  gate  there  only  was,  and  that  looked  east 

On  th'  other  side :  which  when  th'  arch-felon  saw, 

Due  entrance  he  disdain'd,  and  in  contempt 

At  one  slight  bound  high  overleap'd  all  bound 

Of  hill  or  highest  wall,  and  sheer  within 

Lights  on  his  feet.     As  when  a  prowling  wolf, 

Whom  hunger  drives  to  seek  new  haunt  for  prey, 

Watching  where  shepherds  pen  their  flocks  at  eve 

In  hurdled  cotes  amid  the  field  secure. 

Leads  o'er  the  fence  with  ease  into  the  fold  : 

Or  as  a  thief  bent  to  unhoard  the  cash 

Of  some  rich  burgher,  whose  substantial  doors, 

Cross-barr'd  and  bolted  fast,  fear  no  assault, 

In  at  the  window  climbs,  or  o'er  the  tiles  : 

So  clomb  this  first  grand  thief  into  God's  fold; 

So  since  into  his  church  lewd  hirelings  climb.' 

Thence  up  he  flew,  and  on  the  Tree  of  Life, 

The  middle  tree  and  highest  ^  there  that  grew. 

Sat  like  a  cormorant ;  yet  not  true  life 

Thereby  regain'd,  but  sat  devising  death 

To  them  who  lived ;  nor  on  the  virtue  thought 

Of  that  life  giving  plant,  but  only  used 

For  prospect,  what  well  used  had  been  the  pledge 

Of  immortality.     So  little  knows 

Any,  but  God  alone,  to  value  right 

The  good  before  him,  but  perverts  best  things 

To  worst  abuse,  or  to  their  meanest  use. 

Beneath  him  with  new  wonder  now  he  views 

To  all  delight  of  human  sense  exposed 


'  Gen.  ii.  9. 


^ 


^ 


a ^ ^ 

90  PARADISE  LOST. 

In  narrow  room  nature's  whole  wealth,  yea  more, 

A  heav'n  on  earth  :  for  blissful  Paradise 

Of  God  the  garden  was,  by  him  in  the  east 

Of  Eden  planted ;  Eden  stretch'd  her  line 

From  Auran*  eastward  to  the  royal  tow'rs 

Of  great  Seleucia,  built  by  Grecian  kings, 

Or  where  the  sons  of  Eden  long  before 

Dwelt  in  Telassar.^     In  this  pleasant  soil 

His  far  more  pleasant  garden  God  ordain'd  ; 

Out  of  the  fertile  ground  he  caused  to  grow 

All  trees  of  noblest  kind  for  sight,  smell,  taste  ; 

And  all  amid  them  stood  the  Tree  of  Life, 

High  eminent,  blooming  ambrosial  fruit, 

Of  vegetable  gold,  and  next  to  life 

Our  death,  the  Tree  of  Knowledge,  grew  fast  by, 

Knowledge  of  good  bought  dear  by  knowing  ill. 

Southward  through  Eden  went  a  river  large, 

Nor  changed  his  course,  but  through  the  shaggy  hill 

Pass'd  underneath  ingulf'd ;  for  God  had  thrown 

That  mountain  as  his  garden  mould,  high  raised 

Upon  the  rapid  current,  which,  through  veins 

Of  porous  earth  with  kindly  thirst  up  drawn, 

Rose  a  fresh  fountain,  and  with  many  a  rill 

Water'd  the  garden ;  thence  united  fell 

Down  the  steep  glade,  and  met  the  nether  flood. 

Which  from  his  darksome  passage  now  appears ; 

And  now  divided  into  four  main  streams 

Runs  diverse,  wand'ring  many  a  famous  realm 

And  country,  whereof  here  needs  no  account ; 

But  rather  to  tell  how,  if  art  could  tell, 

How  from  that  sapphire  fount  the  crisped  brooks, 

Rolling  on  orient  pearl  and  sands  of  gold. 

With  mazy  error  under  pendant  shades 

1  Haran. — From  Newton. 

2  Isaiah  xxxvii.  12.    A  province  of  the  children  of  Eden,  placed  by  Ptolemy  in  Babylonia. — 
From  Newton. 


a -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  91 

Ran  Nectar,  visiting  each  plant,  and  fed 

Flow'rs  worthy  of  Paradise,  which  not  nice  art 

In  beds  and  curious  knots,  but  nature  boon 

Pour'd  forth  profuse  on  hill,  and  dale  and  plain, 

Both  where  the  morning  sun  first  warmly  smote 

The  open  field,  and  where  the  unpierced  shade 

Imbrown'd  the  noontide  bow'rs.     Thus  was  this  place 

A  happy  rural  seal:  of  various  view  : 

Groves  whose  rich  trees  wept  odorous  gums  and  balm. 

Others  whose  fruit  burnish'd  with  golden  rind 

Hung  amiable,  Hesperian  fables  true, 

If  true,  here  only,  and  of  delicious  taste. 
.  Betwixt  them  lawns,  or  level  downs,  and  flocks 

Grazing  the  tender  herb,  were  interposed, 

Or  palmy  hillock,  or  the  flow'ry  lap 

Of  some  irriguous  valley  spread  her  store, 

Flow'rs  of  all  hue,  and  without  thorn  the  rose. 

Another  side  umbrageous  grots  and  caves 

Of  cool  recess,  o'er  which  the  mantling  vine 

Lays  forth  her  purple  grape,  and  gently  creeps 

Luxuriant :   meanwhile  murmuring  waters  fall 

Down  the  slope  hills,  dispers'd,  or  in  a  lake, 

That  to  the  fringed  bank  with  myrtle  crown'd 

Her  crystal  mirror  holds,  unite  their  streams. 
.    The  birds  their  choir  apply ;  airs,  vernal  airs. 

Breathing  the  smell  of  field  and  grove,  attune 

The  trembling  leaves,  while  universal  Pan,^ 

Knit  with  the  Graces  and  the  Hours  in  dance, 

Led  on  th'  eternal  spring.     Not  that  fair  field 

Of  Enna,  where  Proserpine  gathering  flow'rs, 

Herself  a  fairer  flower,  by  gloomy  Dis^ 

1  Pan  was  a  symbol  of  Nature.  The  Graces  symbolized  Spring,  Summer,  and  Autumn. 
The  Hours,  the  time  requisite  for  the  production  and  perfection  of  things. — Richardson. 

2  Pluto.  All  the  loveliest  dreams  of  mythology,  and  the  places  remarkable  for  natural 
beauty — the  Plains  of  Enna,  in  Sicily  ;  the  laurel-grove  of  Daphne,  by  the  River  Oronies  ; 
the  Castalian  Spring,  haunted  by  the  Muses  ;  the  Greek  Isle,  where  Bacchus  was  nursed  ;  the 


^ ^ 

92  PARADISE  LOST. 

Was  gather'd,  which  cost  Ceres  all  that  pain 

To  seek  her  through  the  world ;  nor  that  sweet  grove 

Of  Daphne  by  Orontes  and  the  inspired 

Castalian  spring  might  with  this  paradise 

Of  Eden  strive :  nor  that  Nyseian  isle 

Girt  with  the  river  Triton,  where  old  Cham, 

Whom  Gentiles  Ammon  call  and  Libyan  Jove, 

Hid  Amalthea  and  her  florid  son 

Young  Bacchus  from  his  stepdame  Rhea's  eye ; 

Nor  where  Abassin  kings  their  issue  guard, 

Mount  Amara,^  though  this  by  some  supposed 

True  paradise,  under  the  Ethiop  line 

By  Nilus'  head,  enclosed  with  shining  rock, 

A  whole  day's  journey  high,  but  wide  remote 

From  this  Assyrian  garden,  where  the  fiend 

Saw  undelighted,  all  delight,  all  kind 

Of  living  creatures  new  to  sight  and  strange. 

Two  of  far  nobler  shape  erect  and  tall. 
Godlike  erect,  with  native  honor  clad. 
In  native  majesty,  seem'd  lords  of  all, 
And  worthy  seem'd :  for  in  their  looks  divine 
The  image  of  their  glorious  Maker  shone, 
Truth,  wisdom,  sanctitude  severe  and  pure. 
Severe,  but  in  true  filial  freedom  placed, 
Whence  true  authority  in  men :  though  both 
Not  equal,  as  their  sex  not  equal,  seem'd; 
For  contemplation  he  and  valour  form'd, 
For  softness  she  and  sweet  attractive  grace ; 
He  for  God  only,  she  for  God  in  him.^ 
His  fair  large  front  and  eye  sublime  declared 
Absolute  rule  ;  and  hyacinthine  locks 

Happy  Valley  where  the  Princes  of  Abyssinia  were  nursed — aie  here  named  toexalt  the 
wondrous  beauty  of  the  earthly  Paradise  by  comparison. 

1  High  hills  in  Ethiopia,  under  the  equator;  within  their  circuit  lay  the  guarded  valley 
where  the  royal  children  of  Abyssinia  dw^lt. — Massey.  Our  readers  will  be  reminded  of 
Rasselas.  s  1  Cor.  xi.  7-9. 

^— _^ 


The  savoury  pulp  they  chew,  and  in  the  rind. 
Still  as  they  thirsted,  scoop  the  brimming  stream. 


Page  93- 


sfr 


I' 


PARADISE  LOST.  93 

Round  from  his  parted  forelock  manly  hung 
Clust'ring,  but  not  beneath  his  shoulders  broad  : 
She  as  a  veil  down  to  the  slender  waist 
Her  unadorned  golden  tresses  wore 
Dishevell'd,  but  in  wanton  ringlets  waved 
As  the  vine  curls  her  tendrils,  which  implied 
Subjection,  but  required  with  gentle  sway, 
And  by  her  yielded,  by  him  best  received, 
Yielded  with  coy  submission,  modest  pride, 
And  sweet  reluctant  amorous  delay. 
Nor  those  mysterious  parts  were  then  conceal'd  ; 
Then  was  not  guilty  shame  ;  dishonest  shame 
Of  nature's  works,  honor  dishonorable, 
Sin-bred,  how  have  ye  troubled  all  mankind 
With  shows  instead,  mere  shows  of  seeming  pure, 
And  banish'd  from  man's  life  his  happiest  life. 
Simplicity  and  spotless  innocence  ! 
So  pass'd  they  naked  on,  nor  shunn'd  the  sight 
Of  Gocf  or  Angel,  for  they  thought  no  ill  : 
So  hand  in  hand  they  pass'd,  the  loveliest  pair 
That  ever  since  in  love's  embraces  met; 
Adam  the  goodliest  man  of  men  since  born 
His  sons,  the  fairest  of  her  daughters  Eve. 
Under  a  tuft  of  shade,  that  on  a  green 
Stood  whisp'ring  soft,  by  a  fresh  fountain  side 
They  sat  them  down  ;  and  after  no  more  toil 
Of  their  sweet  gard'ning  labor  than  sufficed 
To  recommend  cool  Zephyr,  and  made  ease 
More  easy,  wholesome  thirst  and  appetite 
More  grateful,  to  their  supper  fruits  they  fell, 
Nectarine  fruits,  which  the  compliant  boughs 
Yielded  them,  side-long  as  they  sat  recline 
On  the  soft  downy  bank  damask'd  with  flow'rs. 
The  savory  pulp  they  chew,  and  in  the  rind. 
Still  as  they  thirsted,  scoop  the  brimming  stream  ; 
Nor  gentle  purpose  nor  endearing  smiles 


a ^ 

94  PARADISE  LOST. 

Wanted,  nor  youthful  dalliance,  as  beseems 
Fair  couple,  link'd  in  happy  nuptial  league 
Alone  as  they.     About  them  frisking  play'd 
All  beasts  of  th'  earth,  since  wild,  and  of  all  chase 
In  wood  or  wilderness,  forest  or  den  ; 
Sporting  the  lion  ramp'd,  and  in  his  paw 
Dandled  the  kid ;  bears,  tigers,  ounces,  pards, 
GamboU'd  before  them  ;  th'  unwieldly  elephant 
To  make  them  mirth  used  all  his  might,  and  wreath'd 
His  lithe  proboscis ;  close  the  serpent  sly 
Insinuating  wove  with  Gordian  twine 
His  braided  train,  and  of  his  fatal  guile 
Gave  proof  unheeded  ;  others  on  the  grass 
Couch'd  and  now  fill'd  with  pasture  gazing  sat. 
Or  bedward  ruminating  :  for  the  sun 
Declined  was  hasting  now  with  prone  career 
To  th'  ocean  isles  and  in  th'  ascending  scale 
Of  heav'n  the  sLars  that  usher  evening  rose  : 
When  Satan  still  in  gaze,  as  first  he  stood, 
Scarce  thus  at  length  fail'd  speech  recover'd  sad. 
O  hell  1  what  do  mine  eyes  with  grief  behold, 
Into  our  room  of  bliss  thus  high  advanced 
Creatures  of  other  mould,  earth-born  perhaps. 
Not  spirits,  yet  to  heav'nly  spirits  bright 
Little  inferior;  whom  my  thoughts  pursue 
With  wonder,  and  could  love,  so  lively  shines 
In  them  divine  resemblance,  and  such  grace 
The  hand  that  form'd  them  on  their  shape  hath  pour'd  ! 
Ah  gentle  pair,  ye  little  think  how  nigh 
Your  change  approaches,  when  all  these  delights 
Will  vanish  and  deliver  ye  to  woe  ; 
More  woe,  the  more  your  taste  is  now  of  joy  : 
Happy,  but  for  so  happy  ill  secured 
Long  to  continue ;  and  this  high  seat  your  heav'n 
111  fenced  for  heav'n  to  keep  out  such  a  foe 
As  now  is  enter'd  :  yet  no  purposed  foe 


% 


-e 


PARADISE  LOST.  95 

To  you,  whom  I  could  pity  thus  forlorn, 

Though  I  unpitied.     League  with  you  I  seek, 

And  mutual  amity,  so  straight,  so  close, 

That  I  with  you  must  dwell,  or  you  with  me 

Henceforth  :  my  dwelling  haply  may  not  please, 

Like  this  fair  paradise,  your  sense ;  yet  such 

Accept,  your  Maker's  work ;  He  gave  it  me. 

Which  I  as  freely  give  :  hell  shall  unfold^ 

To  entertain  you  two,  her  widest  gates. 

And  send  forth  all  her  kings:  there  will  be  room, 

Not  like  these  narrow  limits,  to  receive 

Your  numerous  offspiing;  if  no  better  place. 

Thank  him  who  puts  me  loth  to  this  revenge 

On  you,  who  wrong  me  not,  for  Him  who  wrong'd. 

And  should  I  at  your  harmless  innocence 

Melt,  as  I  do,  yet  public  reason  just. 

Honor  and  empire  with  revenge  enlarged, 

By  conquering  this  new  world,  compels  me  now 

To  do  what  else,  though  damn'd,  I  should  abhor. 

So  spake  the  fiend,  and  with  necessity, 
The  tyrant's  plea,  excused  his  devilish  deeds. 
Then  from  his  lofty  stand  on  that  high  tree 
Down  he  alights  among  the  sportful  herd 
Of  those  fourfooted  kinds,  himself  now  one, 
Now  other,  as  their  shape  served  best  his  end 
Nearer  to  view  his  prey,  and  unespied 
To  mark  what  of  their  state  he  more  might  learn 
By  word  or  action  mark'd  :  about  them  round 
A  lion  now  he  stalks  with  fiery  glare, 
Then  as  a  tiger,  who  by  chance  had  spied 
In  some  purlieu  two  gentle  fawns  at  play. 
Strait  couches  close,  then  rising  changes  oft, 
His  couchant  watch,  as  one  who  chose  his  ground, 
Whence  rushing  he  might  surest  seize  them  both 

1  Isaiah  xiv.  9.  - 


a- 


^ 


96  PARADISE  LOST. 

Griped  in  each  paw  :  when  Adam  first  of  men, 
To  first  of  women  Eve  thus  moving  speech, 
Turn'd  him  all  ear  to  hear  new  utterance  flow. 

Sole  partner  and  sole  part  of  all  those  joys, 
Dearer  thyself  than  all,  needs  must  the  Power 
That  made  us,  and  for  us  this  ample  world. 
Be  infinitely  good,  and  of  His  good 
As  liberal  and  free  as  infinite, 
That  raised  us  from  the  dust  and  placed  us  here 
In  all  this  happiness,  who  at  His  hand 
Have  nothing  merited,  nor  can  perform 
Aught  whereof  He  hath  need.  He  who  requires 
From  us  no  other  service  than  to  keep 
This  one,  this  easy  charge,  of  all  the  trees 
In  paradise  that  bear  delicious  fruit 
So  various,  not  to  taste  that  only  Tree 
Of  Knowledge,  planted  by  the  Tree  of  Life  ; 
So  near  grows  death  to  life ;  whate'er  death  is, 
Some  dreadful  thing  no  doubt ;  for  well  thou  know'st 
God  hath  pronounced  it  death  to  taste  that  tree, 
The  only  sign  of  our  obedience  left 
Among  so  many  signs  of  power  and  rule 
Conferr'd  upon  us,  and  dominion  given 
Over  all  other  creatures  that  possess 
Earth,  air  and  sea.     Then  let  us  not  think  hard 
One  easy  prohibition,  who  enjoy 
Free  leave  so  large  to  all  things  else,  and  choice 
Unlimited  of  manifold  delights  : 
But  let  us  ever  praise  him  and  extol 
His  bounty,  following  our  delightful  task 
To  prune  these  growing  plants,  and  tend  these  flowers ; 
Which  were  it  toilsome,  yet  with  thee  were  sweet. 

To  whom  thus  Eve  replied.     O  thou,  for  whom 
And  from  whom  I  was  form'd,  flesh  of  thy  flesh, 
And  without  whom  am  to  no  end,  my  guide 
And  head,  what  thou  hast  said  is  just  and  right : 


4 


4 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  97 

For  we  to  him  indeed  all  praises  owe, 
And  daily  thanks ;  I  chiefly,  who  enjoy 
So  far  the  happier  lot,  enjoying  thee 
Pre-eminent  by  so  much  odds,  while  thou 
Like  consort  to  thyself  canst  nowhere  find. 
That  day  I  oft  remember,  when  from  sleep 
I  first  awaked,  and  found  myself  reposed 
Under  a  shade  on  flowers,  much  wond'ring  where 
And  what  I  was,  whence  thither  brought,  and  how 
Not  distant  far  from  thence  a  murmuring  sound 
Of  waters  issued  from  a  cave,  and  spread 
Into  a  liquid  plain,  then  stood  unmoved. 
Pure  as  th'  expanse  of  heav'n  ;  I  thither  went 
With  unexperienced  thought,  and  laid  me  down 
On  the  green  bank,  to  look  into  the  clear 
Smooth  lake,  that  to  me  seem'd  another  sky. 
As  I  bent  down  to  look,  just  opposite 
A  shape  within  the  wat'ry  gleam  appear'd 
Bending  to  look  on  me :  I  started  back, 
It  started  back ;  but  pleased  I  soon  return'd. 
Pleased  it  return'd  as  soon  with  answering  looks 
Of  sympathy  and  love :  there  I  had  fix'd 
Mine  eyes  till  now,  and  pined  with  vain  desire, 
Had  not  a  voice  thus  warn'd  me,  What  thou  seest, 
What  there  thou  seest,  fair  creature,  is  thyself; 
With  thee  it  came  and  goes :  but  follow  me. 
And  I  will  bring  thee  where  no  shadow  stays 
Thy  coming,  and  thy  soft  embraces ;  he 
Whose  image  thou  art,  him  thou  shalt  enjoy 
Inseparably  thine,  to  him  shalt  bear 
Multitudes  like  thyself,  and  thence  be  call'd 
Mother  of  human  race.     What  could  I  do, 
But  follow  straight,  invisibly  thus  led? 
Till  I  espied  thee,  fair  indeed  and  tall, 
Under  a  plantain ;  yet,  methought,  less  fair, 
Less  winning  soft,  less  amiably  mild, 

7 

^ ^ 


a ^ 

98  PARADISE  LOST. 

Than  that  smooth  wat'ry  image ;  back  I  turn'd, 
Thou  following  criedst  aloud,  Return,  fair  Eve, 
Whom  fliest  thou  ?  whom  thou  fliest,  of  him  thou  art, 
His  flesh,  his  bone ;  to  give  thee  being  I  lent 
Out  of  my  side  to  thee,  nearest  my  heart, 
Substantial  life,  to  have  thee  by  my  side 
Henceforth  an  individual  solace  dear: 
Part  of  my  soul,  I  seek  thee,  and  thee  claim. 
My  other  half.     With  that  thy  gentle  hand 
Seized  mine;  I  yielded,  and  from  that  time  see 
How  beauty  is  excell'd  by  manly  grace, 
And  wisdom,  which  alone  is  truly  fair. 

So  spake  our  general  mother,  and,  with  eyes 
Of  conjugal  attraction  unreproved 
And  meek  surrender,  half  embracing  lean'd 
On  our  first  father;  half  her  swelling  breast 
Naked  met  his  under  the  flowing  gold 
Of  her  loose  tresses  hid :  he,  in  delight 
Both  of  her  beauty  and  submissive  charms. 
Smiled  with  superior  love,  as  Jupiter 
On  Juno  smiles,  when  he  impregns  the  clouds 
That  shed  May  flowers,  and  press'd  her  matron  lip 
With  kisses  pure  :  aside  the  devil  turn'd 
For  envy,  yet  with  jealous  leer  malign 
Eyed  them  askance,  and  to  himself  thus  plain'd. 

Sight  hateful,  sight  tormenting  !  thus  these  two 
Imparadised  in  one  another's  arms, 
The  happier  Eden,  shall  enjoy  their  fill 
Of  bliss  on  bliss,  while  I  to  hell  am  thrust, 
Where  neither  joy  nor  love,  but  fierce  desire, 
Among  our  other  torments  not  the  least, 
Still  unfulfiU'd  with  pain  of  longing  pines. 
Yet  let  me  not  forget  what  I  have  gain'd 
From  their  own  mouths :  all  is  not  theirs  it  seems  ; 
One  fatal  tree  there  stands  of  Knowledge  call'd 
Forbidden  them  to  taste  :  knowledge  forbidden  ? 

<^ —^ 


f — ^ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  99 

Suspicious,  reasonless.     Why  should  their  Lord 

Envy  them  that  ?  can  it  be  sin  to  know  ? 

Can  it  be  death-?  and  do  they  only  stand 

By  ignorance?  is  that  their  happy  state,  1 

The  proof  of  their  obedience  and  their  faith  ? 

O  fair  foundation  laid  whereon  to  build 

Their  ruin !  hence  I  will  excite  their  minds 

With  more  desire  to  know,  and  to  reject  I 

Envious  commands,  invented  with  design 

To  keep  them  low,  whom  knowledge  might  exalt  \ 

Equal  with  Gods  ;  aspiring  to  be  such. 

They  taste  and  die  :  what  likelier  can  ensue  ?  .  | 

But  first  with  narrow  search  I  must  walk  round 

This  garden,  and  no  corner  leave  unspied ; 

A  chance  but  chance  may  lead  where  I  may  meet 

Some  wand'ring  spirit  of  heav'n,  by  fountain  side, 

Or  in  thick  shade  retired,  from  him  to  draw 

What  further  would  be  learn'd.     Live  while  yc  may, 

Yet  happy  pair;  enjoy,  till  I  return. 

Short  pleasures,  for  long  woes  are  to  succeed. 

So  saying,  his  proud  step  he  scornful  turn'd, 
But  with  sly  circumspection,  and  began 
Through  wood,  through  waste,  o'er  hill,  o'er  dale,  his  roam. 
Meanwhile  in  utmost  longitude,  where  heav'n 
With  earth  and  ocean  meets,  the  settinor  sun 
Slowly  descended,  and  with  right  aspect 
Against  the  eastern  gate  of  paradise 
Levell'd  his  ev'ning  rays :  it  was  a  rock 
Of  alabaster,  piled  up  to  the  clouds, 
Conspicuous  far,  winding  with  one  ascent 
Accessible  from  earth,  one  entrance  high  ; 
The  rest  was  craggy  cliff,  that  overhung 
Still  as  it  rose,  impossible  to  climb. 
Betwixt  these  rocky  pillars  GabrieP  sat, 


1  The  angel  sent  to  Daniel  (Dan.  ix.  21),  and  to  the  Virgin  Mary  and  to  Zacharias  (see 
Luke  i.  19  and  26). 


--4^ 


a- ^ 

loo  PARADISE  LOST. 

Chief  of  the  angelic  guards,  awaiting  night; 

About  him  exercised  heroic  games 

Th'  unarmed  youth  of  heav'n ;  but  nigh  at  hand 

Celestial  armory,  shields,  helms,  and  spears, 

Hung  high  with  diamond  flaming  and  with  gold. 

Thither  came  Uriel,  gliding  through  the  even 

On  a  sunbeam,  swift  as  a  shooting  star 

In  autumn  thwarts  the  night,  when  vapors  fired 

Impress  the  air,  and  show  the  mariner 

From  what  point  of  his  compass  to  beware 

Impetuous  winds :  he  thus  began  in  haste. 

Gabriel,  to  thee  thy  course  by  lot  hath  given 
Charge  and  strict  watch,  that  to  this  happy  place 
No  evil  thing  approach  or  enter  in  : 
This  day  at  highth  of  noon  came  to  my  sphere 
A  spirit,  zealous,  as  he  seem'd,  to  know 
More  of  the  Almighty's  works,  and  chiefly  man 
God's  latest  image:  I  descried  his  way 
Bent  all  on  speed,  and  mark'd  his  aery  gait : 
But  in  the  mount  that  lies  from  Eden  north, 
Where  he  first  lighted,  soon  discern'd  his  looks 
Alien  from  heav'n,  with  passions  foul  obscured : 
Mine  eye  pursued  him  still,  but  under  shade 
Lost  sight  of  him ;  one  of  the  banish'd  crew, 
I  fear,  hath  ventured  from  the  deep  to  raise 
New  troubles  ;  him  thy  care  must  be  to  find. 

To  whom  the  winged  warrior  thus  return'd : 
Uriel,  no  wonder  if  thy  perfect  sight, 
Amid  the  sun's  bright  circle  where  thou  sitt'st, 
See  far  and  wide :  in  at  this  gate  none  pass 
The  vigilance  here  placed,  but  such  as  come 
Well  known  from  heav'n;  and  since  meridian  hour 
No  creature  thence.     If  spirit  of  other  sort, 
So  minded,  have  o'erleap'd  these  earthy  bounds 
On  purpose,  hard  thou  know'st  it  to  exclude 
Spiritual  substance  with  corporeal  bar. 

4 ^ ■ -^ 


~v                                                                                             ^' 

"J 

c 

y\ 

^ 

PARADISE  LOST.                                 loi 

But  if  within  the  circuit  of  these  walks 

\ 

In  whatsoever  shape  he  lurk,  of  whom 

Thou  tell'st,  by  morrow  dawning  I  shall  know. 

So  promised  he,  and  Uriel  to  his  charge 

' 

Return'd  on  that  bright  beam,  whose  point  now  raised 

Bore  him  slope  downward  to  the  sun,  now  fall'n 

Beneath  th'  Azores ;  whether  the  prime  orb, 

Incredible  how  swift,  had  hither  roll'd 

Diurnal,  or  this  less  volubil  earth. 

By  shorter  flight  to  th'  east,  had  left  him  there, 

Arraying  with  reflected  purple  and  gold 

The  clouds  that  on  his  western  throne  attend. 

Now  came  still  evening  on,  and  twilight  gray 

Had  in  her  sober  livery  all  things  clad  ; 

Silence  accompanied;  for  beast  and  bird. 

They  to  their  grassy  couch,  these  to  their  nests. 

Were  slunk,  all  but  the  wakeful  nightingale  ; 

She  all  night  long  her  amorous  descant  sung  ; 

Silence  was  pleased :  now  glow'd  the  firmament 

With  living  sapphires;  Hesperus  that  led 

■ 

The  starry  host  rode  brightest,  till  the  moon. 

Rising  in  clouded  majesty,  at  length 

Apparent  queen  unveil'd  her  peerless  light. 

: 

And  o'er  the  dark  her  silver  mantle  threw. 

When  Adam  thus  to  Ev^e :  Fair  consort,  the  hour 

j 

Of  night  and  all  things  now  retired  to  rest 

Mind  us  of  like  repose,  since  God  hath  set 

, 

Labor  and  rest,  as  day  and  night,  to  men 

Successive,  and  the  timely  dew  of  sleep 

Now  falling  w^ith  soft  slumbrous  weight  inclines 

Our  eyelids  :  other  creatures  all  day  long 

Rove  idle,  unemploy'd,  and  less  need  rest : 

Man  hath  his  daily  work  of  body  or  mind 

Appointed,  which  declares  his  dignity, 

And  the  regard  of  heaven  on  all  his  ways ; 

While  other  animals  unactive  ransre. 

1 

.  r 

\ 

V                                                                                             -  V. 

f 


* 


IC2  PARADISE  LOST. 

And  of  their  doings  God  takes  no  account. 

To-morrow  ere  fresh  morning  streak  the  east 

With  first  approach  of  Hght  we  must  be  risen. 

And  at  our  pleasant  labor,  to  reform 

Yon  flowery  arbors,  yonder  alleys  green, 

Our  walk  at  noon,  with  branches  overgrown. 

That  mock  our  scant  manuring,  and  require 

More  hands  than  ours  to  lop  their  wanton  growth : 

Those  blossoms  also  and  those  dropping  gums, 

That  lie  bestrown  unsightly  and  unsmooth, 
f  Ask  riddance,  if  we  mean  to  tread  with  ease  : 

I  Meanwhile,  as  nature  wills,  night  bids  us  rest. 

i  To  whom  thus  Eve  with  perfect  beauty  adorn'd. 

\  My  author  and  disposer,  what  thou  bidd'st 

I  Unargued  I  obey,  so  God  ordains  ; 

God  is  thy  law,  thou  mine ;  to  know  no  more 
i  Is  woman's  happiest  knowledge  and  her  praise. 

]  With  thee  conversing  I  forget  all  time, 

j  All  seasons  and  their  change,  all  please  alike : 

I  Sweet  is  the  breath  of  morn,  her  rising  sweet, 

I  With  charm  of  earliest  birds ;  pleasant  the  sun. 

When  first  on  this  delightful  land  he  spreads 

His  orient  beams,  on  herb,  tree,  fruit,  and  flower, 

Glist'ning  with  dew ;  fragrant  the  fertile  earth 

After  soft  showers ;  and  sweet  the  coming  on 

Of  grateful  ev'ning  mild ;  then  silent  night 

With  this  her  solemn  bird,  and  this  fair  moon. 

And  these  the  gems  of  heav'n,  her  starry  train  : 

But  neither  breath  of  morn  when  she  ascends 

With  charm  of  earliest  birds,  nor  rising  sun 

On  this  delightful  land,  nor  herb,  fruit,  flower, 

Glist'ring  with  dew,  nor  fragrance  after  showers. 

Nor  grateful  evening  mild,  nor  silent  night 

With  this  her  solemn  bird,  nor  walk  by  moon, 

Or  glittering  starlight,  without  thee  is  sweet. 

But  wherefore  all  night  long  shine  these  ?  for  whom 

^5 ^ -4" 


PARADISE  LOST.  103 

This  glorious  sight,  when  sleep  hath  shut  all  eyes? 

To  whom  our  general  ancestor  replied. 
Daughter  of  God  and  man,  accomplish'd  Eve, 
Those  have  their  course  to  finish,  round  the  earth, 
By  morrow  ev'ning,  and  from  land  to  land 
In  order,  though  to  nations  yet  unborn, 
Minist'ring  light  prepared,  they  set  and  rise ; 
Lest  total  darkness  should  by  night  regain 
Her  old  possession,  and  extinguish  life 
In  nature  and  all  things,  which  these  soft  fires 
Not  only  enlighten,  but  with  kindly  heat 
Of  various  influence  foment  and  warm, 
Temper  or  nourish,  or  in  part  shed  down 
Their  stellar  virtue  on  all  kinds  that  grow 
On  earth,  made  hereby  apter  to  receive 
Perfection  from  the  sun's  more  potent  ray. 
These  then,  though  unbeheld  in  deep  of  night, 
Shine  not  in  vain  ;  nor  think,  though  men  were  none 
That  heav'n  would  want  spectators,  God  want  praise : 
Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth 
Unseen,  both  when  we  wake,  and  when  we  sleep. 
All  these  with  ceaseless  praise  his  works  behold 
Both  day  and  night :  how  often  from  the  steep 
Of  echoing  hill  or  thicket  have  we  heard 
Celestial  voices  to  the  midnight  air, 
Sole,  or  responsive  each  to  other's  note, 
Singing  their  great  Creator  ?  oft  in  bands 
While  they  keep  watch,  or  nightly  rounding  walk, 
With  heav'nly  touch  of  instrumental  sounds 
In  full  harmonic  number  join'd,  their  songs 
Divide  the  night,  and  lift  our  thoughts  to  heaven. 

Thus  talking  hand  in  hand  alone  they  pass'd 
On  to  their  blissful  bower ;  it  was  a  place 
Chosen  by  the  sov'reign  planter,  when  he  framed 
All  things  to  man's  delightful  use :  the  roof 
Of  thickest  covert  was  inwoven  shade, 

=-— ^ -^ 


er 


^ 


104  PAR  AD/SB  LOST. 

Laurel  and  myrtle,  and  what  higher  grew 

Of  firm  and  fragrant  leaf;  on  either  side 

Acanthus  and  each  odorous  bushy  shrub 

Fenced  up  the  verdant  wall,  each  beauteous  flower, 

Iris  all  hues,  roses,  and  jessamin 

Rear'd  high  their  flourish'd  heads  between,  and  wrought 

Mosaic ;  under  foot  the  violet. 

Crocus,  and  hyacinth  with  rich  inlay 

Broider'd  the  ground,  more  color'd  than  with  stone 

Of  costliest  emblem  :  other  creature  here. 

Beast,  bird,  insect,  or  worm,  durst  enter  none ; 

Such  was  their  awe  of  man.     In  shadier  bower 

More  sacred  and  sequester'd,  though  but  feign'd, 

Pan  or  Sylvanus  never  slept ;  nor  nymph. 

Nor  Faunus  haunted.     Here  in  close  recess 

With  flowers,  garlands,  and  sweet-smelling  herbs, 

Espoused  Eve  deck'd  first  her  nuptial  bed, 

And  heav'nly  choirs  the  Hymenaen  sung, 

What  day  the  genial  angel  to  our  sire 

Brought  her  in  naked  beauty  more  adorn'd, 

More  lovely  than  Pandora,^  whom  the  Gods 

Endow'd  with  all  their  gifts,  and  O  too  like 

In  sad  event,  when  to  the  unwiser  son 

Of  Japhet  brought  by  Hermes  she  ensnared 

Mankind  with  her  fair  looks,  to  be  avenged 

On  him  who  had  stole  Jove's  authentic  fire. 

Thus  at  their  shady  lodge  arrived,  both  stood, 
Both  turn'd,  and  under  open  sky  adored 
The  God  that  made  both  sky,  air,  earth,  and  heav'n 

1  Pandora  was  a  most  beautiful  woman  on  whom  the  gods  bestowed  all  their  gifts.  Jupi- 
ter, enraged  with  Prometheus,  the  son  of  Japhet,  for  having  stolen  fire  from  heaven,  sent 
Pandora,  with  a  box  of  supposed  treasures,  to  him,  to  punish  him  ;  but  he  refused  to  receive 
her.  Hermes  (or  Mercury)  then  led  her  to  Prometheus's  "unwiser"  brother  Epimetheus. 
who  received  her,  and  was  persuaded  by  her  to  open  the  box  she  brought  as  her  dowry.  It 
contained  all  the  ills  which  have  since  afflicted  humanity,  but  //o/>e  remained  at  the  bottom. 
It  is  very  probable  that  this  fable  originated  in  the  true  story  of  Eve's  disobedience,  and  her 
enticing  Adam  to  share  her  sin. 

45 ^ 


t 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  105 

Which  they  beheld,  the  moon's  resplendent  globe, 
And  starry  pole.     Thou  also  mad'st  the  night, 
Maker  Omnipotent,  and  thou  the  day, 
Which  we  in  our  appointed  work  employ'd 
Have  finish'd,  happy  in  our  mutual  help 
And  mutual  love,  the  crown  of  all  our  bliss 
Ordain'd  by  thee,  and  this  delicious  place 
For  us  too  large,  where  thy  abundance  wants 
Partakers,  and  uncropt  falls  to  the  ground. 
But  thou  hast  promised  from  us  two  a  race 
To  fill  the  earth,  who  shall  with  us  extol 
Thy  goodness  infinite,  both  when  we  wake, 
And  when  we  seek,  as  now,  thy  gift  of  sleep. 

This  said  unanimous,  and  other  rites 
Observing  none,  but  adoration  pure 
Which  God  likes  best,  into  their  inmost  bower 
Handed  they  went ;  and,  eased  the  putting  off 
These  troublesome  disguises  which  we  wear. 
Straight  side  by  side  were  laid  ;  nor  turn'd,  I  ween, 
Adam  from  his  fair  spouse ;  nor  Eve  the  rites 
Mysterious  of  connubial  love  refused 
Whatever  hypocrites  austerely  talk 
Of  purity,  and  place,  and  innocence. 
Defaming  as  impure  what  God  declares 
Pure,  and  commands  to  some,  leaves  free  to  all. 
Our  Maker  bids  increase,  who  bids  abstain 
But  our  destroyer,  foe  to  God  and  man  ? 
Hail  wedded  love,  mysterious  law,  true  source 
Of  human  offspring,  sole  propriety 
In  paradise  of  all  things  common  else. 
By  thee  adulterous  lust  was  driv'n  from  men 
Among  the  bestial  herds  to  range  ;  by  thee 
Founded  in  reason,  loyal,  just,  and  pure, 
Relations  dear,  and  all  the  charities^ 

1  Affections. 


^ -^ 

io6  PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  father,  son,  and  brother,  first  were  known. 

Far  be  it,  that  1  should  write  thee  sin  or  blame, 

Or  think  thee  unbefitting  hohest  place, 

Perpetual  fountain  of  domestic  sweets. 

Whose  bed  is  undefiled  and  chaste  pronounced. 

Present,  or  past,  as  saints  and  patriarchs  used. 

Here  Love  his  golden  shafts  employs,  here  lights 

His  constant  lamp,  and  waves  his  purple  wings, 

Reigns  here  and  revels ;  not  in  the  bought  smile 

Of  harlots,  loveless,  joyless,  unendear'd. 

Casual  fruition  ;  nor  in  court  amours, 

Mix'd  dance,  or  wanton  mask,  or  midnight  ball, 

Or  serenate,  which  the  starved  lover  sings 

To  his  proud  fair,  best  quitted  with  disdain. 

These,  luU'd  by  nightingales,  embracing  slept, 

And  on  their  naked  limbs  the  flowery  roof 

Shower'd  roses,  which  the  morn  repair'd.     Sleep  on, 

Blest  pair,  and  O  !  yet  happiest  if  ye  seek 

No  happier  state,  and  know  to  know  no  more. 

Now  had  night  measured  with  her  shadowy  cone 
Half  way  up  hill  this  vast  sublunar  vault, 
And  from  their  ivory  port  the  Cherubim 
Forth  issuing  at  th'  accustom'd  hour  stood  arm'd 
To  their  night  watches  in  warlike  parade, 
When  Gabriel  to  his  next  in  power  thus  spake, 

UzzieV  half  these  draw  off,  and  coast  the  south 
With  strictest  watch  ;  these  other  wheel  the  north  ; 
Our  circuit  meets  full  west.     As  flame  they  part. 
Half  wheeling  to  the  shield,  half  to  the  spear. 
From  these  two  strong  and  subtle  spirits  he  call'd 
That  near  him  stood,  and  gave  them  thus  in  charge. 

Ithuriel  and  Zephon,^  with  wing'd  speed 
Search  through  this  garden,  leave  unsearch'd  no  nook ; 


1  This  angels  name  signifies  the  strength  of  God. 

2  The  name  of  Ithuriel  signifies  the  discovery  of  God  ;    of  Zephon,  a  secret,  or  searcher  of 
secrets From  Hume. 

d^ — -4" 


^ -. ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  107 

But  chiefly  where  those  two  fair  creatures  lodge, 

Now  laid  perhaps  asleep  secure  of  harm. 

This  evening  from  the  sun's  decline  arrived, 

Who  tells  of  some  infernal  spirit  seen 

Hitherward  bent,  who  could  have  thought  ?  escaped 

The  bars  of  hell,  on  errand  bad  no  doubt : 

Such  where  ye  find,  seize  fast,  and  hither  bring. 

So  saying,  on  he  led  his  radfant  files, 
Dazzling  the  moon  ;  these  to  the  bower  direct 
In  search  of  whom  they  sought:  him  there  they  found. 
Squat  like  a  toad,  close  at  the  ear  of  Eve; 
Assaying  by  his  devilish  art  to  reach 
The  organs  of  her  fancy,  and  with  them  forge 
Illusions  as  he  list,  phantasms,  and  dreams  ; 
Or  if,  inspiring  venom,  he  might  taint 
Th'  animal  spirits  that  from  pure  blood  arise 
Like  gentle  breaths  from  rivers  pure,  thence  raise 
At  least  distemper'd,  discontented  thoughts, 
Vain  hopes,  vain  aims,  inordinate  desires 
Blown  up  with  high  conceits  ingend'ring  pride. 
Him  thus  intent  Ithuriel  with  his  spear 
Touch'd  lightly  ;  for  no  falsehood  can  endure 
Touch  of  celestial  temper,  but  returns 
Of  force  to  its  own  likeness :  up  he  starts 
Discover'd  and  surprized.     As  when  a  spark 
Lights  on  a  heap  of  nitrous  powder,  laid 
Fit  for  the  tun,  some  marazine  to  store 
Against  a  rumor'd  war,  the  smutty  grain 
With  sudden  blaze  diffused  inflames  the  air  : 
So  started  up  in  his  own  shape  the  fiend. 
Back  stepp'd  those  two  fair  angels,  half  amazed 
So  sudden  to  behold  the  grisly  king ; 
Yet  thus,  unmoved  with  fear,  accost  him  soon. 

Which  of  those  rebel  spirits  adjudged  to  hell 
Com'st  thou,  escaped  thy  prison  ?  and  transformed, 
Why  sat'st  thou  like  an  enemy  in  wait, 

'id -^ 


^ ^ 

io8  PARADISE  LOST. 

Here  watching  at  the  head  of  these  that  sleep? 

Know  ye  not  then,  said  Satan  fill'd  with  scorn, 
Know  ye  not  me  ?  ye  knew  me  once  no  mate 
For  you,  there  sitting  where  ye  durst  not  soar  ; 
•     Not  to  know  me  argues  yourselves  unknown, 
The  lowest  of  your  throng;  or  if  ye  know, 
Why  ask  ye,  and  superfluous  begin 
Your  message,  like  to  end  as  much  in  vain  ? 

To  whom  thus  Zephon,  answering  scorn  with  scorn. 
Think  not,  revolted  spirit,  thy  shape  the  same 
Or  undiminish'd  brightness,  to  be  known 
As  when  thou  stood'st  in  heav'n  upright  and  pure; 
That  glory  then,  when  thou  no  more  wast  good, 
Departed  from  thee,  and  thou  resemblest  now 
Thy  sin  and  place  of  doom  obscure  and  foul. 
But  come,  for  thou,  be  sure,  shalt  give  account 
To  him  who  sent  us,  whose  charge  is  to  keep 
This  place  inviolable,  and  these  from  harm. 

So  spake  the  Cherub,  and  his  grave  rebuke, 
Severe  in  youthful  beauty,  added  grace 
Invincible :  abash'd  the  devil  stood, 
And  felt  how  awful  goodness  is,  and  saw 
Virtue  in  her  shape  how  lovely,  saw,  and  pined 
His  loss  ;  but  chiefly  to  find  here  observed 
His  lustre  visibly  impair'd;  yet  seem'd 
Undaunted.     If  I  must  contend,  said  he, 
Best  with  the  best,  the  sender  not  the  sent, 
Or  all  at  once;  more  glory  will  be  won, 
Or  less  be  lost.     Thy  .car,  said  Zephon  bold, 
Will  save  us  trial  what  the  least  can  do 
Single  against  thee  wicked,  and  thence  weak. 

The  fiend  replied  not,  overcome  with  rage ; 
But  like  a  proud  steed  rein'd  went  haughty  on, 
Champing  his  iron  curb  :  to  strive  or  fly 
He  held  it  vain  ;  awe  from  above  had  quell'd 
His  heart,  not  else  dismay'd.     Now  drew  they  nigh 

^ 4^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  .^^ 

The  western  point,  where  those  half-rounding  guards 
Just  met,  and  closing  stood  in  squadron  join'^d, 
Awaiting  next  command.     To  whom  their  chief 
Gabriel  from  the  front  thus  call'd  aloud. 

O  friends,  I  hear  the  tread  of  nimble  feet 
Hasting  this  way,  and  now  by  glimpse  discern 
Ithuriel  and  Zephon  through  the  shade, 
And  with  them  comes  a  third  of  regal  port, 
But  faded  splendor  wan  ;  who  by  his  gait 
And  fierce  demeanor  seems  the  prince  of  hell, 
Nor  likely  to  part  hence  without  contest : 
Stand  firm,  for  in  his  look  defiance  lours. 

He  scarce  had  ended,  when  those  two  approach'd. 
And  brief  related  whom  they  brought,  where  found,' 
How  busied,  in  what  form  and  posture  couch 'd. 
To  whom  with  stern  regard  thus  Gabriel  spake'. 

Why  hast  thou,  Satan,  broke  the  bounds  prescribed 
To  thy  transgression,  and  disturb'd  the  charge 
Of  others,  who  approve  not  to  transgress 
By  thy  example,  but  have  power  and  right 
To  question  thy  bold  entrance  on  this  pTace, 
Employ'd,  it  seems,  to  violate  sleep,  and  those 
Whose  dwelling  God  hath  planted  here  in  bliss? 
To  whom  thus  Satan  with  contemptuous  brow. 
Gabriel,  thou  hadst  in  heav'n  th'  esteem  of  wise, 
And  such  I  held  thee  :  but  this  question  ask'd 
Puts  me  in  doubt.     Lives  there  who  loves  his  pain  ? 
Who  would  not,  finding  way,  break  loose  from  hell, 
Though  hither  doom'd?  thou  wouldst  thyself,  no  doubt. 
And  boldly  venture  to  whatever  place 
Farthest  from  pain,  where  thou  migh'st  hope  to  change 
Torment  with  ease,  and  soonest  recompense 
Dole  with  delight,  which  in  this  place  I  sought  : 
To  thee  no  reason,  who  know'st  only  good, 
But  evil  hast  not  tried  :  and  wilt  object 
His  will  who  bound  us  ?     Let  Him  surer  bar 


4 


^ -^ 

no  PARADISE  LOST. 

His  iron  gates,  if  He  intends  our  stay 
In  that  dark  durance :  thus  much  what  was  ask'd. 
The  rest  is  true  ;  they  found  me  where  they  say  ; 
But  that  implies  not  violence  or  harm. 

Thus  he  in  scorn.     The  warlike  angel  moved, 
Disdainfully,  half  smiling,  thus  replied. 
O  loss  of  one  in  heav'n  to  judge  of  wise, 
Since  Satan  fell,  whom  folly  overthrew, 
And  now  returns  him  from  his  prison  scaped. 
Gravely  in  doubt  whether  to  hold  them  wise 
Or  not,  who  ask  what  boldness  brought  him  hither 
Unlicensed  from  his  bounds  in  hell  prescribed: 
So  wise  he  judges  it  to  fly  from  pain 
However,  and  to  scape  his  punishment. 
So  judge  thou  still,  presumptuous,  till  the  wrath. 
Which  thou  incurr'st  by  flying,  meet  thy  flight 
Sevenfold,  and  scourge  that  wisdom  back  to  hell. 
Which  taught  thee  yet  no  better,  that  no  pain 
Can  equal  anger  infinite  provoked. 
But  wherefore  thou  alone  ?  wherefore  with  thee 
Came  not  all  hell  broke  loose  ?  is  pain  to  them 
Less  pain,  less  to  be  fled,  or  thou  than  they 
Less  hardy  to  endure  ?  courageous  chief, 
The  first  in  flight  from  pain,  hadst  thou  alleged 
To  thy  deserted  host  this  cause  of  flight, 
Thou  surely  hadst  not  come  sole  fugitive. 

To  which  the  fiend  thus  answer'd,  frowning  stern. 
Not  that  I  less  endure,  or  shrink  from  pain 
Insulting  angel,  well  thou  know'st  I  stood 
Thy  fiercest,  when  in  battle  to  thy  aid 
The  blasting  vollied  thunder  made  all  speed, 
And  seconded  thy  else  not  dreaded  spear. 
But  still  thy  words  at  random,  as  before, 
Argue  thy  inexperience  what  behoves 
From  hard  assays  and  ill  successes  past 
A  faithful  leader,  not  to  hazard  all 

^fe- ■ & 


<b 


PARADISE  LOST.  iii 

Through  ways  of  danger  by  himself  untried. 
I  therefore,  I  alone  first  undertook 
To  wing  the  desolate  abyss,  and  spy 
This  new  created  world,  whereof  in  hell 
Fame  is  not  silent,  here  in  hope  to  find 
Better  abode,  and  my  afflicted  Powers 
To  settle  here  on  earth,  or  in  mid  air ; 
Though  for  possession  put  to  try  once  more 
What  thou  and  thy  gay  legions  dare  against  ; 
Whose  easier  business  were  to  serve  their  Lord 
High  up  in  heav'n,  with  songs  to  hymn  his  throne, 
And  practised  distances  to  cringe,  not  fight. 
To  whom  the  warrior  angel  soon  replied. 
To  say  and  straight  unsay,  pretending  first 
Wise  to  fly  pain,  professing  next  the  spy. 
Argues  no  leader,  but  a  liar  traced, 
Satan,  and  couldst  thou  faithful  add  ?  O  name, 
O  sacred  name  of  faithfulness  profaned ! 
Faithful  to  whom  ?  to  thy  rebellious  crew  ? 
Army  of  fiends,  fit  body  to  fit  head  : 
Was  this  your  discipline  and  faith  engaged, 
Your  military  obedience,  to  dissolve 
Allegiance  to  th'  acknowledged  Power  supreme  ? 
And  thou  sly  hypocrite,  who  now  wouldst  seem 
Patron  of  liberty,  who  more  than  thou 
Once  fawn'd,  and  cring'd,  and  servilely  adored 
Heav'n's  awful  Monarch  ?  wherefore  but  in  hope 
To  dispossess  him,  and  thyself  to  reign  ? 
But  mark  what  I  arreed  thee  now ;  Avaunt ; 
Fly  thither  whence  thou  fledst :  if  from  this  hour 
Within  these  hallow'd  limits  thou  appear. 
Back  to  th'  infernal  pit  I  drag  thee  chain'd, 
And  seal  thee  so,^  as  henceforth  not  to  scorn 
The  facile  gates  of  hell  too  slightly  barr'd. 

1  Rev.  XX.  3. 


4 


112  PARADISE  LOST. 

So  threaten'd  he  :  but  Satan  to  no  threats 
Gave  heed,  but  waxing  more  in  rage  repHed. 

Then,  when  I  am  thy  captive  talk  of  chains. 
Proud  hmitary  Cherub ;  but  ere  then 
Far  heavier  load  thyself  expect  to  feel 
From  my  prevailing  arm ;  though  heaven's  King 
Ride  on  thy  wings,^  and  thou  with  thy  compeers, 
Used  to  the  yoke,  draw'st  his  triumphant  wheels 
In  progress  through  the  road  of  heav'n  star-paved. 

While  thus  he  spake,  th'  angelic  squadron  bright 
Turn'  fiery  red,  sharp'ning  in  mooned  horns 
Their  phalanx,  and  began  to  hem  him  round 
With  ported  spears,  as  thick  as  when  a  field 
Of  Ceres,  ripe  for  harvest,  waving  bends 
Her  bearded  grove  of  ears,  which  way  the  wind 
Sways  them  ;  the  careful  ploughman  doubting  stands, 
Lest  on  the  threshing  floor  his  hopeful  sheaves 
Prove  chaff.     On  the  other  side  Satan  alarm'd, 
Collecting  all  his  might,  dilated  stood, 
Like  Teneriffe  or  Atlas  unremoved  : 
His  stature  reach'd  the  sky,  and  on  his  crest 
Sat  horror  plumed;  nor  wanted  in  his  grasp 
What  seem'd  both  spear  and  shield.     Now  dreadful  deeds 
Might  have  ensued,  nor  only  Paradise 
In  this  commotion,  but  the  starry  cope 
Of  heav'n  perhaps,  or  all  the  elements 
At  least  had  gone  to  wrack,  disturb'd  and  torn 
With  violence  of  this  conflict,  had  not  soon 
Th'  Eternal  to  prevent  such  horrid  fray 
Hung  forth  in  heav'n  his  golden  scales,^  yet  seen 


1  Ezek.  i.  X.  and  xi.  22. 

2  The  constellation  Libra.  This  image  of  the  Deity  weighing  the  fates  of  the  combatants 
is  found  both  in  Homer — XXII,  "Iliad" — and  in  Virgil,  who  represents  Jupiter  as  weighing 
the  fates  ofTurnus  and  ^neas. — Addison.  "In  Homer  and  Virgil  the  combatants  are 
weighed  one  against  another,  but  here  Satan  only  is  weighed;  in  one  scale  the  consequence 
of  his  retreating,  in  the  other  of  his  fighting.     And  there  is  this  further  improvement,  that. 


4 


f- 


■e? 


PARADISE  LOST.  113 

Betwixt  Astrea  and  the  Scorpion  sign, 
Wherein  all  things  created  first  he  weigh'd, 
The  pendulous  round  earth  with  balanced  air 
In  counterpoise ;  now  ponders  all  events, 
Battles,  and  realms :  in  these  he  put  two  weights, 
The  sequel  each  of  parting  and  of  fight ; 
The  latter  quick  up  flew  and  kick'd  the  beam : 
Which  Gabriel  spying  thus  bespake  the  fiend. 

Satan,  I  know  thy  strength,  and  thou  know'st  mine  : 
Neither  our  own  but  given ;  what  folly  then 
To  boast  what  arms  can  do,  since  thine  no  more 
Than  heav'n  permits,  nor  mine,  though  doubled  now 
To  trample  thee  as  mire  ?  for  proof  look  up 
And  read  thy  lot  in  yon  celestial  sign. 
Where  thou  art  weigh'd,^  and  shown  how  light,  how  weak. 
If  thou  resist.     The  fiend  look'd  up,  and  knew 
His  mounted  scale  aloft:  nor  more  ;  but  fled 
Murmuring,  and  with  him  fled  the  shades  of  night. 

as  in  Homer  and  Virgil  the  fates  are  weighed  to  satisfy  Jupiter  himself,  it  is  here  done  to 
satisfy  only  the  contending  parties — for  Satan  to  read  his  own  destiny  ! — Newton. 
1  Dan.  V.  27. 


£^_ ^ ^ 


^ ■- -^ 

114  PARADISE  LOST. 


BOOK  V. 

The  Argument. 

Morning  approached,  Eve  relates  to  Adam  her  troublesome  dream  ;  he  likes  it  not,  yet 
comforts  her:  they  come  forth  to  their  day-labors:  their  morning  hymn  at  the  door  of  their 
bower.  God,  to  render  man  inexcusable,  sends  Raphael  to  admonish  him  ol  his  obedience, 
of  his  free  estate,  of  his  enemy  near  at  hand,  who  he  is,  and  why  his  enemy,  and  whatever 
else  may  avail  Adam  to  know.  Raphael  comes  down  to  paradise  ;  his  appearance  described, 
his  coming  discerned  by  Adam  afar  off,  sitting  at  the  door  of  his  bower  ;  he  goes  out  to 
meet  him,  brings  him  to  his  lodge,  entertains  him  with  the  choicest  fruits  of  paradise  got 
together  by  Eve  ;  their  discourse  at  table  ;  Raphael  performs  his  message,  minds  Adam  of 
his  state  and  of  his  enemy;  relates  at  Adam's  request,  who  that  enemy  is,  and  how  he  came 
to  be  so,  beginning  from  his  first  revolt  in  heaven,  and  the  occasion  thereof;  how  he  drew 
his  legions  after  him  to  the  parts  of  the  north,  and  there  incited  them  to  rebel  with  him  ; 
persuading  all  but  only  Abdiel  a  seraph,  who  in  argument  dissuades  and  opposes  him,  then 
forsakes  him. 

Now  morn,  her  rosy  steps  in  th'  eastern  clime 
Advancing,  sow'd  the  earth  with  orient  pearl, 
When  Adam  waked,  so  custom'd  for  his  sleep 
Was  aery  light,  from  pure  digestion  bred, 
And  temperate  vapors  bland,  which  the  only  sound 
Of  leaves  and  fuming  rills,  Aurora's  fan 
Lightly  dispersed,  and  the  shrill  matin  song 
Of  birds  on  every  bough  :  so  much  the  more 
His  wonder  was  to  find  unwaken'd  Eve 
With  tresses  discomposed,  and  glowing  cheek, 
As  through  unquiet  rest :  he  on  his  side 
Leaning  half-raised,  with  looks  of  cordial  love 
Hung  over  her  enamor'd,  and  beheld 
Beauty,  which,  whether  waking  or  asleep. 
Shot  forth  peculiar  graces  :  then  with  voice 
Mild,  as  when  Zephyrus  on  F'lora  breathes. 
Her  hand  soft  touching,  whisper'd  thus  :  Awake, 
My  fairest,  my  espoused,  my  latest  found, 
Heav'n's  last  best  gift,  my  ever  new  delight, 
Awake,  the  morning  shines,  and  the  fresh  field 


Leaning,  half  raised,  uith  looks  of  cordial  love, 
Hung  over  her  enamoured. 


PARADISE  LOST.  115 

Calls  us,  we  lose  the  prime,  to  mark  how  spring 
Our  tended  plants,  how  blows  the  citron  grove, 
What  drops  the  myrrh,  and  what  the  balmy  reed, 
How  nature  paints  her  colors,  how  the  bee 
Sits  on  the  bloom  extracting  liquid  sweet. 

Such  whisp'ring  waked  her,  but  with  startled  eye 
On  Adam,  whom  embracing,  thus  she  spake. 

O  sole  in  whom  my  thoughts  find  all  repose. 
My  glory,  my  perfection,  glad  I  see 
Thy  face  and  morn  returned  ;  for  I  this  night, 
Such  night  till  this  I  never  pass'd,  have  dream'd, 
If  dream'd,  not,  as  I  oft  am  wont,  of  thee, 
Works  of  day  pass'd,  or  morrow's  next  design, 
But  of  offence  and  trouble,  which  my  mind 
Knew  never  till  this  irksome  night :  methought 
Close  at  mine  ear  one  call'd  me  forth  to  walk 
With  gentle  voice  ;  I  thought  it  thine  :  it  said. 
Why  sleep'st  thou  Eve  ?  now  is  the  pleasant  time, 
The  cool,  the  silent,  save  where  silence  yields 
To  the  night-warbling  bird,  that  now  awake 
Tunes  sweetest  his  love-labor'd  song ;  now  reigns 
Full  orb'd  the  moon,  and  with  more  pleasing  light 
Shadowy  sets  off  the  face  of  things  ;  in  vain. 
If  none  regard :  heav'n  wakss  with  all  his  eyes, 
Whom  to  behold  but  thee,  nature's  desire. 
In  whose  sight  all  things  joy,  with  ravishment 
,  Attracted  by  thy  beauty  still  to  gaze. 
I  rose  as  at  thy  call,  but  found  thee  not; 
To  find  thee  I  directed  then  my  walk  ; 
And  on,  methought,  alone  I  pass'd  through  ways 
That  brought  me  on  a  sudden  to  the  tree 
Of  interdicted  knowledge :  fair  it  seem'd, 
Much  fairer  to  my  fancy  than  by  day : 
And  as  I  wond'ring  look'd,  beside  it  stood 
One  shaped  and  wing'd  like  one  of  those  from  heav'n 
By  us  oft  seen ;  his  dewy  locks  distill'd 

— ^ 


^^ 


<b 


ii6 


PARADISE  LOST. 


Ambrosia ;  on  that  tree  he  also  gazed  ; 

And  O  fair  plant,  said  he,  with  fruit  surcharged, 

Deigns  none  to  ease  thy  load  and  taste  thy  sweet, 

Nor  God,  nor  man  ;  is  knowledge  so  despised? 

Or  envy,  or  what  reserve  forbids  to  taste  ? 

Forbid  who  will,  none  shall  from  me  withhold 

Longer  thy  offer'd  good  ;  why  else  set  here  ? 

This  said  he  paused  not,  but  with  vent'rous  arm 

He  pluck'd,  he  tasted;  me  damp  horror  chill'd 

At  such  bold  words  vouch'd  with  a  deed  so  bold. 

But  he  thus  overjoy'd :  O  fruit  divine. 

Sweet  of  thyself,  but  much  more  sweet  thus  cropp'd. 

Forbidden  here,  it  seems,  as  only  fit 

For  Gods,  yet  able  to  make  Gods  of  men: 

And  why  not  Gods  of  men  since  good,*  the  more 

Communicated,  more  abundant  grows, 

The  author  not  impair'd,  but  honor'd  more 

Here,  happy  creature,  fair  angelic  Eve, 

Partake  thou  also  ;  happy  though  thou  art. 

Happier  thou  may'st  be,  worthier  canst  not  be : 

Taste  this,  and  be  henceforth  among  the  Gods 

Thyself  a  Goddess,  not  to  earth  confined, 

But  sometimes  in  the  air,  as  we,  sometimes 

Ascend  to  heav'n,  by  merit  thine,  and  see 

What  life  the  Gods  live  there,  and  such  live  thou. 

So  saying,  he  drew  nigh,  and  to  me  held, 

Even  to  my  mouth,  of  that  same  fruit  held  part 

Which  he  had  pluck'd ;  the  pleasant  savory  smell 

So  quicken'd  appetite,  that  I,  methought, 

Could  not  but  taste.     Forthwith  up  to  the  clouds 

With  him  I  flew,  and  underneath  beheld 

The  earth  outstretch 'd  immense,  a  prospect  wide 

And  various  :  wond'ring  at  my  flight  and  change 

To  this  high  exaltation,  suddenly 

My  guide  was  gone,  and  I  methought,  sunk  down, 

And  fell  asleep :  but  O  how  glad  I  waked 


^ 


■e 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  117 

To  find  this  but  a  dream  !     Thus  Eve  her  night 
Related,  and  thus  Adam  answer'd  sad. 

Best  image  of  myself  and  dearer  half, 
The  trouble  of  thy  thoughts  this  night  in  sleep 
Affects  me  equally  ;  nor  can  I  like 
This  uncouth  dream,  of  evil  sprung  I  fear : 
Yet  evil  whence  ?  in  thee  can  harbor  none, 
Created  pure.     But  know  that  in  the  soul 
Are  many  lesser  faculties  that  serve 
Reason  as  chief:  among  these  Fancy  next 
Her  office  holds  ;  of  all  external  things, 
Which  the  five  watchful  senses  represent 
She  forms  imaginations,  aery  shapes, 
Which  Reason  joining,  or  disjoining,  frames 
All  what  we  affirm,  or  what  deny,  and  call 
Our  knowledge  or  opinion ;  then  retires 
Into  her  private  cell  when  nature  rests. 
Oft  in  her  absence  mimic  Fancy  wakes 
To  imitate  her;  but,  misjoining  shapes, 
Wild  work  produces  oft,  and  most  in  dreams, 
111  matching  words  and  deeds  long  past  or  late. 
Some  such  resemblances  methinks  I  find 
Of  our  last  evening's  talk  in  this  thy  dream, 
But  with  addition  strange ;  yet  be  not  sad  : 
Evil  into  the  mind  of  God  or  man 
May  come  and  go,  so  unapproved,  and  leave 
No  spot  or  blame  behind;  which  gives  me  hope 
That  what  in  sleep  thou  didst  abhor  to  dream, 
Waking  thou  never  wilt  consent  to  do. 
Be  not  dishearten'd  then,  nor  cloud  those  looks 
That  wont  to  be  more  cheerful  and  serene 
Than  when  fair  morning  first  smiles  on  the  world ; 
And  let  us  to  our  fresh  employments  rise, 
Among  the  groves,  the  fountains,  and  the  flow'rs, 
That  open  now  their  choicest  bosom'd  smells, 
Reserved  from  night,  and  kept  for  thee  in  store. 

^ ^ ^ 


^ ^ • 

ii8  PARADISE  LOST. 

So  cheer'd  he  his  fair  spouse,  and  she  was  cheer'd ; 
But  silently  a  gentle  tear  let  fall 
From  either  eye,  and  wiped  them  with  her  hair  : 
Two  other  precious  drops  that  ready  stood, 
Each  in  their  crystal  sluice,  he  ere  they  fell 
Kiss'd  as  the  gracious  signs  of  sweet  remorse. 
And  pious  awe  that  fear'd  to  have  offended. 

So  all  was  clear'd,  and  to  the  field  they  haste. 
But  first,  from  under  shady  arborous  roof 
Soon  as  they  forth  were  come  to  open  sight 
Of  dayspring  and  the  sun,  who,  scarce  uprisen 
With  wheels  yet  hov'ring  o'er  the  ocean  brim 
Shot  parallel  to  the  earth  his  dewy  ray, 
Discovering  in  wide  landscape  all  the  east 
Of  Paradise  and  Eden's  happy  plains, 
Lowly  they  bow'd  adoring,  and  began 
Their  orisons,  each  morning  duly  paid 
In  various  style  ;  for  neither  various  style 
Nor  holy  rapture  wanted  they  to  praise 
Their  Maker,  in  fit  strains  pronounced  or  sung 
Unmeditated,  such  prompt  eloquence 
Flow'd  from  their  lips,  in  prose  or  numerous  verse, 
Mere  tuneable  than  needed  lute  or  harp 
To  add  more  sweetness  :  and  they  thus  began. 

These  are  thy  glorious  works.  Parent  of  good. 
Almighty,  thine  this  universal  frame, 
Thus  wondrous  fair;  thyself  how  wondrous  then  ! 
Unspeakable,  who  sitt'st  above  these  heavens, 
To  us  invisible,  or  dimly  seen 
In  these  thy  lowest  works  ;  yet  these  declare 
Thy  goodness  beyond  thought,  and  power  divine. 
Speak  ye  who  best  can  tell,  ye  sons  of  light. 
Angels,  for  ye  behold  him,  and  with  songs 
And  choral  symphonies,  day  without  night, 
Circle  his  throne  rejoicing,  ye  in  heaven, 
On  earth  join  all  ye  creatures  to  extol 

^ ^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  119 

Him  first,  him  last,  him  midst,  and  without  end. 

Fairest  of  stars,  last  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  arises,  that  sweet  hour  of  prime. 

Thou  sun,  of  this  great  world  both  eye  and  soul. 

Acknowledge  him  thy  greater,  sound  his  praise 

In  thy  eternal  course,  both  when  thou  climb'st, 

And  when  high  noon  hast  gain'd,  and  when  thou  fall'st 

Moon,  that  now  meet'st  the  orient  sun,  now  fly'st, 

With  the  fixed  stars,  fixed  in  their  orb  that  flies, 

And  ye  five  other  wand'ring  fires  that  move 

In  mystic  dance  not  without  song,^  resound 

His  praise,  who  out  of  darkness  call'd  up  light. 

Air,  and  ye  elements  the  eldest  birth 

Of  nature's  womb,  that  in  quaternion  run 

Perpetual  circle,  multiform,  and  mix 

And  nourish  all  things,  let  your  ceaseless  change 

Vary  to  our  great  Maker  still  new  praise. 

Ye  mists  and  exhalations  that  now  rise 

From  hill  or  steaming  lake,  dusky  or  grey, 

Till  the  sun  paint  your  fleecy  skirts  with  gold. 

In  honor  to  the  world's  great  author  rise, 

Whether  to  deck  with  clouds  the  uncolor'd  sky 

Or  wet  the  thirsty  earth  with  falling  showers. 

Rising  or  falling  still  advance  his  praise. 

His  praise,  ye  winds  that  from  four  quarters  blow, 

Breathe  soft  or  loud  ;  and  wave  your  tops,  ye  pines, 

With  every  plant,  in  sign  of  worship  wave. 

Fountains  and  ye  that  warble,  as  ye  flow. 

Melodious  murmurs,  warbling  tune  his  praise  : 

Join  voices,  all  ye  living  souls,  ye  birds, 

That  singing  up  to  heaven  gate  ascend, 

I  Alluding  to  the  Pythagorean  idea  of  the  music  of  the  spheres. 


120  PARADISE  LOST. 

Bear  on  your  wings  and  in  your  notes  his  praise ; 

Ye  that  in  waters  ghde,  and  ye  that  walk 

The  earth,  and  stately  tread,  or  lowly  creep  ;^ 

Witness  if  I  be  silent,  morn  or  even. 

To  hill,  or  valley,  fountain,  or  fresh  shade, 

Made  vocal  by  my  song,  and  taught  his  praise. 

Hail  universal  Lord,  be  bounteous  still 

To  give  us  only  good  ;  and  if  the  night 

Have  gather'd  aught  of  evil,  or  conceal'd, 

Disperse  it,  as  now  light  dispels  the  dark. 

So  pray'd  they  innocent,  and  to  their  thoughts 
Firm  peace  recover'd  soon  and  wonted  calm, 
On  to  their  morning's  rural  work  they  haste. 
Among  sweet  dews  and  flowers,  where  any  row 
Of  fruit-trees  over  woody  reach'd  too  far 
Their  pamper'd^  boughs,  and  needed  hands  to  check 
Fruitless  embraces  :  or  they  led  the  vine 
To  wed  her  elm  ;  she  spoused  about  him  twines 
Her  marriageable  arms,  and  with  her  brings 
Her  dower,  th'  adopted  clusters,  to  adorn 
His  barren  leaves.     Them  thus  employ'd  beheld 
With  pity  heav'n's  high  King,  and  to  Him  called 
Raphael,  the  sociable  spirit,  that  deign'd 
To  travel  with  Tobias,  and  secured 
His  marriage  with  the  seventimes-wedded  maid. 

Raphael,  said  he,  thou  hear'st  what  stir  on  earth 
Satan,  from  hell  scap'd  through  the  darksome  gulf, 
Hath  raised  in  paradise,  and  how  disturb'd 
This  night  the  human  pair,  how  he  designs 
In  them  at  once  to  ruin  all  mankind : 
Go  therefore,  half  this  day  as  friend  with  friend 
Converse  with  Adam,  in  what  bower  or  shade 
Thou  find'st  him  from  the  heat  of  noon  retired, 
To  respite  his  day-labor  with  repast, 

1  See  Psalm  cxlviii.  ^  Unrestrained. 

d^ ^ 


f ^ -6. 

PARADISE  LOST.  121 

Or  with  repose ;  and  such  discourse  bring  on, 

As  may  advise  him  of  his  happy  state, 

Happiness  in  his  power  left  free  to  will, 

Left  to  his  own  free  will,  his  will  though  free, 

Yet  mutable ;  whence  warn  him  to  beware 

He  swerve  not  too  secure  ;  tell  him  withal 

His  danger,  and  from  whom ;  what  enemy 

Late  fall'n  himself  from  heaven,  is  plotting  now 

The  fall  of  others  from  like  state  of  bliss; 

By  violence?  no;  for  that  shall  be  withstood, 

But  by  deceit  and  lies ;  this  let  him  know, 

Lest  wilfully, transgressing  he  pretend 
Surprisal,  unadmonish'd,  unforewarn'd. 

So  spake  th'  eternal  Father,  and  fulfill'd 
All  justice  :  nor  delay'd  the  winged  saint 
After  his  charge  received;  but  from  among 
Thousand  celestial  ardors,  where  he  stood 
Veil'd  with  his  gorgeous  wings,  up  springing  light 
Flew  through  the  midst  of  heav'n;  th'  angelic  choirs, 
On  each  hand  parting,  to  his  speed  gave  way 
Through  all  the  empyreal  road;  till  at  the  gate 
Of  heav'n  arrived,  the  gate  itself  opcn'd  wide 
On  golden  hinges  turning,  as  by  work 
Divine  the  sov'reign  Architect  had  framed. 
From  hence,  no  cloud,  or,  to  obstruct  his  sight. 
Star  interposed,  however  small  he  sees, 
Not  unconform  to  other  shining  Hobes. 
Earth  and  the  garden  of  God,  with  cedars  crovvn'd 
Above  all  hills :  as  when  by  night  the  glass 
Of  Galileo,  less  assured,  observes 
Imagined  lands  and  regions  in  the  moon : 
Or  pilot  from  amidst  the  Cycladcs^ 
Delos,  or  Samos,  first  appearing  kens 
A  cloudy  spot.     Down  thither  prone  in  flight 


^Islands  of  the  Archipelago. 

"^ — — ^ 


122  PARADISE  LOST. 

He  speeds,  and  through  the  vast  ethereal  sky 

Sails  between  worlds  and  worlds,  with  steady  wing 

Now  on  the  polar  winds,  then  with  quick  fan 

Winnows  the  buxom  air ;  till  within  soar 

Of  tow'ring  eagles,  to  all  the  fowls  he  seems 

A  phoenix,  gazed  by  all,  as  that  sole  bird, 

When  to  inshrine  his  reliques  in  the  sun's 

Ikight  temple,  to  Egyptian  Thebes  he  flies.' 

At  once  on  th'  eastern  cliff  of  paradise 

He  lights,  and  to  his  proper  shape  returns 

A  seraph  wing'd  :  six  wings  he  wore,  to  shade 

His  lineaments  divine;  the  pair  that  clad 

Each  shoulder  broad  came  mantling  o'er  his  breast 

With  regal  ornament ;  the  middle  pair 

Girt  like  a  starry  zone  his  waist,  and  round 

Skirted  his  loins  and  thighs  with  downy  gold 

And  colors  dipp'd  in  heav'n ;  the  third  his  feet 

Shadow'd  from  either  heel  with  feather'd  mail 

Sky-tinctured  grain.     Like  Maia's  son^  he  stood, 

And  shook  his  plumes,  that  heav'nly  fragrance  fiU'd 

The  circuit  wide.     Straight  knew  him  all  the  bands 

Of  angels  under  watch ;  and  to  his  state, 

And  to  his  message  high,  in  honor  rise ; 

For  on  some  message  high  they  guess'd  him  bound. 

Their  glittering  tents  he  pass'd  and  now  is  come 

Into  the  blissful  field,  through  groves  of  myrrh, 

And  flow'ring  odors,  cassia,  nard,  and  balm; 

A  wilderness  of  sweets;  for  nature  here 

Wanton'd  as  in  her  prime,  and  play'd  at  will 

Her  virgin  fancies,  pouring  forth  more  sweet. 


1  The  phcenix  was  a  fabled  bird,  of  which  one  only  was  said  to  exist  at  a  time.  It  was 
exquisitely  beautiful ;  and  lived  many  hundred  years.  At  the  end  of  its  life  it  made  a  pile 
of  aromatic  woods,  which  it  kindled,  and,  fanning  the  flames  with  its  wings,  perished  in  the 
blaze.  From  its  ashes  sprang  another  phoenix.  The  phoenix  made  his  funeral  pyre  in  the 
sun's  temple  at  Thebe;. 

'i  "The  feathered  Mercury."— SHAKESPEARE.  Mercury  had  wings  on  his  feet  as  well  as 
his  shoulders 


4 


^- -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  123 

Wild  above  rule  or  art ;  enormous  bliss. 

Him  through  the  spicy  forest  onward  come 

Adam  discern'd,  as  in  the  door  he  sat 

Of  his  cool  bower,  while  now  the  mounted  sun 

Sl-ot  down  direct  his  fervid  rays,  to  warm 

Earth's  inmost  womb,  more  warmth  than  Adam  needs  ; 

And  Eve  within,  due  at  her  hour  prepared 

For  dinner  savory  fruits,  of  taste  to  please 

True  appetite,  and  not  disrelish  thirst 

Of  nectarous  draughts  between,  from  milky  stream, 

Berry,  or  grape,  to  whom  thus  Adam  call'd. 

Haste  hither,  Eve,  and  worth  thy  sight  behold 
Eastward  among  those  trees,  what  glorious  shape 
Comes  this  way  moving,  seems  another  morn 
Risen  on  mid-noon;  some  great  behest  from  heav'n 
To  us  perhaps  he  brings,  and  will  vouchsafe 
This  day  to  be  our  guest.     But  go  with  speed, 
And  what  thy  stores  contain  bring  forth,  and  pour 
Abundance,  fit  to  honor  and  receive 
Our  heavenly  stranger  ;  well  we  may  afford 
Our  givers  their  own  gifts,  and  large  bestow 
From  large  bestow'd,  where  nature  multiplies 
Her  fertile  growth,  and  by  disburd'ning  grows 
More  fruitful ;  which  instructs  us  not  to  spare. 

To  whom  thus  Eve.     Adam,  earth's  hallow'd  mould, 
Of  God  inspired,  small  store  will  serve,  where  store 
All  seasons  ripe  for  use  hangs  on  the  stalk ; 
Save  what  by  frugal  storing  firmness  gains 
To  nourish,  and  superfluous  moist  consumes. 
But  I  will  haste,  and  from  each  bough  and  brake. 
Each  plant  and  juiciest  gourd,  will  pluck  such  choice 
To  entertain  our  angel  guest,  as  he 
Beholding  shall  confess,  that  here  on  earth 
God  hath  dispensed  his  bounties  as  in  heav'n. 

So  saying,  with  dispatchful  looks  in  haste 
She  turns,  on  hospitable  thoughts  intent 


^ -^ 

1-4  PARADISE  LOST. 

What  choice  to  choose  for  delicacy  best, 
What  order,  so  contrived  as  not  to  mix 
Tastes,  not  well  join'd,  inelegant,  but  bring 
Taste  after  taste  upheld  with  kindliest  change  ; 
Bestirs  her  then,  and  from  each  tender  stalk 
Whatever  earth,  all-bearing  mother,  yields 
In  India  east  or  west,  or  middle  shore 
In  Pontus,  or  the  Punic  coast,^  or  where 
Alcinous  reign'd,^  fruit  of  all  kinds,  in  coat, 
Rough,  or  smooth  rind,  or  bearded  husk,  or  shell, 
She  gathers,  tribute  large,  and  on  the  board 
Heaps  with  unsparing  hand  :  for  drink  the  grape 
She  crushes,  inoffensive  must,^  and  meaths^ 
From  many  a  berry,  and  from  sweet  kernels  press'd 
She  tempers  dulcet  creams,  nor  these  to  hold 
Wants  her  fit  vessels  pure  ;  then  strews  the  ground 
With  rose  and  odors  from  the  shrub  unfumed. 
Meanwhile  our  primitive  great  sire,  to  meet 
His  god-like  guest,  walks  forth,  without  more  train 
Accompanied  than  with  his  own  complete 
Perfections;  in  himself  was  all  his  state. 
More  solemn  than  the  tedious  pomp  that  waits 
On  princes,  when  their  rich  retinue  long 
Of  horses  led  and  grooms  besmear'd  with  gold 
Dazzles  the  crowd,  and  sets  them  all  agape. 
Nearer  his  presence  Adam  though  not  awed, 
Yet  with  submiss  approach  and  reverence  meek, 
As  to  a  superior  nature,  bowing  low, 
Thus  said.     Native  of  heav'n,  for  other  place 
None  can  than  heav'n  such  glorious  shape  contain. 
Since  by  descending  from  the  thrones  above. 
Those  happy  places  thou  hast  deign'd  a  while 
To  want,  and  honor  these,  vouchsafe  with  us 


1  Carthage.  •''  Grape  juice,  unfermented. 

2  Phoeacia,  an  island  in  the  Ionian  Sea.  *  Mead. 


PARADISE  LOST.  125 

Two  only,  who  yet  by  sov'reign  gift  possess 
This  spacious  ground,  in  yonder  shady  bower 
To  rest,  and  what  the  garden  choicest  bears 
To  sit  and  taste,  till  this  meridian  heat 
Be  over,  and  the  sun  more  cool  decline. 

Whom  thus  the  angelic  Virtue  answer'd  mild. 
Adam,  I  therefore  came,  nor  art  thou  such 
Created,  or  such  place  hast  here  to  dwell. 
As  may  not  oft  invite,  though  spirits  of  heav'n, 
To  visit  thee :  lead  on  then  where  thy  bower 
O'ershades  :  for  these  mid-hours,  till  ev'ning  rise, 
I  have  at  will.     So  to  the  sylvan  lodge 
They  came,  thai:  .like  Pomona's  arbor  smiled, 
With  flow'rets  deck'd  and  fragrant  smells :  but  Eve 
Undeck'd,  save  with  herself,  more  lovely  fair 
Than  wood-nymph,  or  the  fairest  goddess  feign'd 
Of  three  that  in  Mount  Ida  naked  strove,^ 
Stood  to  entertain  her  guest  from  heav'n ;  no  veil 
She  needed,  virtue-proof;  no  thought  infirm 
Alter'd  her  cheek.     On  whom  the  angel  Hail 
Bestow'd,  the  holy  salutation  used 
Long  after  to  blest  Mary,  second  Eve. 

Hail,  mother  of  mankind,  whose  fruitful  womb 
Shall  fill  the  world  more  numerous  with  thy  sons. 
Than  with  these  various  fruits  the  trees  of  God 
Have  heap'd  this  table.     Raised  of  grassy  turf 
Their  table  was,  and  mossy  seats  had  round, 
And  on  her  ample  square  from  side  to  side 
All  autumn  piled,  though  spring  and  autumn  here 
Danced  hand  in  hand.     A  while  discourse  they  hold, 
No  fear  lest  dinner  cool,  when  thus  began 
Our  author.     Heav'nly  stranger,  please  to  taste 
These  bounties,  which  our  Nourisher,  from  whom 

1  Alluding  to  the  judgment  of  Paris,  when  Juno,  Minerva,  and  Venus  contended  for  the 
apple  inscribed,  "To  the  fairest." 

0^ ^ 


a- 


^ 


126  PARADISE  LOST. 

i^U  perfect  good  unmeasured  out  descends, 
To  us  for  food  and  For  delight  hath  caused 
The  earth  to  yield ;  unsavory  food,  perhaps, 
To  spiritual  natures :  only  this  I  know, 
That  one  celestial  Father  gives  to  all. 

To  whom  the  angel.     Therefore  what  He  gives. 
Whose  praise  be  ever  sung,  to  man  in  part 
Spiritual,  may  of  purest  spirits  be  found 
No  ingra'ieful  food :  and  food  alike  those  pure 
Intelligential  substances  require, 
As  doth  your  rational ;  and  both  contain 
Within  them  every  lower  faculty 
Of  sense,  whereby  they  hear,  see,  smell,  touch,  taste. 
Tasting  concoct,  digest,  assimilate. 
And  corporeal  to  incorporeal  turn. 
For  know,  whatever  was  created  needs 
To  be  sustain'd  and  fed ;  of  elements 
The  grosser  feeds  the  purer  ;  earth  the  sea ; 
Earth  and  the  sea  feed  air ;  the  air  those  fires 
Ethereal ;  and  as  lowest  first  the  moon  ; 
Whence  in  her  visage  round  those  spots,  unpurged 
Vapors  not  yet  into  her  substance  turn'd. 
Nor  doth  the  moon  no  nourishment  exhale 
From  her  moist  continent  to  higher  orbs. 
The  sun,  that  light  imparts  to  all,  receives 
From  all  his  alimental  recompence 
In  humid  exhalations,  and  at  even 
Sups  with  the  ocean.     Though  in  heav'n  the  trees  ^ 
Of  life  ambrosial  fruitage  bear,  and  vines 
Yield  nectar  ;  tho'  from  off  the  boughs  each  morn 
We  brush  mellifluous  dews,  and  find  the  ground 
Cover'd  wi:h  pearly  grain  f  yet  God  hath  here 
Varied  his  bounty  so  with  new  delights. 


1  Psalm  Ixxviii.  25  ;  cv.  40. 

2  "The  bread  of  Heaven,"  i.e.  manna. 


Rev.  xxii.  2.     Matt.  xxvi.  29. 


^ 


-^ 


^ — ^ ===^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  ^27 

As  may  compare  with  heaven  ;  and  to  taste 

Think  not  I  shall  be  nice.     So  down  they  sat, 

And  to  their  viands  fell ;   nor  seemingly 

The  angel,  nor  in  mist,  the  common  gloss 

Of  theologians,  but  with  keen  dispatch 

Of  real  hunger,  and  concoctive  heat 

To  transubstantiate  :  what  redounds,  transpires 

Through  spirits  with  ease;  nor  wonder;  if  by  fire 

Of  sooty  coal  the  empyric  alchymist 

Can  turn,  or  holds  it  possible  to  turn, 

Metals  of  drossest  ore  to  perfect  gold 

As  from  the  mine.     Meanwhile  at  table  Eve 

Minister'd  naked,  and  their  flowmg  cups 

With  pleasant  liquors  crown'd.     O  innocence 
JDeserving  paradise  !  if  ever,  then. 
Then  had  the  sons  of  God  excuse  to  have  been 
Enamor'd  at  that  sight ;  but  in  those  hearts 
Love  unlibidinous  reign'd,  nor  jealousy, 
Was  understood,  the  injured  lover's  hell. 

Thus  when  with  meats  and  drinks  they  had  sufficed. 
Not  burden'd  nature,  sudden  mind  arose 
In  Adam,  not  to  let  th'  occasion  pass. 
Given  him  by  this  great  conference,  to  know 
Of  things  above  his  world,  and  of  their  being 
Who  dwell  in  heav'n,  whose  excellence  he  saw 
Transcend  his  own  so  far ;  whose  radiant  forms, 
Divine  effulgence,  whose  high  power  so  far 
Exceeded  human ;  and  his  wary  speech 
Thus  to  th'  empyreal  minister  he  framed. 
Inhabitant  with  God,  now  know  I  well 
Thy  favor,  in  this  honor  done  to  man, 
Under  whose  lowly  roof  thou  hast  vouchsafed 
To  enter,  and  these  earthly  fruits  to  taste. 
Food  not  of  angels,  yet  accepted  so, 
As  that  more  willingly  thou  could'st  not  seem 
At  heav'n's  high  feast  to  have  fed :  yet  what  compare? 

==zz= ^ 


s- 


^ 


128  FARAD/SB  LOST. 

To  whom  the  winged  Hierarch  replied. 
O  Adam,  one  Almighty  is,  from  whom 
All  things  proceed,  and  up  to  him  return, 
If  not  depraved  from  good,  created  all 
Such  to  perfection,  one  first  matter  all, 
Indued  with  various  forms,  various  degrees 
Of  substance,  and,  in  things  that  live,  of  life: 
But  more  refined,  more  spirituous,  and  pure, 
As  nearer  to  him  placed,  or  nearer  tending, 
Each  in  their  several  active  spheres  assign'd. 
Till  body  up  to  spirit  work,  in  bounds 
Proportion'd  to  each  kind.     So  from  the  root 
Springs  lighter  the  green  stalk,  from  thence  the  leaves 
More  aery,  last  the  bright  consummate  flow'r 
Spirits  odorous  breathes;  flowers  and  their  fruit, 
Man's  nourishment,  by  gradual  scale  sublimed. 
To  vital  spirits  aspire,  to  animal, 
To  intellectual,  give  both  life  and  sense. 
Fancy  and  understanding,  whence  the  soul 
Reason  receives,  and  reason  is  her  being, 
Discursive  or  intuitive  ;  discourse 
Is  oftest  yours,  the  latter  most  is  ours. 
Differing  but  in  degree,  of  kind  the  same. 
Wonder  not  then,  what  God  for  you  saw  good 
If  I  refuse  not,  but  convert,  as  you. 
To  proper  substance  :  time  may  come,  when  men 
With  angels  may  participate,  and  find 
No  inconvenient  diet,  nor  too  light  fare : 
And  from  these  corporal  nutriments  perhaps 
Your  bodies  may  at  last  turn  all  to  spirit, 
Improved  by  tract  of  time,  and  wing'd  ascend 
Ethereal,  as  we,  or  may  at  choice 
Here  or  in  heav'nly  paradises  dwell ; 
If  ye  be  found  obedient,  and  retain 
Unalterably  firm  His  love  entire, 
Whose  progjny  you  are.     Meanwhile  enjoy 

c^ ^ 


To  -whom  the  winged  Hierarch  replied  : 
0  Adam,  one  Almighty  is. 


Page  128. 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Your  fill  what  happiness  this  happy  state 
Can  comprehend,  incapable  of  more. 

To  whom  the  patriarch  of  mankind  replied. 
O  favorable  spirit,  propitious  guest, 
Well  hast  thou  taught  the  way  that  might  direct 
Our  knowledge,  and  the  scale  of  nature  set 
From  centre  to  circumference,  whereon 
In  contemplation  of  created  things 
By  steps  we  may  ascend  to  God.     But  say, 
What  meant  that  caution  join'd,  If  ye  be  found 
Obedient  ?     Can  we  want  obedience  then 
To  him,  or  possibly  his  love  desert, 
Who  form'd  us  from  the  dust,  and  placed  us  here 
Full  to  the  utmost  measure  of  what  bliss 
Human  desires  can  seek  or  apprehend  ? 

To  whom  the  angel.     Son  of  heav'n  and  earth 
Attend  :  that  thou  art  happy,  owe  to  God  ; 
That  thou  continu'st  such,  owe  to  thyself, 
That  is,  to  thy  obedience  ;  therein  stand. 
This  was  that  caution  given  thee  ;  be  advised. 
God  made  thee  perfect,  not  immutable  : 
And  good  He  made  thee,  but  to  persevere 
He  left  it  in  Lhy  power;  ordain'd  thy  will 
By  nature  free,  not  over-ruled  by  fate 
Inextricable  or  strict  necessity  : 
Our  voluntary  service  he  requires, 
Not  our  necessitated,  such  with  him 
Finds  no  acceptance,  nor  can  find ;  for  how 
Can  hearts,  not  free,  be  tried  whether  they  serve 
Willing  or  no,  who  will  but  what  they  must 
By  destiny,  and  can  no  other  choose  ? 
Myself  and  all  th'  angelic  host,  that  stand 
In  sight  of  God  enthroned,  our  happy  state 
Hold,  as  you  yours,  while  our  obedience  holds; 
On  other  surety  none  ;  freely  we  serve, 
Because  we  freely  love,  as  in  our  will 
9 


129 


^ 


4 


a- • 

130  PARADISE  LOST 

To  love  or  not ;  in  this  we  stand  or  fall. 
And  some  are  fall'n,  to  disobedience  fall'n, 
And  so  from  heaven  to  deepest  hell :  O  fall 
From  what  high  state  of  bliss  into  what  woe ! 

To  whom  our  great  progenitor.     Thy  words 
Attentive,  and  with  more  delighted  ear, 
Divine  instructor,  I  have  heard,  than  when 
Cherubic  songs  by  night  from  neighboring  hills 
Aereal  music  send :  nor  knew  I  not 
To  be  both  will  and  deed  created  free ; 
Yet  that  we  never  shall  forget  to  love 
Our  Maker,  and  obey  Him  whose  command 
Single  is  yet  so  just,  my  constant  thoughts 
Assured  me,  and  still  assure  :  though  what  thou  tell'st 
Hath  past  in  heav'n,  some  doubt  within  me  move, 
But  more  desire  to  hear,  if  thou  consent, 
The  full  relation,  which  must  needs  be  strange, 
Worthy  of  sacred  silence  to  be  heard ; 
And  we  have  yet  large  day,  for  scarce  the  sun 
Hath  finish'd  half  his  journey,  and  scarce  begins 
His  other  half  in  the  great  zone  of  heav'n. 

Thus  Adam  made  request,  and  Raphael, 
After  short  pause,  assenting  thus  began. 

High  matter  thou  enjoin'st  me,  O  prime  of  men, 
Sad  task  and  hard  ;  for  how  shall  I  relate 
To  human  sense  th'  invisible  exploits 
Of  warring  spirits  ?  how  without  remorse 
The  ruin  of  so  many,  glorious  once 
And  perfect  while  they  stood  ?  how  last  unfold 
The  secrets  of  another  world,  perhaps 
Not  lawful  to  reveal  ?  yet  for  thy  good. 
This  is  dispensed,  and  what  surmounts  the  reach 
Of  human  sense,  I  shall  delineate  so. 
By  lik'ning  spiritual  to  corporal  forms, 
As  may  express  them  best :  though  what  if  earth 
Be  but  the  shadow  of  heav'n ;  and  things  therein 


f : ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  131 

Each  to  other  like,  more  than  on  earth  is  thought  ? 

As  yet  this  world  was  not,  and  Chaos  wild 
Reign'd  where  these  heav'ns  now  roll,  where  earth  now  rests 
Upon  her  centre  poised,  when  on  a  day, 
For  time,  though  in  eternity,  applic-d 
To  motion,  measures  all  things  durable 
By  present,  past,  and  future  ;  on  such  day 
As  heav'n's  great  year^  brings  forth,  th'  empyreal  host ' 
Of  angels,  by  imperial  summons  call'd, 
Innumerable  before  th'  Almighty's  throne 
Forthwith  from  all  the  ends  of  heav'n  appear'd : 
Under  their  hierarchs  in  orders  bright 
Ten  thousand  thousand  ensigns  high  advanced, 
Standards  and  gonfalons  'twixt  van  and  rear 
Stream  in  the  air,  and  for  distinction  serve 
Of  hierarchies,  of  orders,  and  degrees  : 
Or  in  their  glittering  tissues  bear  imblazed 
Holy  memorials,  acts  of  zeal  and  love 
Recorded  eminent.     Thus  when  in  orbs 
Of  circuit  inexpressible  they  stood 
Orb  within  orb,  the  Father  infinite, 
By  whom  in  bliss  imbosom'd  sat  the  Son, 
Amidst  as  from  a  flaming  mount,  whose  top 
Brightness  had  made  invisible,  thus  spake. 

Hear  all  ye  Angels,  progeny  of  light. 
Thrones,  Dominations,  Princedoms,  Virtues,  Powers. 
Hear  my  decree,^  which  unrevoked  shall  stand. 
This  day  I  have  begot  whom  I  declare 
My  only  Son,  and  on  this  holy  hill 
Him  have  anointed,  whom  ye  now  behold 
At  my  right  hand ;  your  head  I  him  appoint 
And  by  my  Self  have  sworn  to  him  shall  bow 


1  Plato's  great  year  was  probably  in  Milton's  mind.     It  was  a  revolution  of  all  the  spheres. 
'Everything  returns  to  where  it  set  out  when  their  motion  first  began." — Richardson. 

2  Job  i.  6.     Dan.  vii.  lo.  ^  See  Psalm  ii.     Heb.  i.  5. 


-^ 


^ 


^ 


132  PARADISE  LOST. 

All  knees  in  heav'n,  and  shall  confess  him  Lord. 
Under  his  great  vice-gerent  reign  abide 
United,  as  one  individual  soul, 
For  ever  happy  :  him  who  disobeys 
Me  disobeys,  breaks  union,  and,  that  day 
Cast  out  from  God  and  blessed  vision,  falls 
Into  utter  darkness,  deep  ingulf 'd,  his  place 
Ordain'd  without  redemption,  without  end. 

So  spake  th'  Omnipotent,  and  with  his  words 
All  seemed  well  pleased  ;  all  seem'd,  but  were  not  all. 
That  day,  as  other  solemn  days,  they  spent 
In  song  and  dance  about  the  sacred  hill, 
Mystical  dance,  which  yonder  starry  sphere 
Of  planets  and  of  fix'd  in  all  her  wheels 
Resembles  nearest,  mazes  intricate. 
Eccentric,  intervolved,  yet  regular. 
Then  most,  when  most  irregular  they  seem; 
And  in  their  motions  harmony  divine 
So  smooths  her  charming  tones,  that  God's  own  ear 
Listens  delighted.     Ev'ning  now  approach'd, 
For  we  have  also  our  ev'ning  and  our  morn, 
We  ours  for  change  delectable,  not  need, 
Forthwith  from  dance  to  sweet  repast  they  turn 
Desirous,  all  in  circles  as  they  stood, 
Tables  are  set,  and  on  a  sudden  piled 
With  angels'  food,  and  rubied  nectar  flows, 
In  pearl,  in  diamond,  and  massy  gold  ; 
Fruit  of  delicious  vines,  the  growth  of  heav'n. 
On  flow'rs  reposed  and  with  fresh  flowerets  crown'd, 
They  eat,  they  drink,  and  in  communion  sweet 
Quaff  immortality  and  joy,  secure 
Of  surfeit  where  full  measure  only  bounds 
Excess,  before  th'  all-bounteous  King,  who  showcr'd 
With  copious  hand,  rejoicing  in  their  joy. 
Now  when  ambrosial  night  with  clouds  exhaled 
From  that  high  mount  of  God,  whence  light  and  shade 


<&■ 


^ 


PAR  AD  J  SB  LOST.  133 

Spring  both,  the  face  of  brightest  heav'n  had  changed 

To  grateful  twih'ght,  for  night  comes  not  there 

In  darker  veil,  and  roseate  dews  disposed 

All  but  the  unsleeping  eyes  of  God  to  rest,^ 

Wide  over  all  the  plain,  and  wider  far 

Than  all  this  globous  earth  in  plain  outspread, 

Such  are  the  courts  of  God,  th'  angelic  throng 

Dispersed  in  bands  and  files,  their  camp  extend 

By  living  streams  among  the  trees  of  life,^ 

Pavilions  numberless  and  sudden  rear'd, 

Celestial  tabernacles,  where  they  slept 

Fann'd  with  cool  winds,  save  those  who  in  their  course 

Melodious  hymns  about  the  sov'reign  throne 

Alternate  all  night  long.     But  not  so  waked 

Satan,  so  call  him  now,  his  former  name 

Is  heard  no  more  in  heav'n  ;  he  of  the  first 

If  not  the  first  arch-angel,  great  in  power, 

In  favor  and  pre-eminence,  yet  fraught 

With  envy  against  the  Son  of  God,  that  day 

Honor'd  by  his  great  Father,  and  proclaim'd 

Messiah  King  anointed,  could  not  bear 

Thro'  pride  that  sight,  and  thought  himself  impair'd. 

Deep  malice  thence  conceiving  and  disdain. 

Soon  as  midnight  brought  on  the  dusky  hour. 

Friendliest  to  sleep  and  silence,  he  resolved 

With  all  his  legions  to  dislodge,  and  leave 

Unworshipp'd,  unobey'd,  the  throne  supreme, 

Contemptuous,  and  his  next  subordinate 

Awak'ning,  thus  to  him  in  secret  spake. 

Sleep'st  thou,  companion  dear,  what  sleep  can  close 
Thy  eyelids  ?  and  remember'st  what  decree 
Of  yesterday  so  late  hath  past  the  lips 
Of  heav'n's  Almighty  ?     Thou  to  me  thy  thoughts 
Wast  wont,  I  mine  to  thee  was  tvont  to  impart : 


1  Psalm  cxxi.  4:  "He  that  keepeth  Israel  shall  neither  slumber  nor  sleep,"       ^  Rev.  xxii. 


4^- Q, 

134  PARADISE  LOST. 

Both  waking  we  were  one  ;  how  then  can  now 

Thy  sleep  dissent?  new  laws  thou  see'st  imposed; 

New  laws  from  Him  who  reigns  new  minds  may  raise 

In  us  who  serve,  new  counsels,  to  debate 

What  doubtful  may  ensue  ;  more  in  this  place 

To  utter  is  not  safe.     Assemble  thou 

Of  all  those  myriads  which  we  lead,  the  chief: 

Tell  them,  that  by  command,  ere  yet  dim  night 

Her  shadowy  cloud  withdraws,  I  am  to  haste. 

And  all  who  under  me  their  banners  wave, 

Homeward  with  flying  march,  where  we  possess 

The  quarters  of  the  north ,^  there  to  prepare 

Fit  entertainment  to  receive  our  King 

The  great  Messiah,  and  his  new  commands ; 

Who  speedily  through  all  the  hierarchies 

Intends  to  pass  triumphant,  and  give  laws. 

So  spake  the  false  arch-angel,  and  infused 
Bad  influence  into  th'  unwary  breast 
Of  his  associate ;  he  together  calls. 
Or  several  one  by  one,  the  regent  Powers, 
Under  him  regent,  tells,  as  he  was  taught. 
That  the  Most  High  commanding,  now  ere  night, 
Now  ere  dim  night  had  disincumber'd  heav'n, 
The  great  hierarchial  standard  was  to  move; 
Tells  the  suggested  cause,  and  casts  between 
Ambiguous  words  and  jealousies,  to  sound 
Or  taint  integrity  ;  but  all  obey'd 
The  wonted  signal,  and  superior  voice 
Of  their  great  potentate  ;  for  great  indeed 

1  "How  art  thou  fallen,  O  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning,  .  .  .  For  thou  hast  said  in 
thine  heart,  I  will  ascend  into  heaven,  I  will  exalt  my  throne  above  the  stars  of  God  ;  I  will 
sit  also  upon  the  mount  of  the  congregation  in  the  sides  of  the  north." — Isaiah  xiv.  part  of 
12  and  13  vs.  In  Shakespeare,  ist  Part  of  Henry  F/.,  Act  V.  Sc.  3,  Joan  of  .'\rc,  addressing 
the  Sends,  calls  them, —  •  '  substitutes 

•'Unto  the  lordly  monarch  of  the  north." 
i.e.,  the  devil.     This  was  probably  in  acccordance  with  popular  superstition,  which  actually 
gave  an  ill  name  to  the  north  side  of  even  a  churchyard. 


^ ■ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  135 

His  name,  and  high  was  his  degree  in  heav'n  ; 
His  count'nance,  as  the  morning  star  that  guides 
The  starry  flock,  allured  them,  and  with  hes 
Drew  after  him  the  third  part  of  heav'n's  host/ 

Meanwhile  th'  eternal  Eye,  whose  sight  discerns 
Abstrusest  thoughts,  from  forth  His  holy  mount, 
And  from  within  the  golden  lamps  ^  that  burn 
Nightly  before  Him,  saw  without  their  light 
Rebellion  rising,  saw  in  whom,  how  spread 
Among  the  sons  of  morn,'^  what  multitudes 
Where  banded  to  oppose  His  high  decree  ; 
And  smiling  to  His  only  Son  thus  said. 

Son,  thou  in  whom  my  glory  I  behold 
In  full  resplendence,  heir  of  all  my  might, 
Nearly  it  now  concerns  us  to  be  sure 
Of  our  omnipotence,  and  with  what  arms 
We  mean  to  hold  what  anciently  we  claim 
Of  deity  or  empire  ;  such  a  foe 
Is  rising,  who  intends  to  erect  his  throne 
Equal  to  ours,  throughout  the  spacious  north  ; 
Nor  so  content,  hath  in  his  thought  to  try 
In  battle  what  our  power  is,  or  our  right. 
Let  us  advise,  and  to  this  hazard  draw 
With  speed  what  force  is  left,  and  all  employ 
In  our  defence,  lest  unawares  we  lose 
This  our  high  place,  our  sanctuary,  our  hill. 

To  whom  the  Son  with  calm  aspect  and  clear 
Light'ning  divine,  ineffable,  serene. 
Made  answer.     Mighty  Father,  Thou  Thy  foes 
Justly  hast  in  derision,  and  secure 
Laugh'st  at  their  vain  designs  and  tumults  vain,^ 
Matter  to  me  of  glory,  whom  their  hate 
Illustrates,  when  they  see  all  regal  power 
Giv'n  me  to  quell  their  pride,  and  in  event 


1  Rev.  xii.  3,  4.  2  Rgy.  iv.  5.  3  Isaiah  xiv.  12.  ■i  Psalm  ii.  4. 


^ 


^ : ^ 

^^^6  PARADISE  LOST. 

Know  whether  I  be  dextrous  to  subdue 
Thy  rebels,  or  be  found  the  worst  in  heav'n. 

So  spake  the  Son  :  but  Satan  with  his  powers 
Far  was  advanced  on  winged  speed,  an  host 
Innumerable  as  the  stars  of  night, 
Or  stars  of  morning,  dewdrops,  which  the  sun 
Impearls  on  every  leaf  and  every  flower. 
Regions  they  pass'd,  the  mighty  regencies 
Of  Seraphim,  and  Potentates,  and  Thrones 
In  their  triple  degrees,  regions  to  which 
All  thy  dominion,  Adam,  is  no  more 
Than  what  this  garden  is  to  all  the  earth, 
And  all  the  sea,  from  one  entire  globose 
Stretch'd  into  longitude  ;  which  having  pass'd, 
At  length  into  the  limits  of  the  north 
They  came,  and  Satan  to  his  royal  seat 
High  on  a  hill,  far  blazing,  as  a  mount 
Raised  on  a  mount,  with  pyramids  and  tow'rs 
From  diamond  quarries  hewn,  and  rocks  of  gold, 
The  palace  of  great  Lucifer ;  so  call 
That  structure  in  the  dialect  of  men 
Interpreted,  which  not  long  after  he. 
Affecting  all  equality  with  God, 
In  imitation  of  that  mount^  whereon 
Messiah  was  declared  in  sight  of  heav'n, 
The  mountain  of  the  congregation  call'd ; 
For  thither  he  assembled  all  his  train, 
Pretending  so  commanded  to  consult 
About  the  great  reception  of  their  king, 
Thither  to  come,  and  with  calumnious  art 
Of  counterfeited  truth  thus  held  their  ears. 

Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  virtues,  powers, 
If  these  magnific  titles  yet  remain 
Not  merely  titular,  since  by  decree 

1  Psalm  ii.  6. 

C^ ^ 


^ : -^ 

PARADISE  LOST,  137 

Another  now  hath  to  himself  ingross'd 

All  power,  and  us  eclipsed  under  the  name 

Of  king  anointed,  for  whom  all  this  haste 

Of  midnight  march  and  hurried  meeting  here, 

This  only  to  consult  how  we  may  best 

With  what  may  be  devised  of  honors  new 

Receive  him,  coming  to  receive  from  us 

Knee-tribute  yet  unpaid,  prostration  vile, 

Too  much  to  one,  but  double  how  endured, 

To  one  and  to  his  image  now  proclaim'd  ? 

But  what  if  better  counsels  might  erect 

Our  minds,  and  teach  us  to  cast  off  this  yoke  ? 

Will  ye  submit  your  necks,  and  choose  to  bend 

The  supple  knee  ?  ye  will  not,  if  I  trust 

To  know  ye  right,  or  if  ye  know  yourselves 

Natives  and  sons  of  heav'n,  possest  before 

By  none,  and  if  not  equal  all,  yet  free, 

Equally  free  ;  for  orders  and  degrees 

Jar  not  with  liberty,  but  well  consist. 

Who  can  in  reason  then  or  right  assume 

Monarchy  over  such  as  live  by  right 

His  equals,  if  in  power  and  splendor  less, 

In  freedom  equal  ?  or  can  introduce 

Law  and  edict  on  us,  who  without  law 

P>r  not  ?  much  less  for  this  to  be  our  Lord, 

And  look  for  adoration,  to  th'  abuse 

Of  those  imperial  titles,  which  assert 

Our  being  ordain'd  to  govern,  not  to  serve  ? 

Thus  far  his  bold  discourse  without  control 
Had  audience,  when  among  the  seraphim 
Abdiel,  than  whom  none  with  more  zeal  adored 
The  Deity,  and  divine  commands  obey'd. 
Stood  up,  and  in  a  flame  of  zeal  severe 
The  current  of  his  fury  thus  opposed. 

O  argument  blasphemous,  false  and  proud, 
Words  which  no  ear  ever  to  hear  in  heav'n 


a- : ^ ^ 

138  PARADISE  LOST. 

Expected,  least  of  all  from  thee,  ingrate, 

In  place  thyself  so  high  above  thy  peers. 

Canst  thou  with  impious  obloquy  condemn 

The  just  decree  of  God,  pronounced  and  sworn, 

That  to  His  only  Son,  by  right  endued 

With  regal  sceptre,  every  soul  in  heav'n 

Shall  bend  the  knee,'  and  in  that  honor  due 

Confess  him  rightful  king?  unjust  thou  say'st. 

Flatly  unjust,  to  bind  with  laws  the  free, 

And  equal  over  equals  to  let  reign, 

One  over  all  with  unsucceeded  power. 

Shalt  thou  give  law  to  God?^  shalt  thou  dispute 

With  him  the  points  of  liberty,  who  made 

Thee  what  thou  art,  and  form'd  the  pow'rs  of  heav'n 

Such  as  he  pleased,  and  circumscribed  their  being  ? 

Yet  by  experience  taught  we  know  how  good. 

And  of  our  good,  and  of  our  dignity 

How  provident  He  is ;  how  far  from  thought 

To  make  us  less,  bent  rather  to  exalt 

Our  happy  state  under  one  head  more  near 

United.     But  to  grant  it  thee  unjust, 

That  equal  over  equals  monarch  reign : 

Thyself  though  great  and  glorious  dost  thou  count, 

Or  all  angelic  nature  join'd  in  one. 

Equal  to  him  begotten  Son,  by  whom 

As  by  His  word  the  mighty  Father  made 

All  things,  ev'n  thee,  and  all  the  spirits  of  heav'n 

By  him  created  in  their  bright  degrees,* 

Crown'd  them  with  glory,  and  to  their  glory  named 

Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  virtues,  powers, 

Essential  powers ;  nor  by  his  reign  obscured, 

But  more  illustrious  made,  since  he  the  head 

One  of  our  number  thus  reduced  becomes ; 

His  laws  our  laws,  all  honor  to  him  done 

'  Philip,  ii.  9>  10,  11.  ^  Rom.  ix.  20.  ^  Colos.  i.  15,  16,  17. 


f~  ^^ 


PARADISE  LOST. 


139 


Returns  our  own.     Cease  then  this  impious  rage. 
And  tempt  not  these ;  but  hasten  to  appease 
Th'  incensed  Father,  and  th'  incensed  Son/ 
While  pardon  may  be  found  in  time  besought. 

So  spake  the  fervent  angel ;  but  his  zeal 
None  seconded,  as  out  of  season  judged 
Or  singular  and  rash;  whereat  rejoiced 
The  Apostate,  and  more  haughty  thus  replied. 

That  we  were  form'd  then  say'st  thou  ?  and  the  work 
Of  secondary  hands  by  task  transferr'd 
From  Father  to  his  Son  ?  strange  point  and  new  ! 
Doctrine  which  we  would  know  whence  learn'd  :  who  saw 
When  this  creation  was  ?  remember'st  thou 
Thy  making,  while  the  Maker  gave  thee  being  ? 
We  know  no  time  when  we  were  not  as  now ; 
Know  none  before  us,  self-begot,  self-raised 
By  our  own  quick'ning  power,  when  fatal  course 
Had  circled  his  full  orb,  the  birth  mature 
Of  this  our  native  heav'n,  ethereal  sons. 
Our  puissance  is  our  own,  our  own  right  hand 
Shall  teach  us  highest  deeds,  by  proof  to  try 
Who  is  our  equal :  then  thou  shalt  behold 
Whether  by  supplication  we  intend 
Address,  and  to  begird  th'  Almighty  throne 
Beseeching  or  besieging.      This  report, 
These  tidings  carry  to  th'  anointed  king ; 
And  fly,  ere  evil  intercept  thy  flight. 

He  said,  and,  as  the  sound  of  waters  deep, 
Hoarse  murmur  echo'd  to  his  words  applause 
Through  the  infinite  host ;  nor  less  for  that 
The  flaming  seraph  fearless,  though  alone 
Encompass'd  round  with  foes,  thus  answer'd  bold. 

O  alienate  from  God,  O  spirit  accurst, 
Forsaken  of  all  good,  I  see  thy  fall 

1  Psalm  ii. 


^ 


4 


^ -0? 

140  PARADISE  LOST. 

Determined,  and  thy  hapless  crew  involved 
In  this  perfidious  fraud,  contagion  spread 
Both  of  thy  crime  and  punishment.     Henceforth 
No  more  be  troubled  how  to  quit  the  yoke 
Of  God's  Messiah  ;  those  indulgent  laws 
Will  not  be  now  vouchsafed,  other  decrees 
Against  thee  are  gone  forth  without  recall : 
That  golden  sceptre  which  thou  didst  reject 
Is  now  an  iron  rod,  to  bruise  and  break 
Thy  disobedience.     Well  thou  didst  advise ; 
Yet  not  for  thy  advice  or  threats  I  fly 
These  wicked  tents  devoted,  lest  the  wrath 
Impendent  raging  into  sudden  flame 
Distinguish  not ;  for  soon  expect  to  feel 
His  thunder  on  thy  head,  devouring  fire. 
Then  who  created  thee  lamenting  learn, 
When  who  can  uacreate  thee  thou  shalt  know. 

So  spake  the  seraph  Abdiel  faithful  found, 
Among  the  faithless  faithful  only  he  : 
Among  innumerable  false  unmoved, 
Unshaken,  unseduced,  unterrified; 
His  loyalty  he  kept,  his  love,  his  zeal. 
Nor  number,  nor  example  with  him  wrought 
To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  his  constant  mind 
Though  single.     From  amidst  them  forth  he  pass'd, 
Long  way  through  hostile  scorn,  which  he  sustain'd 
Superior,  nor  of  violence  fear'd  aught ; 
And  with  retorted  scorn  his  back  he  turn'd 
On  those  proud  tow'rs  to  swift  destruction  doom'd. 


^ & 


PARADISE  LOST.  141 


BOOK  VI. 

The  Argument. 

Raphael  continues  to  relate  how  Michael  and  Gabriel  were  sent  forth  to  battle  against 
Satan  and  his  angels.  The  first  fight  described  :  Satan  and  his  powers  retire  under  night : 
he  calls  a  council,  invents  devilish  engines,  which  in  the  second  day's  fight  put  Michael  and 
his  angels  to  some  disorder;  but  they  at  length  pulling  up  mcuntains  overwhelm  both  the 
force  and  machines  of  Satan  ;  yet  the  tumult  not  so  ending,  God  on  the  tliird  day  sends 
Messiah  his  Son,  for  whom  he  had  reserved  the  glory  of  that  victory.  He  in  the  power  of  . 
his  Father  coming  to  the  place,  and  causing  all  his  legions  to  stand  still  on  either  side,  with 
his  chariot  and  thunder  driving  into  the  midst  of  his  enemies,  pursues  ihem  unable  to  resist 
towards  the  wall  of  heaven ;  which  opening,  they  leap  down  with  horror  and  confusion  into 
the  place  of  punishment  prepared  for  them  in  the  deep.  Messiah  return^  with  triumph  to 
his  Father. 

All  night  the  dreadless  angel  unpursued 

Through  heav'n's  wide  champaign  held  his  way,  till  morn, 

Waked  by  the  circling  hours,  with  rosy  hand 

Unbarr'd  the  gates  of  light.     There  is  a  cave 

Within  the  mount  of  God,  fast  by  his  throne, 

Where  light  and  darkness  in  perpetual  round 

Lodge  and  dislodge  by  turns,  which  makes  through  heav'n 

Grateful  vicissitude,  like  day  and  night  : 

Light  issues  forth,  and  at  the  other  door 

Obsequious  darkness  enters,  till  her  hour 

To  veil  the  heav'n,  though  darkness  there  might  well 

Seem  twilight  here  ;  and  now  went  forth  the  morn 

Such  as  in  highest  heav'n,  array'd  in  gold 

Empyreal,  from  before  her  vanish'd  night, 

Shot  through  with  orient  beams  :  when  all  the  plain 

Cover'd  with  thick  embattled  squadrons  bright, 

Chariots,  and  flaming  arms,  and  fiery  steeds, 

Reflecting  blaze  on  blaze,  first  met  his  view. 

War  he  perceived,  war  in  procinct,  and  found 

Already  known  what  he  for  news  had  thought 

To  have  reported :  gladly  then  he  mix'd 

Among  those  friendly  powers,  who  him  received 

^ ^ 


^^- ^ -<b 

142  PARADISE  LOST. 

With  joy  and  acclamations  loud,  that  one, 
That  of  so  many  myriads  fall'n  yet  one 
Return'd  not  lost.     On  to  the  sacred  hill 
They  led  him  high  applauded,  and  present 
Before  the  seat  supreme  ;  from  whence  a  voice 
From  midst  a  golden  cloud  thus  mild  was  heard. 

Servant  of  God,  well  done,  v/ell  hast  thou  fought 
The  better  fight,  who  single  hast  maintain'd 
Against  revolted  multitudes  the  cause 
Of  truth,  in  word  mightier  than  they  in  arms; 
And  for  the  testimony  of  truth  hast  borne 
Universal  reproach,  far  worse  to  bear 
Than  violence  :  for  this  was  all  thy  care, 
To  stand  approved  in  sight  of  God,  though  worlds 
Judged  thee  perverse.     The  easier  conquest  now 
Remains  thee,  aided  by  this  host  of  friends. 
Back  on  thy  foes  more  glorious  to  return 
Than  scorn'd  thou  didst  depart,  and  to  subdue 
By  force,  who  reason  for  their  law  refuse, 
Right  reason  for  their  law,  and  for  their  king 
Messiah,  who  by  right  of  merit  reigns. 
Go,  Michael  of  celestial  armies  prince, 
And  thou,  in  military  prowess  next, 
Gabriel,  lead  forth  to  battle  these  my  sons 
Invincible,  lead  forth  my  armed  Saints 
By  thousands  and  by  millions  ranged  for  fight ; 
Equal  in  number  to  that  godless  crew 
Rebellious ;  them  with  fire  and  hostile  arms 
Fearless  assault,  and  to  the  brow  of  heav'n 
Pursuing  drive  them  out  from  God  and  bliss, 
Into  their  place  of  punishment,  the  gulf 
Of  Tartarus,  which  ready  opens  wide 
His  fiery  chaos  to  receive  their  fall. 

So  spake  the  sovereign  voice,  and  clouds  began 
To  darken  all  the  hill,  and  smoke  to  roll 
In  dusky  wreaths  reluctant  flames,  the  sign 

^ ■ -4 


s- 


PARADISE  LOST.  143 

Of  wrath  awaked  :  nor  with  less  dread  the  loud 

Ethereal  trumpet  from  on  high  gan  blow  : 

At  which  command  the  powers  militant 

That  stood  for  heav'n,  in  mighty  quadrate  join'd 

Of  union  irresistible,  moved  on 

In  silence  their  bright  legions,  to  the  sound 

Of  instrumental  harmony,  that  breathed 

Heroic  ardor  to  advent'rous  deeds, 

Under  their  godlike  leaders,  in  the  cause 

Of  God  and  his  Messiah.     On  they  move 

Indissolubly  firm  :  nor  obvious  hill, 

Nor  straight'ning  vale,  nor  wood,  nor  stream,  divides 

Their  perfect  ranks  ;  for  high  above  the  ground 

Their  march  was,  and  the  passive  air  upbore 

Their  nimble  tread ;  as  when  the  total  kind 

Of  birds  in  orderly  array  on  wing 

Came  summon'd  over  Eden  to  receive 

Their  names  of  thee  :  so  over  many  a  tract 

Of  heav'n  they  march'd,  and  many  a  province  wide 

Tenfold  the  length  of  this  terrene.     At  last 

Far  in  the  horizon  to  the  north  appear'd 

From  skirt  to  skirt  a  fiery  region,  stretch'd 

In  battailous  aspect,  and  nearer  view 

Bristled  with  upright  beams  innumerable 

Of  rigid  spears,  and  helmets  throng'd,  and  shields 

Various,  with  boastful  argument  portray'd/ 

The  banded  powers  of  Satan  hasting  on 

With  furious  expedition  ;  for  they  ween'd 

That  self-same  day,  by  fight  or  by  surprize, 

To  win  the  mount  of  God,  and  on  his  throne 

To  set  the  envier  of  his  state,  the  proud 

Aspirer  ;  but  their  thoughts  proved  fond  and  vain 

In  the  mid  way.     Though  strange  to  us  it  seem'd 

At  first,  that  angel  should  with  angel  war, 


s -^ 

144  PARADISE  LOST. 

And  in  fierce  hosting'  meet,  who  wont  to  meet 
So  oft  in  festivals  of  joy  and  love 
Unanimous,  as  sons  of  one  great  Sire, 
Hymning  th'  eternal  Father ;  but  the  shout 
Of  battle  now  began,'^  and  rushing  sound 
Of  onset  ended  soon  each  milder  thought. 
High  in  the  midst  exalted  as  a  God 
Th'  apostate  in  his  sun-bright  chariot  sat, 
IdoP  of  Majesty  divine,  enclosed 
With  flaming  Cherubim  and  golden  shields  : 
Then  lighted  from  his  gorgeous  throne,  for  now 
'Twixt  host  and  host  but  narrow  space  was  left, 
A  dreadful  interval,  and  front  to  front 
Presented  stood  in  terrible  array 
Of  hideous  length  :  before  the  cloudy  van, 
On  the  rough  edge  of  battle  ere  it  join'd, 
Satan,  with  vast  and  haughty  strides  advanced, 
Came  tow'ring,  arm'd  in  adamant  and  gold : 
Abdiel  that  sight  endured  not,  where  he  stood 
Among  the  mightiest,  bent  on  highest  deeds, 
And  thus  his  own  undaunted  heart  explores. 

O  heav'n  !  that  such  resemblance  of  the  Highest 
Should  yet  remain,  where  faith  and  realty  * 
Remain  not;  wherefore  should  not  strength  and  might 
There  fail  where  virtue  fails,  or  weakest  prove 
Where  boldest,  though  to  sight  unconquerable  ? 
His  puissance,  trusting  in  th'  Almighty's  aid. 
I  mean  to  try,  whose  reason  I  have  tried 
Unsound  and  false ;  nor  is  it  aught  but  just, 
That  he,  who  in  debate  of  truth  hath  won, 
Should  win  in  arms,  in  both  disputes  alike 


1  Mustering  o{  hosts  or  armies. 

2  "There  was  war  in  heaven,  Michael  and  his  angels  fought  against  the  dragon,  and  the 
dragon  fought  and  his  angels  and  prevailed  not,  "  &c.      See  Rev.  xii.  7,  8,  9. 

'*  For  Counterfeit — false  deity. 
*  Reality. 

4) '       -^ 


^ '■ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  145 

Victor:  though  brutish  that  contest  and  foul, 
When  reason  hath  to  deal  with  force,  yet  so 
Most  reason  is  that  reason  overcome. 

So  pondering,  and,  from  his  armed  peers 
Forth  stepping  opposite,  halfway  he  met 
His  daring  foe,  at  this  prevention  more 
Incensed,  and  thus  securely  him  defied. 

Proud,  art  thou  met?  thy  hope  was  to  have  reach'd 
The  highth  of  thy  aspiring  unopposed, 
The  throne  of  God  unguarded,  and  his  side 
Abandon'd  at  the  terror  of  thy  power 
Or  potent  tongue  :  fool,  not  to  think  how  vain 
Against  th'  Omnipotent  to  rise  in  arms  ; 
Who  out  of  smallest  things  could  without  end 
Have  raised  incessant  armies  to  defeat 
Thy  folly  ;  or,  with  solitary  hand 
Reaching  beyond  all  limit,  at  one  blow 
Unaided  could  have  finish'd  thee,  and  whelm'd 
Thy  legions  under  darkness :  but  thou  seest 
All  are  not  of  thy  train ;  there  be,  who  faith 
Prefer  and  piety  to  God  ;  though  then 
To  thee  not  visible,  when  I  alone 
Seem'd  in  thy  world  erroneous  to  dissent 
From  all :  my  sect  thou  seest ;  now  learn  too  late 
How  few  sometimes  may  know,  when  thousands  ern 

Whom  the  grand  foe,  with  scornful  eye  askance, 

Thus  answer'd.     Ill  for  thee,  but  in  wish'd  hour 

Of  my  revenge,  first  sought  for  thou  return'st 

FVom  flight,  seditious  angel,  to  receive 

Thy  merited  reward,  the  first  assay 

Of  this  right  hand  provoked,  since  first  that  tongue 

Inspired  with  contradiction  durst  oppose 

A  third  part  of  the  Gods,  in  synod  met 

Their  deities  to  assert,  who  while  they  feel 

Vigor  divine  within  them,  can  allow 

Omnipotence  to  none.     But  well  thou  com'st 
10 

^— ^ 


146  PARADISE  LOST. 

Before  thy  fellows,  ambitious  to  win 

From  me  some  plume,  that  thy  success  may  show 

Destruction  to  the  rest :  this  pause  between, 

Unanswer'd  lest  thou  boast,  to  let  thee  know, 

At  first  I  thought  that  liberty  and  heav'n 

To  heav'nly  souls  had  been  all  one  ;  but  now 

I  see  that  most  through  sloth  had  rather  serve, 

Minist'ring  spirits,  train'd  up  in  feast  and  song; 

Such  hast  thou  arm'd,  the  minstrelsy  of  heav'n, 

Servility  with  freedom  to  contend, 

As  both  their  deeds  compared  this  day  shall  prove. 

To  whom  in  brief  thus  Abdiel  stern  replied. 
Apostate,  still  thou  err'st,  nor  end  wilt  find 
Of  erring,  from  the  path  of  truth  remote  : 
Unjustly  thou  deprav'st  it  with  the  name 
Of  servitude  to  serve  whom  God  ordains. 
Or  Nature ;  God  and  Nature  bid  the  same. 
When  he  who  rules  is  worthiest,  and  excels 
Them  whom  he  governs.     This  is  servitude, 
To  serve  th'  unwise,  or  him  whc^hath  rebel  I'd 
Against  his  worthier,  as  thine  now  serve  thee. 
Thyself  not  free,  but  to  thyself  enthrall'd ; 
Yet  lewdly  dar'st  our  minist'ring  upbraid. 
Reign  thou  in  hell  thy  kingdom,  let  me  serve 
In  heav'n  God  ever  bless'd,  and  His  divine 
Behests  obey,  worthiest  to  be  obey'd  ; 
Yet  chains  in  hell,  not  realms  expect :  meanwhile 
From  me  return'd,  as  erst  thou  saidst,  from  flight. 
This  greeting  on  thy  impious  crest  receive. 

So  saying,  a  noble  stroke  he  lifted  high, 
Which  hung  not,  but  so  swift  with  tempest  fell 
On  the  proud  crest  of  Satan,  that  no  sight. 
Nor  motion  of  swift  thought,  less  could  his  shield 
Such  ruin  intercept :  ten  paces  huge 
He  back  recoil'd;  the  tenth  on  bended  knee 
His  massy  spear  upstay'd  ;  as  if  on  earth 


This  greeting  on  thy  {i>ipu'u     nest  receive. 


Page  146. 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  147 

Winds  under  ground  or  waters,  forcing  way 

Side-long  had  push'd  a  mountain  from  his  seat, 

Half  sunk  with  all  his  pines.     Amazement  seized 

The  rebel  thrones,  but  greater  rage  to  see 

Thus  foil'd  their  mightiest;  ours  joy  fill'd,  and  shout, 

Presage  of  victory,  and  fierce  desire 

Of  battle :  whereat  Michael  bid  sound 

The  arch-angel  trumpet ;  through  the  v^ast  of  heav'n 

It  sounded,  and  the  faithful  armies  runsr 

Hosanna  to  the  Highest :  nor  stood  at  gaze 

The  adverse  legions,  nor  less  hideous  join'd 

The  horrid  shock.     Now  storming  fury  rose, 

And  clamor,  such  as  heard  in  heaven  till  now 

Was  never;  arms  en  armour  clashing  bray'd 

Horrible  discord,  and  the  madding  wheels 

Of  brazen  chariots  raged ;  dire  was  the  noise 

Of  conflict ;  over  head  the  dismal  hiss 

Of  fiery  darts  in  flaming  volleys  flew, 

And  flying  vaulted  either  host  with  fire. 

So  under  fiery  cope  together  rush'd 

Both  battles  main,  with  ruinous  assault 

And  inextinguishable  rage  ;  all  heav'n 

Resounded,  and  had  earth  been  then,  all  earth 

Had  to  her  centre  shook.     What  wonder  ?  when 

Millions  of  fierce  encountVing;  angels  fought 

On  either  side,  the  least  of  whom  could  wield 

These  elements,  and  arm  him  with  the  force 

Of  all  their  regions  :  how  much  more  of  power 

Army  against  army  numberless  to  raise 

Dreadful  combustion  warring,  and  disturb, 

Though  not  destroy,  their  happy  native  seat; 

Had  not  the  eternal  King  omnipotent 

From  his  strong  hold  of  heav'n  high  overruled 

And  limited  their  might;  though  number'd  such, 

As  each  divided  legion  might  have  seem'd 

A  numerous  host ;  in  strength  each  armed  hand 


^ 


^ —*-Qp 

148  PARADISE  LOST. 

A  legion ;  led  in  fight,  yet  leader  seem'd 

Each  warrior  single  as  in  chief,  expert 

When  to  advance,  or  stand,  or  turn  the  sway 

Of  battle,  open  when,  and  when  to  close 

The  ridges  of  grim  war ;  no  thought  of  flight. 

None  of  retreat,  no  unbecoming  deed 

That  argued  fear ;  each  on  himself  relied. 

As  only  in  his  arm  the  moment  lay 

Of  victory :  deeds  of  eternal  fame 

Were  done,  but  infinite ;  for  wide  was  spread 

That  war  and  various ;  sometimes  on  firm  ground 

A  standing  fight :  then  soaring  on  main  wing 

Tormented  all  the  air  ;  all  air  seem'd  then 

Conflicting  fire.     Long  time  in  even  scale 

The  battle  hung;  till  Satan,  who  that  day 

Prodigious  power  had  shown,  and  met  in  arms 

No  equal,  ranging  through  the  dire  attack 

Of  fighting  Seraphim  confused,  at  length 

Saw  where  the  sword  of  Michael  smote,  and  fell'd 

Squadrons  at  once ;  with  huge  two-handed  sway 

Brandish'd  aloft  the  horrid  edge  came  down 

Wide  wasting :  such  destruction  to  withstand 

He  hasted,  and  opposed  the  rocky  orb 

Of  tenfold  adamant,  his  ample  shield, 

A  vast  circumference.     At  his  approach 

The  great  arch-angel  from  his  warlike  toil 

Surceased ;  and  glad,  as  hoping  here  to  end 

Intestine  war  in  heav'n,  th'  arch-foe  subdued 

Or  captive  dragg'd  in  chains,  with  hostile  frown 

And  visage  all  inflamed,  first  thus  began. 

Author  of  evil,  unknown  till  thy  revolt. 
Unnamed  in  heav'n  ;  now  plenteous,  as  thou  seest 
These  acts  of  hateful  strife,  hateful  to  all. 
Though  heaviest  by  just  measure  on  thyself 
And  thy  adherents  :  how  hast  thou  disturb'd 
Heav'n's  blessed  peace,  and  into  nature  brought 

d^ ^ 


^ ' ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  149 

Misery,  uncreated  till  the  crime 

Of  thy  rebellion  !   how  hast  thou  instill'd 

Thy  malice  into  thousands,  once  upright 

And  faithful,  now  proved  false !     But  think  not  here 

To  trouble  holy  rest ;  heav'n  casts  thee  out 

From  all  her  confines :  heav'n  the  seat  of  bliss 

Brooks  not  the  works  of  violence  and  war. 

Hence  then,  and  evil  go  with  thee  along, 

Thy  offspring,  to  the  place  of  evil,  hell  ; 

Thou  and  thy  wicked  crew  :  there  mingle  broils, 

Ere  this  avenging  sword  begin  thy  doom, 

Or  some  more  sudden  vengeance  wing'd  from  God 

Precipitate  thee  with  augmented  pain. 

So  spake  the  prince  of  angels ;  to  whom  thus 
The  adversary.     Nor  think  thou  with  wind 
Of  aery  threats  to  awe  whom  yet  with  deeds 
Thou  canst  not.      Hast  thou  turn'd  the  least  of  these 
To  flight,  or  if  to  fall,  but  that  they  rise 
Unvanquish'd,  easier  to  transact  with  me 
That  thou  shouldst  hope,  imperious  and  with  threats 
To  chase  me  hence  ?  err  not  that  so  shall  end 
The  strife  which  thou  call'st  evil,  but  we  style 
The  strife  of  glory :  which  we  mean  to  win, 
Or  turn  this  heav'n  itself  into  the  hell 
Thou  fablest ;  here  however  to  dwell  free, 
If  not  to  reign :  meanwhile  thy  utmost  force, 
And  join  Him  named  Almighty  to  thy  aid, 
I  fly  not,  but  have  sought  thee  far  and  nigh. 

They  ended  parle,  and  both  address'd  for  fight 
Unspeakable ;  for  who,  though  with  the  tongue 
Of  angels,  can  relate,  or  to  what  things 
Liken  on  earth  conspicuous,  that  may  lift 
Human  imagination  to  such  highth 
Of  Godlike  power?  for  likest  gods  they  seem'd, 
Stood  they  or  moved,  in  stature,  motion,  arms. 
Fit  to  decide  the  empire  of  great  heav'n. 

^ 


s- 


-^ 


150  PARADISE  LOST. 

Now  waved  their  fiery  swords,  and  in  the  air 

Made  horrid  circles ;  two  broad  suns  their  shields 

Blazed  opposite,  while  expectation  stood 

In  horror;  from  each  hand  with  speed  retired, 

Where  erst  was  thickest  fight,  th'  angelic  throng. 

And  left  large  field,  unsafe  within  the  wind 

Of  such  commotion,  such  as,  to  set  forth 

Great  things  by  small,  if,  nature's  concord  broke. 

Among  the  constellations  war  were  sprung, 

Two  planets,  rushing  from  aspect  malign 

Of  fiercest  opposition,  in  mid  sky 

Should  combat,  and  their  jarring  spheres  confound. 

Together  both,  with  next  to  Almighty  arm, 

Uplifted  imminent,  one  stroke  they  aim'd 

That  might  determine,  and  not  need  repeat, 

As  not  of  power,  at  once ;  nor  odds  appear'd 

In  might  or  swift  prevention ;  but  the  sword 

Of  Michael  from  the  armory  of  God 

Was  giv'n  him  temper'd  so,  that  neither  keen 

Nor  solid  might  resist  that  edge  :  it  met 

The  sword  of  Satan  with  steep  force  to  smite 

Descending,  and  in  half  cut  sheer ;  nor  stay'd. 

But  with  swift  wheel  reverse,  deep  entering,  shared 

All  his  right  side ;  then  Satan  first  knew  pain. 

And  writhed  him  to  and  fro  convolved ;  so  sore 

The  griding  sword  with  discontinuous  wound 

Pass'd  thro'  him,  but  th'  ethereal  substance  closed, 

Not  long  divisible,  and  from  the  gash 

A  stream  of  nectarous  humour  issuing  flow'd 

Sanguine,  such  as  celestial  spirits  may  bleed,* 

And  all  his  armour  stain'd  ere  while  so  bright. 

Forthwith  on  all  sides  to  his  aid  was  run 

By  angels  many  and  strong,  who  interposed 

1  Homer  calls  the  blood  of  the  gods  ichor,  and  describes  it  as  differing  from  human  blood, 
as  Milton  does  that  of  Satan  the  Archangel. 


% 


Then  Satan  Jirst  knew  pain, 
And  writhed  him  to  and  f to. 


Page  150. 


^ — ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  151 

Defence,  while  others  bore  him  on  their  shields 

Back  to  his  chariot ;  where  it  stood  retired 

From  off  the  files  of  war:  there  they  him  laid 

Gnashing  for  anguish,  and  despite,  and  shame, 

To  find  himself  not  matchless,  and  his  pride 

Humbled  by  such  rebuke,  so  far  beneath 

His  confidence  to  equal  God  in  power. 

Yet  soon  he  heal'd  ;  for  spirits  that  live  throughout 

Vital  in  every  part,  not  as  frail  man 

In  entrails,  heart  or  head,  liver  or  reins, 

Cannot  but  by  annihilating  die; 

Nor  in  their  liquid  texture  mortal  wound 

Receive,  no  more  than  can  the  fluid  air : 

All  heart  they  live,  all  head,  all  eye,  all  ear. 

All  intellect,  all  sense,  and  as  they  please 

They  limb  themselves,  and  color,  shape,  or  size 

Assume,  as  likes  them  best,  condense  or  rare. 

Meanwhile  in  other  parts  like  deeds  deserved 
Memorial,  where  the  might  of  Gabriel  fought, 
And  with  fierce  ensigns  pierced  the  deep  array 
Of  Moloch  furious  king,  who  him  defied. 
And  at  his  chariot  wheels  to  drag  him  bound 
Threaten'd,  nor  from  the  Holy  One  of  heav'n 
Refrain'd  his  tongue  blasphemous  ;  but  anon, 
Down  cloven  to  the  waist,  with  shatter'd  arms 
And  uncouth  pain  fled  bellowing.     On  each  wing 
Uriel  and  Raphael,  his  vaunting  foe 
Though  huge  and  in  a  rock  of  diamond  arm'd, 
Vanquish'd,  Adrameleck  '  and  Asmadai," 
Two  potent  thrones,  that  to  be  less  than  Gods 
Disdain'd,  but  meaner  thoughts  learn'd  in  their  flight. 
Mangled  with  ghastly  wounds  thro'  plate  and  mail 
Nor  stood  unmindful  Abdiel  to  annoy 


1  One  of  the  idols  of  Sepharvaim.     2  Kings  xvii.  31. 

*  The  same  as  Asmodeus,  the  persecutor  of  Sara  in  Tobit. 


«- 


1- 


152  PARADISE  LOST. 

The  atheist  crew,  but  with  redoubled  blow 
Ariel,  and  Arioc,  and  the  violence 
Of  Ramiel  scorch'd  and  blasted,  overthrew. 
I  might  relate  of  thousands,  and  their  names 
Eternize  here  on  earth  ;  but  those  elect 
Angels,  contented  with  their  fame  in  heav'n, 
Seek  not  the  praise  of  men  :  the  other  sort, 
In  micfht  though  wondrous  and  in  acts  of  war, 
Nor  of  renown  less  eager,  yet  by  doom 
Cancell'd  from  heav'n  and  sacred  memory. 
Nameless  in  dark  oblivion  let  them  dwell. 
For  strength  from  truth  divided  and  from  just, 
Illaudable,  naught  merits  but  dispraise 
And  ignominy  ;  yet  to  glory  aspires 
Vain  glorious, and  through  infamy  seeks  fame: 
Therefore  eternal  silence  be  their  doom. 

And  now,  their  mightiest  quell'd,  the  battle  swerved, 
With  many  an  inroad  gored  ;  deformed  rout 
Enter'd  and  foul  disorder  :  all  the  ground 
With  shiver'd  arm.or  strown,  and  on  a  heap 
Chariot  and  charioteer  lay  overturn'd, 
And  fiery  foaming  steeds ;  what  stood,  recoil'd 

O'erwearied,  through  the  faint  Satanic  host 
Defensive  scarce,  or  with  pale  fear  surprized, 
Then  first  with  fear  surprized  and  sense  of  pain 
Fled  ignominious,  to  such  evil  brought 

By  sin  of  disobedience  till  that  hour 

Not  liable  to  fe^r,  or  flight,  or  pain. 

Far  otherwise  th'  inviolable  saints 

In  cubic  phalanx  firm  advanced  entire, 

Invulnerable,  impenetrably  arm'd: 

Such  high  advantages  their  innocence 

Gave  them  above  their  foes,  not  to  have  sinn'd. 

Not  to  have  disobey'd ;  in  fight  they  stood 

Unwearied,  unobnoxious  to  be  pain'd 

By  wound,  tho'  from  their  place  by  violence  moved. 


^ 


r^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  153 

Now  night  her  course  began,  and,  over  heav'n 
Inducing  darkness,  grateful  truce  imposed, 
And  silence  on  the  odious  din  of  war  : 
Under  her  cloudy  covert  both  retired, 
Victor  and  vanquish'd.     On  the  foughten  field 
Michael  and  his  angels  prevalent 
Encamping  placed  in  guard  their  watches  round. 
Cherubic  waving  fires  :  on  th'  other  part 
Satan  with  his  rebellious  disappear'd. 
Far  in  the  dark  dislodged,  and  void  of  rest 
His  potentates  to  council  call'd  by  night; 
And  in  the  midst  thus  undismay'd  began. 

O  now  in  danger  tried,  now  known  in  arms 
Not  to  be  overpower'd,  companions  dear, 
Found  worthy  not  of  liberty  alone. 
Too  mean  pretence,  but  what  we  more  affect, 
Honor,  dominion,  glory,  and,  renown  ; 
Who  have  sustain'd  one  day  in  doubtful  fight, 
(And  if  one  day  why  not  eternal  days  ?) 
What  heaven's  Lord  had  powerfullest  to  send 
Against  us  from  about  His  throne,  and  judged 
Sufficient  to  subdue  us  to  His  will 
But  proves  not  so :  then  fallible,  it  seems, 
Of  future  we  may  deem  Him,  though  till  now 
Omniscient  thought.     True  is,  less  firmly  arm'd. 
Some  disadvantage  we  endured  and  pain. 
Till  now  not  known,  but  known,  as  soon  contemn'd ; 
Since  now  we  find  this  our  empyreal  form 
Incapable  of  mortal  injury, 
Imperishable,  and  though  pierced  with  wound 
Soon  closing,  and  by  native  vigor  heal'd. 
Of  evil  then  so  small  as  easy  think 
The  remedy  ;  perhaps  more  valid  arms. 
Weapons  more  violent,  when  next  we  meet, 
May  serve  to  better  us,  and  worse  our  foes : 
Or  equal  what  between  us  made  the  odds, 

d^ ^ 


^ ^ 

154  PARADISE  LOST. 

In  nature  none :  if  other  hidden  cause 
Left  them  superior,  while  we  can  preserve 
Unhurt  our  minds  and  understanding  sound, 
Due  search  and  consultation  will  disclose. 

He  sat ;  and  in  th'  assembly  next  upstood 
Nisroch,'  of  principalities  the  prime; 
As  one  he  stood  escaped  from  cruel  fight, 
Sore  toil'd,  his  riven  arms  to  havock  hewn ; 
And  cloudy  in  aspect  thus  answering  spake. 

Deliverer  from  new  lords,  leader  to  free 
Enjoyment  of  our  right  as  Gods  ;  yet  hard 
For  Gods,  and  too  unequal  work  we  find 
Against  unequal  arms  to  fight  in  pain, 
Against  unpain'd,  impassive  ;  from  which  evil 
Ruin  must  needs  ensue,  for  what  avails 
Valor  or  strength,  though  matchless,  quell'd  with  pain, 
Which  all  subdues,  and  makes  remiss  the  hand 
Of  mightiest  ?  sense  of  pleasure  we  may  well 
Spare  out  of  life  perhaps,  and  not  repine, 
But  live  content,  which  is  the  calmest  life : 
But  pain  is  perfect  misery,  the  worst 
Of  evils,  and  excessive  overturns 
All  patience.     He  who  therefore  can  invent 
With  what  more  forcible  we  may  offend 
Our  yet  unwounded  enemies,  or  arm 
Ourselves  with  like  defence,  to  me  deserves 
No  less  than  for  deliverance  what  we  owe. 

Whereto  with  look  composed  Satan  replied. 
Not  uninvented  that,  which  thou  aright 
Believ'st  so  main  to  our  success,  T  bring  : 
Which  of  us  who  beholds  the  bright  surface 
Of  this  ethereous  mould  whereon  we  stand, 
This  continent  of  spacious  heav'n,  adorn'd 

1  Nisroch  was  worshipped  by  the  Assyrians.      It  was  in  his  temple  that  Sennacherib  was 
slain  by  his  two  sons.     See  a  Kings  xix.  37. 

d^ . ^ 


^ ~QP 

PARADISE  LOST.  155 

With  plant,  fruit,  flow'r  ambrosial,  gems,  and  gold, 
Whose  eye  so  superficially  surveys 
These  things,  as  not  to  mind  from  whence  they  grow 
Deep  under  ground,  materials  dark  and  crude, 
Of  spirituous  and  fiery  spume,  till  touch'd 
With  heaven's  ray,  and  temper'd  they  shoot  forth 
So  beauteous,  op'ning  to  the  ambient  light  ? 
These  in  their  dark  nativity  the  deep 
Shall  yield  us  pregnant  with  mfernal  flame. 
Which  into  hollow  engines  long  and  round 
Thick-ramm'd,  at  th'  other  bore  with  touch  of  fire 
Dilated  and  infuriate,  shall  send  forth 
From  far  with  thund'ring  noise  among  our  foes 
Such  implements  of  mischief,  as  shall  dash 
To  pieces,  and  o'erwhelm  whatever  stands 
Adverse,  that  they  shall  fear  we  have  disarm'd 
The  Thunderer  of  his  only  dreaded  bolt. 
Nor  long  shall  be  our  labor ;  yet  ere  dawn, 
Effect  shall  end  our  wish.     Meanwhile  revive ; 
Abandon  fear;  to  strength  and  counsel  join'd 
Think  nothing  hard,  much  less  to  be  despair'd. 
He  ended,  and  his  words  their  drooping  cheer 

Enlighten'd,  and  their  languish'd  hope  revived. 
Th'  invention  all  admired,  and  each,  how  he 
To  be  th'  inventor  miss'd,  so  easy  it  seem'd 

Once  found,  which  yet  unfound  most  would  have  thought 

Impossible  :  yet  haply  of  thy  race 

In  future  days,  if  malice  should  abound, 

Some  one  intent  on  mischief,  or  inspired 

With  dev'lish  machination,  might  devis2 

Like  instrument,  to  plague  the  sons  of  men 

For  sin,  on  war  and  mutual  slaughter  bent. 

Forthwith  from  council  to  the  work  they  flew, 

None  arguing  stood  ;  innumerable  hands 

Were  ready;  in  a  moment  up  they  turn'd 

Wide  the  celestial  soil,  and  saw  beneath 

^ ^ 


a- -^ 

156  PARADISE  LOST. 

Th'  originals  of  nature  in  their  crude 
'      Conception  :  sulphurous  and  nitrous  foam 
They  found,  they  mingled,  and  with  subtle  art 
Concocted  and  adusted  they  reduced 
To  blackest  grain,  and  into  store  convey'd. 
Part  hidden  veins  digg'd  up,  nor  hath  this  earth 
Entrails  unlike,  of  mineral  and  stone. 
Whereof  to  found  their  engines  and  their  balls 
Of  missive  ruin  ;  part  incentive  reed 
Provide,  pernicious  with  one  touch  to  fire. 
So  all  ere  day-spring,  under  conscious  night 
Secret,  they  finish'd,  and  in  order  set, 
With  silent  circumspection  unespied. 

Now  when  fair  morn  orient  in  heav'n  appear'd, 
Up  rose  the  victor  angels,  and  to  arms 
The  matin  trumpet  sung  :  in  arms  they  stood 
Of  golden  panoply,  refulgent  host, 
Soon  banded  ;  others  from  the  dawning  hills 
Look'd  round,  and  scouts  each  coast  light-armed  scour, 
Each  quarter,  to  descry  the  distant  foe. 
Where  lodged,  or  whither  fled,  or  if  for  fight, 
In  motion  or  in  halt :  him  soon  they  met 
Under  spread  ensigns  moving  nigh,  in  slow 
But  firm  battalion :  back  with  speediest  sail 
Zophiel,  of  cherubim  the  swiftest  wing, 
Came  flying,  and  in  mid  air  aloud  thus  cried. 

Arm  warriors,  arm  for  fight,  the  foe  at  hand, 
Whom  fled  we  thought,  will  save  us  long  pursuit 
This  day.     Fear  not  his  flight,  so  thick  a  cloud 
He  comes,  and  settled  in  his  face  I  see 
Sad  resolution  and  secure  :  let  each 
His  adamantine  coat  gird  well,  and  each 
Fit  well  his  helm,  gripe  fast  his  orbed  shield, 
Borne  ev'n  or  high;  for  this  day  will  pour  down, 
If  I  conjecture  aught,  no  drizzling  show'r, 
But  rattling  storm  of  arrows  barb'd  with  fire. 


't> 


^ ^ ^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  157 

So  warn'd  he  them,  aware  themselves,  and  soon 
In  order,  quit  of  all  impediment; 
Instant  without  disturb  they  took  alarm, 
And  onward  move  embattell'd ;  when  behold 
Not  distant  far  with  heavy  pace  the  foe 
Approaching  gross  and  huge;  in  hollow  cube 
Training  his  devilish  enginry,  impaled 
On  every  side  with  shadowing  squadrons  deep, 
To  hide  the  fraud.     At  interview  both  stood 
Awhile  ;  but  suddenly  at  head  appear'd 
Satan  ;  and  thus  was  heard  commanding  loud. 

Vanguard,  to  right  and  left  the  front  unfold  ; 
That  all  may  see,  who  hate  us,  how  we  seek 
Peace  and  composure,  and  with  open  breast 
Stand  ready  to  receive  them,  if  they  like 
Our  overture,  and  turn  not  back  perverse  ; 
But  that  I  doubt ;  however  witness  heaven, 
Heav'n  witness  thou  anon,  while  we  discharge 
Freely  our  part :  ye  who  appointed  stand 
Do  as  you  have  in  charge,  and  briefly  touch 
What  we  propound,  and  loud  that  all  may  hear. 

So  scoffing  in  ambiguous  words,  he  scarce 
Had  ended ;  when  to  right  and  left  the  front 
Divided,  and  to  either  flank  retired  : 
Which  to  our  eyes  discover'd,  new  and  strange, 
A  triple  mounted  row  of  pillars,  laid 
On  wheels,  for  like  to  pillars  most  they  seem'd, 
Or  hollow'd  bodies  made  of  oak  or  fir 
With  branches  lopp'd,  in  wood  or  mountain  fell'd, 
Brass,  iron,  stony  mould,  had  not  their  mouths 
With  hideous  orifice  gaped  on  us  wide. 
Portending  hollow  truce  ;    at  each  behind 
A  seraph  stood,  and  in  his  hand  a  reed 
Stood  waving  tipp'd  with  fire  ;  while  we  suspense 
Collected  stood  within  our  thoughts  amused ; 
Not  long,  for  sudden  all  at  once  their  reeds 

^fe — ^ 


a- -^ 

158  PARADISE  LOST. 

Put  forth,  and  to  a  narrow  vent  applied 

With  nicest  touch.     Immediate  in  a  flame, 

But  soon  obscured  with  smoke  all  heav'n  appear'd, 

From  those  deep-throated  engines  belch'd,  whose  roar 

Embowell'd  with  outrageous  noise  the  air, 

And  all  her  entrails  tore,  disgorging  foul 

Their  devilish  glut,  chain'd  thunderbolts  and  hail 

Of  iron  globes,  which  on  the  victor  host 

Levell'd  with  such  impetuous  fury  smote, 

That  whom  they  hit,  none  on  their  feet  might  stand. 

Though  standing  else  as  rocks  ;  but  down  they  fell 

By  thousands,  angel  on  archangel  roll'd. 

The  sooner  for  their  arms  ;  unarm'd  tliey  might 

Have  easily  as  spirits  evaded  swift 

By  quick  contraction  or  remove  :  but  now 

Foul  dissipation  follow'd  and  forced  rout : 

Nor  served  it  to  relax  their  serried  files. 

What  should  they  do  ?  if  on  they  rush'd,  repulse 

Repeated,  and  indecent  overthrow 

Doubled,  would  render  them  yet  more  despised. 

And  to  their  foes  a  laughter  :  for  in  view 

Stood  rank'd  of  seraphim  another  row, 

In  posture  to  displode  their  second  tire 

Of  thunder;  back  defeated  to  return 

They  worse  abhorr'd.     Satan  beheld  their  plight, 

And  to  his  mates  thus  in  derision  call'd. 

O  friends,  why  come  not  on  these  victors  proud  ? 
Ere  while  they  fierce  were  coming,  and  when  \v^. 
To  entertain  them  fair  with  open  front 
And  breast  (what  could  we  more  ?)  propounded  terms 
Of  composition,  straight  they  changed  their  minds. 
Flew  off,  and  into  strange  vagaries  fell, 
As  they  would  dance  :  yet  for  a  dance  they  seem'd 
Somewhat  extravagant  and  wild,  perhaps 
For  joy  of  offer'd  peace  :  but  I  suppose. 
If  our  proposals  once  again  were  heard, 


a- ^ — 

PARADISE  LOST.  159 

We  should  compel  them  to  a  quick  result. 

To  whom  thus  Belial  in  like  gamesome  mood. 
Leader,  the  terms  we  sent  were  terms  of  weight. 
Of  hard  contents,  and  full  of  force  urged  home  ; 
Such  as  we  might  perceive  amused  them  all. 
And  stumbled  many ;  who  receives  them  right, 
Had  need  from  head  to  foot  well  understand ; 
Not  understood,  this  gift  they  have  besides. 
They  show  us  when  our  foes  walk  not  upright. 

So  they  among  themselves  in  pleasant  vein 
Stood  scoffing,  heighten'd  in  their  thoughts  beyond 
All  doubt  of  victory  ;  eternal  might 
To  match  with  their  inventions  they  presumed 
So  easy,  and  of  His  thunder  made  a  scorn, 
And  all  His  host  derided,  while  they  stood 
Awhile  in  trouble ;   but  they  stood  not  long  ; 
Rage  prompted  them  at  length,  and  found  them  arms 
Against  such  hellish  mischief  fit  to  oppose. 
Forthwith,  behold  the  excellence,  the  power 
Which  God  hath  in  his  mighty  angels  placed ! 
Their  arms  away  they  threw,  and  to  the  hills, 
For  earth  hath  this  variety  from  heav'n 
Of  pleasure  situate  in  hill  and  dale. 
Light  as  the  lightning  glimpse  they  ran,  they  flew, 
From  their  foundations  loos'ning  to  and  fro 
They  pluck'd  the  seated  hills  with  all  their  load, 
Rocks,  waters,  woods,  and  by  the  shaggy  tops 
Up  lifting  bore  them  in  their  hands.     Amaze, 
Be  sure,  and  terror  seized  the  rebel  host, 
When  coming  towards  them  so  dread  they  saw 
The  bottom  of  the  mountains  upward  turn'd ; 
Till  on  those  cursed  engines  triple-row 
They  saw  them  whelm'd,  and  all  their  confidence 
Under  the  weight  of  mountains  buried  deep. 
Themselves  invaded  next,  and  on  their  heads 
Main  promontories  flung,  which  in  the  air 


l6o  PARADISE  LOST. 

Came  shadowing,  and  opprest  whole  legions  arm'd ; 

Their  armor  help'd  their  harm,  crush'd  in  and  bruised 

Into  their  substance  pent,  which  wrought  them  pain 

Implacable,  and  many  a  dolorous  groan, 

Long  struggling  underneath,  ere  they  could  wind 

Out  of  such  prison,  though  spirits  of  purest  light, 

Purest  at  first,  now  gross  by  sinning  grown. 

The  rest  in  imitation  to  like  arms 

Betook  them,  and  the  neighboring  hills  uptore  ; 

So  hills  amid  the  air  encounter'd  hills, 

Hurl'd  to  and  fro  with  jaculation  dire. 

That  under  ground  they  fought  in  dismal  shade ; 

Infernal  noise  ;  war  seem'd  a  civil  game 

To  this  uproar ;  horrid  confusion  heap'd 

Upon  confusion  rose :  and  now  all  heav'n 

Had  gone  to  wrack,  with  ruin  overspread. 

Had  not  th'  Almighty  Father,  where  he  sits 

Shrined  in  his  sanctuary  of  heav'n  secure, 

Consulting  on  the  sum  of  things,  foreseen 

This  tumult,  and  permitted  all,  advised  : 

That  his  great  purpose  he  might  so  fulfil. 

To  honor  his  anointed  Son  avenged 

Upon  his  enemies,  and  to  declare 

All  power  on  him  transferr'd :  whence  to  his  Son 

Th'  assessor  of  his  throne  he  thus  began. 

Effulgence  of  my  glory.  Son  beloved, 
Son  in  whose  face  invisible  is  beheld 
Visibly,  what  by  Deity  I  am. 
And  in  whose  hand  what  by  decree  I  do. 
Second  Omnipotence,  two  days  are  past, 
Two  days,  as  we  compute  the  days  of  heav'n. 
Since  Michael  and  his  powers  went  forth  to  tame 
These  disobedient ;  sore  hath  been  their  fight. 
As  likeliest  was,  when  two  such  foes  met  arm'd  ; 
For  to  themselves  I  left  them,  and  thou  know'st, 
Equal  in  their  creation  they  were  form'd, 

^ ■ -& 


^ -■ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  i6i 

Save  what  sin  hath  impair'd,  which  yet  hath  wrought 

Insensibly,  for  I  suspend  their  doom  ; 

Whence  in  perpetual  fight  they  needs  must  last 

Endless,  and  no  solution  will  be  found. 

War  wearied  hath  perform'd  what  war  can  do, 

And  to  disorder'd  rage  let  loose  the  reins, 

With  mountains  as  with  weapons  arm'd,  which  makes 

Wild  work  in  heav'n  and  dangerous  to  the  main. 

Two  days  are  therefore  past,  the  third  is  thine  ; 

For  thee  I  have  ordain'd  it,  and  thus  far 

Have  suffer'd,  that  the  glory  may  be  thine 

Of  ending  this  great  war,  since  none  but  thou 

Can  end  it.     Into  thee  such  virtue  and  grace 

Immense  I  have  transfused,  that  all  may  know 

In  heav'n  and  hell  thy  power  above  compare, 

And  this  perverse  commotion  govern'd  thus. 

To  manifest  thee  worthiest  to  be  heir 

Of  all  things,  to  be  heir  and  to  be  king 

By  sacred  unction,^  thy  deserved  right. 

Go  then,  thou  Mightiest,  in  thy  Father's  might. 

Ascend  my  chariot,  guide  the  rapid  wheels 

That  shake  heav'n's  basis,  bring  forth  all  my  war, 

My  bow  and  thunder,  my  almighty  arms 

Gird  on,  and  sword  upon  thy  puissant  thigh  ;^ 

Pursue  these  sons  of  darkness,  drive  them  out 

From  all  heav'n's  bounds  into  the  utter  deep : 

There  let  them  learn,  as  likes  them,  to  despise 

God  and  Messiah  his  anointed  king. 

He  said,  and  on  his  Son  with  rays  direct 
Shone  full.  He  all  his  Father  full  exprest 
Ineffably  into  His  face  received, 
And  thus  the  filial  Godhead  answering  spake. 

0  Father,  O  Supreme  of  heav'nly  thrones, 
First,  Highest,  Holiest,  Best,  thou  always  seek'st 

1  Psalm  xlv.  7.  2  Psalm  xlv.  3,  4. 
i                                                                                    II 

4-- ^ 


162  PARADISE  LOST. 

To  glorify  thy  Son,^  I  always  thee, 

As  is  most  just ;  this  I  my  glory  account, 

My  exaltation,  and  my  whole  delight. 

That  thou  in  me  well  pleased  declar'st  thy  will 

Fulfill'd,  which  to  fulfill  is  all  my  bliss. 

Sceptre  and  power,  thy  giving,  I  assume. 

And  gladlier  shall  resign,  when  in  the  end 

Thou  shalt  be  all  in  all,^  and  I  in  thee 

For  ever,  and  in  me  all  whom  thou  lov'st  :^ 

But  whom  thou  hat'st,  I  hate,  and  can  put  on 

Thy  terrors,  as  I  put  thy  mildness  on. 

Image  of  thee  in  all  things  ;  and  shall  soon, 

Arm'd  with  thy  might,  rid  heav'n  of  these  rebell'd. 

To  their  prepared  ill  mansion  driven  down 

To  chains  of  darkness,'*  and  th'  undying  worm  f 

That  from  thy  just  obedience  could  revolt, 

Whom  to  obey  is  happiness  entire. 

Then  shall  thy  saints  unmix'd,  and  from  th'  impure 

Far  separate,  circling  thy  holy  mount 

Unfained  hallelujahs  to  thee  sing. 

Hymns  of  high  praise,  and  I  among  them  chief. 

So  said,  he,  o'er  his  sceptre  bowing,  rose 
From  the  right  hand  of  glory  where  he  sat, 
And  the  third  sacred  morn  began  to  shine. 
Dawning  through  heav'n  :  forth  rush'd  with  whirlwind  sound 
The  chariot  of  paternal  Deity, 

Flashing  thick  flames,  wheel  within  wheel  undrawn, 
Itself  instinct  with  spirit,  but  convoy'd 
By  four  cherubic  shapes ;  four  faces  each 
Had  wondrous,  as  with  stars  their  bodies  all 
And  wings  were  set  with  eyes,  with  eyes  the  wheels 
Of  beryl,^  and  careering  fires  between  f 
Over  their  heads  a  crystal  firmament, 

'  John  xvii.  4,  5.     21  Cor.  xv.  28.     3  John  xvii.  21,  23.     *  2  Peter  ii.  4.      »  Mark  ix.  44. 
*  A  beryl  is  a  precious  stone  of  sea-green  color. — Newton.  '  See  Ezek.  i. 

^— _^^ 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  163 

Whereon  a  sapphire  throne,  inlaid  with  pure 
Amber,  and  colors  of  the  show'ry  arch. 
He,  in  celestial  panoply  all  arm'd 
Of  radiant  Urim'  work  divinely  wrought, 
Ascended  ;  at  his  right  hand  Victory 
Sate  eagle-winged,  beside  him  hung  his  bow 
And  quiver  with  three-bolted  thunder  stored, 
And  from  about  him  fierce  effusion  roll'd 
Of  smoke,^  and  bxkering  flame,  and  sparkles  dire. 
Attended  with  ten  thousand  thousand  saints  ^ 
He  onward  came,  far  off  his  coming  shone, 
And  twenty  thousand,^  I  their  number  heard. 
Chariots  of  God,  half  on  each  hand  were  seen. 
He  on  the  wings  of  Cherub  rode  sublime." 
On  the  crystalline  sky,  in  sapphire  throned. 
Illustrious  far  and  wide,  but  by  his  own 
First  seen,  them  unexpected  joy  surprised. 
When  the  great  ensign  of  Messiah  blazed, 
Aloft  by  angels  borne,  his  sign  in  heav'n  :** 
Under  whose  conduct  Michael  soon  reduced 
His  army,  circumfused  on  either  wing, 
Under  their  Head^  embodied  all  in  one. 
Before  him  power  divine  his  way  prepared  : 
At  his  command  the  uprooted  hills  retired 
Each  to  his  place,  they  heard  his  voice  and  went 
Obsequious  :  Heav'n  his  wonted  face  renew'd. 
And  with  fresh  flow'rets  hill  and  valley  smiled. 
This  saw  his  hapless  foes,  but  stood  obdured, 
And  to  rebellious  fight  rallied  their  powers 
Insensate,  hope  conceiving  from  despair: 
In  heav'nly  spirits  could  such  perverseness  dwell  ? 
But  to  convince  the  proud  M^hat  signs  avail. 
Or  wonders  move  the  obdurate  to  relent  ? 


1  Exod.  xxviii.  2.  2  Psalm  xviii.  8 ;  i.  3.  ^  Jude  14.  <  Psalm  Ixviii.  17. 

5  Psalm  xviii.  10.  ^  Matt.  xxiv.  30.  '  Rom.  xii.  5. 


^ -^ 

164  PARADISE  LOST, 

They  harden'd  more  by  what  might  most  reclaim; 

Grieving  to  see  His  glory,  at  the  sight 

Took  envy,  and,  aspiring  to  His  highth, 

Stood  reimbattled  fierce,  by  force  or  fraud 

Weening  to  prosper,  and  at  length  prevail 

Against  God  and  Messiah,  or  to  fall 

In  universal  ruin  last;  and  now 

To  final  battle  drew,  disdaining  flight, 

Or  faint  retreat ;  when  the  great  Son  of  God 

To  all  his  hosts  on  either  hand  thus  spake. 

Stand  still  in  bright  array,  ye  saints,  here  stand, 
Ye  angels  arm'd,  this  day  from  battle  rest ; 
Faithful  hath  been  your  warfare,  and  of  God 
Accepted,  fearless  in  His  righteous  cause, 
And  as  ye  have  received,  so  have  ye  done 
Invincibly  :  but  of  this  cursed  crew 
The  punishment  to  other  hand  belongs  ; 
Vengeance  is  His,^  or  whose  He  sole  appoints : 
Number  to  this  day's  work  is  not  ordain'd, 
Nor  multitude,  stand  only  and  behold 
God's  indignation  on  these  godless  pour'd 
By  Me ;  not  you,  but  me  they  have  despised. 
Yet  envied  :  against  me  is  all  their  rage. 
Because  the  Father,  to  whom  in  heav'n  supreme 
Kingdom,  and  power,  and  glory  appertains. 
Hath  honor'd  me  according  to  his  will. 
Therefore  to  me  their  doom  he  hath  assign'd  ; 
That  they  may  have  their  wish,  to  try  with  me 
In  battle  which  the  stronger  proves,  they  all, 
Or  I  alone  against  them  ;  since  by  strength 
They  measure  all,  of  other  excellence 
Not  emulous,  nor  care  who  then  excels ; 
Nor  other  strife  with  them  do  I  vouchsafe. 

So  spake  the  Son,  and  into  terror  changed 


1  Deut.  xxxii.  35.     Rom.  xii.  19. 

c^ : ^ -^ 


^ — ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  165 

His  count'nance,  too  severe  to  be  beheld 
And  full  of  wrath  bent  on  his  enemies. 
At  once  the  Four'  spread  out  their  starry  wings 
With  dreadful  shake  contiguous,  and  the  orbs 
Of  his  fierce  chariot  roU'd,  as  with  the  sound 
Of  torrent  floods,  or  of  a  numerous  host. 
He  on  His  impious  foes  right  onward  drove, 
Gloomy  as  night ;  under  His  burning  wheels 
The  steadfast  empyrean  shook  throughout, 
All  but  the  throne  itself  of  God.     Full  soon 
Among  them  He  arrived,  in  His  right  hand 
Grasping  ten  thousand  thunders,  which  He  sent 
Before  Him,  such  as  in  their  souls  infix'd 
Plagues ;  they  astonish'd  all  resistance  lost, 
All  courage  ;  down  their  idle  weapons  dropp'd  ; 
O'er  shields,  and  helms,  and  helmed  heads  He  rode 
Of  thrones  and  mighty  seraphim  prostrate. 
That  wish'd  the  mountams  now  might  be  again  ^ 
Thrown  on  them  as  a  shelter  from  his  ire. 
Nor  less  on  either  side  tempestuous  fell 
His  arrows,  from  the  fourfold  visaged  Four, 
Distinct  with  eyes,  and  from  the  living  wheels 
Distinct  alike  with  multitude  of  eyes ; 
One  spirit  in  them  ruled,  and  every  eye 
Glared  light'ning,  and  shot  forth  pernicious  fire 
Among  th'  accurst,  that  wither'd  all  their  strength. 
And  of  their  wonted  vigor  left  them  drain'd, 
Exhausted,  spiritless,  afflicted,  fall'n. 
Yet  half  his  strength  He  put  not  forth,  but  check'd 
His  thunder  in  mid  volley,  for  He  meant 
Not  to  destroy,  but  root  them  out  of  heav'n. 
The  overthrown  He  raised,  and  as  a  herd 
Of  goats  or  timorous  flock  together  throng'd 
Drove  them  before  Him  thunder-struck,  pursued 

'  The  four  Cherubim.     Ezek.  i.  -  Rev.  vi.  i6. 

^ ^ ^ 


1         i66  PARADISE  LOST. 

With  terrors  and  with  furies  to  the  bounds 
j  And  crystal  wall  of  heav'n,  which  op'ning  wide 

Roll'd  inward,  and  a  spacious  gap  disclosed 
;  Into  the  wasteful  deep ;  the  monstrous  sight 

Struck  them  with  horror  backward  ;  but  far  worse 
Urged  them  behind ;  headlong  themselves  they  threw 
Down  from  the  verge  of  heav'n,  eternal  wrath 
Burn'd  after  them  to  the  bottomless  pit. 
Hell  heard  th'  unsufferable  noise,  hell  saw 
Heav'n  ruining  from  heav'n,  and  would  have  fled 
Affrighted  ;  but  strict  fate  had  cast  too  deep 
Her  dark  foundations,  and  too  fast  had  bound. 
i  Nine  days  they  fell ;  confounded  Chaos  roar'd. 

And  felt  tenfold  confusion  in  their  fall 
Through  his  wild  anarchy  ;  so  huge  a  rout 
Incumber'd  him  with  ruin  :  hell  at  last 
Yawning  received  them  whole,  and  on  them  closed ; 
Hell  their  fit  habitation,  fraught  with  fire 
Unquenchable,  the  house  of  woe  and  pain. 
Disburden'd  heav'n  rejoiced,  and  soon  repair'd 
Her  mural  breach,  returning  whence  it  roll'd. 

Sole  victor  from  th'  expulsion  of  his  foes 
Messiah  His  triumphal  chariot  turn'd  : 
To  meet  Him  all  His  saints,  who  silent  stood 
Eye-witnesses  of  His  almighty  acts. 
With  jubilee  advanced;  and  as  they  went, 
Shaded  with  branching  palm,  each  order  bright 
Sung  triumph,  and  Him  sung  victorious  King, 
Son,  Heir,  and  Lord,  to  Him  dominion  given. 
Worthiest  to  reign  :  He  celebrated  rode 
Triumphant  through  mid  heav'n,  into  the  courts 
And  temple  of  His  mighty  Father  throned 
On  high ;  who  into  glory  Him  received,^ 
Where  now  He  sits  at  the  right  hand  of  bliss. 


1  I  Tim.  iii.  i6.     Heb.  i.  3. 


-e 


Hell  at  last. 
Yawning,  received  them  whole. 


Page  166. 


a- ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  167 

Thus  measuring  things  in  heav'n  by  things  on  earth, 
At  thy  request,  and  that  thou  may'st  beware 
By  what  is  past,  to  thee  I  have  reveal'd 
What  might  have  else  to  human  race  been  hid  : 
The  discord  which  befell,  and  war  in  heav'n 
Among  th'  angelic  powers,  and  the  deep  fall 
Of  those  too  high  aspirmg,  who  rebell'd 
With  Satan,  he  who  envies  now  thy  state, 
Who  now  is  plotting  how  he  may  seduce 
Thee  also  from  obedience,  that  with  him 
Bereaved  of  happiness  thou  may'st  partake 
His  punishment,  eternal  misery, 
Which  would  be  all  his  solace  and  revenge. 
As  a  despite  done  against  the  Most  High, 
Thee  once  to  gain  companion  of  his  woe. 
But  listen  not  to  his  temptations,  warn 
Thy  weaker,  let  it  profit  thee  to  have  heard 
By  terrible  example  the  reward 
Of  disobedience ;  firm  they  might  have  stood, 
Yet  fell :  remember,  and  fear  to  transgress. 


^ -4" 


^ 


^ 


i68  PARADISE  LOST. 


BOOK  VII. 

The  Argument. 

Raphael,  at  the  request  of  Adam,  relates  how,  and  wherefore,  this  world  was  first  created; 
that  God,  afier  the  expelling  of  Satan  and  his  angels  out  ol  heaven,  declared  his  pleasure  to 
create  another  world,  and  other  creatures  to  dwell  therein;  sends  hii  Son  with  glory  and 
attendance  of  ange  s  to  perform  the  work  of  creation  in  six  days ;  the  angels  celebrate  with 
hymns  the  performance  thereof,  and  his  reascension  into  heaven. 

Descend  from  heav'n,  Urania/  by  that  name 
If  rightly  thou  art  call'd,  whose  voice  divine 
Following,  above  th'  Olympian  hill  I  soar, 
Above  the  flight  of  Pegasean  wing.^ 
The  meaning,  not  the  name,  I  call  :  for  thou 
Nor  of  the  Muses  nine,^  nor  on  the  top 
Of  old  Olympus  dwell'st,  but  heav'nly  born, 
Before  the  hills  appear'd,  or  fountain  flow'd, 
Thou  with  eternal  Wisdom  didst  converse, 
Wisdom  thy  sister,  and  with  her  didst  play 
In  presence  of  th'  almighty  Father,  pleased 
With  thy  celestial  song.     Up  led  by  thee 
Into  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns  I  have  presumed. 
An  earthly  guest,  and  drawn  empyreal  air 
Thy  temp'ring ;  with  like  safety  guided  down 
Return  me  to  my  native  element : 
Least  from  this  flying  steed  unrein'd,  as  once 
Bellerophon,^  though  from  a  lower  clime, 


1  The  word  "Urania"  signifies  heavenly.      Here  the  Poet  means  Heavenly  Muse. 

2  The  winged  horse,  Pegasus,  said  to  belong  to  the  Muses,  was  emblematical  of  flights  of 
imagination. 

a  Urania,  amongst  the  Muses,  was  the  patroness  of  Astronomy. 

*  Bellerophon,  the  son  of  Glaucus,  was  a  beautiful  youth,  who  was  falsely  accused  by 
Sthenoboea,  Queen  of  Argos,  to  her  husband.  Proetus,  King  of  Argos,  sent  him,  in  conse- 
quence, into  Lycia  with  letters  commanding  that  he  should  be  exposed  to  destruction.  He 
escaped  from  many  perilous  enterprises  forced  on  him  ;  but  when  he  attempted  to  mount  to 
heaven  on  the  wmged  horse,  Pegasus  (incited  to  the  trial  by  vainglory) ,  he  was  thrown  off, 

4^ —4 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  169 

Dismounted,  on  the  Aleian  field  I  fall 

Erroneous,  there  to  wander  and  forlorn. 

Half  yet  remains  unsung,  but  narrower  bound. 

Within  the  visible  diurnal  sphere; 

Standing  on  earth,  not  rapt  above  the  pole, 

More  safe  I  sing  with  mortal  voice,  unchanged 

To  hoarse  or  mute,  though  fall'n  on  evil  days. 

On  evil  days  though  fall'n  and  evil  tongues  ; 

In  darkness,  and  with  dangers  compast  round, 

And  solitude  ;  yet  not  alone,  while  thou 

Visit'st  my  slumbers  nightly,  or  when  morn 

Purples  the  east.     Still  govern  thou  my  song, 

Urania,  and  fit  audience  find,  though  few. 

But  drive  far  off  the  barbarous  dissonance 

Of  Bacchus  and  his  revellers,  the  race 

Of  that  wild  rout  that  tore  the  Thracian  bard 

In  Rhodope,  where  woods  and  rocks  had  ears 

To  rapture,  till  the  savage  clamor  drown'd 

Both  harp  and  voice  ;  nor  could  the  Muse  defend 

Her  son.^     So  fail  not  thou,  who  thee  implores : 

For  thou  art  heav'nly,  she  an  empty  dream. 

Say,  Goddess,  what  ensued  when  Raphael, 

The  affable  arch-angel,  had  forewarn'd 

Adam  by  dire  example  to  beware 

Apostasy,  by  what  befell  in  heav'n 

To  those  apostates,  lest  the  like  befall 

In  Paradise  to  Adam  or  his  race, 

Charged  not  to  touch  the  interdicted  tree, 

If  they  transgress,  and  slight  that  sole  command. 

So  easily  obey'd,  amid  the  choice 

Of  all  tastes  else  to  please  their  appetite 

and  wandered  on  the  Aleian  plains  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.     The  Aleian  plains  were  in 
Cilicia. 

1  Orpheus  was  torn  to  pieces  by  the  Bacchanalian  women  of  Rhodope,  a  mountain  of 
Thrace;  nor  could  his  mother,  the  Muse  Calliope,  save  him.  Newton  thinks  that  Milton 
here  alludes  to  the  dissolute  Court  of  Charles  II, 


^ 


170 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Though  wand'ring.     He  with  his  consorted  Eve 

The  story  heard  attentive,  and  was  fill'd 

With  admiration  and  deep  muse,  to  hear 

Of  things  so  high  and  strange,  things  to  their  thought 

So  unimaginable  as  hate  in  heav'n, 

And  war  so  near  the  peace  of  God  in  bhss 

With  such  confusion  :  but  the  evil  soon 

Driven  back  redounded  as  a  flood  on  those 

From  whom  it  sprung,  impossible  to  mix 

With  blessedness.     Whence  Adam  soon  repeal'd 

The  doubts  that  in  his  heart  arose :  and  now 

Led  on,  yet  sinless,  with  desire  to  know 

What  nearer  might  concern  him,  how  this  world 

Of  heav'n  and  earth  conspicuous  first  began, 

When,  and  whereof  created,  for  what  cause, 

What  within  Eden,  or  without  was  done 

Before  his  memory,  as  one  whose  drouth 

Yet  scarce  allay'd  still  eyes  the  current  stream. 

Whose  liquid  murmur  heard  new  thirst  excites, 

Proceeded  thus  to  ask  his  heav'nly  guest. 

Great  things,  and  full  of  wonder  in  our  ears, 
Far  differing  from  this  world,  thou  hast  reveal'd, 
Divine  interpreter,  by  favor  sent 
Down  from  the  empyrean  to  forewarn 
Us  timely  of  what  might  else  have  been  our  loss. 
Unknown,  which  human  knowledge  could  not  reach  : 
For  which  to  the  infinitely  Good  we  owe 
Immortal  thanks,  and  His  admonishment 
Receive  with  solemn  purpose  to  observe 
Immutably  His  sovereign  will,  the  end 
Of  what  we  are.     But  since  thou  hast  vouchsafed 
Gently  for  our  instruction  to  impart 
Things  above  earthly  thought,  which  yet  concern'd 
Our  knowing,  as  to  highest  wisdom  seem'd, 
Deign  to  descend  now  lower,  and  relate 
What  may  no  less  perhaps  avail  us  known ; 


^ 


S a, 


171 


PARADISE  LOST. 

How  first  began  this  heav'n  which  we  behold 

Distant  so  high,  with  moving  fires  adorn'd 

Innumerable,  and  this  which  yields  or  fills 

All  space,  the  ambient  air  wide  interfused 

Embracing  round  this  florid  earth  ;  what  cause 

Moved  the  Creator  in  his  holy  rest 

Through  all  eternity  so  late  to  build 

In  Chaos ;  and  the  work  begun,  how  soon 

Absolved  ;  if  unforbid  thou  may'st  unfold 

What  we,  not  to  explore,  the  secrets,  ask 

Of  His  eternal  empire,  but  the  more 

To  magnify  His  works,  the  more  we  know. 

And  the  great  light  of  day  yet  wants  to  run 

Much  of  his  race  though  steep;  suspense  in  heav'n 

Held  by  thy  voice,  thy  potent  voice,  he  hears, 

And  longer  will  delay  to  hear  thee  tell 

His  generation,  and  the  rising  birth 

Of  nature  from  the  unapparent  deep  : 

Or  if  the  star  of  ev'ning  and  the  moon 

Haste  to  thy  audience,  night  with  her  will  bring 

Silence,  and  sleep  list'ning  to  thee  will  watch ; 

Or  we  can  bid  his  absence,  till  thy  song 

End,  and  dismiss  thee  ere  the  morning-  shine. 

Thus  Adam  his  illustrious  guest  besought; 
And  thus  the  Godlike  Angel  answer'd  mild. 

This  also  thy  request  with  caution  ask'd 
Obtain  :  though  to  recount  almighty  works 
What  words  or  tongue  of  seraph  can  suffice, 
Or  heart  of  man  suffice  to  comprehend  ? 
Yet  what  thou  canst  attain,  which  best  may  serve 
To  glorify  the  Maker,  and  infer 
Thee  also  happier,  shall  not  be  withheld 
Thy  hearing,  such  commission  from  above 
I  have  received,  to  answer  thy  desire 
Of  knowledge  within  bounds ;  beyond  abstain 
To  ask,  nor  let  thine  own  inventions  hope 

^-~— '- -^ 


^ -Qp 

172  PARADISE  LOST. 

Things  not  reveal'd,  which  th'  invisible  King/ 
Only  omniscient,  hath  supprest  in  night, 
To  none  communicable  in  earth  or  heav'n  : 
Enough  is  left  besides  to  search  and  know. 
But  knowledge  is  as  food,  and  needs  no  less 
Her  temperance  over  appetite,  to  know 
In  measure  what  the  mind  may  well  contain, 
Oppresses  else  with  surfeit,  and  soon  turns 
Wisdom  to  folly,  as  nourishment  to  wind. 

Know  then,  that  after  Lucifer  from  heav'n, 
So  call  him,  brighter  once  amidst  the  host 
Of  angels,  than  that  star  the  stars  among, 
Fell  with  his  flaming  legions  through  the  deep 
Into  his  place,  and  the  great  Son  return'd 
Victorious  with  his  saints,  th'  omnipotent 
Eternal  Father  from  his  throne  beheld 
Their  multitude,  and  to  his  Son  thus  spake. 

At  least  our  envious  foe  hath  fail'd,  who  thought 
All  like  himself  rebellious,  by  whose  aid 
This  inaccessible  high  strength,  the  seat 
Of  deity  supreme,  us  dispossest. 
He  trusted  to  have  seized,  and  into  fraud 
Drew  many,  whom  their  place  knows  here  no  more ; 
Yet  far  the  greater  part  have  kept,  I  see, 
Their  station,  heav'n  yet  populous  retains 
Number  sufficient  to  possess  her  realms 
Though  wide,  and  this  high  temple  to  frequent 
With  ministries  due  and  solemn  rites. 
But  lest  his  heart  exalt  him  in  the  harm 
Already  done,  to  have  dispeopled  heav'n, 
My  damage  fondly  deem'd,  I  can  repair 
That  detriment,  if  such  it  be  to  lose 
Self-lost,  and  in  a  moment  will  create 
Another  world,  out  of  one  man  a  race 

1  I  Tim.  i.  17. 


^ 


— ^ — Qp 

PARADISE  LOST.  173 

Of  men  innumerable,  there  to  dwell, 

Not  here,  till  by  degrees  of  merit  raised, 

They  open  to  themselves  at  length  the  way 

Up  hither,  under  long  obedience  tried  ; 

And  earth  be  changed  to  heav'n,  and  heav'n  to  earth, 

One  kingdom,  joy  and  union  without  end. 

Meanwhile  inhabit  lax/  ye  powers  of  heav'n, 

And  thou  my  Word,  begotten  Son,  by  thee, 

This  I  perform,  speak  thou,  and  be  it  done. 

My  overshadowing  spirit  and  might  with  thee 

I  send  along ;  ride  forth,  and  bid  the  deep 

Within  appointed  bounds  be  heav'n  and  earth  ; 

Boundless  the  deep,  because  I  am  who  fill 

Infinitude,  nor  vacuous  the  space  ; 

Though  I  uncircumscribed  myself  retire, 
And  put  not  forth  my  goodness,  which  is  free 
To  act,  or  not,  necessity  and  chance 
Approach  not  me,  and  what  I  will  is  fate. 

So  spake  th'  Almighty,  and  to  what  he  spake 
His  Word,  the  Filial  Godhead,  gave  effect. 
Immediate  are  the  acts  of  God,  more  swift 
Than  time  or  motion,  but  to  human  ears 
Cannot  without  process  of  speech  be  told. 
So  told  as  earthly  notion  can  receive. 
Great  triumph  and  rejoicing  was  in  heav'n, 
When  such  was  heard  declared  the  Almighty's  will ; 
Glory  they  sung  to  the  Most  High,  good  will 
To  future  men,  and  in  their  dwellings  peace  ; 
Glory  to  Him,  whose  just  avenging  ire 
Had  driven  out  th'  ungodly  from  His  sight 
And  th'  habitations  of  the  just;  to  Him, 
Glory  and  praise,  whose  wisdom  had  ordain'd 
Good  out  of  evil  to  create,  instead 
Of  spirits  malign  a  better  race  to  bring 


1  The  meaning  seems  to  be,  "Occupy  the  space  left  by  the  fall  of  the  angels.' 

4 ^ 


4 


^ ^ -^ 

174  PARADISE  LOST. 

Into  their  vacant  room,  and  thence  diffuse 
His  good  to  worlds  and  ages  infinite. 

So  sang  the  Hierarchies.     Meanwhile  the  Son 
On  his  great  expedition  now  appear'd, 
Girt  with  omnipotence,  with  radiance  crown'd 
Of  Majesty  divine,  sapience  and  love 
Immense,  and  all  his  Father  in  him  shone. 
About  his  chariot  numberless  were  pour'd 
Cherub  and  Seraph,  Potentates  and  Thrones, 
And  Virtues,  winged  Spirits,  and  Chariots  vving'd, 
From  the  armory  of  God,  where  stand  of  old 
Myriads,  between  two  brazen  mountains  lodged 
Against  a  solemn  day,  harness'd  at  hand. 
Celestial  equipage  ;  and  now  came  forth 
Spontaneous,  for  within  them  spirit  lived, 
Attendant  on  their  Lord  :  heav'n  opcn'd  wide 
Her  ever-during  gates,  harmonious  sound 
On  golden  hinges  moving,  to  let  forth 
The  King  of  glory,  in  his  powerful  Word 
And  Spirit  coming  to  create  new  worlds. 
On  heav'nly  ground  they  stood,  and  from  the  shore 
They  view'd  the  vast  immeasurable  abyss 
Outrageous  as  a  sea,  dark,  wasteful,  wild. 
Up  from  the  bottom  turn'd  by  furious  winds 
And  surging  waves,  as  mountains,  to  assault 
Heav'n's  highth,  and  with  the  centre  mix  the  pole. 

Silence,  ye  troubled  waves,  and,  thou  deep,  peace, 
Said  then  th'  omnific  Word,  your  discord  end. 

Nor  stay'd ;  but,  on  the  wings  of  Cherubim 
Uplifted,  in  Paternal  Glory  rode 
Far  into  Chaos  and  the  world  unborn  ; 
For  Chaos  heard  his  voice.     Him  all  his  train 
Followed  in  bright  procession  to  behold 
Creation,  and  the  wonders  of  his  might. 
Then  stay'd  the  fervid  wheels,  and  in  his  hand 
He  took  the  golden  compasses,^  prepared 


4 


Prov.  viii.  27.— RICHARDSON. 


-4" 


s-- 


<b 


PARADISE  LOST. 

In  God's  eternal  store,  to  circumscribe 
This  universe,  and  all  created  things. 
One  foot  he  centered,  and  the  other  turn'd 
Round  through  the  vast  profundity  obscure. 
And  said,  Thus  far  extend,  thus  far  thy  bounds, 
This  be  thy  just  circumference,  O  world. 
Thus  God  the  heav'n  created,  thus  the  earth, 
Matter  unform'd  and  void.     Darkness  profound 
Cover'd  th'  Abyss ;  but  on  the  watery  calm 
His  brooding  wings  the  Spirit  of  God  outspread,* 
And  vital  virtue  infused  and  vital  warmth 
Throughout  the  fluid  mass,  but  downward  purged 
The  black,  tartareous,  cold  infernal  dregs, 
Adverse  'to  life  :  then  founded,  then  conglobed 
Like  things  to  like  ;  the  rest  to  several  place 
Disparted,  and  between  spun  out  the  air. 
And  earth  self-balanced  on  her  centre  hung. 

Let  there  be  light,  said  God,  and  forthwith  light 
Ethereal,  first  of  things,  quintessence  pure. 
Sprung  from  the  deep,  and  from  her  native  east 
To  journey  through  the  aery  gloom  began. 
Sphered  in  a  radiant  cloud,  for  yet  the  sun 
Was  not ;  she  in  a  cloudy  tabernacle 
Sojourn'd  the  while.     God  saw  the  light  was  good; 
And  light  from  darkness  by  the  hemisphere 
Divided  :  light  the  day,  and  darkness  night, 
He  named.     Thus  was  the  first  day  ev'n  and  morn : 
Nor  past  uncelebrated,  nor  unsung 
By  the  celestial  choirs,  when  orient  light 
Exhaling  first  from  darkness  they  beheld. 
Birthday  of  heav'n  and  earth  ;  with  joy  and  shout  ^ 
The  hollow  universal  orb  they  fill'd, 
And  touch'd  their  golden  harps,  and  hymning  praised 
God  and  his  works,  creator  him  they  sung, 

1  Gen.  i.  1,2.  "'' Job  xxxviii.  4,  7. 


175 


^ 


-& 


176  •        PARADISE  LOST. 

Both  when  first  evening  was,  and  when  first  morn. 

Again  God  said,  Let  there  be  firmament ' 
Amid  the  waters,  and  let  it  divide 
The  waters  from  the  waters  :  and  God  made 
The  firmament,  expanse  of  liquid,  pure, 
Transparent,  elemental  air,  diffused 
In  circuit  to  the  uttermost  convex 
Of  this  great  round ;  partition  firm  and  sure, 
The  waters  underneath  from  those  above 
Dividing :  for  as  earth,  so  he  the  world 
Built  on  circumfluous  waters  calm,  in  wide 
Crystalline  ocean,  and  the  loud  misrule 
Of  Chaos  far  removed,  lest  fierce  extremes 
Contiguous  might  distemper  the  whole  frame  : 
And  heav'n  He  named  the  firmament :  so  ev'n 
And  morning  chorus  sung  the  second  day. 

The  earth  was  form'd,  but,  in  the  womb  as  yet 
*    Of  waters  embryon  immature  involved, 
Appear'd  not :  over  all  the  face  of  earth 
Main  ocean  flow'd,  not  idle,  but  with  warm 
Prolific  humor  soft'ning  all  her  globe 
Fermented  the  great  mother  to  conceive, 
Satiate  with  genial  moisture,  when  God  said, 
Be  gather'd  now,  ye  waters  under  heav'n, 
Into  one  place,  and  let  dry  land  appear. 
Immediately  the  mountains  huge  appear 
Emergent,  and  their  broad  bare  backs  upheave 
Into  the  clouds,  their  tops  ascend  the  sky. 
So  high  as  heaved  the  tumid  hills,  so  low 
Down  sunk  a  hollow  bottom  broad  and  deep, 
Capacious  bed  of  waters  :  thither  they  . 

Hasted  with  glad  precipitance,  uproll'd 
As  drops  on  dust  conglobing  from  the  dry  : 
Part  rise  in  crystal  wall,  or  ridge  direct, 

1  Firmament  signifies  expansion. — NEWTON. 

^ ^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  lyy 

For  haste ;  such  flight  the  great  command  imprest 

On  the  swift  floods  :  as  armies  at  the  call 

Of  trumpet,  for  of  armies  thou  hast  heard, 

Troop  to  their  standard,  so  the  watery  throng, 

Wave  rolling  after  wave,  where  way  they  found; 

If  steep,  with  torrent  rapture,  if  through  plain, 

Soft-ebbing:  nor  withstood  them  rock  or  hill, 

But  they,  or  under  ground,  or  circuit  wide 

With  serpent  error  wandering,  found  their  way, 

And  on  the  washy  oose  deep  channels  wore, 

Easy,  ere  God  had  bid  the  ground  be  dry, 

All  but  within  those  banks,  where  rivers  now 

Stream,  and  perpetual  draw  their  humid  train. 

The  dry  land,  earth  ;  and  the  great  receptacle 

Of  congregated  waters  He  call'd  seas ; 

And  saw  that  it  was  good,  and  said,  Let  the  earth 

Put  forth  the  verdant  grass,  herb  yielding  seed, 

And  fruit-tree  yielding  fruit  after  her  kind  ; 

Whose  seed  is  in  herself  upon  the  earth. 

He  scarce  had  said,  when  the  bare  earth,  till  then 

Desert  and  bare,  unsightly,  unadorned. 

Brought  forth  the  tender  grass,  whose  verdure  clad 

Her  universal  face  with  pleasant  green  ; 

Then  herbs  of  every  leaf,  that  sudden  flow'd 

Opening  their  various  colors,  and  made  gay 

Her  bosom  smelling  sweet:  and  these  scarce  blown, 

Forth  flourish'd  thick  the  clustering  vine,  forth  crept 

The  swelling  gourd,  up  stood  the  corny  reed 

Embattled  in  her  field  ;  and  the  humble  shrub, 

And  bush  with  frizzled  hair  implicit :  last 

Rose,  as  in  dance,  the  stately  trees,  and  spread 

Their  branches  hung  with  copious  fruit,  or  gemm'd 

Their  blossoms  :  with  high  woods  the  hills  were  crown'd. 

With  tufts  the  valleys  and  each  fountain  side : 

With  borders  long  the  rivers  :  that  earth  now 

Seem'd  like  to  heav'n,  a  seat  where  Gods  might  dwell, 


178  PARADISE  LOST. 

Or  wander  with  delight,  and  love  to  haunt 

Her  sacred  shades:  though  God  had* yet  not  rain'd 

Upon  the  earth,  and  man  to  till  the  ground 

None  was ;  but  from  the  earth  a  dewy  mist 

Went  up  and  water'd  all  the  ground,  and  each 

Plant  of  the  field ;  which,  ere  it  was  in  the  earth, 

God  made,  and  every  herb,  before  it  grew 

On  the  green  stem  :  God  saw  that  it  was  good : 

So  ev'n  and  morn  recorded  the  third  day. 

Again  th'  Almighty  spake  :  Let  there  be  lights 
High  in  th'  expanse  of  heaven  to  divide 
The  day  from  night ;  and  let  them  be  for  signs, 
For  seasons,  and  for  days,  and  circling  years ; 
And  let  them  be  for  lights,  as  I  ordain 
Their  office  in  the  firmament  of  heav'n 
To  give  light  on  the  earth ;  and  it  was  so. 
And  God  made  two  great  lights,  great  for  their  use 
To  man,  the  greater  to  have  rule  by  day, 
The  less  by  night,  altern :  and  made  the  stars, 
And  set  them  in  the  firmament  of  heav'n. 
To  illuminate  the  earth,  and  rule  the  day 
In  their  vicissitude,  and  rule  the  night. 
And  light  from  darkness  to  divide.     God  saw, 
Surveying  His  great  work,  that  it  was  good  : 
For  of  celestial  bodies  first  the  sun, 
A  mighty  sphere,  He  framed,  unlightsome  first. 
Though  of  ethereal  mould:  then  form'd  the  moon 
Globose,  and  every  magnitude  of  stars. 
And  sow'd  with  stars  the  heav'n  thick  as  a  field. 
Of  light  by  far  the  greater  part  he  took, 
Transplanted  from  her  cloudy  shrine,  and  placed 
In  the  sun's  orb,  made  porous  to  receive 
And  drink  the  liquid  light,  firm  to  retain 
Her  gather'd  beams,  great  palace  now  of  light. 
Hither,  as  to  their  fountain,  other  stars 
Repairing,  in  their  golden  urns  draw  light, 

^ -& 


And  God  said:  Lei  the  waters  generate 
Reptile  with  spawn  abundant,  living  soul. 


Page  178. 


^ Q7 

PARADISE  LOST.  179 

And  hence  the  morning  planet  gilds  her  horns  : 

By  tincture  or  reflection  they  augment 

Their  small  peculiar,  though  from  human  sight 

So  far  remote,  with  diminution  seen. 

First  in  his  east  the  glorious  lamp  was  seen, 

Regent  of  day,  and  all  the  horizon  round 

Invested  with  bright  rays,  jocund  to  run 

His  longitude  through  heav'n's  high  road :  the  gray 

Dawn  and  the  Pleiades  before  him  danced, 

Shedding  sweet  influence.^     Less  bright  the  moon, 

But  opposite  in  levell'd  west  was  set 

His  mirror,  with  full  face  borrowing  her  light 

From  him,  for  other  light  she  needed  none 

In  that  respect;  and  still  that  distance  keeps 

Till  night,  then  in  the  east  her  turn  she  shines, 

Revolved  on  heav'n's  great  axle,  and  her  reign 

With  thousand  lesser  lights  dividual  holds. 

With  thousand  thousand  stars  that  then  appear'd 

Spangling  the  hemisphere  :  then  first  adorn'd 

With  their  bright  luminaries,  that  set  and  rose. 

Glad  ev'ning  and  glad  morn  crown'd  the  fourth  day. 

And  God  said,  Let  the  Waters  generate^ 
Reptile  with  spawn  abundant,  living  soul : 
And  let  fowl  fly  above  the  earth,  with  wings 
Display'd  on  the  open  firmament  of  heav'n. 
And  God  created  the  great  whales,  and  each 
Soul  living,  each  that  crept,  which  plenteously 
The  waters  generated  by  their  kinds, 
And  every  bird  of  wing  after  his  kind  ; 

1  The  Pleiades  are  seven  stars  in  the  neck  of  the  constellation  Taurus,  which,  rising  about 
the  time  of  the  vernal  equinox,  are  called  by  the  Latins  "  Vergiliae."  Milton,  therefore,  in 
saying  that  the  Pleiades  danced  before  the  sun  at  his  creation,  implies  that  creation  began 
with  the  spring. — From  Newto.V.  It  has  been  a  recent  idea  ot  astronomers,  that  the 
Pleiades,  or  seven  suns — for  fixed  stars  are  suns— are  the  centre  of  the  universe  round  which 
the  heavens  revolve  ;  but  this  is  not  yet  clearly  ascertained.  Job  speaks  of  "the  sweet  in- 
fluences of  the  Pleiades." — See  Jobxxxviii.  31. 

2  Gen.  i.  20,  22. 


1 80  PARADISE  LOST. 

And  saw  that  it  was  good,  and  bless'd  them,  saying, 
Be  fruitful,  multiply,  and  in  the  seas, 
And  lakes,  and  running  streams,  the  waters  fill ; 
And  let  the  fowl  be  multiplied  on  the  earth. 
Forthwith  the  sounds  and  seas,  each  creek  and  bay. 
With  fry  innumerable  swarm,  and  shoals 
Of  fish,  that  with  their  fins  and  shining  scales 
Glide  under  the  green  wave,  in  sculls'  that  oft 
Bank  the  mid  sea :  part  single,  or  with  mate, 
Graze  the  seaweed  their  pasture,  and  through  groves 
Of  coral  stray,  or  sporting  with  quick  glance 
Show  to  the  sun  their  waved  coats  dropt  with  gold  ; 
Or  in  their  pearly  shells  at  ease  attend 
Moist  nutriment,  or  under  rocks  their  food 
In  jointed  armour  watch  :  on  smooth  the  seal 
And  bended  dolphins  play;  part  huge  of  bulk, 
Wallowing  unwieldy,  enormous  in  their  gait, 
Tempest  the  ocean  :  there  Leviathian, 
Hugest  of  living  creatures,  on  the  deep 
Stretch'd  like  a  promontory  sleeps,  or  swims 
And  seems  a  moving  land,  and  at  his  gills 
•  Draws  in,  and  at  his  trunk  spouts  out  a  sea. 
Meanwhile  the  tepid  caves,  and  fens,  and  shores. 
Their  brood  as  numerous  hatch  from  the  &^^,  that  soon 
Bursting  with  kindly  rupture  forth  disclosed 
Their  caUow  young;  but  feather'd  soon  and  fledge, 
They  summ'd  their  pens,^  and  soaring  the  air  sublime 
With  clang  despised  the  ground,  under  a  cloud 
In  prospect :  there  the  eagle  and  the  stork 
On  cliffs  and  cedar  tops  their  eyries  build  ■? 
Part  loosely  wing  the  region,  part  more  wise 
In  common  ranged  in  figure  ^  wedge  their  way, 


1  Schools.      We  say  a  "school  of  whales"  for  a  shoal  now.      Scull  comes  from  the  Saxon 
sceole,  an  assembly. 

■•i  Pens  are  feathers.    Here  the  meaning  is,  "They  used  their  pinions  as  full  fl2dged  birds." 

*  Jeremiah  xxxi.\.  27,  28. 

*  Migratory  birds  fly  in  shape  of  a  wedge,  one  bird  leading  alternately. 


^ 


a- ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  i8i 

Intelligent  of  seasons/  and  set  forth 

Their  aery  caravan,  high  over  seas 

Flying,  and  over  lands,  with  mutual  wing 

Easing  their  flight ;  so  steers  the  prudent  crane 

Her  annual  voyage,  borne  on  winds  ;  the  air 

Floats,  as  they  pass,  fann'd  with  unnumber'd  plumes. 

From  branch  to  branch  the  smaller  birds  with  song 

Solaced  the  woods,  and  spread  their  painted  wings 

Till  even  ;  nor  then  the  solemn  nightingale 

Ceased  warbling,  but  all  night  tuned  her  soft  lays. 

Others  on  silver  lakes  and  rivers  bath'd 

Their  downy  breast ;  the  swan,  with  arched  neck 

Between  her  white  wings  mantling  proudly,  rows 

Her  state  with  oary  feet :  yet  oft  they  quit 

The  dank,  and  rising  on  stiff  pennons  tower 

The  mid  aerial  sky.     Others  on  ground 

Walk'd  firm ;  the  crested  cock,  whose  clarion  sounds 

The  silent  hours,  and  the  other,  whose  gay  train 

Adorns  him,  color'd  with  the  florid  hue 

Of  rainbows  and  starry  eyes.     The  waters  thus 

With  fish  replenish'd,  and  the  air  with  fowl, 

Ev'ning  and  morn  solemnized  the  fifth  day. 

The  sixth,  and  of  creation  last,  arose 
With  ev'ning  harps  and  matin ;  when  God  said, 
Let  the  earth  bring  forth  soul  living  in  her  kind, 
Cattle  and  creeping  things,  and  beast  of  the  earth 
Each  in  their  kind.     The  earth  obey'd,  and  straight 
Op'ning  her  fertile  womb  teem'd  at  a  birth 
Innumerous  living  creatures,  perfect  forms, 
Limb'd  and  full  grown.     Out  of  the  ground  up  rose 
As  from  his  lair  the  wild  beast  where  he  wonns  ^ 
In  forest  wild,  in  thicket,  brake,  or  den ; 
Among  the  trees  in  pairs  they  rose,  they  walk'd  ; 

1  Jeremiah  viii.  7. 

'i  Wane  is  Saxon  for  to  dwell,  to  inhabit. — 6V^  Chaucer,  Sotnpnoure's  Tale,  line  7745. 

0^ ^ -4" 


^ _ ^ 

182  PARADISE  LOST. 

The  cattle  in  the  fields  and  meadows  green : 

Those  rare  and  solitary,  these  in  flocks 

Pasturing  at  once,  and  in  broad  herds  upsprung. 

The  grassy  clods  now  calved  ;  now  half  appear'd 

The  tawny  lion,  pawing  to  get  free 

His  hinder  parts,  then  springs  as  broke  from  bonds. 

And  rampant  shakes  his  brinded  mane ;  the  ounce, 

The  libbard,^  and  the  tiger,  as  the  mole 

Rising,  the  crumbled  earth  above  them  threw 

In  hillocks ;  the  swift  stag  from  under  ground 

Bore  up  his  branching  head ;  scarce  from  his  mould 

Behemoth,  biggest  born  of  earth,  upheaved 

His  vastness :  fleeced  the  flocks  and  bleating  rose. 

As  plants :  ambiguous  between  sea  and  land 

The  river  horse  and  scaly  crocodile. 

At  once  came  forth  whatever  creeps  the  ground. 

Insect  or  worm  ;  those  waved  their  limber  fans 

For  wings,  and  smallest  lineaments  exact 

In  all  the  liveries  deck'd  of  summer's  pride 

With  spots  of  gold  and  purple,  azure  and  green : 

These  as  a  line  their  long  dimension  drew. 

Streaking  the  ground  with  sinuous  trace ;  not  all 

Minims  ^  of  nature  ;  some  of  serpent  kind. 

Wondrous  in  length  and  corpulence,  involved 

Their  snaky  folds  and  added  wings.     First  crept 

The  parsimonious  emmet,  provident 

Of  future,  in  small  room  large  heart  inclosed, 

Pattern  of  just  equality  perhaps 

Hereafter,  join'd  in  her  popular  tribes 

Of  commonalty  :  swarming  next  appear'd 

The  female  bee,  that  feeds  her  husband  drone 

Deliciously,  and  builds  her  waxen  cells 

With  honey  stored  :  the  rest  are  numberless, 

And  thou  their  natures  know'st,  and  gav'st  them  names. 


1  Leopard.  *  Something  exceedingly  small,  a  dwarf. 


^ 


4 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  1S3 

Needless  to  thee  repeated  ;  nor  unknown 
The  serpent,  subtlest  beast  of  all  the  field, 
Of  huge  extent  sometimes,  with  brazen  eyes 
And  hairy  mans  terrific,  though  to  thee 
Not  noxious,  but  obedient  at  thy  call. 

Now  heav'n  in  all  her  glory  shone,  and  roll'd 
Her  motions,  as  the  great  First  Mover's  hand 
First  wheel'd  their  course ;  earth  in  her  rich  attire 
Consummate  lovely  smiled ;  air,  water,  earth. 
By  fowl,  fish,  beast,  was  flown,  was  swum,  was  walk'd 
Frequent ;  and  of  the  sixth  day  yet  remain'd  ; 
There  wanted  yet  the  master  work,  the  end 
Of  all  yet  done  ;  a  creature,  who  not  prone 
And  brute  as  other  creatures,  but  indued 
With  sanctity  of  reason,  might  erect 
His  stature,  and  upright  with  front  serene 
Govern  the  rest,  self-knowing ;  and  from  thence 
Magnanimous  to  correspond  with  heav'n  ; 
But  grateful  to  acknowledge  whence  his  good 
Descends,  thither  with  heart  and  voice,  and  eyes 
Directed  in  devotion,. to  adore 
And  worship  God  supreme,  who  made  him  chief 
Of  all  His  works  :  therefore  the  omnipotent 
Eternal  Father, — for  where  is  not  He 
Present? — thus  to  his  Son  audibly  spake. 

Let  us  make  now  man  in  our  image,  man  ^ 
In  our  similitude,  and  let  them  rule 
Over  the  fish  and  fowl  of  sea  and  air. 
Beast  of  the  field  and  over  all  the  earth. 
And  every  creeping  thing  that  creeps  the  ground. 
This  said,  He  form'd  thee,  Adam,  thee,  O  man, 
Dust  of  the  ground,  and  in  thy  nostrils  breathed 
The  breath  of  life :  in  his  own  image  he 
Created  thee,  in  the  image  of  God 

1  Gen.  i.  26-28. 

^B — -4^ 


s ^ 

184  PARADISE  LOST. 

Express,  and  thou  becam'st  a  living  soul. 

Male  he  created  thee,  but  thy  consort 

Female  for  race;  then  bless'd  mankind,  and  said, 

Be  fruitful,  multiply,  and  fill  the  earth, 

Subdue  it,  and  throughout  dominion  hold 

Over  fish  of  the  sea,  and  fowl  of  the  air. 

And  every  living  thing  that  moves  on  the  earth. 

Wherever  thus  created,  for  no  place 

Is  yet  distinct  by  name,  thence,  as  thou  know'st. 

He  brought  thee  into  this  delicious  grove, 

This  garden,  planted  with  the  trees  of  God, 

Delectable  both  to  behold  and  taste ; 

And  freely  all  their  pleasant  fruit  for  food 

Gave  thee,  all  sorts  are  here  that  all  th'  earth  yields. 

Variety  without  end;  but  of  the  tree, 

Which  tasted  works  knowledge  of  good  and  evil, 

Thou  may'st  not:  in  the  day  thou  eat'st  thou  diest; 

Death  is  the  penalty  imposed  ;  beware. 

And  govern  well  thy  appetite ;  lest  sin 

Surprise  thee,  and  her  black  attendant  death. 

Here  finish'd  He,  and  all  that. He  had  made 
View'd,  and  behold  all  was  entirely  good  ; 
So  ev'n  and  morn  accomplish'd  the  sixth  day: 
Yet  not,  till  the  Creator  from  His  work 
Desisting,  though  unwearied,  up  return'd. 
Up  to  theheav'n  of  heav'ns  His  high  abode. 
Thence  to  behold  this  new-created  world, 
Th'  addition  of  His  empire,  how  it  show'd 
In  prospect  from  His  throne,  how  good,  how  fair. 
Answering  His  great  idea.     Up  He  rode, 
Follow'd  with  acclamation  and  the  sound 
Symphonious  of  ten  thousand  harps,  that  tuned 
Angelic  harmonies  :  the  earth,  the  air 
Resounded,  thou  remember' st,  for  thou  heard'st  ; 
The  heav'ns  and  all  the  constellations  rung. 
The  planets  in  their  station  list'ning  stood, 

45 ^ 


a ^ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  ^       185 

While  the  bright  pomp  ascended  jubilant. 

Open,  ye  everlasting  gates,  they  sung/ 

Open,  ye  heavens,  your  living  doors  ;  let  in 

The  great  Creator,  from  His  work  return'd 

Magnificent,  His  six  days'  work,  a  world : 

Open,  and  henceforth  oft ;  for  God  will  deign 

To  visit  oft  the  dwellings  of  just  men 

Delighted,  and  with  frequent  intercourse 

Thither  will  send  his  winged  messengers 

On  errands  of  supernal  grace.     So  sung 

The  glorious  train  ascending  :  He  through  heav'n, 

That  open'd  wide  her  blazing  portals,  led 

To  God's  eternal  house  direct  the  way, 

A  broad  and  ample  road,  whose  dust  is  gold, 

And  pavement  stars,  as  stars  to  thee  appear 

Seen  in  the  galaxy,  that  milky  way 

Which  nightly  as  a  circling  zone  thou  seest 

Powder'd  with  stars.     And  now  on  earth  the  seventh 

P^v'ning  arose  in  Eden,  for  the  sun 

Was  set,  and  twilight  from  the  east  came  on, 

Forerunning  night ;  when  at  the  holy  mount 

Of  heaven's  high  seated  top,  th'  imperial  throne 

Of  Godhead,  fix'd  forever  firm  and  sure, 

The  Filial  Power  arrived,  and  sat  Him  down 

With  His  great  Father  ;  for  He  also  went 

Invisible,  yet  stay'd,  such  privilege 

I  lath  Omnipresence,  and  the  work  ordain'd, 

Author  and  end  of  all  things,  and  from  work 

Now  resting,  bless'd  and  hallow'd  the  seventh  day, 

As  resting  on  that  day  from  all  His  work, 

But  not  in  silence  holy  kept;  the  harp 

Had  work,  and  rested  not ;  the  solemn  pipe 

And  dulcimer,  all  organs  of  sweet  stop, 

1  Psalm  xxiv.  7.  This  Psalm  was  sung  by  the  Levites  when  the  ark  of  God  was  carried 
up  into  the  sanctuary  on  Mount  Sion,  and  is  understood  as  a  prophecy  of  our  Lord's  ascen- 
sion.— From  Newton,  and  Manfs  "Bible." 


a- -^ 

1 86  PARADISE  LOST. 

All  sounds  on  fret  by  string  or  golden  wire, 

Temper'd  soft  tunings,  intermix'd  with  voice 

Choral  or  unison  :  of  incense,  clouds 

Fuming  from  golden  censers,  hid  the  mount. 

Creation  and  the  six  days'  acts  they  sung; 

Great  are  thy  works,  Jehovah,  infinite 

Thy  power ;  what  thought  can  measure  thee,  or  tongue 

Relate  thee  ?  greater  now  in  thy  return 

Than  from  the  giant  angels;  thee  that  day 

Thy  thunders  magnified  ;  but  to  create 

Is  greater  than  created  to  destroy. 

Who  can  impair  thee,  mighty  King,  or  bound 

Thy  empire?  easily  the  proud  attempt 

Of  Spirits  apostate  and  their  counsels  vain 

Thou  hast  repell'd,  while  impiously  they  thought 

Thee  to  diminish,  and  from  thee  withdraw 

The  number  of  thy  worshippers.     Who  seeks 

To  lessen  thee,  against  his  purpose  serves 

To  manifest  the  more  thy  might :  his  evil 

Thou  usest,  and  from  thence  creat'st  more  good. 

Witness  this  new-made  world,  another  heav'n 

From  heaven  gate  not  far,  founded  in  view 

On  the  clear  hyaline,  the  glassy  sea ; 

Of  amplitude  almost  immense,  with  stars 

Numerous,  and  every  star  perhaps  a  world 

Of  destined  habitation  ;  but  thou  know'st 

Their  seasons  :  among  these  the  seat  of  men. 

Earth,  with  her  nether  ocean  circumfused. 

Their  pleasant  dwelling  place.     Thrice  happy  men, 

And  sons  of  men,  whom  God  hath  thus  advanced. 

Created  in  His  image,  there  to  dwell 

And  worship  Him;  and  in  reward  to  rule 

Over  His  works,  on  earth,  in  sea,  or  air. 

And  multiply  a  race  of  worshippers 

Holy  and  just :  thrice  happy,  if  they  know 

Their  happiness,  and  persevere  upright. 

'^~ ■ ^ 


^ ^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  187 

So  sung  they,  and  the  empyrean  rung 
With  Hallelujahs  :  thus  was  Sabbath  kept. 
And  thy  request  think  now  fulfill'd,  that  ask'd 
How  first  this  world  and  face  of  things  began,- 
And  what  before  thy  memory  was  done 
From  the  beginning,  that  posterity 
Inform'd  by  thee  might  know.     If  else  thou  seek'st 
Aught,  not  surpassing  human  measure  say. 


d^ ^ 


a- ^ 

1 88  PARADISE  LOST. 


BOOK  VIII. 

The  Argument. 

Adam  inquires  concerning  celestial  motions,  is  doubtfully  answer'd,  and  exhorted  to 
search  rather  things  more  worthy  of  knowledge.  Adam  assents  ;  and  still  desirous  to  detain 
Raphael,  relates  to  him  what  he  remember'd  since  his  own  creation  ;  his  placing  in  Paradise; 
his  talk  with  God  concerning  solitude  and  fit  society;  his  fir=t  meeting  and  nuptials  with  Eve; 
his  discourse  with  the  angel  thereupon;  who,  after  admonitions  repeated,  departs. 

The  angel  ended,  and  in  Adam's  ear 

So  charming  left  his  voice,  that  he  awhile 

Thought  him  still  speaking,  still  stood  fix'd  to  hear : 

Then,  as  new  waked,  thus  gratefully  replied. 

What  thanks  sufficient,  or  what  recompence 
Equal,  have  I  to  render  thee,  divine 
Historian?  who  thus  largely  hast  allay'd 
The  thirst  I  had  of  knowledge,  and  vouchsafed 
This  friendly  condescension  to  relate 
Things  else  by  me  unsearchable,  now  heard 
With  wonder,  but  delight,  and,  as  is  due, 
With  glory  attributed  to  the  high 
Creator  :  something  yet  of  doubt  remains 
Which  only  thy  solution  can  resolve. 
When  I  behold  this  goodly  frame,  this  world, 
Of  heav'n  and  earth  consisting,  and  compute 
Their  magnitudes,  this  earth  a  spot,  a  grain, 
An  atom,  with  the  firmament  compared 
And  all  her  number'd  stars,  that  seem  to  roll 
Spaces  incomprehensible,  for  such 
Their  distance  argues,  and  their  swift  return 
Diurnal,  merely  to  officiate  light 
Round  this  opacous  earth,  this  punctual  ^  spot. 
One  day  and  night,  in  all  their  vast  survey 

1  Small  as  a  point  in  punctuation. 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  189 

Useless  besides  ;  reasoning  I  oft  admire, 
How  nature  wise  and  frugal  could  commit 
'     Such  disproportions,  with  superfluous  hand 
So  many  nobler  bodies  to  create, 
Greater  so  manifold,  to  this  one  use. 
For  aught  appears,  and  on  their  orbs  impose 
Such  restless  revolution  day  by  day 
Repeated,  while  the  sedentary  earth, 
That  better  might  with  far  less  compass  move, 
Served  by  more  noble  than  herself,  attains 
Her  end  without  least  motion,  and  receives. 
As  tribute,  such  a  sumless  journey  brought 
Of  incorporeal  speed,  her  warmth  and  light ; 
Speed,  to  describe  whose  swiftness  number  fails.' 

So  spake  our  sire,  and  by  his  count'nance  seem'd 
Entering  on  studious  thoughts  abstruse  ;  which  Eve 
Perceiving  where  she  sat  retired  in  sight, 
With  lowliness  majestic  from  her  seat, 
And  grace  that  won  who  saw  to  wish  her  sta\-, 
Rose,  and  went  forth  among  her  fruits  and  flow'rs. 
To  visit  how  they  prosper'd,  bud  and  bloom, 
Her  nursery  ;  they  at  her  coming  sprung 
And  touch'd  by  her  fair  tendance  gladlier  grew. 
Yet  went  she  not,  as  not  with  such  discourse 
Delighted,  or  not  capable  her  ear 
Of  what  was  high  :  such  pleasure  she  reserved, 
Adam  relating,  she  sole  auditress  ; 
Her  husband  the  relater  she  preferr'd 
Before  the  angel,  and  of  him  to  ask 
Chose  rather ;  he,  she  knew,  would  intermix 
Grateful  digressions,  and  solve  high  dispute 
With  conjugal  caresses ;  from  his  lip 
Not  words  alone  pleased  her.     O  when  meet  now 

'  One  is  here  reminded  of  the  fact  that  Milton  had  held  communion  with  Galileo,  whose 
"  Eppure  si  muove  "  is  historical. 


^^— ^ 

190  PARADISE  LOST- 

Such  pairs,  in  love  and  mutual  honor  join'd? 
With  Goddess-like  demeanor  forth  she  went; 
Not  unattended,  for  on  her  as  queen 
A  pomp  of  winning  graces  waited  still, 
And  from  about  her  shot  darts  of  desire 
Into  all  eyes  to  wish  her  still  in  sight. 
And  Raphael  now  to  Adam's  doubt  proposed 
Benevolent  and  facile  thus  replied. 

To  ask  or  search  I  blame  thee  not,  for  heav'n 
Is  as  the  book  of  God  before  thee  set, 
Wherein  to  read  his  wondrous  works,  and  learn 
His  seasons,  hours,  or  days,  or  months,  or  years. 
This  to  attain,  whether  heav'n  move  or  earth, 
Imports  not,  if  thou  reckon  right;^  the  rest 
From  man  or  angel  the  great  architect 
Did  wisely  to  conceal,  and  not  divulge 
His  secrets  to  be  scann'd  by  them  who  ought 
Rather  admire  ;  or  if  they  list  to  try 
Conjecture,  He  his  fabric  of  the  heav'ns 
Hath  left  to  their  disputes,  perhaps  to  move 
His  laughter  at  their  quaint  opinions  wide 
Hereafter,  when  they  come  to  model  heav'n 
And  calculate  the  stars,  how  they  will  wield 
The  mighty  frame,  how  build,  unbuild,  contrive, 
To  save  appearances  ;  how  gird  the  sphere 
With  centric  and  eccentric  scribbled  o'er, 
Cycle  and  epicycle,^  orb  in  orb. 
Already  by  thy  reasoning  this  I  guess, 
Who  art  to  lead  thy  offspring,  and  supposest, 
That  bodies  bright  and  greater  should  not  serve 

tt  The  subject  was  then  matter  of  discussion,  and,  in  the  Roman  Church,  of  persecution. 
The  Ptolemaic  system  made  the  earth  the  centre  of  the  system,  and  the  sun  and  stars  move 
round  it;  the  Copernican  made  the  sun  the  centre,  and  the  earth  move,  as  Galileo  asserted. 

2  These  terms  were  used  by  Ptolemaic  astronomers  to  explain  their  system.  Centric  means 
a  sphere  whose  centre  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  earth  ;  eccentric,  a  sphere  whose  centre 
is  quite  different  to  that  of  the  earth.     Cycle  is  a  circle  ;  epicycle,  a  circle  on  another  circle. 


4- 


4 


a ^ — • 

PARADISE  LOST.  191 

The  less  not  bright,  nor  heav'n  such  journeys  run, 

Earth  sitting  still,  when  she  alone  receives 

The  benefit.     Consider  first,  that  great 

Or  bright  infers  not  excellence  :  the  earth 

Though,  in  comparison  of  heav'n,  so  small, 

Nor  glistering,  may  of  solid  good  contain 

More  plenty  than  the  sun,  that  barren  shines, 

Whose  virtue  on  itself  works  no  effect. 

But  in  the  fruitful  earth  :  there  first  received 

His  beams,  unactive  else,  their  vigor  find. 

Yet  not  to  earth  are  those  bright  luminaries 

Officious,  but  to  thee  earth's  habitant. 

And  for  the  heav'n's  wide  circuit,  let  it  speak 

The  Maker's  high  magnificence,  who  built 

So  spacious,  and  His  line  stretch'd  out  so  far ; 

That  man  may  know  he  dwells  not  in  his  own  ; 

An  edifice  too  large  for  him  to  fill, 

Lodged  in  a  small  partition,  and  the  rest 

Ordain'd  for  uses  to  his  Lord  best  known. 

The  swiftness  of  those  circles  attribute, 

Though  numberless,  to  his  omnipotence, 

That  to  corporeal  substances  could  add 

Speed  almost  spiritual :  me  thou  think'st  not  slow, 

Who  since  the  morning  hour  set  out  from  heav'n 

Where  God  resides,  and  ere  midday  arrived 

In  Eden,  distance  inexpressible 

By  numbers  that  have  name.     But  this  I  urge. 

Admitting  motion  in  the  heav'ns,  to  show 

Invalid  that  which  thee  to  doubt  it  moved  ; 

Not  that  I  so  affirm,  though  so  it  seem 

To  thee  who  hast  thy  dwelling  here  on  earth. 

God,  to  remove  his  ways  from  human  sense. 

Placed  heav'n  from  earth  so  far,  that  earthly  sight, 

If  it  presume,  might  err  in  things  too  high, 

And  no  advantage  gain.     What  if  the  sun 

Be  centre  to  the  world,  and  other  stars, 

^ —^ 


s- 


^ 


192  PARADISE  LOST. 

By  his  attractive  virtue  and  their  own 

Incited,  dance  about  him  various  rounds  ? 

Their  wand'ring  course  now  high,  now  low,  then  hid, 

Progressive,  retrograde,  or  standing  still, 

In  six  thou  seest  ;*  and  what  if  sev'nth  to  these 

The  planet  earth,  so  steadfast  though  she  seem. 

Insensibly  three  different  motions^  move? 

Which  else  to  several  spheres  thou  must  ascribe, 

Moved  contrary  with  thwart  obliquities. 

Or  save  the  sun  his  labor,  and  that  swift 

Nocturnal  and  diurnal  rhomb  supposed, 

Invisible  else  above  all  stars,  the  wheel 

Of  day  and  night;  which  needs  not  thy  belief, 

If  earth  industrious  of  herself  fetch  day 

Travelling  east,  and  with  her  part  averse 

From  the  sun's  beam  meet  night,  her  other  part 

Still  luminous  by  his  ray.     What  if  that  light, 

Sent  from  her  through  the  wide  transpicuous  air, 

To  the  terrestrial  moon  be  as  a  star 

Enlight'ning  her  by  day,  as  she  by  night 

This  earth  ?  reciprocal,  if  land  be  there, 

Fields  and  inhabitants  :  her  spots  thou  seest ' 

As  clouds,  and  clouds  may  rain,  and  rain  produce 

Fruits  in  her  soften'd  soil,  for  some  to  eat 

Allotted  there  ;  and  other  suns  perhaps 

With  their  attendant  moons  thou  wilt  descry, 

Communicating  male  and  female  light, 

Which  two  great  sexes  animate  the  world. 

Stored  in  each  orb  perhaps  with  some  that  live. 

For  such  vast  room  in  nature  unpossess'd 

By  living  soul,  desert  and  desolate, 

1  The  moon  and  the  five  planets  visible  to  Adam. 

2  Three  motions  were  attributed  by  the  Copernicans  to  the  earth.  The  diurnal,  round 
her  own  axis,  causing  day  and  night ;  the  annual,  round  the  sun  ;  and  the  moUon  of  libration, 
as  it  is  called,  whereby  the  earth  so  proceeds  in  her  orbit,  as  that  her  axis  is  constantly 
parallel  to  the  axis  of  the  world." — Newto.v. 


^ 


^ ep 

PARADISE  LOST.  193 

Only  to  shine,  yet  scarce  to  contribute 
Each  orb  a  glimpse  of  lights  convey'd  so  far 
Down  to  this  habitable,  which  returns 
Light  back  to  them,  is  obvious  to  dispute. 
But  whether  thus  these  things,  or  whether  not, 
Whether  the  sun  predominant  in  heav'n 
Rise  on  the  earth,  or  earth  rise  on  the  sun, 
He  from  the  east  his  flaming  road  begin. 
Or  she  from  west  her  silent  course  advance 
With  inoffensive  pace,  that  spinning  sleeps 
On  her  soft  axle,  while  she  paces  ev'n, 
And  bears  thee  soft  with  the  smooth  air  alone. 
Solicit  not  thy  thoughts  with  matters  hid, 
Leave  them  to  God  above.  Him  serve  and  fear : 
Of  other  creatures,  as  Him  pleases  best, 
Wherever  placed,  let  Him  dispose:  joy  thou 
In  what  He  gives  to  thee,  this  paradise 
And  thy  fair  Eve  ;  heav'n  is  for  thee  too  high 
To  know  what  passes  there  ;  be  lowly  wise : 
Think  only  what  concerns  thee  and  thy  being ; 
Dream  not  of  other  worlds,  what  creatures  there 
Live,  in  what  state,  condition,  or  degree, 
Contented  that  thus  far  hath  been  reveal'd 
Not  of  earth  only,  but  of  highest  heav'n. 

To  whom  thus  Adam,  clear'd  of  doubt,  replied 
How  fully  hast  thou  satisfied  me,  pure 
Intelligence  of  heav'n,  angel  serene. 
And  freed  from  intricacies,  taught  to  live 
The  easiest  way,  nor  with  perplexing  thoughts 
To  interrupt  the  sweet  of  life,  from  whi-ch 
God  hath  bid  dwell  far  off  all  anxious  cares, 
And  not  molest  us,  unless  we  ourselves 
Seek  them  with  wand'ring  thoughts,  and  notions  vain. 
But  apt  the  mind  or  fancy  is  to  rove 
Uncheck'd,  and  of  her  roving  is  no  end  ; 
Till  warn'd,  or  by  experience  taught,  she  learn, 

^fe ^ 


-<b 

194  PARADISE  LOST. 

That  not  to  know  at  large  of  things  remote 

From  use,  obscure  and  subtle,  but  to  know 

That  which  before  us  lies  in  daily  life, 

Is  the  prime  wisdom  ;  what  is  more,  is  fume. 

Or  emptiness,  or  fond  impertinence, 

And  renders  us  in  things  that  most  concern 

Unpractised,  unprepared,  and  still  to  seek. 

Therefore  from  this  high  pitch  let  us  descend 

A  lower  flight,  and  speak  of  things  at  hand 

Useful,  whence  haply  mention  may  arise 

Of  something  not  unseasonable  to  ask 

By  sufferance,  and  thy  wonted  favor  deign'd. 

Thee  I  have  heard  relating  what  was  done 

Ere  my  remembrance  :  now  hear  me  relate 

My  story,  which  perhaps  thou  hast  not  heard ; 

And  day  is  not  yet  spent;  till  then  thou  seest 

How  subtly  to  detain  thee  I  devise, 

Inviting  thee  to  hear  while  I  relate. 

Fond,  were  it  not  in  hope  of  thy  reply. 

For  while  I  sit  with  thee,  I  seem  in  heav'n. 

And  sweeter  thy  discourse  is  to  my  ear 

Than  fruits  of  palm-tree  pleasantest  to  thirst 

And  hunger  both,  from  labor,  at  the  hour 

Of  sweet  repast :  they  satiate,  and  soon  fill, 

Though  pleasant ,  but  thy  words,  with  grace  divine 

Imbued,  bring  to  their  sweetness  no  satiety. 

To  whom  thus  Raphael  answer'd  heav'nly  meek. 
Nor  are  thy  lips  ungraceful,  sire  of  men, 
Nor  tongue  ineloquent;  for  God  on  thee 
Abundantly  His  gifts  hath  also  pour'd 
Inward  and  outward  both,  His  image  fair: 
Speaking  or  mute  all  comeliness  and  grace 
Attends  thee,  and  each  word,  each  motion  forms. 
Nor  less  think  we  in  heav'n  of  thee  on  earth, 
Than  of  our  fellow-servant,  and  inquire 
Gladly  into  the  ways  of  God  with  man : 

4^ ^ 


'S- 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  195 

For  God  we  see  hath  honor'd  thee,  and  set 

On  man  his  equal  love.     Say  therefore  on ; 

For  I  that  day  was  absent,  as  befell. 

Bound  on  a  voyage  uncouth  and  obscure, 

Far  on  excursion  toward  the  gates  of  hell, 

Squared  in  full  legion,  such  command  we  had, 

To  see  that  none  thence  issued  forth  a  spy, 

Or  enemy,  while  God  was  in  his  work. 

Lest  He_.  incensed  at  such  eruption  bold, 

Destruction  with  creation  might  have  mix'd. 

Not  that  they  durst  without  His  leave  attempt, 

But  us  He  sends  upon  His  high  behests 

For  state,  as  Sov'rcign  King,  and  to  enure 

Our  prompt  obedience.     Fast  we  found,  fast  shut 

The  dismal  gates,  and  barricadoed  strong  ; 

But  long  ere  our  approaching  heard  within 

Noise,  other  than  the  sound  of  dance  or  song, 

Torment,  and  loud  lament,  and  furious  rage. 

Glad  we  return'd  up  to  the  coasts  of  light 

Ere  sabbath  ev'ning :  so  we  had  in  charge. 

But  thy  relation  now  ;  for  I  attend. 

Pleased  with  thy  words,  no  less  than  thou  with  mine. 

So  spake  the  godlike  Power,  and  thus  our  sire. 
For  man  to  tell  how  human  life  began 
Is  hard ;  for  who  himself  beginning  knew  ? 
Desire  with  thee  still  longer  to  converse 
Induced  me.     As  new  waked  from  soundest  sleep 
Soft  on  the  flow'ry  herb  I  found  me  laid, 
In  balmy  sweat,  which  with  his  beams  the  sun 
Soon  dried,  and  on  the  reeking  moisture  fed. 
Straight  toward  heav'n  my  wond'ring  eyes  I  turn'd, 
And  gazed  a  while  the  ample  sky,  till  raised 
By  quick  instinctive  motion  up  I  sprung,. 
As  thitherward  endeavoring,  and  upright 
Stood  on  my  feet :  about  me  round  I  saw 
Hill,  dale,  and  shady  woods,  and  sunny  plains, 

d^ ^ 


a- -^ 

196  PARADISE  LOST. 

And  liquid  lapse  of  murmuring  streams  ;  by  these 
Creatures  that  lived,  and  moved,  and  walk'd,  or  flew  ; 
Birds  on  the  branches  warbling ;  all  things  smiled, 
With  fragrance  and  with  joy  my  heart  o'erflow'd. 
Myself  I  then  perused,  and  limb  by  limb 
Survey'd,  and  sometimes  went,  and  sometimes  ran 
With  supple  joints,  as  lively  vigor  led  : 
But  who  I  was,  or  where,  or  from  what  cause, 
Knew  not :  to  speak  I  tried,  and  forthwith  spake ; 
My  tongue  obey'd,  and  readily  could  name 
Whate'er  I  saw.     Thou  sun,  said  I,  fair  light. 
And  thou  enlighten'd  earth,  so  fresh  and  gay. 
Ye  hills  and  dales,  ye  rivers,  woods,  and  plains, 
And  ye  that  live  and  move,  fair  creatures,  tell. 
Tell,  if  ye  saw,  how  came  I  thus,  how  here  ? 
Not  of  myself,  by  some  great  Maker  then, 
In  goodness  and  in  power  pre-eminent: 
Tell  me,  how  may  I  know  Him,  how' adore. 
From  whom  I  have  that  thus  I  move  and  live, 
And  feel  that  I  am  happier  than  I  know. 
While  thus  I  call'd  and  stray 'd  I  knew  not  whither, 
From  where  1  first  drew  air,  and  first  beheld 
This  happy  light,  when  answer  none  return'd. 
On  a  green  shady  bank  profuse  of  flow'rs 
Pensive  I  sat  me  down ;  there  gentle  sleep 
First  found  me,  and  with  soft  oppression  seized 
My  drowsed  sense,  untroubled,  though  I  thought 
I  then  was  passing  to  my  former  state 
Insensible,  and  forthwith  to  dissolve : 
When  suddenly  stood  at  my  head  a  dream, 
Whose  inward  apparition  gently  moved 
My  fancy  to  believe  I  yet  had  being, 
And  lived :  one  came,  methought,  of  shape  divine, 
And  said.  Thy  mansion  wants  thee,  Adam,  rise, 
First  man,  of  men  innumerable  ordain"d 
First  father!  call'd  by  thee,  I  come  thy  guide 


^ : (b 

PARADISE  LOST.  19; 

To  the  garden  of  bliss,  thy  seat  prepared. 

So  saying,  by  the  hand  He  took  me  raised 

And  over  fields  and  waters,  as  in  air 

Smooth  sliding  without  step,  last  led  me  up 

A  woody  mountain  ;  whose  high  top  was  plain, 

A  circuit  wide,  enclosed,  with  goodliest  trees 

Planted,  with  walks,  and  bowers,  that  what  I  saw 

Of  earth  before  scarce  pleasant  seem'd.     Each  tree 

Loaden  with  fairest  fruit,  that  hung  to  the  eye 

Tempting,  stirr'd  in  me  sudden  appetite 

To  pluck  and  eat :  whereat  I  waked,  and  found 

Before  mine  eyes  all  real,  as  the  dream 

Had  lively  shadow'd  :  here  had  new  begun 

My  wand'ring,  had  not  He,  who  was  my  guide 

Up  hither,  from  among  the  trees  appear'd, 

Presence  divine.     Rejoicing,  but  with  awe. 

In  adoration  at  His  feet  I  fell 

Submiss  :  He  rcar'd  me,  and,  Whom  thou  sought'st  I  am, 

Said  mildly,  author  of  all  this  thou  seest 

Above,  or  round  about  thee,  or  beneath. 

This  paradise  I  give  thee,  count  it  thine 

To  till  and  keep,  and  of  the  fruit  to  eat : 

Of  every  tree  that  in  the  garden  grows 

Eat  freely  with  glad  heart ;  fear  here  no  dearth  : 

But  of  the  Tree  whose  operation  brings 

Knowledge  of  good  and  ill,  which  I  have  set 

The  pledge  of  thy  obedience  and  thy  faith 

Amid  the  garden  by  the  Tree  of  Life, 

Remember  what  I  warn  thee,  shun  to  taste, 

And  shun  the  bitter  consequence:  for  know, 

The  day  thou  eat'st  thereof,  my  sole  command 

Transgrest,  inevitably  thou  shalt  die  ; 

From  that  day  mortal,  and  this  happy  state 

Shalt  lose,  expell'd  from  hence  into  a  world 

Of  woe  and  sorrow.     Sternly  He  pronounced 

The  rigid  interdiction,  which  resounds 


^ 


^ 


^ ^ ^ 

198  PARADISE  LOST. 

Yet  dreadful  in  mine  ear,  though  in  my  choice 

Not  to  incur;  but  soon  His  clear  aspect 

Return'd  and  gracious  purpose  thus  renew'd. 

Not  only  these  fair  bounds,  but  all  the  earth 

To  thee  and  to  thy  race  I  give ;  as  lords 

Possess  it,  and  all  things  that  therein  live, 

Or  live  in  sea,  or  air,  beast,  fish,  and  fowl. 

In  sign  whereof  each  bird  and  beast  behold 

After  their  kinds ;  I  bring  them  to  receive 

From  thee  their  names,  and  pay  thee  fealty 

With  low  subjection  ;  understand  the  same 

Of  fish  within  their  wat'ry  residence. 

Not  hither  summon'd  since  they  cannot  change 

Their  element  to  draw  the  thinner  air. 

As  thus  he  spake,  each  bird  and  beast  behold 

Approaching  two  and  two ;  these  cow'ring  low 

With  blandishment,  each  bird  stoop'd  on  his  wing. 

I  named  them,  as  they  pass'd  and  understood 

Their  nature,  with  such  knowledge  God  indued 

My  sudden  apprehension  :  but  in  these 

I  found  not  what  methought  I  wanted  still  ; 

And  to  the  heav'nly  vision  thus  presumed. 

O  by  what  name,  for  thou  above  all  these, 
Above  mankind,  or  aught  than  mankind  higher, 
Surpassest  far  my  naming,  how  may  I 
Adore  thee,  Author  of  this  universe. 
And  all  this  good  to  man,  for  whose  well  being 
So  amply,  and  with  hands  so  liberal, 
.  Thou  hast  provided  all  things  ?  but  with  me 
I  see  not  who  partakes.      In  solitude 
What  happiness,  who  can  enjoy  alone, 
Or  all  enjoying,  what  contentment  find? 
Thus  I  presumptuous  ;  and  the  vision  bright. 
As  with  a  smile  more  brighten'd,  thus  replied. 

What  call'st  thou  solitude  ?     Is  not  the  earth 
With  various  living  creatures  and  the  air 


% 


-& 


PAR  AD/SB  LOST.  199 

Replenish'd,  and  all  these  at  thy  command 

To  come  and  play  before  thee  ?     Know'st  thou  not 

Their  language  and  their  ways  ?     They  also  know, 

And  reason  not  contemptibly ;  with  these 

Find  pastime,  and  bear  rule  ;  thy  realm  is  large. 

So  spake  the  universal  Lord,  and  seem'd 
So  ordering.     I,  with  leave  of  speech  implored, 
And  humble  deprecation,  thus  replied. 
Let  not  my  words  offend  thee,  heav'nly  Power, 
My  Maker,  be  propitious  while  I  speak. 
Hast  thou  not  made  mc  here  thy  substitute, 
And  these  inferior  far  beneath  me  set  ? 
Among  unequals  what  society 
Can  sort,  what  harmony,  or  true  delight? 
Which  must  be  mutual,  in  proportion  due, 
Given  and  received;  but  in  disparity, 
The  one  intense,  the  other  still  remiss, 
Cannot  well  suit  with  either,  but  soon  prove 
Tedious  alike  :  of  fellowship  I  speak 
Such  as  I  seek,  fit  to  participate 
All  rational  delight,  wherein  the  brute 
Cannot  be  human  consort :  they  rejoice 
Each  with  their  kind,  lion  with  lioness ; 
So  fitly  them  in  pairs  thou  hast  combined  ; 
Much  less  can  bird  with  beast,  or  fish  with  fowl, 
So  well  converse,  nor  with  the  ox  the  ape; 
Worse  then  can  man  with  beast,  and  least  of  all. 

Whereto  the  Almighty  answer'd,  not  displeased. 
A  nice  and  subtle  happiness  I  see 
Thou  to  thyself  proposest,  in  the  choice 
Of  thy  associates,  Adam,  and  wilt  taste 
No  pleasure,  though  in  pleasure,  solitary. 
What  think'st  thou  then  of  me,  and  this  my  state  ? 
Seem  I  to  thee  sufficiently  possest 
Of  happiness,  or  not  ?  who  am  alone 
From  all  eternity ;  for  none  I  know 

^ ^ : ^ 


er 


^ 


200  PARADISE  LOST. 

Second  to  me  or  like,  equal  much  less. 

How  have  I  then  with  whom  to  hold  converse, 

Save  with  the  creatures  which  I  made,  and  those 

To  me  inferior,  infinite  descents 

Beneath  what  other  creatures  are  to  thee  ? 

He  ceased,  I  lowly  answer'd.     To  attain 
The  highth  and  depth  of  thy  eternal  ways 
All  human  thoughts  come  short.  Supreme  of  things, 
Thou  in  thyself  art  perfect,  and  in  thcc 
Is  no  dcficience  found  :  not  so  is  man, 
But  in  degree,  the  cause  of  his  desire 
By  conversation  with  his  like  to  help, 
Or  solace  his  defects.     No  need  that  thou 
Should'st  propagate,  already  infinite. 
And  through  all  numbers  absolute,  though  one. 
But  man  by  number  is  to  manifest 
His  single  imperfection,  and  beget 
Like  of  his  like,  his  image  multiplied, 
In  unity  defective,  which  requires 
Collateral  love,  and  dearest  amity. 
Thou  in  thy  secrecy  although  alone, 
Best  with  thyself  accompanied,  seek'st  not 
Social  communication  ;  yet  so  pleased 
Canst  raise  thy  creature  to  what  highth  thou  wilt 
Of  union  or  communion,  deified  ; 
I  by  conversing  cannot  these  erect 
From  prone,  nor  in  their  ways  complacence  find. 
Thus  I  embolden'd  spake,  and  freedom  used 
Permissive  and  acceptance  found  ;  which  gain'd 
This  answer  from  the  gracious  Voice  Divine. 

Thus  far  to  try  thee,  Adam,  I  was  pleased, 
And  find  thee  knowing  not  of  beasts  alone. 
Which  thou  hast  rightly  named,  but  of  thyself, 
Expressing  well  the  spirit  within  thee  free. 
My  image,  not  imparted  to  the  brute  ; 
Whose  fellowship  therefore  unmeet  for  thee 

^^- -. -4" 


f- 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  201 

Good  reason  was  thou  freely  should'st  dislike 
And  be  so  minded  still :  I,  ere  thou  spak'st, 
Knew  it  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone, 
And  no  such  company  as  then  thou  saw'st 
Intended  thee,  for  trial  only  brought, 
To  see  how  thou  could'st  judge  of  fit  and  meet. 
What  next  I  bring  shall  please  thee,  be  assured, 
Thy  likeness,  thy  fit  help,  thy  other  self. 
Thy  wish  exactly  to  thy  heart's  desire. 

He  ended,  or  I  heard  no  more ;  for  now 
My  earthly  by  His  heav'nly  overpower'd, 
Which  it  had  long  stood  under,  strain'd  to  the  highth 
In  that  celestial  colloquy  sublime. 
As  with  an  object  that  excels  the  sense, 
Dazzled,  and  spent,  sunk  down,  and  sought  repair 
Of  sleep,  which  instantly  fell  on  me,  call'd 
By  nature  as  in  aid,  and  closed  mine  eyes.^ 
Mine  eyes  He  closed,  but  open  left  the  cell 
Of  fancy  my  internal  sight,  by  which 
Abstract  as  in  a  trance  methought  I  saw, 
Though  sleeping,  where  I  lay,  and  saw  the  shape 
Still  glorious  before  whom  awake  I  stood  ; 
Who  stooping  open'd  my  left  side,  and  took 
From  thence  a  rib,  with  cordial  spirits  warm, 
And  life-blood  streaming  fresh  ;  wide  was  the  wound, 
But  suddenly  with  flesh  fill'd  up  and  heal'd. 
The  rib  he  form'd  and  fashion'd  with  His  hands  ; 
Under  His  forming  hands  a  creature  grew 
Manlike,  but  different  sex,  so  lovely  fair, 
That  what  seem'd  fair  in  all  the  world,  seem'd  now 
Mean,  or  in  her  summ'd  up,  in  her  contain'd 
And  in  her  looks,  which  from  that  time  infused 
Sweetness  into  my  heart,  unfelt  before. 
And  into  all  things  from  her  air  inspired 

1  Gen.  ii.  21. 

^ ^ ^ 


^ ^ 

202  PARADJSE  LOST. 

The  spirit  of  love  and  amorous  delight. 
She  disappcar'd,  and  left  me  dark,  I  waked 
To  find  her,  or  for  ever  to  deplore 
Her  loss,  and  other  pleasures  all  abjure. 
When  out  of  hope,  behold  her,  not  far  off, 
Such  as  I  saw  her  in  my  dream,  adorn'd 
With  what  all  earth  or  heaven  could  bestow 
To  make  her  amiable  :  on  she  came, 
Led  by  her  heav'nly  Maker,  though  unseen, 
And  guided  by  his  voice,  nor  uninform'd 
Of  nuptial  sanctity  and  marriage  rites : 
Grace  was  in  all  her  steps,  heav'n  in  her  eye, 
In  every  gesture  dignity  and  love. 
I  overjoy'd  could  not  forbear  aloud. 

This  turn  hath  made  amends;  thou  hast  fulfill'd 
Thy  words,  Creator  bounteous  and  benign. 
Giver  of  all  things  fair,  but  fairest  this 
Of  all  thy  gifts,  nor  enviest.     I  now  see 
Bone  of  my  bone,  flesh  of  my  flesh,  myself 
Before  me ;  woman  is  her  name,  of  man 
Extracted ;  for  this  cause  he  shall  forego 
Father  and  mother,  and  to  his  wife  adhere  ; 
A.nd  they  shall  be  one  flesh,  one  heart,  one  soul. 

She  heard  me  thus,  and  though  divinely  brought. 
Yet  innocence  and  virgin  modesty. 
Her  virtue  and  the  conscience  of  her  worth, 
That  would  be  woo'd,  and  not  unsought  be  won, 
Not  obvious,  not  obtrusive,  but  retired, 
The  more  desirable,  or  to  say  all, 
Nature  herself,  though  pure  of  sinful  thought. 
Wrought  in  her  so,  that  seeing  me  she  turn'd ; 
I  follow'd  her,  she  what  was  honor  knew. 
And  with  obsequious  majesty  approved 
My  pleaded  reason.     To  the  nuptial  bow'r 
I  led  her  blushing  like  the  morn  :  all  heav'n, 
And  happy  constellations  on  that  hour 


PARADISE  LOST.  203 

Shed  their  selectest  influence  ;  the  earth 
Gave  sign  of  gratulation,  and  each  hill ; 
Joyous  the  birds;  fresh  gales  and  gentle  airs 
Whisper'd  it  to  the  woods,  and  from  their  wings 
Flung  rose,  flung  odors  from  the  spicy  shrub. 
Disporting,  till  the  amorous  bird  of  night 
Sung  spousal,  and  bid  haste  the  ev'ning  star 
On  his  hill  top  to  light  the  bridal  lamp. 

Thus  I  have  told  thee  all  my  state,  and  brought 
My  story  to  the  sum  of  earthly  bliss. 
Which  I  enjoy,  and  must  confess  to  find 
In  all  things  else  delight  indeed,  but  such 
As,  used  or  not,  works  in  the  mind  no  change, 
Nor  vehement  desire  ;  these  delicacies 
I  mean  of  taste,  sight,  smell,  herbs,  fruits,  and  flow'rs. 
Walks,  and  the  melody  of  birds  :  but  here 
Far  otherwise,  transported  I  behold. 
Transported  touch  ;  here  passion  first  I  felt. 
Commotion  strange,  in  all  enjoyments  else 
Superior  anci  unmoved,  here  only  weak 
Against  the  charm  of  beauty's  powerful  glance. 
Or  nature  fail'd  in  me,  and  left  some  part 
Not  proof  enough  such  object  to  sustain. 
Or  from  my  side  subducting  took  perhaps 
More  than  enough ;  at  least  on  her  bestow'd 
Too  much  of  ornament,  in  outward  show 
Elaborate,  of  inward  less  exact. 
For  well  I  understand  in  the  prime  end 
Of  nature  her  th'  inferior,  in  the  mind 
And  inward  faculties,  which  most  excel, 
Irt  outward  also  her  resembling  less 
His  image  who  made  both,  and  less  expressing 
The  character  of  that  dominion  giv'n 
O'er  other  creatures  :  yet  when  I  approach 
Her  loveliness,  so  absolute  she  seems. 
And  in  herself  complete,  so  well  to  know 

^fe—- . ^ 


^ -^ 

204  PARADISE  LOST. 

Her  own,  that  what  she  wills  to  do  or  say 
Seems  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest,  best: 
All  higher  knowledge  in  her  presence  falls 
Degraded,  wisdom  in  discourse  with  her 
Loses  discountenanced,  and  like  folly  shows  : 
Authority  and  reason  on  her  wait, 
As  one  intended  first,  not  after  made 
Occasionally  ;  and,  to  consummate  all, 
Greatness  of  mind  and  nobleness  their  seat 
Build  in  her  loveliest,  and  create  an  awe 
About  her,  as  a  guard  angelic  placed. 

To  whom  the  angel  with  contracted  brow. 
Accuse  not  nature,  she  hath  done  her  part ; 
Do  thou  but  thine,  and  be  not  diffident 
Of  wisdom  ;  she  deserts  thee  not,  if  thou 
Dismiss  not  her,  when  most  thou  need'st  her  nigh, 
By  attributing  overmuch  to  things 
Less  excellent,  as  thou  thyself  perceiv'st. 
For'what  admir'st  thou,  what  transpoits  thee  so  ? 
An  outside  ?  fair  no  doubt,  and  worthy  well 
Thy  cherishing,  thy  honoring,  and  thy  love, 
Not  thy  subjection  :  weigh  with  her  thyself; 
Then  value :  oft  times  nothing  profits  more 
Than  self-esteem,  grounded  on  just  and  right 
Well  managed :  of  that  skill  the  more  thou  know'st, 
The  more  she  will  acknowledge  thee  her  head, 
And  to  realities  yield  all  her  shows  ; 
Made  so  adorn  for  thy  delight  the  more, 
So  awful,  that  with  honor  thou  may'st  love 
Thy  mate,  who  sees  when  thou  art  seen  least  wise 
But  if  the  sense  of  touch  whereby  mankind 
Is  propagated  seem  such  dear  delight 
Beyond  all  other,  think  the  same  vouchsafed 
To  cattle  and  each  beast;  which  would  not  be 
To  them  made  common  and  divulged,  if  aught 
Therein  enjoy'd  were  worthy  to  subdue 

£^ ^ ^ (^ 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  205 

The  soul  of  man,  or  passion  in  him  move. 
What  higher  in  her  society  thou  find'st 
Attractive,  human,  rational,  love  still : 
In  loving  thou  dost  well,  in  passion  not, 
Wherein  true  love  consists  not :  love  refines 
The  thoughts,  and  heart  enlarges :  hath  his  seat 
In  reason,  and  is  judicious ;   is  the  scale 
By  which  to  heav'nly  love  thou  may'st  ascend, 
Not  sunk  in  carnal  pleasure  ;  for  whicli  cause 
Among  the  beasts  no  mate  for  thee  was  found. 

To  whom  thus  half  abash'd  Adam  replied. 
Neither  her  outside  form'd  so  fair,  nor  aught 
In  procreation  common  to  all  kinds, 
(Though  higher  of  the  genial  bed  by  far 
And  with  mysterious  reverence  I  deem,) 
So  much  delights  me,  as  those  graceful  acts, 
Those  thousand  decencies  that  daily  flow 
From  all  her  words  and  actions,  mix'd  with  love 
And  sweet  compliance,  which  declare  unfeign'd 
Union  of  mind,  or  in  us  both  one  soul ; 
Harmony  to  behold  in  wedded  pair. 
More  grateful  than  harmonious  sound  to  the  ear. 
Yet  these  subject  not ;  I  to  thee  disclose 
What  inward  thence  I  feel,  not  therefore  foil'd. 
Who  meet  with  various  objects,  for  the  sense 
Variously  representing  ;  yet  still  free 
Approve  the  best,  and  follow  what  I  approve. 
To  love  thou  blam'st  me  not,  for  love  thou  say'st 
Leads  up  to  heav'n,  isboth  the  way  and  guide ; 
Bear  with  me  then,  if  lawful  what  I  ask  : 
Love  not  the  heav'nly  spirits,  and  how  their  love 
Express  they?  by  looks  only?  or  do  they  mix 
Irradiance,  virtual  or  immediate  touch  ? 

To  whom  the  angel  with  a  smile  that  glow'd 
Celestial  rosy  red,  love's  proper  hue, 
Answer'd.     Let  it  suffice  thee  that  thou  know'st 


^ ^ • 

206  FARAD /SB  LOST. 

Us  happy,  and  without  love  no  happiness. 

Whatever  pure  thou  in  the  body  enjoy'st, 

(And  pure  thou  wert  created,)  we  enjoy 

In  eminence,  and  obstacle  find  none 

Of  membrane,  joint,  or  limb,  exclusive  bars: 

Easier  than  air  with  air,  if  spirits  embrace, 

Total  they  mix,  union  of  pure  with  pure 

Desiring  ;  nor  restrain'd  conveyance  need 

As  flesh  to  mix  with  flesh,  or  soul  with  soul. 

But  I  can  now  no  more  ;  the  parting  sun 

Beyond  the  earth's  green  Cape  and  Verdant  Isles,' 

Hesperean^  sets,  my  signal  to  depart. 

Be  strong,  live  happy,  and  love,  but  first  of  all 

Him  whom  to  love  is  to  obey,^  and  keep 

His  great  command  ;  take  heed  lest  passion  sway 

Thy  judgment  to  do  aught,  which  else  free  will 

Would  not  admit ;  thine  and  of  all  thy  sons 

The  weal  or  woe  in  thee  is  placed  ;  beware. 

I  in  thy  persevering  shall  rejoice. 

And  all  the  blest:  stand  fast;  to  stand  or  fall 

Free  in  thine  own  arbitrement  it  lies ; 

Perfect  within,  no  outward  aid  require, 

And  all  temptation  to  transgress  re])el. 

So  saying,  he  arose  ;  whom  Adam  thus 
Follow'd  with  benediction.     Since  to  part, 
Go,  heavenly  guest,  ethereal  messenger. 
Sent  from  whose  sov'reign  goodness  I  adore. 
Gentle  to  me  and  affable  hath  been 
Thy  condescension,  and  shall  be  honor'd  ever 
With  grateful  memory  :  thou  to  mankind 
Be  good  and  friendly  still,  and  oft  return. 

So  parted  they,  the  angel  up  to  heav'n 
From  the  thick  shade,  and  Adam  to  his  bower. 

1  Cape  de  Verde  and  the  Cape  de  Verde  Islands. 

2  In  the  West,  where  Hesperus,  the  evening  star,  appears. — From  Newton. 

3  I  John  V.  3. 


So  pai-ted  they  :  the  Angel  up  to  heaven 
From  the  thick  shade,  and  Adam  to  his  bower. 


Page  206. 


PARADISE  LOST.  207 


BOOK  IX. 

The  Argument. 

Satan  having  compassed  the  earth,  with  meditated  guile  returns  as  a  mist  by  night  into 
paradise,  and  enters  into  the  serpent  sleeping.  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  morning  go  forth  to 
their  labors,  which  Eve  proposes  to  divide  in  several  places,  each  laboring  apart:  Adam 
consents  not,  alleging  the  danger,  lest  that  enemy,  of  whom  they  were  forewarned,  should 
attempt  her  found  alone  :  Eve,  loth  to  be  thought  not  circumspect  or  firm  enough,  urges  her 
goingapart,  therather  desirous  to  make  trial  of  her  strength  :  Adam  al  last  yields:  the  serpent 
finds  her  alone;  his  subtle  approach,  first  gazing,  then  speaking,  with  much  n.ittery  extolling 
Eve  above  all  other  creatures.  Eve,  wondering  to  hear  the  serpent  speak,  asks  how  he 
attained  to  human  speech  and  such  understanding  not  till  now ;  the  serpent  answers,  that 
by  tasting  of  a  certain  tree  in  the  garden  he  attained  both  to  speech  and  reason,  till  then 
void  of  both  :  Eve  requires  him  to  bring  her  to  that  tree,  and  finds  it  to  be  the  Tree  of 
Knowledge  forbidden  ;  the  serpent,  now  grown  bolder,  with  many  wiles  and  arguments  in- 
duces her  ut  length  to  eat :  she,  pleased  wit'^  the  taste,  deliberates  a  while  whether  to  impart 
thereof  to  Adam,  or  not;  at  last  brings  him  of  the  fruit,  relates  what  persuaded  her  to  eat 
thereof:  Adam  at  first  am;ized,  but  perceiving  her  lost,  resolves,  through  vehemence  of  love, 
to  perish  with  her,  and  extenuating  the  trespass  eats  also  of  the  fruit  :  the  effects  thereof  in 
them  both  :  they  seek  to  cover  their  nakedness :  then  fall  to  variance  and  acclisation  of  one 
another. 

No  more  of  talk  where  God  or  Angel  guest 
With  man,  as  with  his  friend,  familiar  used 
To  sit  indulgent,  and  with  him  partake 
Rural  repast,  permitting  him  the  while 
Venial  discourse  unblamed  ;  I  now  must  change 
These  notes  to  tragic ;  foul  distrust,  and  breach 
Disloyal  on  the  part  of  man,  revolt, 
And  disobedience :  on  the  part  of  heav'n 
Now  alienated,  distance  and  distaste, 
Anger,  and  just  rebuke,  and  judgment  giv'n, 
That  brought  into  this  world  a  world  of  woe  ; 
Sin  and  her  shadow  Death,  and  misery- 
Death's  harbinger ;  sad  task,  yet  argument 
Not  less  but  more  heroic  than  the  wrath 
Of  stern  Achilles  on  his  foe^  pursued 

1  Hector.     See  /Had. 


208  PARADISE  LOST. 

Thrice  fugitive  about  Troy  wall ;  or  rage 

Of  Turnus  for   Lavinia  disespoused/ 

Or  Neptune's  ire  or  Juno's,  that  so  long 

Perplex'd  the  Greek^  and  Cytherea's  son  :^ 

If  answerable  style  I  can  obtain 

Of  my  celestial  patroness,  who  deigns 

Her  nightly  visitation  unimplored, 

And  dictates  to  me  slumb'ring,  or  inspires 

Easy  my  unpremeditated  verse  : 

Since  first  this  subject  for  heroic  song 

Pleased  me,  long  choosing  and  beginning  late  f 

Not  sedulous  by  nature  to  indite 

Wars,  hitherto  the  only  argument 

Heroic  deem'd,  chief  mast'ry  to  dissect 

With  long  and  tedious  havock  fabled  knights 

In  battles  feign'd  ;  the  better  fortitude 

Of  patience  and  heroic  martyrdom 

Unsung ;  or  to  describe  races  and  games, 

Or  tilting  furniture,  emblazon'd  shields, 

Impresses  quaint,''  caparisons  and  steeds  ; 

Bases"  and  tinsel  trappings,  gorgeous  knights 

At  joust  and  tournament;  then  marshall'd  feast 

Served  up  in  hall  with  sewers,  and  seneshals ; 

The  skill  of  artifice  or  office  mean, 

Not  that  which  justly  gives  heroic  name 

To  person  or  to  poem.     Me  of  these 

Nor  skill'd  nor  studious  higher  argument 

Remains,  sufficient  of  itself  to  raise 

That  name,  unless  an  age  too  late,  or  cold 

Climate,  or  years,  damp  my  intended  wing 

Depress'd,  and  much  they  may,  if  all  be  mine, 

Not  hers  who  brings  it  nightly  to  my  ear. 

1  See  /^neid.  2  Ulysses.  3  Eneas. 

<  Milton  is  supposed  to  have  begun  his  great  poem  in  his  forty-eighth  year,  and  finished  it 
in  his  fifty-seventh.     It  was  published  in  1667,  when  the  Poet  was  in  his  sixtieth  year. 
5  Devices  on  shields.  6  The  mantles  worn  by  knights. 


In  with  the  river  sunk,  and  with  it  rose, 
Satan. 


Page  209. 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  209 

The  sun  was  sunk,  and  after  him  the  star 

Of  Hesperus,  whose  office  is  to  brirfo- 

Twihght  upon  the  earth,  short  arbiter 
Twixt  day  and  night,  and  now  from  end  to  end 

Night's  hemisphere  had  veil'd  the  horizon  round : 

When  Satan  who  late  fled  before  the  threats 

Of  Gabriel  out  of  Eden,  now  improved 

In  meditated  fraud  and  malice,  bent 

On  man's  destruction,  maugrewhat  might  hap 

Of  heavier  on  himself,  fearless  return'd. 

By  night  he  fled,  and  at  midnight  return'd 

From  compassing  the  earth,  cautious  of  day, 

Since  Uriel  regent  of  the  sun  descried 

His  entrance,  and  forewarn'd  the  Cherubim 

That  kept  their  watch;  thence  full  of  anguish  driv'n, 

The  space  of  seven  continued  nights  he  rode 

With  darkness,  thrice  the  equinoctial  line 

He  circled,  four  times  cross'd  the  car  of  night, 

From  pole  to  pole,  traversing  each  colure  -^ 

On  the  eighth  return'd,  and  on  the  coast  averse 

From  entrance  or  Cherubic  watch  by  stealth 

Found  unsuspected  way.     There  was  a  place. 

Now  not,  though  sin,  not  time,  first  wrought  the  change, 

Where  Tigris  at  the  foot  of  paradise 

Into  a  gulf  shot  under  ground,  till  part 

Rose  up  a  fountain  by  the  Tree  of  Life  : 

In  with  the  river  sunk,  and  with  it  rose 

Satan  involved  in  rising  mist,  then  sought 

Where  to  lie  hid :  sea  he  had  search 'd,  and  land 

From  Eden  over  Pontus,-  and  the  pool 

Maeotis,  up  beyond  the  river  Ob;^ 

Downward  as  far  Antartic ;  and  in  length 

West  from  Orontes*  to  the  ocean  barr'd 


'  The  colures  are  two  great  imaginary  circles  encompassing  the  globe  from  north  to  south, 
batan  moved  thus  to  keep  in  the  shades  of  x{\g\i\.—From  Newton 
=  The  Euxine.  or  Black  Sea.     »  Oby,  a  river  of  Siberia,  near  the  pole.     *  A  river  of  Syria. 

14 


^- 


-& 


<b 


2IO  PARADISE  LOST. 

At  Darien  •}  thence  to  the  land  where  flows 
Ganges  and  Indus  r  thus  the  orb  he  roam'd 
With  narrow  search  ;  and  with  inspection  deep 
Consider'd  every  creature,  which  of  all 
Most  opportune  might  serve  his  wiles,  and  found 
The  serpent  subtlest  beast  of  all  the  field.-^ 
Him  after  long  debate,  irresolute 
Of  thoughts  revolved,  his  final  sentence  chose 
Fit  vessel,  fittest  imp  of  fraud,  in  whom 
To  enter,  and  his  dark  suggestions  hide 
From  sharpest  sight:  for  in  the  wily  snake 
Whatever  sleights  none  would  suspicious  mark. 
As  from  his  wit  and  native  subtlety 
Proceeding,  which  in  other  beasts  observed 
Doubt  might  beget  of  diabolic  pow'r 
Active  within  beyond  the  sense  of  brute. 
Thus  he  resolved,  but  first  from  inward  grief 
His  bursting  passion  into  plaints  thus  pour'd. 
O  earth,  how  like  to  heav'n,  if  not  preferr'd 
More  justly;  seat  worthier  of  gods,  as  built 
With  second  thoughts,  reforming  what  was  old ! 
For  what  God  after  better  worse  would  build  ? 
Terrestrial  heav'n,  danced  round  by  other  heav'ns 
That  shine,  yet  bear  their  bright  officious  lamps, 
Light  above  light,  for  thee  alone,  as  seems. 
In  thee  concentring  all  their  precious  beams 
Of  sacred  influence.     As  God  in  heav'n 
Is  centre,  yet  extends  to  all,  so  thou 
Centring  receiv'st  from  all  those  orbs :  in  thee, 
Not  in  themselves,  all  their  known  virtue  appears 
Productive  in  herb,  plant,  and  nobler  birth 
Of  creatures  animate  with  gradual  life 
Of  growth,  sense,  reason,  all  summ'd  up  in  man. 
WMth  what  delight  could  I  have  walk'd  thee  round, 


1  The  Isthmus  of  Panama.  "^  India.  ^  Gen.  iii.  i. 


4 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  211 

If  I  could  joy  in  aught,  sweet  interchange 

Of  hill  and  valley,  rivers,  woods,  and  plains, 

Now  land,  now  sea,  and  shores  with  forest  crown'd. 

Rocks,  dens,  and  caves !  hut  I  in  none  of  these 

Find  place  or  refuge ;  and  the  more  I  see 

Pleasures  about  me,  so  much  more  I  feel 

Torment  within  me,  as  from  the  hateful  siege 

Of  contraries  ;  all  good  to  me  becomes 

Bane,  and  in  heav'n  much  worse  would  be  my  state. 

But  neither  here  seek  I,  no  nor  in  heav'n 

To  dwell,  unless  by  mast'ring  heav'n's  Supreme; 

Nor  hope  to  be  myself  less  miserable 

By  what  I  seek,  but  others  to  make  such 

As  I,  though  thereby  worse  to  me  redound: 

For  only  in  destroying  I  find  ease 

To  my  relentless  thoughts ;  and  him  destroy'd, 

Or  won  to  what  may  work  his  utter  loss. 

For  whom  all  this  was  made,  all  this  will  soon 

Follow,  as  to  him  link'd  in  weal  or  woe; 

In  woe  then ;  that  destruction  wide  may  range. 

To  me  shall  be  the  glory  sole  among 

The  infernal  powers,  in  one  day  to  have  marr'd 

What  He,  Almighty  styled,  six  nights  and  days 

Continued  making,  and  who  knows  how  long 

Before  had  been  contriving,  though  perhaps 

Not  longer  than  since  I  in  one  night  freed 

From  servitude  inglorious  well  nigh  half 

Th'  angelic  name,  and  thinner  left  the  throng 

Of  His  adoiers.     He  to  be  avenged, 

And  to  repair  His  numbers  thus  impair'd, 

Whether  such  virtue  spent  of  old  now  fail'd 

More  angels  to  create,  if  they  at  least 

Are  His  created,  or  to  spite  us  more, 

Determined  to  advance  into  our  room 

A  creature  form'd  of  earth,  and  him  endow, 

Exalted  from  so  ba^  original, 


^^-4" 


S ■ -Qy 

212  PARADISE  LOST. 

With  heav'nly  spoils,  our  spoils  :  whit  he  decreed 
He  effected ;  man  he  made,  and  for  him  built 
Magnificent  this  world,  and  earth  his  seat. 
Him  lord  pronounced,  and,  O  indignity! 
Subjected  to  his  service  angel  wings,' 
And  flaming  ministers,  to  watch  and  tend 
Their  earthy  charge.     Of  these  the  vigilance 
I  dread,  and  to  elude,  thus  wrapp'd  in  .nist 
Of  midnight  vapor,  glide  obscure,  and  pry 
In  every  bush  and  brake,  where  hap  may  find 
The  serpent  sleeping,  in  whose  mazy  folds 
To  hide  me,  and  the  dark  intent  1  bring. 
O  foul  descent!  that  I,  who  erst  contended 
With  Gods  to  sit  the  highest,  am  now  constrain'd 
Into  a  beast,  and  mix'd  with  bestial  slime,  ^ 

This  essence  to  incarnate  and  imbrute, 
That  to  the  highth  of  deity  aspired ; 
But  what  will  not  ambition  and  revenge 
Descend  to  ?  who  aspires  must  down  as  low 
As  high  he  soar'd,  obnoxious  first  or  last 
To  basest  things.     Revenge,  at  first  though  sweet, 
Bitter  ere  long,  back  on  itself  recoils  : 
Let  it ;  I  reck  not,  so  it  light  well  aim'd, 
Since  higher  I  fall  short,  on  him  who  next 
Provokes  my  envy,  this  new  favorite 
Of  heav'n,  this  man  of  clay,  son  of  despite. 
Whom  us  the  more  to  spite  his  Maker  raised 
From  dust :  spite  then  with  spite  is  best  repaid. 
So  saying,  through  each  thicket  dank  or  dry, 
Like  a  black  mist  low  creeping,  he  held  on 
His  midnight  search,  where  soonest  he  might  find 
The  serpent :  him  fast  sleeping  soon  he  found, 
In  labyrinth  of  many  a  round  self-roll'd, 
His  head  the  midst,  well  stored  with  subtle  wiles  : 

1  Psalm  civ.  4.  * 


^ (b 

PARADISE  LOST.  213 

Not  yet  in  horrid  shade  or  dismal  den, 

Nor  nocent  yet,  but  on  the  grassy  herb. 

Fearless,  unfear'd  he  slept.     In  at  his  mouth 

The  devil  enter'd,  and  his  brutal  sense. 

In  heart  or  head,  possessing  soon  inspired 

With  act  intelligential ;  but  his  sleep 

Disturb'd  not,  waiting  close  th'  approach  of  morn. 

Now,  when  as  sacred  light  began  to  dawn 
m  Eden  on  the  humid  flo»v'rs,  that  breathed 
Their  morning  incense,  when  all  things  that  breathe 
From  th'  earth's  great  altar  send  up  silent  praise 
To  the  Creator  and  His  nostrils  fill 
With  grateful  smell,  forth  came  the  human  pair, 
And  join'd  their  vocal  worship  to  the  choir 
Of  creatures  wanting  voice;  that  done  partake 
The  season,  prime  for  sweetest  scents  and  airs : 
Then  commune,  how  that  day  they  best  may  ply 
Their  growing  work  ;  for  much  their  work  outgrew 
The  hands'  dispatch  of  two,  gard'ning  so  wide. 

And  Eve  first  to  her  husband  thus  began. 
Adam,  well  may  we  labor  still  to  dress 

This  garden,  still  to  tend  plant,  herb,  and  fiow'r, 

Our  pleasant  task  enjoin'd ;  but  till  more  hands' 

Aid  us,  the  work  under  our  labor  grows. 

Luxurious  by  restraint ;  what  wc  by  day 

Lop  overgrown,  or  prune,  or  prop,  or  bind. 

One  night  or  two  with  wanton  growth  derides, 

Tending  to  wild.     Thou  therefore  now  advise,' 

Or  hear  what  to  my  mind  first  thoughts  present ; 

Let  us  divide  our  labors,  thou  where  choice 

Leads  thee,  or  where  most  needs,  whether  to  wind 

The  woodbine  round  this  arbor,  or  direct 

The  clasping  ivy  where  to  climb,  while  I 

In  yonder  spring  ^  of  roses  intermix'd 


1  A  spring  is  a  small  coppice  or  thicket. 


^^ 


4 


4^  ^ 

214  PARADISE  LOST. 

With  myrtle  find  what  to  redress  till  noon : 
For  while  so  near  each  other  thus  all  day 
Our  task  we  choose,  what  wonder  if  so  near 
Looks  intervene  and  smiles,  or  object  new 
Casual  discourse  draw  on  ;  which  intermits 
Our  day's  work,  brought  to  little,  though  begun 
Early,  and  the  hour  of  supper  comes  unearn'd. 
To  whom  mild  answer  Adam  thus  return'd. 
Sole  Eve,  associate  sole,  to  me  beyond 
Compare  above  all  living  creatures  dear, 
Well  hast  thou  motion'd,  well  thy  thoughts  employ'd. 
How  we  might  best  fulfil  the  work  which  here 
God  hath  assign'd  us,  nor  of  me  shall  pass 
Unpraised  ;  for  nothing  lovelier  can  be  found 
'         In  woman,  than  to  study  household  good, 
And  good  works  in  her  husband  to  promote. 
Yet  not  so  strictly  hath  our  Lord  imposed 
Labor,  as  to  debar  us  when  we  need 
Refreshment,  whether  food,  or  talk  between, 
Food  of  the  mind,  or  this  sweet  intercourse 
Of  looks  and  smiles  ;  for  smiles  from  reason  flow. 
To  brute  denied,  and  are  of  love  the  food. 
Love  not  the  lowest  end  of  human  life. 
For  not  to  irksome  toil,  but  to  delight. 
He  made  us,  and  delight  to  reason  join'd 
These  paths  and  bowers  doubt  not  but  our  joint  hands 
Will  keep  from  wilderness  with  ease,  as  wide 
As  wc  need  walk,  till  younger  hands  ere  long 
Assist  us  :  but  if  much  converse  perhaps 
Thee  satiate,  to  short  absence  I  could  yield : 
For  solitude  sometimes  is  best  society, 
And  short  retirement  urges  sweet  return. 
But  other  doubt  possesses  me,  lest  harm 
Befall  thee  sever'd  from  me  ;  for  thou  know'st 
What  hath  been  warn'd  us,  what  malicious  foe 
Envying  our  happiness,  and  of  his  own 


% 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  215 

Despairing,  seeks  to  work  us  woe  and  shame 

By  sly  assault ;  and  somewhere  nigh  at  hand 

Watches,  no  doubt,  with  greedy  hope  to  find 

His  wish  and  best  advantage,  us  asunder, 

Hopeless  to  circumvent  us  join'd,  where  each 

To  other  speedy  aid  might  lend  at  need  ;^ 

Whether  his  first  design  be  to  withdraw 

Our  fealty  from  God,  or  to  disturb 

Conjugal  love,  than  which  perhaps  no  bliss 

Enjoy'd  by  us  excites  his  envy  more ; 

Or  this,  or  worse,  leave  not  the  faithful  side 

That  gave  thee  being,  still  shades  thee  and  protects. 

The  wife,  where  danger  or  dishonor  lurks, 

Safest  and  seemliest  by  her  husband  stays. 

Who  guards  her,  or  with  her  the  worst  endures. 

To  whom  the  virgin  majesty  of  Eve, 
As  one  who  loves,  and  some  unkindness  meets, 
With  sweet  austere  composure  thus  replied. 

Offspring  of  heav'n  and  earth,  and  all  earth's  lord. 
That  such  an  enemy  we  have,  who  seeks 
Our  ruin,  both  by  thee  inform'd  I  learn, 
And  from  the  parting  angel  overheard, 
As  in  a  shady  nook  I  stood  behind, 
Just  then  return'd  at  shut  of  evening  flow'rs. 
But  that  thou  shouldst  my  firmness  therefore  doubt 
To  God  or  thee,  because  we  have  a  foe 
May  tempt  it,  I  expected  not  to  hear. 
His  violence  thou  fear'st  not,  being  such, 
As  we,  not  capable  of  death  or  pain, 
Can  either  not  receiv^e,  or  can  repel. 
His  fraud  is  then  thy  fear,  which  plain  infers 
Thy  equal  fear,  that  my  firm  faith  and  love 
Can  by  his  fraud  be  shaken  or  seduced  : 
Thoughts,  which  how  found  they  harbor  in  thy  breast, 

1  Eccles.  iv.  9,  10. 

^ ^ ^ 


^ 


2i6  PARADISE  LOST. 

Adam,  misthought  of  her  to  thee  so  dear  ? 

To  whom  with  heaHng  words  Adam  replied. 
Daughter  of  God  and  man,  immortal  Eve, 
For  such  thou  art,  from  sin  and  blame  entire  : 
Not  diffident  of  thee  do  I  dissuade 
Thy  absence  from  my  sight,  but  to  avoid 
Th'  attempt  itself,  intended  by  our  foe  : 
For  he  who  tempts,  though  in  vain,  at  least  asperses 
The  tempted  with  dishonor  foul,  supposed 
Not  incorruptible  of  faith,  not  proof 
Against  temptation.     Thou  thyself  with  scorn 
And  anger  wouldst  resent  the  ofifer'd  wrong, 
Though  ineffectual  found:  misdeem  not  then, 
If  such  affront  I  labor  to  avert 
From  thee  alone,  which  on  us  both  at  once 
The  enemy,  though  bold,  will  hardly  dare. 
Or  daring,  first  on  me  th'  assault  shall  light. 
Nor  thou  his  malice  and  false  guile  contemn  ; 
Subtle  he  needs  must  be,  who  could  seduce 
Angels;  nor  think  superfluous  others'  aid. 
I  from  the  influence  of  thy  looks  receive 
Access  in  every  virtue,  in  thy  sight 
More  wise,  more  watchful,  stronger,  if  need  were 
Of  outward  strength ;  while  shame,  thou  looking  oti, 
Shame  to  be  overcome  or  over-reach'd, 
Would  utmost  vigor  raise,  and  raised  unite. 
Why  shouldst  not  thou  like  sense  within  thee  feel 
When  I  am  present,  and  thy  trial  choose 
With  me,  best  witness  of  thy  virtue  tried  ? 

So  spake  domestic  Adam  in  his  care 
And  matrimonial  love;  but  Eve,  who  thought 
Less  attributed  to  her  faith  sincere, 
Thus  her  reply  with  accent  sweet  renew'd. 

If  this  be  our  condition,  thus  to  dwell 
In  narrow  circuit  straiten'd  by  a  foe, 
Subtle  or  violent,  we  not  endued 


f-" 


■^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  217 

Single  with  like  defence,  wherever  met, 

How  are  we  happy,  still  in  fear  of  harm  ? 

But  harm  precedes  not  sin  :  only  our  foe 

Tempting  affronts  us  with  his  foul  esteem 

Of  our  integrity :  his  foul  esteem 

Sticks  no  dishonor  on  our  front,  but  turns 

Foul  on  himself;  then  wherefore  shunn'd  or  fear'd 

By  us?  who  rather  double  honor  gain 

From  his  surmise  proved  false,  find  peace  within, 

Favor  from  heav'n,  our  witness,  from  th'  event. 

And  what  is  faith,  love,  virtue,  unassay'd 

Alone,  without  exterior  help  sustain'd  ? 

Let  us  not  then  suspect  our  happy  state 

Left  so  imperfect  by  the  Maker  wise, 

As  not  secure  to  single  or  combined. 

Frail  is  our  happiness,  if  this  be  so. 

And  Eden  were  no  Eden  thus  exposed. 

To  whom  thys  Adam  fervently  replied. 
O  woman,  best  are  all  things  as  the  will 
Of  God  ordain'd  them  ;  His  creating  hand 
Nothing  imperfect  or  deficient  left 
Of  all  that  He  created,  much  less  man, 
Or  aught  that  might  his  happy  state  secure, 
Secure  from  outward  force;  within  himself 
The  danger  lies,  yet  lies  within  his  power : 
Against  his  \v\\\  he  can  receive  no  harm. 
But  God  left  free  the  will,  for  what  obeys 
Reason  is  free,  and  reason  He  made  right  ; 
But  bid  her  well  beware,  and  still  erect, 
Lest  by  some  fair  appearing  good  surprized 
She  dictate  false,  and  misinform  the  will 
To  do  what  God  expressly  hath  forbid. 
Not  then  mistrust,  but  tender  love  enjoins. 
That  I  should  mind  thee  oft,  and  mind  thou  me. 
Firm  we  subsist,  yet  possible  to  swerve. 
Since  reason  not  impossibly  may  meet 


a- -^ 

218  PARADISE  LOST. 

Some  specious  object  by  the  foe  suborn'd, 

And  fall  into  deception  unaware, 

Not  keeping  strictest  watch,  as  she  was  warn'd. 

Seek  not  temptation  then,  wliich  to  avoid 

Were  better,  and  most  likely,  if  from  me 

Thou  sever  not :  trial  will  come  unsought. 

Wouldst  thou  approve  .thy  constancy,  approve 

First  thy  obedience ;  th'  other  who  can  know  ? 

Not  seeing  thee  attempted,  who  attest? 

But  if  thou  think  trial  unsought  may  find 

Us  both  securer  than  thus  warn'd  thou  seem'st, 

Go ;  for  thy  stay,  not  free,  absents  thee  more ; 

Go  in  thy  native  innocence,  rely 

On  what  thou  hast  of  virtue,  summon  all, 

For  God  towards  thee  hath  done  His  part,  do  thine. 

So  spake  the  patriarch  of  mankind,  but  Eve 
Persisted,  yet  submiss,  though  last,  replied. 

With  thy  permission  then,  and  thuj  forewarn'd. 
Chiefly  by  what  thy  own  last  reasoning  words 
Touch'd  only,  that  our  trial,  when  least  sought, 
May  find  us  both  perhaps  far  less  prepared, 
The  willinger  I  go,  nor  much  expect 
A  foe  so  proud  will  first  the  weaker  seek ; 
So  bent,  the  more  shall  shame  him  his  repulse. 

Thus  saying,  from  her  husband's  hand  her  hand 
Soft  she  withdrew ;  and  like  a  wood-nymph  light. 
Oread  or  Dryad,  or  of  Delia's^  train. 
Betook  her  to  the  groves,  but  Delia's  self 
In  gait  surpass'd  and  goddess-like  deport. 
Though  not  as  she  with  bow  and  quiver  arm'd, 
But  with  such  gard'ning  tools  as  art,  yet  rude, 
Guiltless  of  fire  had  form'd,  or  angels  brought, 
To  Pales,^  or  Pomona,^  thus  adorn'd, 
Likest  she  seem'd  Pomona  when  she  fled 

1  A  surname  of  Diana,  because  born  in  Delos.     2  Goddess  of  sheepfolds.     ^  Goddess  of  fruits. 


^ a? 

PARADISE  LOST.  219 

Vertumnus/  or  to  Ceres  in  her  prime, 

Yet  virgin  of  Proserpina  from  Jove. 

Her  long  with  ardent  look  his  eye  pursued 

Delighted,  but  desiring  more  her  stay : 

Oft  he  to  her  his  charge  of  quick  return 

Repeated,  she  to  him  as  oft  engaged 

To  be  return'd  by  noon  amid  the  bow'r, 

And  all  things  in  best  order  to  invite 

Noontide  repast,  or  afternoon's  repose. 

O  much  deceived,  much  failing,  hapless  Eve, 

Of  thy  presumed  return  !  event  perverse  i 

Thou  never  from  that  hour  in  paradise 

Found'st  either  sweet  repast,  or  sound  repose ; 

Such  ambush  hid  among  sweet  flow'rs  and  shades 

Waited  with  hellish  rancor  imminent 

To  intercept  thy  way,  or  send  thee  back 

Despoil'd  of  innocence,  of  faith,  of  bliss. 

For  now,  and  since  first  break  of  dawn  the  fiend, 

Mere  serpent  in  appearance,  forth  was  come, 

And  on  his  quest,  where  likeliest  he  might  find 

The  only  two  of  mankind,  but  in  them 

The  whole  included  race,  his  purposed  prey. 

In  bow'r  and  field  he  sought,  where  any  tuft 

Of  grove  or  garden-plot  more  pleasant  lay 

Their  tendance  or  plantation  for  delight, 

By  fountain  or  by  shady  rivulet 

He  sought  them  both,  but  wish'd  his  hap  might  find 

Eve  separate ;  he  wish'd,  but  not  with  hope 

Of  what  so  seldom  chanced,  when  to  his  wish. 

Beyond  his  hope.  Eve  separate  he  spies, 

Veil'd  in  a  cloud  of  fragrance,  where  she  stood, 

Half  spied,  so  thick  the  roses  brushing  round 

About  her  glow'd,  oft  stooping  to  support 

Each  flow'r  of  slender  stalk,  whose  head  though  gay 

I  The  god  of  orc'.iards,  who  assumed  many  sliapes  to  win  Pomona. 

^ ^ 


^ -^ 

220  PARADISE  LOST. 

Carnation,  purple,  azure,  or  speck'd  with  gold, 
Hung  drooping  unsustain'd;  them  she  upstays 
Gently  with  myrtle  band,  mindless  the  while 
Herself,  though  fairest  unsupported  flow'r, 
From  her  best  prop  so  far.  and  storm  so  nigh. 
Nearer  he  drew,  and  many  a  walk  traversed 
Of  stateliest  covert,  cedar,  pine,  or  palm. 
Then  voluble  and  bold,  now  hid,  now  seen 
Among  thick-woven  arborets  and  flow'rs 
Imborder'd  on  each  bank,  the  hand  of  Eve  : 
Spot  more  delicious  than  those  gardens  feign'd 
Or  of  revived  Adonis,^  or  renown'd 
Alcinous,  host  of  old  Laertes'  son,^ 
Or  that,  not  mystic,  where  the  Sapient  king 
Held  dalliance  with  his  fair  Egyptian  spouse.^ 
Much  he  the  place  admired,  the  person  more. 
As  one  who  long  in  populous  city  pent 
Where  houses  thick  and  sewers  annoy  the  air, 
Forth  issuing  on  a  summer's  morn  to  breathe 
Among  the  pleasant  villages  and  farms 
Adjoin'd,  from  each  thing  met  conceives  delight, 
The  smell  of  grain,  or  tedded  grass,'*  or  kine, 
Or  dairy,  each  rural  sight,  each  rural  sound ; 
If  chance  with  nymph-like  step  fair  virgin  pass, 
What  pleasing  seem'd,  for  her  now  pleases  more, 
She  most,  and  in  her  look  sums  all  delight ; 
Such  pleasure  took  the  serpent  to  behold 
This  flow'ry  plat,  the  sweet  recess  of  Eve 
Thus  early,  thus  alone  :  her  heav'nly  form 
Angelic,  but  more  soft  and  feminine. 
Her  graceful  innocence,  her  every  air 
Of  gesture  or  least  action,  over  awed 
His  malice,  and  with  rapine  sweet  bereaved 

1  At  the  request  of  Venus,  he  was  restored  to  life. 

2  Ulysses.     For  description  of  the  gardens  of  Alcinous  see  the  "Odyssey." 

3  Gardens  of  Solomon.        *  Hay  spread  out. 


^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  221 

His  fierceness  of  the  fierce  intent  it  brought. 

That  space  the  evil  one  abstracted  stood 

From  his  own  evil,  and  for  the  time  remain'd 

Stupidly  good,  of  enmity  disarm'd, 

Of  guile,  of  hate,  of  envy,  of  revenge ; 

But  the  hot  hell  that  always  in  him  burns, 
•    Though  in  mid  heav'n,  soon  ended  his  delight. 

And  tortures  him  now  more,  the  more  he  sees 

Of  pleasure  not  for  him  ordain'd :  then  soon 

Fierce  hate  he  recollects,  and  all  his  thouglits 

Of  mischief,  gratulating,  thus  excites. 

Thoughts,  whither  have  ye  led  me,  with  what  sweet 

Compulsion  thus  transported  to  forget 

What  hither  brought  us  ?  hate,  not  love,  nor  hope 

Of  paradise  for  hell,  hope  here  to  taste 

Of  pleasure,  but  all  pleasure  to  destroy. 

Save  what  is  in  destroying  :  other  joy 

To  me  is  lost     Then  let  me  not  let  pass 

Occasion  which  now  smiles  ;  behold  alone 

The  woman  opportune  to  all  attempts, 

Her  husband,  (for  I  view  far  round,)  not  nigh. 

Whose  higher  intellectual  more  I  shun. 

And  strength,  of  courage  haughty,  and  of  limb 

Heroic  built,  though  of  terrestrial  mould  ; 

Foe  not  informidable  !  exempt  from  wound, 

I  not:  so  much  hath  hell  debased,  and  pain 

Infeebled  me,  to  what  I  was  in  heav'n. 
,    She  fair,  divinely  fair,  fit  love  for  gods, 

Not  terrible,  though  terror  be  in  love, 

And  beauty,  not  approach'd  by  stronger  hate, 

Hate  stronger  under  show  of  love  well  feign'd ; 

The  way  which  to  her  ruin  now  I  tend. 
So  spake  the  enemy  of  mankind,  enclosed 

In  serpent,  inmate  bad,  and  toward  Eve 

Address'd  his  way,  not  with  indented  wave, 

Prone  on  the  ground,  as  since,  but  on  h\e  rear, 


a- -^ 

222  PARADISE  LOST. 

Circular  base  of  rising  folds,  that  tower'd 
Fold  above  fold  a  surging  maze,  his  head 
Crested  aloft,  and  carbuncle  his  eyes ; 
With  burnish'd  neck  of  verdant  gold,  erect 
Amidst  his  circling  spires,  that  on  the  grass 
Floated  redundant:  pleasing  was  his  shape, 
And  lovely,  never  since  of  serpent  kind 
Lovelier,  not  those  that  in  Illyria  changed 
Hermione  and  Cadmus,^  or  the  God^ 
In  Epidaurus  ;  nor  to  which  transform'd 
Ammonian^  Jove  or  Capitoline  *  was  seen. 
He  with  Olympias,  this  with  her  who  bore 
Scipio  the  highth  of  Rome.     With  tract  oblique 
At  first,  as  one  who  sought  access,  but  fear'd 
To  interrupt,  side-long  he  works  his  way. 
As  when  a  ship  by  skillful  steersman  wrought 
Nigh  river's  mouth  or  foreland,  where  the  wind 
Veers  oft,  as  oft  so  steers,  and  shifts  her  sail : 
So  varied  he,  and  of  his  tortuous  train 
Curl'd  many  a  wanton  wreath  in  sight  of  Eve, 
To  lure  her  eye ;  she,  busied,  heard  the  sound 
Of  rustling  leaves,  but  minded  not  as  used 
To  such  disport  before  her  through  the  field, 
From  every  beast,  more  duteous  at  her  call, 
Than  at  Circean  call  the  herd  disguised. 
He  bolder  now  uncall'd  before  her  stood; 
But  as  in  gaze  admiring:  oft  he  bow'd 
His  turret  crest,  and  sleek  enamell'd  neck, 
Fawning,  and  lick'd  the  ground  whereon  she  trod. 
His  gentle  dumb  expression  turn'd  at  length 

1  Cadmus,  who  introduced  letters  into  Greece,  and  Hermione  his  wife.  They  were 
changed  by  serpents  into  serpents. 

^  Esculapius,  the  god  of  medicine.  He  is  said  to  have  taken  the  form  of  a  serpent  when 
he  appeared  at  Rome  during  a  pestilence. — From  Warton. 

3  Lybian. 

*  Roman.  These  lines  relate  to  the  fable  of  Jupiter  being  the  father  of  Alexander  the 
Great,  and  of  Scipio  also.     All  these  images  picture  the  magnificence  of  the  serpent's  form. 

ds^ -^ 


a 07 

PARADISE  LOST.  223 

The  eye  of  Eve  to  mark  his  play ;  he  glad 
Of  her  attention  gain'd,  with  serpent  tongue 
Organic,  or  impulse  of  vocal  air, 
His  fraudulent  temptation  thus  began. 

Wonder  not,  sov'reign  mistress,  if  perhaps 
Thou  canst,  who  art  sole  wonder,  much  less  arm 
Thy  looks,  the  heav'n  of  mildness,  with  disdain, 
Displeased  that  I  approach  thee  thus,  and  gaze 
Insatiate,  I  thus  single,  nor  have  fear'd 
Thy  awful  brow,  more  awful  thus  retired. 
Fairest  resemblance  of  thy  Maker  fair. 
Thee  all  things  living  gaze  on,  all  things  thine 
By  gift,  and  thy  celestial  beauty  adore 
With  ravishment  beheld,  there  best  beheld 
Where  universally  admired :  but  here 
In  this  enclosure  wild,  these  beasts  among. 
Beholders  rude,  and  shallow  to  discern 
Half  what  in  thee  is  fair,  one  man  except, 
Who  sees  thee  ?  and  what  is  one  ?  who  shouldst  be  seen 
A  Goddess  among  Gods,  adored  and  served 
By  angels  numberless,  thy  daily  train. 

So  glozed  the  tempter,  and  his  proem  tuned  ; 
Into  the  heart  of  Eve  his  words  made  way. 
Though  at  the  voice  much  marvelling  :  at  length 
Not  unamazed  she  thus  in  answer  spake. 
What  may  this  mean  ?     Language  of  man  pronounced 
By  tongue  of  brute,  and  human  sense  express'd  ? 
The  first  at  least  of  these  I  thought  denied 
To  beasts,  whom  God  on  their  creation-day 
Created  mute  to  all  articulate  sound ; 
The  latter  I  demur,  for  in  their  looks 
Much  reason,  and  in  their  actions,  oft  appears. 
Thee,  serpent,  subtlest  beast  of  all  the  field 
I  knew,  but  not  with  human  voice  endued ; 
Redouble  then  this  miracle,  and  say. 
How  cam'st  thou  speakable  of  mute,  and  how 

(^ _^i 


s- -^ 

224  PARADISE  LOST. 

To  me  so  friendly  grown  above  the  rest 
Of  brutal  kind,  that  daily  are  in  sight  ? 
Say,  for  such  wonder  claims  attention  due. 

To  whom  the  guileful  tempter  thus  replied. 
Empress  of  this  fair  world,  resplendent  Eve, 
Easy  to  me  it  is  to  tell  thee  all 

What  thou  command'st,  and  right  thou  shouldst  be  obey'd. 
I  was  at  first  as  other  beasts  that  graze 
The  trodden  herb,  of  abject  thoughts  and  low, 
As  was  my  food,  nor  aught  but  food  discern'd 
Or  sex,  and  apprehended  nothing  high  : 
Till  on  a  day  roving  the  field,  I  chanced 
A  goodly  tree  far  distant  to  behold 
Loaden  with  fruit  of  fairest  colors  mixt, 
Ruddy  and  gold  :  I  nearer  drew  to  gaze  ; 
When  from  the  boughs  a  savory  odor  blown, 
Grateful  to  appetite,  more  pleased  my  sense 
Than  smell  of  sweetest  lennel,  or  the  teats 
Of  ewe  or  goat  dropping  with  milk  at  ev'n, 
Unsuck'd  of  lamb  or  kid,  that  tend  their  play. 
To  satisfy  the  sharp  desire  I  had 
Of  tasting  those  fair  apples,  I  resolved 
Not  to  defer;  hunger  and  thirst  at  once, 
Powerful  persuaders,  quicken'd  at  the  scent 
Of  that  alluring  fruit,  urged  me  so  keen. 
About  the  mossy  trunk  I  wound  me  soon, 
For  high  from  ground  the  b\-anches  would  require 
Thy  utmost  reach  or  Adam's:  round  the  tree 
All  other  beasts  that  saw  with  like  desire. 
Longing  and  envying,  stood,  but  could  not  reach. 
Amid  the  tree  now  got,  where  plenty  hung 
Tempting  so  nigh,  to  pluck  and  eat  my  fill 
I  spared  not,  for  such  pleasure  till  that  hour 
At  feed  or  fountain  never  had  I  found. 
Sated  at  length,  ere  long  I  might  perceive 
Strange  alteration  in  me,  to  degree 

^ ^ 


s — 


^- 


^ ^ -€7 

PARADISE  LOST.  225 

Of  reason  in  my  inward  powers  and  speech 

Wanted  not  long,  though  to  this  shape  retain'd. 

Thenceforth  to  speculations  high  or  deep 

I  turn'd  my  thoughts,  and  with  capacious  mind 

Consider'd  all  things  visible  in  heav'n, 

Or  earth,  or  middle,  all  things  fair  and  good  ; 

But  all  that  fair  and  good  in  thy  divine 

Semblance  and  in  thy  beauty's  heav'nly  ray 

United  I  beheld  ;  no  fair  to  thine 

Equivalent  or  second,  which  compell'd 

Me  thus,  though  importune  perhaps,  to  come 

And  gaze,  and  worship  thee  of  right  declared 

Sov'reign  of  creatures,  universal  dame. 
So  talk'd  the  spirited  sly  snake ;  and  Eve 

Yet  more  amazed  unwary  thus  replied. 

Serpent,  thy  overpraising,  leaves  in  doubt 
The  virtue  of  that  fruit,  in  thee  first  proved  : 
But  say,  where  grows  the  tree  ?  from  hence  how  far  ? 
For  many  are  the  trees  of  God  that  grow 
In  paradise,  and  various,  yet  unknown     ' 
To  us,  in  such  abundance  lies  our  choice. 
As  leaves  a  greater  store  of  fruit  untouch'd, 
Sill  hanging  incorruptible,  till  men 
Grow  up  to  their  provision,  and  more  hands 
Help  to  disburden  nature  of  her  birth. 

To  whom  the  wily  adder,  blithe  and  glad. 
Empress,  the  way  is  ready,  and  not  long, 
Beyond  a  row  of  myrtles  on  a  flat. 
Fast  by  a  fountain,  one  small  thicket  past 
Of  blowing  myrrh  and  balm  :  if  thou  accept 
My  conduct,  I  can  bring  thee  hither  soon. 

Lead  then,  said  Eve.     He  leading  swiftly  roll'd 
In  tangles,  and  made  intricate  seem  straight, 
To  mischief  swift :  hope  elevates,  and  joy 
Brightens  his  crest :  as  when  a  wand'ring  fire 
Compact  of  unctuous  vapor,  which  the  night 

^ -^ 


^ 

226  PARADISE  LOST. 

Condenses,  and  the  cold  environs  round, 

Kindled  through  agitation  to  a  flame, 

Which  oft,  they  say,  some  evil  spirit  attends, 

Hovering  and  blazing  with  delusive  light, 

Misleads  th'  amazed  night-wanderer  from  his  way 

To  bogs  and  mires,  and  oft  through  pond  or  pool, 

There  swallow'd  up  and  lost,  from  succor  far : 

So  glister'd  the  dire  snake,  and  into  fraud 

Led  Eve  our  credulous  mother  to  the  tree 

Of  prohibition,  root  of  all  our  woe : 

Which  when  she  saw,  thus  to  her  guide  she  spake. 

Serpent,  we  might  have  spared  our  coming  hither. 
Fruitless  to  mc,  though  fruit  be  here  to  excess. 
The  credit  of  whose  virtue  rest  with  thee ; 
Wond'rous  indeed,  if  cause  of  such  effects. 
But  of  this  tree  we  may  not  taste  nor  touch, 
God  so  commanded  ;  and  left  that  command 
Sole  daughter  of  his  voice ;  the  rest,  we  live 
Law  to  ourselves,  our  reason  is  our  law. 

To  whom  the  tempter  guilefully  replied. 
Indeed !  hath  God  then  said  that  of  the  fruit 
Of  all  these  garden  trees  ye  shall  not  eat, 
Yet  lords  declared  of  all  in  earth  or  air  ? 

To  whom  thus  Eve  yet  sinless.     Of  the  fruit 
Of  each  tree  in  the  garden  we  may  eat. 
But  of  the  fruit  of  this  fair  tree  amidst 
The  garden,  God  hath  said,  ye  shall  not  eat 
Thereof,  nor  shall  ye  touch  it,  lest  ye  die. 

She  scarce  had  said,  though  brief,  when  now  more  bold 
The  tempter,  but  with  show  of  zeal  and  love 
To  man,  and  indignation  at  his  wrong. 
New  part  puts  on,  and  as  to  passion  moved, 
Fluctuates  disturb'd,  yet  comely,  and  in  act 
Raised,  as  of  some  great  matter  to  begin. 
As  when  of  old  some  orator  renown'd 
In  Athens  or  free  Rome,  where  eloquence 

fe- ^ ^ -4^ 


^ 


-^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  227 

Flourish'd,  since  mute,  to  some  great  cause  address'd 

Stood  in  himself  collected,  while  each  part, 

Motion,  each  act  won  audience  ere  the  tongue  ; 

Sometimes  in  highth  began,  as  no  delay 

Of  preface  brooking  through  his  zeal  of  right : 

So  standing,  moving,  or  to  highth  upgrown, 

The  tempter  all  impassion'd  thus  began. 

O  sacred,  wise,  and  wisdom-giving  plant, 
Mother  of  science,  now  I  feel  thy  power 
Within  me  clear,  not  only  to  discern 
Things  in  their  causes,  but  to  trace  the  ways 
Of  highest  agents,  deem'd  however  wise. 
Queen  of  this  universe  !  do  not  believe 
Those  rigid  threats  of  death;  ye  shall  not  die:^ 
How  should  ye  ?  by  the  fruit  ?  it  gives  you  life 
To  knowledge :  by  the  threatener?  look  on  me. 
Me  who  have  touch'd  and  tasted,  yet  both  live. 
And  life  more  perfect  have  attain'd  than  fate 
Meant  me,  by  vent'ring  higher  than  my  lot. 
Shall  that  be  shut  to  man,  which  to  the  beast 
Is  open?  or  will  God  incense  His  ire 
For  such  a  petty  trespass,  and  not  praise 
Rather  your  dauntless  virtue,  whom  the  pain 
Of  death  denounced,  whatever  thing  death  be, 
Deterr'd  not  from  achieving  what  might  lead 
To  happier  life,  knowledge  of  good  and  evil  ? 
Of  good,  how  just?  of  evil,  if  what  is  evil 
Be  real,  why  not  known,  since  easier  shunn'd  ? 
God  therefore  cannot  hurt  ye,  and  be  just ; 
Not  just,  not  God  ;  not  fear'd  then,  nor  obey'd  : 
Your  fear  itself  of  death  removes  the  fear. 
Why  then  was  this  forbid?     Why  but  to  awe, 
Why  but  to  keep  ye  low  and  ignorant, 
His  worshippers;  he  knows  that  in  the  day 

1  Gen.  iii.  4. 

^ ^ 


228  PARADISE  LOST. 

Ye  eat  thereof,  your  eyes  that  seem  so  clear, 
Yet  are  but  dim,  shall  perfectly  be  then 
Open'd  and  clear'd,  and  ye  shall  be  as  Gods, 
Knowing  both  good  and  evil,  as  they  know. 
That  ye  should  be  as  Gods,  since  I  as  man, 
Internal  man,  is  but  proportion  meet, 
I  of  brute,  human,  ye  of  human,  Gods. 
So  shall  ye  die  perhaps,  by  putting  off 
Human,  to  put  on  Gods :  death  to  be  wish'd, 
Though  threaten'd,  which  no  worse  than  this  can  bring. 
.  And  what  are  Gods  that  man  may  not  become 
As  they,  participating  godlike  food  ? 
The  Gods  are  first,  and  that  advantage  use 
On  our  belief,  that  all  from  them  proceeds ; 
I  question  it,  for  this  fair  earth  I  see, 
Warm'd  by  the  sun,  producing  every  kind, 
Them  nothing :  if  they  all  things  who  enclosed 
Knowledge  of  good  and  evil  in  this  tree, 
That  whoso  eats  thereof  forthwith  attains 
Wisdom  without  their  leave  ?  and  wherein  lies 
Th'  offence,  that  man  should  thus  attain  to  know  ? 
What  can  your  knowledge  hurt  him,  or  this  tree 
Impart  against  his  will  if  all  be  his  ? 
Or  is  it  envy ;  and  can  envy  dwell 
In  heav'nly  breasts  ?     These,  these,  and  many  more 
Causes  import  your  need  of  this  fair  fruit. 
Goddess  humane,  reach  then,  and  freely  taste. 
He  ended,  and  his  words  replete  with  guile 
Into  her  heart  too  easy  entrance  won  : 
Fix'd  on  the  fruit  she  gazed,  which  to  behold 
Might  tempt  alone,  and  in  her  ears  the  sound 
Yet  rung  of  his  persuasive  words,  impregn'd 
With  reason,  to  her  seeming,  and  with  truth  : 
Meanwhile  the  hour  of  noon  drew  on,  and  waked 
An  eager  appetite,  raised  by  the  smell 
So  savory  of  that  fruit,  which  with  desire. 


a- ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  229 

Inclinable  now  grown  to  touch  or  taste, 
Solicited  her  longing  eye;  yet  first 
Pausing  a  while,  thus  to  herself  she  mused. 

Great  are  thy  virtues,  doubtless,  best  of  fruits. 
Though  kept  from  man,  and  worthy  to  be  admired, 
Whose  taste,  too  long  forborne,  at  first  assay 
Gave  elocution  to  the  mute,  and  taught 
The  tongue  not  made  for  speech  to  speak  thy  praise : 
Thy  praise  He  also  who  forbids  thy  use 
Conceals  not  from  us,  naming  thee  the  Tree 
Of  Knowledge,  knowledge  both  of  good  and  evil  ; 
Forbids  us  then  to  taste,  but  His  forbidding 
Commends  thee  more,  while  it  infers  the  good 
By  thee  communicated,  and  our  want : 
For  good  unknown  sure  is  not  had,  or  had 
And  yet  unknown  is  as  not  had  at  all. 
In  plain  then,  what  forbids  He  but  to  know? 
Forbids  us  good,  forbids  us  to  be  wise  ? 
Such  prohibitions  bind  not.     But  if  death 
Bind  us  with  after-bands,  what  profits  then 
Our  inward  freedom  ?     In  the  day  we  eat 
Of  this  fair  fruit,  our  doom  is,  we  shall  die. 
How  dies  the  serpent  ?  he  hath  eaten  and  lives, 
And  knows,  and  speaks,  and  reasons,  and  discerns, 
Irrational  till  then.     For  us  alone 
Was  death  invented  ?  or  to  us  denied 
This  intellectual  food,  for  beasts  reserved  ? 
For  beasts  it  seems :  yet  that  one  beast  which  first 
Hath  tasted  envies  not,  but  brings  with  joy 
The  good  befall'n  him,  author  unsu.spect. 
Friendly  to  man,  far  from  deceit  or  guile. 
What  fear  I  then,  rather  what  know  to  fear 
Under  this  ignorance  of  good  and  evil, 
Of  God  or  death,  of  law  or  penalty  ? 
Here  grows  the  cure  of  all,  this  fruit  divine, 
Fair  to  the  eye,  inviting  to  the  taste, 

a^ 


-^ 


230  PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  virtue  to  make  wise :  what  hinders  then 
/  To  reach,  and  feed  at  once  both  body  and  mind  ? 

I  So  saying,  her  rash  hand  in  evil  hour 

I  Forth  reaching  to  the  fruit,  she  pluck'd,  she  eat: 

i  Earth  felt  the  wound,  and  Nature  from  her  seat 

Sighing  through  all  her  works  gave  signs  of  woe, 
I  That  all  was  lost.     Back  to  the  thicket  slunk 

'  The  guilty  serpent,  and  well  might,  for  Eve 

\  Intent  now  only  on  her  taste,  naught  else 

'■  Regarded,  such  delight  till  then,  as  seem'd, 

\  In  fruit  she  never  tasted,  whether  true 

\  Or  fancied  so,  through  expectation  high 

i  Of  knowledge;  nor  was  Godhead  from  her  thought. 

Greedily  she  ingorged  without  restraint, 
:j  And  knew  not  eating  death  :  satiate  at  length, 

\  And  highten'd  as  with  wine,  jocund  and  boon, 

f  Thus  to  herself  she  pleasingly  began. 

\  O  sov'reign,  virtuous,  precious  of  all  trees 

I  In  Paradise,  of  operation  blest 

I  To  sapience,  hitherto  obscured,  infamed, 

i|  And  thy  fair  fruit  let  hang,  as  to  no  end 

I  Created  :  but  henceforth  my  early  care, 

\  Not  without  song,  each  morning,  and  due  praise 

\  Shall  tend  thee,  and  the  fertile  burden  ease 

I  Of  thy  full  branches  offer'd  free  to  all ; 

Till  dieted  by  thee  I  grow  mature 
1  In  knowledge,  as  the  Gods  who  all  things  know ; 

Though  others  envy  what  they  cannot  give; 
For  had  the  gift  been  theirs  it  had  not  here 
Thus  grown.     Experience,  next  to  thee  I  owe, 
Best  guide  ;'  not  following  thee  I  had  remain'd 
In  ignorance  ;  thou  open'st  wisdom's  way, 
And  giv'st  access,  though  secret  she  retire, 
And  I  perhaps  am  secret:  heav'n  is  high. 


^ 


1  The  serpent. 


4 


Back  to  the  thicket  shmk 
The  guilty  serpent. 


ge  230, 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  231 

High  and  remote  to  see  from  thence  distinct 
Each  thing  on  earth ;  and  other  care  perhaps 
May  have  diverted  from  continual  watch 
Our  great  Forbidder,  safe  with  all  his  spies 
About  him.     But  to  Adam  in  what  sort 
Shall  I  appear  ?  shall  I  to  him  make  known 
As  yet  my  change,  and  give  him  to  partake 
Full  happiness  with  me,  or  rather  not, 
But  keep  the  odds  of  knowledge  in  my  power 
Without  co-partner  ?  so  to  add  what  wants 
In  female  sex,  the  more  to  draw  his  love, 
And  render  me  more  equal,  and  perhaps, 
A  thing  not  undesirable,  sometime 
Superior  ;  for  inferior  who  is  free  ? 
This  may  be  well :  but  what  if  God  have  seen, 
And  death  ensue  ?  then  I  shall  be  no  more, 
And  Adam  wedded  to  another  Eve 
Shall  live  with  her  enjoying,  I  extinct . 
A  death  to  think.     Confirm'd  then  I  resolve, 
Adam  shall  share  with  me  in  bliss  or  woe: 
So  dear  I  love  him,  that  with  him  all  deaths 
I  could  endure ;  without  him  live  no  life. 

So  saying,  from  the  tree  her  step  she  turn'd, 
But  first  low  reverence  done,  as  to  the  power 
That  dwelt  within,  whose  presence  had  infused 
Into  the  plant  sciential  sap,  derived 
From  nectar,  drink  of  Gods.     Adam  the  while, 
Waiting  desirous  her  return,  had  wove 
Of  choicest  flow'rs  a  garland  to  adorn 
Her  tresses,  and  her  rural  labors  crown, 
As  reapers  oft  are  wont  their  harvest  queen. 
Great  joy  he  promised  to  his  thoughts,  and  new 
Solace  in  her  return,  so  long  delay'd; 
Yet  oft  his  heart,  divine  of  something  ill. 
Misgave  him  ;  he  the  faltering  measure  felt; 
And  forth  to  meet  her  went,  the  way  she  took 


a -^ 

232  PARADISE  LOST. 

That  ir.orn  when  first  they  parted.     By  the  Tree 
Of  Knowledge  he  must  pass,  there  he  her  met, 
Scarce  from  the  tree  returning;  in  her  hand 
A  bough  of  fairest  fruit  that  downy  smiled, 
New  gather'd,  and  ambrosial  smell  diffused. 
To  him  she  hasted,  in  her  face  excuse 
Came  prologue,  and  apology  too  prompt. 
Which  with  bland  words  at  will  she  thus  address'd. 

Hast  thou  not  wonder'd,  Adam,  at  my  stay? 
Thee  I  have  miss'd,  and  thought  it  long,  deprived 
Thy  presence,  agony  of  love  till  now 
Not  felt,  nor  shall  be  twice,  for  never  more 
Mean  I  to  try,  what  rash  untried  I  sought, 
The  pain  of  absence  from  thy  sight.     But  strange 
Hath  been  the  cause,  and  wonderful  to  hear : 
This  tree  is  not,  as  we  are  told,  a  tree 
Of  danger  tasted,  nor  to  evil  unknown 
Op'ning  the  way,  but  of  divine  effect 
To  open  eyes,  and  make  them  Gods  who  taste: 
And  hath  been  tasted  such.     The  serpent  wise, 
Or  not  restrain'd  as  we,  or  not  obeying. 
Hath  eaten  of  the  fruit,  and  is  become 
Not  dead,  as  we  are  threaten'd,  but  thenceforth 
Endued  with  human  voice  and  human  sense, 
Reasoning  to  admiration,  and  with  me 
Persuasively  hath  so  prevail'd,  that  I 
Have  also  tasted,  and  have  also  found 
Th'  effects  to  correspond ;  opener  mine  eyes, 
Dim  erst,  dilated  spirits,  ampler  heart, 
And  growing  up  to  Godhead ;  which  for  thee 
Chiefly  I  sought,  without  thee  can  despise. 
For  bliss,  as  thou  hast  part,  to  me  is  bliss. 
Tedious,  unshared  with  thee,  and  odious  soon. 
Thou  therefore  also  taste,  that  equal  lot 
May  join  us,  equal  joy,  as  equal  love  ; 
Lest  thou  not  tasting,  different  degree 

^ 


a- 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Disjoin  us,  and  I  then  too  late  renounce 
Deity  for  thee,  when  fate  will  not  permit. 

Thus  Eve,  with  countenance  blithe,  her  story  told, 
But  in  her  cheek  distemper  flushing  glow'd. 
On  th'  other  side,  Adam,  soon  as  he  heard 
The  fatal  trespass  done  by  Eve,  amazed, 
Astonied  stood  and  blank,  while  horror  chill 
Ran  through  his  veins,  and  all  his  joints  relax'd  ; 
From  his  slack  hand  the  garland  wreath'd  for  Eve 
Down  dropp'd,  and  all  the  faded  roses  shed  : 
Speechless  he  stood  and  pale,  till  thus  at  length 
First  to  himself  he  inward  silence  broke. 

O  fairest  of  creation,  last  and  best 
Of  all  God's  works,  creature  in  whom  excell'd 
Whatever  can  to  sight  or  thought  be  form'd, 
Holy,  divine,  good,  amiable  or  sweet! 
How  art  thou  lost,  how  on  a  sudden  lost, 
Defaced,  deflower'd,  and  now  to  death  devote  ! 
Rather  how  hast  thou  yielded  to  transgress 
The  strict  forbiddance,  how  to  violate 
The  sacred  fruit  forbidden  !  some  cursed  fraud 
Of  enemy  hath  beguiled  thee,  yet  unknown. 
And  me  with  thee  hath  ruin'd,  for  with  thee 
Certain  my  resolution  is  to  die  : 
How  can  I  live  without  thee?  how  forego 
Thy  sweet  converse  and  love  so  dearly  join'd, 
To  live  again  in  these  wild  woods  forlorn  ? 
Should  God  create  another  Eve,  and  I 
Another  rib  afford,  yet  loss  of  thee 
Would  never  from  my  heart ;  no,  no,  I  feel 
The  link  of  nature  draw  me ;  flesh  of  flesh, 
Bone  of  my  bone  thou  art,  and  from  thy  state 
Mine  never  shall  be  parted,  bliss  or  woe. 

So  having  said,  as  one  from  sad  dismay 
Recomforted,  and  other  thoughts  disturb'd 
Submitting  to  what  seem'd  remediless. 


233 


% 


-^ 


^ -^ 

234  PARADISE  LOST. 

Thus  in  calm  mood  his  words  to  Eve  he  turn'd. 

Bold  deed  thou  hast  presumed,  advent' rous  Eve, 
And  peril  great  provoked,  who  thus  hast  dared, 
Had  it  been  only  coveting  to  eye 
That  sacred  fruit,  sacred  to  abstinence, 
Much  more  to  taste  it  under  ban  to  touch. 
But  past  who  can  recall,  or  done  undo  ? 
Not  God  omnipotent,  nor  Fate,  yet  so 
Terhaps  thou  shalt  not  die,  perhaps  the  fact 
Is  not  so  heinous  now,  foretasted  fruit, 
Profaned  first  by  the  serpent,  by  him  first 
Made  common  and  unhallow'd  ere  our  taste; 
Nor  yet  on  him  found  deadly,  he  yet  lives, 
Lives,  as  thou  said'st,  and  gains  to  live  as  man 
Higher  degree  of  life,  inducement  strong 
To  us,  as  likely  tasting  to  attain 
Proportional  ascent,,  which  cannot  be 
But  to  be  Gods,  or  angels,  demigods. 
Nor  can  I  think  that  God,  Creator  wise, 
Though  threat'ning,  will  in  earnest  so  destroy 
Us  His  prime  creatures,  dignified  so  high. 
Set  over  all  His  works,  which  in  our  fall, 
For  us  created,  needs  with  us  must  fail, 
Dependent  made  ;  so  God  shall  uncreate, 
Be  frustrate,  do,  undo,  and  labor  lose. 
Not  well  conceived  of  God  ;  who,  though  His  power 

Creation  could  repeat,  yet  would  be  loth 

Us  to  abolish,  lest  the  adversary 

Triumph  and  say:  Fickle  their  state  whom  God 

Most  favors,  who  can  please  Him  long?     Mc  first 

He  ruin'd,  now  mankind ;  whom  will  he  next  ? 

Matter  of  scorn,  not  to  be  given  the  foe. 

However,  I  with  thee  have  fix'd  my  lot, 

Certain  to  undergo  like  doom  ;  if  death 

Consort  with  thee,  death  is  to  me  as  life ; 

So  forcible  within  my  heart  I  feel 

4— ^ 


a- ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  235 

The  bond  of  nature  draw  me  to  my  own, 
My  own  in  thee,  for  what  thou  art  is  mine ; 
Our  state  cannot  be  sever'd,  we  are  one, 
One  flesh ;  to  lose  thee  were  to  lose  myself 

So  Adam,  and  thus  Eve  to  him  replied. 
O  glorious  trial  of  exceeding  love, 
Illustrious  evidence,  example  high, 
Engaging  me  to  emulate,  but,  short 
Of  thy  perfection,  how  shall  I  attain, 
Adam,  from  whose  dear  side  I  boast  me  sprung, 
And  gladly  of  our  union  hear  thee  speak. 
One  heart,  one  soul  in  both ;  whereof  good  proof 
This  day  affords,  declaring  thee  resolved. 
Rather  than  death  or  aught  than  death  more  dread 
Shall  separate  us  link'd  in  love  so  dear, 
To  undergo  with  me  one  guilt,  one  crime, 
If  any  be,  of  tasting  this  fair  fruit, 
Whose  virtue,  for  of  good  still  good  proceeds. 
Direct,  or  by  occasion,  hath  presented 
This  happy  trial  of  thy  love,  which  else 
So  eminently  never  had  been  known. 
Were  it  I  thought  death  menaced  would  ensue 
This  my  attempt,  I  would  sustain  alone 
The  worst,  and  not  persuade  thee,  rather  die 
Deserted,  than  oblige  thee  with  a  fact 
Pernicious  to  thy  peace,  chiefly  assured 
Remarkably  so  late  of  thy  so  true, 
So  faithful  love  unequall'd ;  but  I  feel 
Far  otherwise  the  event,  not  death  but  life 
Augmented,  open'd  eyes,  new  hopes,  new  joys, 
Taste  so  divine,  that  what  of  sweet  before 
Hath  touch'd  my  sense,  flat  seems  to  this  and  harsh. 
On  my  experience,  Adam,  freely  taste. 
And  fear  of  death  deliver  to  the  winds. 

So  saying,  she  embraced  him,  and  for  joy 
Tenderly  wept,  much  won  that  he  his  love 

^ ^ 


236  PARADISE  LOST. 

Had  so  ennobled,  as  of  choice  to  incur 

Divine  displeasure  for  her  sake,  or  death. 

In  recompence,  for  such  compliance  bad 

Such  recompense  best  merits,  from  the  bough 

She  gave  him  of  that  fair,  enticing  fruit 

With  liberal  hand;  he  scrupled  not  to  cat 

Against  his  better  knowledge,  not  deceived,' 

But  fondly  overcome  with  female  charm. 

Earth  trembled  from  her  entrails,  as  again 

In  pangs,  and  Nature  gave  a  second  groan. 

Sky  lour'd,  and,  mutt'ring  thunder,  some  sad  drops 

Wept  at  completing  of  the  mortal  sin 

Original;  while  Adam  took  no  thought, 

Eating  his  fill,  nor  Eve  to  iterate 

Her  former  trespass  fear'd,  the  more  to  soothe 

Him  with  her  loved  society,  that  now, 

As  with  new  wine  intoxicated  both, 

They  swim  in  mirth,  and  fancy  that  they  feel 

Divinity  within  them  breeding  wings 

Wherewith  to  scorn  the  earth ;  but  that  false  fruit 

Far  other  operation  first  display'd. 

Carnal  desire  inflaming;  he  on  Eve 

Began  to  cast  lascivious  eyes,  she  him 

As  wantonly  repaid  ;  in  lust  they  burn ; 

Till  Adam  thus  'gan  Eve  to  dalliance  move. 

Eve,  now  I  see  thou  art  exact  of  taste, 
And  elegant,  of  sapience  no  small  part, 
Since  to  each  meaning  savor  we  apply. 
And  palate  call  judicious  ;  I  the  praise 
Yield  thee,  so  well  this  day  thou  hast  purvey'd. 
Much  pleasure  we  have  lost,  while  we  abstain'd 
From  this  delightful  fruit,  nor  known  till  now 
True  relish,  tasting  ;  if  such  pleasure  be 
In  things  to  us  forbidden,  it  might  be  wish'd, 


1  I  Tim.  ii.  14. 


^ 


a 07 

PARADISE  LOST.  237 

For  this  one  tree  had  been  forbidden  ten. 
But  come,  so  well  refresh'd,  now  let  us  play, 
As  meet  is,  after  such  delicious  fare ; 
For  never  did  thy  beauty,  since  the  day 
I  saw  thee  first  and  wedded  thee,  adorned 
With  all  perfections,  so  inflame  my  sense 
With  ardor  to  enjoy  thee,  fairer  now 
Than  ever,  bounty  of  this  virtuous  tree. 

So  said  he,  and  forbore  not  glance  or  toy 
Of  amorous  intent,  well  understood 
Of  Eve,  whose  eye  darted  contagious  fire. 
Her  hand  he  seized,  and  to  a  shady  bank, 
Thick  overhead  with  verdant  roof  imbower'd. 
He  led  her  nothing  loth ;  flowers  were  the  couch, 
Pansies,  and  violets,  and  asphodel, 
And  hyacinth,  earth's  freshest  softest  lap. 
There  they  their  fill  of  love  and  love's  disport 
Took  largely,  of  their  mutual  guilt  the  seal, 
The  solace  of  their  sin,  till  dewy  sleep 
Oppress'd  them,  wearied  with  their  amorous  play. 
Soon  as  the  force  of  that  fallacious  fruit, 
That  with  exhilarating  vapor  bland 
About  their  spirits  had  play'd,  and  inmost  powers 
Made  err,  was  now  exhaled,  and  grosser  sleep 
Bred  of  unkindly  fumes,  with  conscious  dreams 
Encumber'd  now  had  left  them,  up  they  rose 
As  from  unrest,  and,  each  the  other  viewing, 
Soon  found  their  eyes  how  open'd,  and  their  minds 
How  darken'd  :  innocence,  that  as  a  veil 
Had  shadow'd  them  from  knowing  ill,  was  gone, 
Just  confidence,  and  native  righteousness, 
And  honor  from  about  them  ;  naked  left 
To  guilty  shame ;  he  cover'd,  but  his  robe 
Uncover'd  more.     So  rose  the  Danite  strong 
Herculean  Samson  from  the  harlot-lap 
Of  Philistean  Dalilah,  and  waked 

^ -4 


^ -^ 

238  PARADISE  LOST. 

Shorn  of  his  strength ;  they  destitute  and  bare 
Of  all  their  virtue  :  silent,  and  in  face 
Confounded,  long  they  sate,  as  strucken  mute, 
Till  Adam,  though  not  less  than  Eve  abash'd, 
At  length  gave  utterance  to  these  words  constrain'd. 

O  Eve,  in  evil  hour  thou  did'st  give  ear 
To  that  false  worm,  of  whomsoever  taught 
To  counterfeit  man's  voice,  true  in  our  fall 
False  in  our  promised  rising;  since  our  eyes 
Open'd  we  find  indeed,  and  find  we  know 
Both  good  and  evil,  good  lost,  and  evil  got, 
Bad  fruit  of  knowledge,  if  this  be  to  know, 
Which  leaves  us  naked  thus,  of  honor  void, 
Of  innocence,  of  faith,  of  purity, 
Our  wonted  ornaments  now  soil'd  and  stain'd. 
And  in  our  faces  evident  the  signs 
Of  foul  concupiscence;  whence  evil  store, 
Ev'n  shame,  the  last  of  evils ;  of  the  first 
Be  sure  then.     How  shall  I  behold  the  face 
Henceforth  of  God  or  angel,  erst  with  joy 
And  rapture  so  oft  beheld  ?  those  heav'nly  shapes 
Will  dazzle  now  this  earthly,  with  their  blaze 
Insufferably  bright.     O  might  I  here 
In  solitude  live  savage,  in  some  glade 
Obscured,  where  highest  woods,  impenetrable 
To  star  or  sun-light,  spread  their  umbrage  broad. 
And  brown  as  evening  :  cover  me,  ye  pines, 
Ye  cedars,  with  innumerable  boughs 
Hide  me,  where  I  may  never  see  them  more 
But  let  us  now,  as  in  bad  plight,  devise 
What  best  may  for  the  present  serve  to  hide 
The  parts  of  each  from  other,  that  seem  most 
To  shame  obnoxious,  and  unseemliest  seen ; 
Some  tree,  whose  broad  smooth  leaves  together  sew'd 
And  girded  on  our  loins,  may  cover  round 
Those  middle  parts,  that  this  new  comer,  shame, 

%- ^ 


Nor  only  tears 
Rained  at  their  eyes,  but  high  winds  worse  within 
Began  to  rise. 


m\ 


mtmmmmgm^BmmmmmimmHHm 


^ 6b 

PARADISE  LOST.  239 

There  sit  not,  and  reproach  us  as  unclean. 

So  counsell'd  he,  and  both  together  went 
Into  the  thickest  wood  ;  there  soon  they  chose 
The  figtree,  not  that  kind  for  fruit  renown'd, 
But  such  as  at  this  day  to  Indians  known 
In  Malabar  or  Decan  spreads  her  arms 
Branching  so  broad  and  long,  that  in  the  ground 
The  bended  twigs  take  root,  and  daughters  grow 
About  the  mother  tree,  a  pillar'd  shade  ^ 
High  overarch'd,  and  echoing  walks  between; 
There  oft  the  Indian  herdsman  shunning  heat 
Shelters  in  cool,  and  tends  his  pasturing  herds 
At  loopholes  cut  through  thickest  shade.     Those  leaves 
They  gather'd,  broad  as  Amazonian  targe, 
And  with  what  skill  they  had  together  sew'd, 
To  gird  their  waist,  vain  covering,  if  to  hide 
Their  guilt  and  dreaded  shame  ;  O  how  unlike 
To  that  first  naked  glory  !     Such  of  late 
Columbus  found  the  American  so  girt 
With  feather'd  cincture,  naked  else  and  wild 
Among  the  trees  on  isles  and  woody  shores. 
Thus  fenced,  and  as  they  thought,  their  shame  in  part 
Cover'd,  but  not  at  rest  or  ease  of  mind. 
They  sat  them  down  to  weep,  nor  only  tears 
Rain'd  at  their  eyes,  but  high  winds  worse  within 
Began  to  rise,  high  passions,  anger,  hate, 
Mistrust,  suspicion,  discord,  and  shook  sore 
Their  inward  state  of  mind,  calm  region  once 
And  full  of  peace,  now  tost  and  turbulent : 
For  understanding  ruled  not,  and  the  will 
Heard  not  her  lore,  both  in  subjection  now 
To  sensual  appetite,  who  from  beneath 
Usurping. over  sov'reign  reason  claim'd 
Superior  sway  :  from  thus  distemper'd  breast 

1  The  Indian  fig,  called  Ficus  Indica  by  botanists,  or  Banyan.     The  largest  known  nearly 
covers  an  island  on  the  Nerbudda.     It  is  2,000  feet  round,  and  has  1,300  trunks. 

<^ : -4 


240  PARADISE  LOST. 

Adam,  estrang;ed  in  look  and  alter'd  style, 
Speech  intermitted  thus  to  Eve  renew'd. 

Would  thou  hadst  hearken'd  to  my  words,  and  stay'd 
With  me,  as  I  besought  thee,  when  that  strange 
Desire  of  wand'ring  this  unhappy  morn 
I  know  not  whence  possess'd  thee ;  we  had  then 
Remain'd  still  happy,  not,  as  now,  despoil'd 
Of  all  our  good,  shamed,  naked,  miserable. 
Let  none  henceforth  seek  needless  cause  to  approve 
The  faith  they  owe ;  when  earnestly  they  seek 
Such  proof,  conclude,  they  then  begin  to  fail. 

To  whom  soon  moved  with  touch  of  blame  thus  Eve. 
What  words  have  pass'd  thy  lips,  Adam  severe  ? 
Imput'st  thou  that  to  my  default,  or  will 
Of  wand'ring,  as  thou  call'st  it,  which  who  knows 
But  might  as  ill  have  happen'd  thou  being  by. 
Or  to  thyself  perhaps :  hadst  thou  been  there, 
Or  here  th'  attempt,  thou  couldst  not  have  discern'd 
Fraud  in  the  serpent,  speaking  as  he  spake; 
No  ground  of  enmity  between  us  known. 
Why  he  should  mean  me  ill,  or  seek  to  harm. 
Was  I  to  have  never  parted  from  thy  side  ? 
As  good  have  grown  there  still  a  lifeless  rib. 
Being  as  I  am,  why  didst  not  thou,  the  head, 
Command  me  absolutely  not  to  go. 
Going  into  such  danger,  as  thou  saidst? 
Too  facile,  then  thou  didst  not  much  gainsay, 
Nay,  didst  permit,  approve,  and  fair  dismiss. 
Hadst  thou  been  firm  and  fix'd  in  thy  dissent, 
Neither  had  I  transgress'd,  nor  thou  with  me. 

To  whom  then  fi;"st  incensed  Adam  replied. 
Is  this  the  love,  is  this  the  recompense 
Of  mine  to  thee,  ungrateful  Eve,  express'd. 
Immutable  when  thou  wert  lost,  not  I, 
Who  might  have  lived  and  joy'd  immortal  bliss. 
Yet  willingly  chose  rather  death  with  thee  ? 

^ ^ 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  241 

And  am  I  now  upbraided,  as  the  cause 
Of  thy  transgressing  ?  not  enough  severe, 
It  sesms,  in  thy  restraint :  what  could  I  more  ? 
I  warn'd  thee,  I  admonish'd  thee,  foretold 
The  danger,  and  the  lurking  enemy 
That  lay  in  wait:  beyond  this  had  been  force, 
And  force  upon  free  will  hath  here  no  place. 
But  confidence  then  bore  thee  on,  secure 
Either  to  meet  no  danger,  or  to  find 
Matter  of  glorious  trial ;  and  perhaps 
I  also  err'd  in  overmuch  admiring 
What  seem'd  in  thee  so  perfect,  that  I  thought 
No  evil  durst  attempt  thee  ;  but  I  rue 
The  error  now,  which  is  become  my  crime, 
And  thou  the  accuser.     Thus  it  shall  befall 
Him  who  to  worth  in  woman  overtrusting 
Lets  her  will  rule  ;  restraint  she  will  not  brook. 
And  left  to  herself,  if  evil  thence  ensue. 
She  first  his  weak  indulgence  will  accuse. 
Thus  they  in  mutual  accusation  spent 
The  fruitless  hours,  but  neither  self-condemning. 
And  of  their  vain  contest  appear'd  no  end. 
16 


%_ • ^ 


# 


242  PARADISE  LOST, 


BOOK  X. 

The  Argument. 

Man's  transgression  known,  the  guardian  angels  forsake  paradise,  and  return  up  to 
heaven  to  approve  their  vigilance,  and  are  approved,  God  declaring  that  the  entrance  of 
Satan  could  not  be  by  them  prevented.  He  sends  his  Son  to  judge  the  transgressors  ;  who 
descends,  and  gives  sentence  accordingly;  then  in  pity  clothes  them  bo'h  and  reascends. 
Sin  and  Death,  sitting  till  then  at  the  gatesof  hell.by  wondrous  sympathy,  feeling  the  success 
of  Satan  in  this  new  world,  and  the  sin  by  man  there  committed,  resolve  to  sit  no  longer  con- 
fined in  hell,  but  to  follow  Satan  their  sire  up  to  the  plane  of  man :  to  ni  iks  the  way  easier 
from  hell  to  this  world  to  and  fro,  they  pave  a  broad  highway,  or  bridge,  over  Chaos,  ac- 
cording to  the  track  that  Satan  first  made  ;  then,  preparing  for  earth,  they  meet  him,  proud 
of  his  success,  returning  to  hell ;  their  mutual  gratulation.  Satan  arr.ves  at  Pan- 
demonium, in  full  assembly  relates  with  boasting  his  success  against  man;  instead  of 
applause,  is  entertained  with  a  general  hiss  by  all  his  audience,  transformed,  with  himself 
also,  suddenly  into  serpents,  according  to  his  doom,  given  in  Paradise;  then,  deluded  with 
a  show  of  the  forbidden  tree  springing  up  before  them,  they  greedily  reaching  to  take  of  the 
frait,  chew  dust  and  bitter  ashes.  The  proceedings  of  Sin  and  Death;  God  forstells  the  final 
victory  of  his  Son  over  them,  and  the  renewing  of  all  things  ;  but  for  the  present  commands 
his  angels  to  make  several  alterations  in  the  heavens  and  elements.  Adam,  more  and  more 
perceiving  his  fallen  condition,  heavily  bewails,  rejects  the  condolemeni  of  Eve,  she  persists, 
and  at  length  appeases  him  :  then,  to  evade  the  curse  likely  to  fall  on  their  offspring,  pro- 
poses to  Adam  violent  ways,  which  he  approves  not ;  but  conceiving  better  hope,  puts  her 
in  mind  of  the  late  promise  made  them,  that  her  seed  should  be  revenged  on  the  serpent, 
and  exhorts  her  with  him  to  seek  peace  of  the  offended  Deity,  by  repentance  and  supplication. 

Meanwhile  the  heinous  and  despiteful  act 

Of  Satan  done  in  paradise,  and  how 

He  in  the  serpent  had  perverted  Eve, 

Her  husband  she,  to  taste  the  fatal  fruit, 

Was  known  in  hcav'n ;  for  what  can  scape  the  eye 

Of  God  all  seeing,  or  deceive  His  heart 

Omniscient,  who,  in  all  things  wise  and  just, 

Hinder'd  not  Satan  to  attempt  the  mind 

Of  man,  with  strength  entire,  and  freewill  arm'd. 

Complete  to  have  discover'd  and  repulsed 

Whatever  wiles  of  foe  or  seeming  friend  ! 

For  still  they  knew,  and  ought  to  have  still  remember'd 

The  high  injunction  not  to  taste  that  fruit, 

^ ^ 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  243 

Whoever  tempted  ;  which  they  not  obeying 
Incurr'd,  what  could  they  less  ?  the  penalty, 
And,  manifold  in  sin,  deserved  to  fall. 

Up  into  heav'n  from  paradise  in  haste 
Th'  angelic  guards  ascended,  mute  and  sad 
For  man ;  for  of  his  state  by  this  they  knew. 
Much  wondering  how  the  subtle  fiend  had  stol'n 
Entrance  unseen.     Soon  as  the  unwelcome  news 
From  earth  arrived  at  heaven  gate,  displeased 
All  were  who  heard  ;  dim  sadness  did  not  spare 
That  time  celestial  visages,  yet  mix'd 
With  pity  violated  not  their  bliss. 
About  the  new-arrived  in  multitudes 
Th'  ethereal  people  ran,  to  hear  and  know 
How  all  befell :  they  towards  the  throne  supreme 
Accountable  made  haste  to  make  appear 
With  righteous  plea  their  utmost  vigilance. 
And  easily  approved  ;  when  the  most  high 
Eternal  Father  from  his  secret  cloud 
Amidst  in  thunder  utter'd  thus  his  voice. 

Assembled  angels,  and  ye  powers  return'd 
From  unsuccessful  charge,  be  not  dismay'd, 
Nor  troubled  at  these  tidings  from  the  earth. 
Which  your  sincerest  care  could  not  prevent. 
Foretold  so  lately  what  would  come  to  pass, 
When  first  this  tempter  cross'd  the  gulf  from  hell. 
I  told  ye  then  he  should  prevail  and  speed 
On  his  bad  errand  ;   man  should  be  seduced 
And  flatter'd  out  of  all,  believing  lies 
Against  his  Maker;  no  decree  of  mine 
Concurring  to  necessitate  his  fall. 
Or  touch  with  lightest  moment  of  impulse 
His  free  will,  to  her  own  inclining  left 
In  even  scale.     But  fall'n  he  is,  and  now 
What  rests,  but  that  the  mortal  sentence  pass 
On  his  transgression,  death  denounced  that  day, 

d^ ^ 


^ ^ 

244  PARADISE  LOST. 

Which  he  presumes  already  vain  and  void, 

Because  not  yet  inflicted,  as  he  fear'd, 

By  some  immediate  stroke ;  but  soon  shall  find 

Forbearance  no  acquittance  ere  day  end. 

Justice  shall  not  return  as  bounty  scorn' d. 

But  whom  send  I  to  judge  them?  whom  but  thee 

Vicegerent  Son;  to  thee  I  have  transferr'd^ 

All  judgment,  whether  in  heav'n,  or  earth,  or  hell. 

Easy  it  may  be  seen  that  I  intend 

Mercy  colleague  with  justice,^  sending  thee 

Man's  friend,  his.  Mediator,  his  design'd 

Both  Ransom  and  Redeemer  voluntary, 

And  destined  Man  himself  to  jadge  man  fall'n. 

So  'spake  the  Father,  and,  unfolding  bright 
Toward  the  right  liand  His  glory,  on  the  Son 
Blazed  forth  unclouded  Deity  ;  He  full 
Resplendent  all  His  Father  manifest 
Express'd,  and  thus  divinely  answer'd  mild. 

Father  eternal,  thine  is  to  decree, 
Mine  both  in  heav'n  and  .earth  to  do  thy  will 
Supreme,  that  thou  in  me  thy  Son  belov'd 
May'st  ever  rest  well  pleased.     I  go  to  judge 
On  earth  these  thy  transgressors,  but  thou  know'st, 
Whoever  judged,  the  worst  on  me  must  light. 
When  time  shall  be;  for  so  I  undertook 
Before  thee,  and  not  repenting  this  obtain 
Of  right,  that  I  may  mitigate  their  doom 
On  me  derived ;  yet  I  shall  temper  so 
Justice  with  mercy,  as  may  illustrate  most 
Them  fully  satisfied,  and  thee  appease. 
Attendance  none  shall  need,  nor  train,  where  none 
Are  to  behold  the  judgment,  but  the  judged, 
Those  two  ;  the  third  best  absent  is  condemn'd. 
Convict  by  flight,  and  rebel  to  all  law, 


1  St.  John  V.  22.  2  Psalm  Ixxxv.  10. 

C^ ^ ^ ^ 


^ Qy 

PARADISE  LOST.  245 

Conviction  to  the  serpent  none  belongs. 

Thus  saying,  from  His  radiant  seat  He  rose 
Of  high  collateral  glory :   Him  thrones  and  powers, 
Princedoms  and  dominations  ministrant 
Accompanied  to  heaven  gate,  from  whence 
Eden  and  all  the  coast  in  prospect  lay. 
Down  He  descended  straight ;  the  speed  of  gods 
Time  counts  not,  tho'  with  swiftest  minutes  wing'd. 
Now  was  the  sun  in  western  cadence  low  ^ 
From  noon,  and  gentle  airs  due  at  their  hour 
To  fan  the  earth  now  waked,  and  usher  in 
The  ev'ning  cool,  when  He  from  wrath  more  cool 
Came,  the  mild  Judge  and  Intercessor  both, 
To  sentence  man  :  the  voice  of  God  they  heard 
Now  walking  in  the  garden,  by  soft  winds 
Brought  to  their  ears,  while  day  declined,  they  heard, 
And  from  His  presence  hid  themselves  among 
The  thickest  trees,  both  man  and  wife,  till  God 
Approaching  thus  to  Adam  call'd  aloud. 

Where  art  thou  Adam,^  wont  with  joy  to  meet 
My  coming  seen  far  off?  I  miss  thee  here  ; 
Not  pleased,  thus  entertain'd  with  solitude, 
Where  obvious  duty  erewhile  appear'd  unsought : 
Or  come  I  less  conspicuous,  or  what  change 
Absents  thee,  or  what  chance  detains  ?     Come  forth. 

He  came,  and  with  him  Eve,  more  loth,  though  first 
To  offend,  discountenanced  both,  and  discomposed. 
Love  was  not  in  their  looks,  either  to  God 
Or  to  each  other,  but  apparent  guilt, 
And  shame,  and  perturbation,  and  despair. 
Anger,  and  obstinacy,  and  hate,  and  guile. 
Whence  Adam,  falt'ring  long,  thus  answer'd  brief. 

I  heard  thee  in  the  garden,  and  of  thy  voice 
Afraid,  being  naked,  hid  myself     To  whom 

1  Gen.  iii.  8.  2  Gen.  iii.  9  and  following  verses. 


a- ^ -^ 

246  PARADISE  LOST. 

'The  gracious  Judge  without  revile  replied. 

My  voice  thou  oft  hast  heard,  and  hast  not  fear'd, 
But  still  rejoiced  ;  how  is  it  now  become 
So  dreadful  to  thee?  that  thou  art  naked,  who 
Hath  told  thee  ?  hast  thou  eaten  of  the  tree 
Whereof  I  gave  thee  charge  thou  shouldst  not  eat  ? 

To  whom  thus  Adam  sore  beset  replied. 

0  hcav'n !  in  evil  strait  this  day  I  stand 
Before  my  Judge,  either  to  undergo 
Myself  the  total  crime,  or  to  accuse 
My  other  self,  the  partner  of  my  life ; 
Whose  failing,  while  her  faith  to  me  remains, 

1  should  conceal,  and  not  expose  to  blame 
By  my  complaint;  but  strict  necessity 
Subdues  me,  and  calamitous  constraint, 
Lest  on  my  head  both  sin  and  punishment. 
However  insupportable,  be  all 

Devolved  :  though  should  I  hold  my  peace,  yet  thou 
Wouldst  easily  detect  what  I  conceal. 
This  woman  whom  thou  madest  to  be  my  help, 
And  gav'st  me  as  thy  perfect  gift,  so  good, 
So  fit,  so  acceptable,  so  divine. 
That  from  her  hand  I  could  suspect  no  ill. 
And  what  she  did,  whatever  in  itself. 
Her  doing  seem'd  to  justify  the  deed  ; 
She  gave  me  of  the  tree,  and  I  did  eat. 

To  whom  the  sov'reign  Presence  thus  replied. 
Was  she  thy  God,  that  her  thou  didst  obey 
Before  His  voice  ?  or  was  she  made  thy  guide, 
Superior,  or  but  equal,  that  to  her 
Thou  didst  resign  thy  manhood,  and  the  place 
Wherein  God  set  thee  above  her,  made  of  thee 
And  for  thee,  whose  perfection  far  excell'd 
Hers  in  all  real  dignity  ?  adorn'd 
She  was  indeed,  and  lovely  to  attract 
Thy  love,  not  thy  subjection ;  and  her  gifts 

, —^ 


■^ ^ 

PAR  AD  J  SE  LOST.  247 

Were  such  as  under  government  well  seem'd, 
Unseemly  to  bear  rule,  which  was  thy  part 
And  person,  hadst  thou  known  thyself  aright. 

So  having  said.  He  thus  to  Eve  in  few  : 
Say,  woman,  what  is  this  which  thou  hast  done? 

To  whom  sad  Eve  with  shame  nigh  overwhelm'd 
Confessing  soon,  yet  not  before  her  Judge 
Bold  or  loquacious,  thus  abash'd  replied. 
The  serpent  me  beguiled,  and  I  did  eat. 

Which  when  the  Lord  God  heard,  without  delay 
To  judgment  He  proceeded  on  th'  accused 
Serpent  though  brute,  unable  to  transfer 
The  guilt  on  him  who  made  him  instrument 
Of  mischief,  and  polluted  from  the  end 
Of  his  creation;  justly  then  accursed. 
As  vitiated  in  nature :  more  to  know 
Concern'd  not  man,  since  he  no  further  knew, 
Nor  alter'd  his  offence :  yet  God  at  last 
To  Satan  first  in  sin  his  doom  applied. 
Though  in  mysterious  terms,  judged  as  then  best: 
And  on  the  serpent  thus  His  curse  let  fall. 

Because  thou  hast  done  this,  thou  art  accursed 
Above  all  cattle,  each  beast  of  the  field ; 
Upon  thy  belly  grovelling  thou  shalt  go, 
And  dust  shalt  eat  all  the  days  of  thy  life. 
Between  thee  and  the  woman  I  will  put 
Enmity,  and  between  thine  and  her  seed  ; 
Her  seed  shall  bruise  thy  head,  thou  bruise  his  heel. 

So  spake  this  oracle,  then  verified 
When  Jesus,  Son  of  Mary,  second  Eve, 
Saw  Satan  fall  like  lightning  down  from  heav'n,' 
Prince  of  the  air  f  then  rising  from  His  grave 
Spoil'd  principalities  and  powers,  triumph'd 
In  open  show,  and  with  ascension  bright 

1  Luke  X.  18.  2  Ephes.  ii.  2;  iv.  8.     Colos.  ii.  15. 

"^ ^ ^ -^ 


a — --^ -^ 

248  "  PARADISE  LOST. 

Captivity  led  captive  through  the  air, 
The  realm  itself  of  Satan  long  usurp'cl, 
Whom  He  shall  tread  at  last  under  our  feet; 
Ev'n  He  who  now  foretold  His  fatal  bruise; 
And  to  the  woman  thus  His  sentence  ttirn'd. 

Thy  sorrow  I  will  greatly  multiply 
By  thy  conception  ;  children  thou  shalt  bring 
In  sorrow  forth,  and  to  thy  husband's  will 
Thine  shall  submit;  he  over  thee  shall  rule. 

On  Adam  last  thus  judgment  He  pronounced. 
Because  thou  hast  hearken'd  to  the  voice  of  thy  wife, 
And  eaten  of  the  tree  concerning  which 
I  charged  thee,  saying :  Thou  shalt  not  eat  thereof, 
Cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy  sake,  thou  in  sorrow 
Shalt  eat  thereof  all  the  days  of  thy  life  ; 
Thorns  also  and  thistles  it  shall  bring  thee  forth 
Unbid,  and  thou  shalt  eat  the  herb  of  the  field ; 
In  the  sweat  of  thy  face  shalt  thou  eat  bread. 
Till  thou  return  unto  the  ground,  for  thou 
Out  of  the  ground  wast  taken ;  know  thy  birth. 
For  dust  thou  art,  and  shalt  to  dust  return. 

So  judged  he  man,  both  Judge  and  Saviour  sent ; 
And  th'  instant  stroke  of  death  denounced  that  day 
Removed  far  off;  then  pitying  how  they  stood 
Before  him  naked  to  the  air,  that  now 
Must  suffer  change,  disdain'd  not  to  begin 
Thenceforth  the  form  of  servant  *  to  assume, 
As  when  he  wash'd  his  servants'  feet,^  so  now 
As  father  of  his  family  he  clad 
Their  nakedness  with  skins  of  beasts,  or  slain, 
Or  as  the  snake  with  youthful  coat  repaid; 
And  thought  not  much  to  clothe  His  enemies. 
Nor  He  their  outward  only  with  the  skins 
Of  beasts,  but  inward  nakedness,  much  more 

1  Philip,  ii.  7.  '■^  John  xiii.  5. 

d^ ^ 


\s-' 


<b 


PARADISE  LOST.  249 

Opprobrious,  with  His  robe  of  righteousness, 

Arraying,  cover'd  from  his  Father's  sight. 

To  Him  with  swift  ascent  He  up  return'd, 

Into  His  blissful  bosom  reassumed 

In  glory  as  of,  old  ;  to  Him  appeased 

All,  though  all-knowing,  what  had  past  with  man 

Recounted,  mixing  intercession  sweet. 

Meanwhile,  ere  thus  was  sinn'd  and  judged  on  earth, 
Within  the  gates  of  hell  sat  Sin  and  Death, 
In  counterview  within  the  gates,  that  now 
Stood  open  wide,  belching  outrageous  flame 
Far  into  Chaos,  since  the  fiend  pass'd  through, 
Sin  opening,  who  thus  now  to  Death  began. 

O  son,  why  sit  we  here,  each  other  viewing 
Idly,  while  Satan  our  great  author  thrives 
In  other  worlds,  and  happier  seat  provides 
For  us  his  offspring  dear  ?     It  cannot  be 
But  that  success  attends  him ;  if  mishap, 
Ere  this  he  had  return'd,  with  fury  driven 
By  his  avengers,  since  no  place  like  this 
Can  fit  his  punishment,  or  their  revenge. 
Methinks  I  feel  new  strength  within  me  rise, 
Wings  growing,  and  dominion  giv'n  me  large 
Beyond  this  deep ;  whatever  draws  me  on. 
Or  sympathy,  or  some  connatural  force, 
Powerful  at  greatest  distance  to  unite 
With  secret  amity  things  of  like  kind 
By  secretest  conveyance.     Thou  my  shade 
Inseparable  must  with  me  along  ; 
For  Death  fi  om  Sin  no  power  can  separate. 
But  lest  the  difficulty  of  passing  back 
Stay  his  return  perhaps  over  this  gulf 
Impassable,  impervious,  let  us  try 
Advent'rous  work,  yet  to  thy  power  and  mine 
Not  unagreeable,  to  found  a  path 
Over  this  main  from  hell  to  that  new  world 

^ ——^ 


<b 


250 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Where  Satan  now  prevails,  a  monument 
Of  merit  high  to  all  th'  infernal  host, 
Easing  their  passage  hence,  for  intercourse, 
Or  transmigration,  as  their  lot  shall  lead. 
Nor  can  I  miss  the  way  so  strongly  drawn 
By  this  new  felt  attraction  and  instinct. 

Whom  thus  the  meagre  Shadow  answer'd  soon. 
Go  whither  fate  and  inclination  strong 
Leads  thee  ;  I  shall  not  lag  behind,  nor  err. 
The  way  thou  leading,  such  a  scent  I  draw 
Of  carnage,  prey  innumerable,  and  taste 
The  savor  of  death  from  all  things  there  that  live: 
Nor  shall  I  to  the  work  thou  enterprisest 
Be  wanting,  but  afford  thee  equal  aid. 

So  saying,  with  delight  he  snuff'd  the  smell 
Of  mortal  change  on  earth.     As  when  a  flock 
Of  ravenous  fowl,  though  many  a  league  remote, 
Against  the  day  of  battle,  to  a  field, 
Where  armies  lie  encamp'd,  come  flying,  lured 
With  scent  of  living  carcasses  design'd 
For  death,  the  following  day,  in  bloody  fight : 
So  scented  the  grim  feature,  and  upturn'd 
His  nostril  wide  into  the  murky  air. 
Sagacious  of  his  quarry  from  so  far. 
Then  both  from  out  hell  gates  into  the  waste 
Wide  anarchy  of  Chaos  damp  and  dark 
Flew  diverse  ;  and  with  power,  their  power  was  great, 
Hovering  upon  the  waters  ;  what  they  met 
Solid  or  slimy,  as  in  raging  sea 
Tost  up  and  down,  together  crowded  drove 
From  each  side  shoaling  towards  the  mouth  of  hell. 
As  when  the  two  polar  winds,  blowing  adverse 
Upon  the  Cronian  sea,^  together  drive 
Mountains  of  ice,  that  stop  th'  imagined  way  ^ 


1  Northern  frozen  sea Newton. 


2  The  north-east  passage  to  China,  i.e.,  Cathay. 


c:^ 


4 


^ ^ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  25 1 

Beyond  Petsora  eastward,  to  the  rich 

Cathaian  coast.     The  aggregated  soil 

Death  with  his  mace  petrific,  cold  and  dry, 

As  with  a  trident  smote,  and  fix'd  as  firm 

As  Delos  floating  once  ;  the  rest  his  look 

Bound  with  Gorgonian  rigor  ^  not  to  move, 

And  with  Asphaltic  slime,  broad  as  the  gate, 

Deep  to  the  roots  of  hell  the  gather'd  beach 

They  fasten'd,  and  the  mole  immense  wrought  on 

Over  the  foaming  deep  high  arch'd,  a  bridge 

Of  length  prodigious  joining  to  the  wall 

Immovable  of  this  now  fenceless  world 

Forfeit  to  death  :  from  hence  a  passage  broad, 

Smooth,  easy,  inoffensive,  down  to  hell. 

So,  if  great  things  to  small  may  be  compared, 

Xerxes,  the  liberty  of  Greece  to  yoke, 

From  Susa  his  Memnonian  palace  high 

Came  to  the  Sea,  and  over  Hellespont 

Bridging  his  way,  Europe  with  Asia  join'd, 

And  scourged  with  many  a  stroke  th'  indignant  waves. 

Now  had  they  brought  the  work  by  wond'rous  art 

Pontifical,^  a  ridge  of  pendent  rock 

Over  the  vex'd  abyss,  following  the  track 

Of  Satan,  to  the  self-same  place  where  he 

First  lighted  from  his  wing,  and  landed  safe 

From  out  of  Chaos,  to  the  outside  bare 

Of 'this  round  world  :  with  pins  of  adamant 

And  chains  they  made  all  fast,  too  fast  they  made 

And  durable ;  and  now  in  little  space 

The  confines  met  of  empyrean  heav'n 

And  of  this  world,  and  on  the  left  hand  hell 

With  long  reach  interposed ;  three  sev'ral  ways 


1  Alluding  to  Medusa's  power  of  turning  people  into  stone. 

2  Pontifical,  i.e.,  the  art  of  making  bridges.  The  high  priest  of  Rome  derived  liii  title, 
Pontifex,  from  pons,  a  bridge,  and/ac^/-^,  to  make  ;  perhaps  becauie  religious  rites  of  great 
importance  inaugurated  these  highly-valued  works,  which  he  always  superintended. 

4)  — -^ 


^ 


^ 


252  .     PARADISE  LOST. 

In  sight  to  each  of  these  three  places  led. 

And  now  their  way  to  earth  they  had  descried; 

To  paradise  first  tending,  when  behold 

Satan  in  likeness  of  an  angel  bright 

Betwixt  the  Centaur  and  the  Scorpion  steering^ 

His  zenith,  while  the  sun  in  Aries  rose : 

Disguised  he  came,  but  those  his  children  dear 

Their  parents  soon  discern'd,  though  in  disguise. 

He,  after  Eve  seduced  unminded  slunk 

Into  the  wood  fast  by,  and,  changing  shape 

To  observe  the  sequel,  saw  his  guileful  act 

By  Eve,  though  all  unweeting,  seconded 

Upon  her  husband,  saw  their  shame  that  sought 

Vain  covertures :  but  when  he  saw  descend 

The  Son  of  God  to  judge  them,  terrified 

He  fled ;  not  hoping  to  escape,  but  shun 

The  present,  fearing,  guilty,  what  His  wrath 

Might  suddenly  inflict:  that  past,  return'd. 

By  night,  and  listening  where  the  hapless  pair 

Sat  in  their  sad  discourse  and  various  plaint, 

Thence  gather'd  his  own  doom,  which  understood 

Not  instant,  but  of  future  time  with  joy 

And  tidings  fraught,  to  hell  he  now  return'd, 

And  at  the  brink  of  Chaos,  near  the  foot 

Of  this  new  wondrous  pontfice,"  unhoped 

Met  who  to  meet  him  came,  his  offspring  dear. 

Great  joy  was  at  their  meeting,  and  at  sight 

Of  that  stupendous  bridge  his  joy  increased. 

Long  he  admiring  stood,  till  Sin,  his  fair 

Enchanting  daughter,  thus  the  silence  broke. 

O  parent,  these  are  thy  magnific  deeds, 
Thy  trophies,  which  thou  view'st  as  not  thine  own  ; 
Thou  art  their  author  and  prime  architect : 

1  To  avoid  being  seen  by  Uriel.      Centaur  and  Scorpion  are  constellations  in  a  different 
^        part  of  the  heavens  to  Aries  on  the  equator. — Newton.  2  Bridge. 


^ 


■e 


a- % 

PARADISE  LOST.  253 

For  I  no  sooner  in  my  heart  divined, 

My  heart  which  by  a  secret  harmony 

Still  moves  with  thine,  join'd  in  connexion  sweet 

That  thou  on  earth  hadst  prosper'd,  which  thy  looks 

Now  also  evidence,  but  straight  I  felt, 

Though  distant  from  thee  worlds  between,  yet  felt 

That  I  must  after  thee  with  this  thy  son, 

Such  fatal  consequence  unites  us  three. 

Hell  could  no  longer  hold  us  in  her  bounds, 

Nor  this  unvoyageablo  gulf  obscure 

Detain  from  following  thy  illustrious  track. 

Thou  hast  achieved  our  liberty,  confined 

Within  hell  gates  till  now  ;  thou  us  empower'd 

To  fortify  thus  far,  and  overlay 

With  this  portentous  bridge  the  dark  abyss. 

Thine  now  is  all  this  world,  thy  virtue  hath  won 

What  thy  hands  builded  not,  thy  wisdom  gain'd 

With  odds  what  war  hath  lost,  and  fully  avenged 

Our  foil  in  heav'n ;  here  thou  shalt  monarch  reign, 

There  didst  not ;  there  let  Him  still  victor  sway, 

As  battle  hath  adjudged,  from  this  new  world 

Retiring,  by  His  own  doom  alienated. 

And  henceforth  monarchy  with  thee  divide 

Of  all  things,  parted  by  th'  empyreal  bounds. 

His  quadrature,  from  thy  orbicular  world. 

Or  try  thee  now  more  dang'rous  to  his  throne. 

Whom  thus  the  prince  of  darkness  answer'd  glad. 
Fair  daughter,  and  thou  son  and  grandchild  both, 
High  proof  ye  now  have  giv'n  to  be  the  race 
Of  Satan,  for  I  glory  in  the  name, 
Antagonist  of  heav'n's  almighty  King, 
Amply  have  merited  of  me,  of  all 
Th'  infernal  empire,  that  so  near  heav'n's  door 
Triumphal  with  triumphal  act  havj  met. 
Mine  with  this  glorious  work,  and  made  one  realm 
Hell  and  this  world,  one  realm,  one  continent 

4- ^ — ^ 


^ -^ 

254  PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  easy  thoroughfare.     Therefore,  while  I 
Descend  through  darkness  on  your  road  with  ease 
To  my  associate  powers,  them  to  acquaint 
With  these  successes,  and  with  them  rejoice, 
You  two  this  way,  among  these  numerous  orbs 
All  yours,  right  down  to  Paradise  descend ; 
There  dwell  and  reign  in  bliss,  thence  on  the  earth 
Dominion  exercise  and  in  the  air, 
Chiefly  on  man,  sole  lord  of  all  declared  ; 
Him  first  make  sure  your  thrall,  and  lastly  kill. 
My  substitutes  I  send  ye,  and  create 
Plenipotent  on  earth,  of  matchless  might 
Issuing  from  me  :  on  your  joint  vigor  now 
My  hold  of  this  new  kingdom  all  depends, 
Through  Sin  to  Death  exposed  by  my  exploit. 
If  your  joint  power  prevail,  th'  affairs  of  hell 
No  detriment  need  fear ;  go  and  be  strong. 

So  saying  he  dismiss'd  them,  they  with  speed 
Their  course  through  thickest  constellations  held 
Spreading  their  bane;  the  blasted  stars  look'd  wan. 
And  planets,  planet-struck,  real  eclipse 
Then  suffcr'd.     Th'  other  way  Satan  went  down 
The  causey  to  hell  gate :  on  either  side 
Disparted  Chaos  over  built  exclaim'd, 
And  with  rebounding  surge  the  bars  assail'd, 
That  scorn'd  his  indignation.     Through  the  gate, 
Wide  open  and  unguarded,  Satan  pass'd, 
And  all  about  found  desolate ;  for  those 
Appointed  to  sit  there  had  left  their  charge, 
Flown  to  the  upper  world  ;  the  rest  were  all 
Far  to  the  inland  retired,  about  the  walls 
Of  Pandsemonium,  city  and  proud  seat 
Of  Lucifer,  so  by  allusion  call'd. 
Of  that  bright  star  to  Satan  paragon'd. 
There  kept  their  watch  the  legions,  while  the  grand 
In  council  sat,  solicitous  what  chance 


^ 


a- Q, 

PARADISE  LOST.  255 

Might  intercept  their  emperor  sent ;  so  he 

Departing  gave  command,  and  they  observed. 

As  when  the  Tartar  from  his  Russian  foe 

By  Astracan  over  the  snowy  plains 

Retires,  or  Bactrian  Sophy  ^  from  the  horns 

Of  Turkish  crescent"  leaves  all  waste  beyond 

The  realm  of  Aladule^  in  his  retreat 

To  Tauris  or  Casbeen  :  so  these,  the  late 

Heav'n-banish'd  host,  left  desert  utmost  hell 

Many  a  dark  league,  reduced  in  careful  watch 

Round  their  metropolis,  and  now  expecting 

Each  hour  their  great  adventurer  from  the  search 

Of  foreign  worlds:  he  through  the  midst  unmark'd. 

In  show  plebeian  angel  militant 

Of  lowest  order,  pass'd;  and  from  the  door 

Of  that  Plutonian  hall  invisible 

Ascended  his  high  throne,  which,  under  state 

Of  richest  texture  spread,  at  th'  upper  end 

Was  placed  in  regal  lustre.     Down  awhile 

He  sat,  and  round  about  him  saw  unseen: 

At  last  as  from  a  cloud  his  fulgent  head 

And  shape  star-bright  appear'd,  or  brighter,  clad 

With  what  permissive  glory  since  his  fall 

Was  left  him,  or  false  glitter.     All  amazed 

At  that  so  sudden  blaze  the  Stygian  throng 

Bent  their  aspect,  and  whom  they  wish'd  beheld, 

Their  mighty  chief  return'd:  loud  was  th'  acclaim. 

Forth  rush'd  in  haste  the  great  consulting  peers, 

Raised  from  their  dark  divan,  and  with  like  joy, 

1  The  Persian  monarch  thus  named  from  Bactria,  one  of  the  greatest  provinces  of  Persia. 

2  The  ensign  or  emblem  of  Turkey. 

3  "Aladule,"  the  greater  Armenia,  called  by  the  Turks  (under  whom  the  greatest  part  of 
it  is)  Aladule,  of  its  last  King,  Aladule,  slain  by  Selymus  I.;  "  in  his  retreat  to  Tauris,"  a 
great  city  in  the  kingdom  of  Persia,  noiv  called  Ecbatana,  sometime  in  the  hands  of  the 
Turks,  but  in  1603  retaken  by  Abas,  KingofPersia  ;  "or  Casbeen,"  one  of  the  greatest  cities 
of  Persia,  where  the  Persian  monarchs  made  their  residence  after  the  loss  of  Tauris,  Irom 
which  it  is  distant  sixty- five  German  miles  to  the  south-east. — HUME. 


a-- 


^ 


256  PARADISE  LOST. 

Congratulant  approach'd  him,  who  with  hand 
Silence,  and  with  these  words  attention,  won. 

Thrones,  dominations,  princedoms,  virtues,  powers. 
For  in  possession  such,  not  only  of  right, 
I  call  ye  and  declare  ye  no\y,  return'd 
Successful  beyond  hope,  to  lead  ye  forth 
Triumphant  out  of  this  infernal  pit 
Abominable,  accursed,  the  house  of  woe. 
And  dungeon  of  our  tyrant :  now  possess, 
As  lords,  a  spacious  world,  to  our  native  heav'n 
Little  inferior,  by  my  adventure  hard 
With  peril  great  achieved.     Long  were  to  tell 
What  I  have  done,  what  suffer'd,  with  what  pain 
Voyaged  th'  unreal,  vast,  unbounded  deep 
Of  horrible  confusion,  over  which 
By  Sin  and  Death  a  broad  way  now  is  paved 
To  expedite  your  glorious  march  :  but  I 
Toil'd  out  my  uncouth  passage,  forced  to  ride 
Th'  untractable  abyss,  plunged  in  the  womb 
Of  unoriginal  Night  and  Chaos  wild, 
That  jealous  of  their  secrets  fiercely  opposed 
My  journey  strange,  with  clamorous  uproar 
Protesting  fate  supreme;  thence  how  I  found 
The  new  created  world,  which  fame  in  heav'n 
Long  had  foretold,  a  fabric  wonderful 
Of  absolute  perfection,  therein  man 
Placed  in  a  paradise,  by  our  exile 
Made  happy :  him  by  fraud  I  have  seduced 
From  his  Creator,  and,  the  more  to  increase 
Your  wonder,  with  an  apple;  He  thereat 
Offended,  worth  your  laughter  I  hath  giv'n  up 
Both  His  beloved  man  and  all  His  world 
To  Sin  and  Death  a  prey,  and  so  to  us, 
Without  our  hazard,  labor,  or  alarm, 
To  range  in,  and  to  dwell,  and  over  man 
To  rule,  as  over  all  He  should  have  ruled. 

45 ^ 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  257 

True  is,  me  also  he  hath  judged,  or  rather 

Me  not,  but  the  brute  serpent,  in  whose  shape 

Man  I  deceived:  that  which  to  me  belongs 

Is  enmity,  which  he  will  put  between 

Me  and  mankind  :  I  am  to  bruise  his  heel ; 

His  seed  (when  is  not  set)^  shall  bruise  my  head. 

A  Avorld  who  would  not  purchase  with  a  bruise. 

Or  much  more  grievous  pain  ?     Ye  have  th'  account 

Of  my  performance :  what  remains,  ye  gods. 

But  up  and  enter  now  into  full  bliss  ? 

So  having  said,  awhile  he  stood,  expecting 
Their  universal  shout  and  high  applause 
To  fill  his  ear,  when  contrary  he  hears 
On  all  sides,  from  innumerable  tongues, 
A  dismal  universal  hiss,  the  sound 
Of  public  scorn  ;  he  wonder'd,  but  not  long 
Had  leisure,  wond'ring  at  himself  now  more: 
His  visage  drawn  he  felt  to  sharp  and  spare, 
His  arms  clung  to  his  ribs,  his  legs  entwining 
Each  other,  till  supplanted  down  he  fell 
A  monstrous  serpent  on  his  belly  prone. 
Reluctant,  but  in  vain,  a  greater  power 
Now  ruled  him,  punish'd  in  the  shape  he  sinn'd, 
According  to  his  doom.     He  would  have  spoke, 
But  hiss  for  hiss  return'd  with  forked  tongue 
To  forked  tongue,  for  now  were  all  transform'd 
Alike,  to  serpents  all  as  accessories 
To  his  bold  rio.t :  dreadful  was  the  din 
Of  hissing  through  the  hr.ll,  thick  swarming  now 
With  complicated  monsters  head  and  tail. 
Scorpion,  and  asp,  and  amphisbaena^  dire, 
Cerastes"^  horn'd,  hydrus,''  and  elop^  drear, 
And  dipsas  f  not  so  thick  svv^arm'd  once  the  soil 

1  The  time  (when)  is  not  declared. 

2  A  serpent  said  to  have  a  head  at  both  ends  of  its  body.  '  A  horned  snake. 
*  A  water  snake.     ^  a  water  serpent.      6  a  snake  the  bite  of  which  produces  feverish  thirst. 

(^ ^ 


a -^ 

258  PARADISE  LOST. 

Bedropp'd  with  blood  of  Gorgon^  or  the  isle 

Ophiusa  ;"  but  still  greatest  he  the  midst, 

Now  dragon  grown,  larger  than  whom  the  sun 

Ingender'd  in  the  Pythian  vale  on  slime, 

Huge  Python,^  and  his  power  no  less  he  seem'd 

Above  the  rest  still  to  retain.     They  all 

Him  follow'd  issuing  forth  to  th'  open  field, 

Where  all  yet  left  of  that  revolted  rout 

Heav'n-fall'n  in  station  stood  or  just  arra)', 

Sublime  with  expectation  when  to  see, 

In  triumph  issuing  forth  their  glorious  chief: 

They  saw,  but  other  sight  instead,  a  crowd 

Of  ugly  serpents  ;  horror  on  them  fell. 

And  horrid  sympathy  ;  for  what  they  saw, 

They  felt  themselves  now  changing  :  down  their  arms, 

Down  fell  both  spear  and  shield,  down  they  as  fast, 

And  the  dire  hiss  renew'd,  and  the  dire  form 

Catch'd  by  contagion,  like  in  punishment, 

As  in  their  crime.     Thus  was  th'  applause  they  meant 

Turn'd  to  exploding  hiss,  triumph  to  shame, 

Cast  on  themselves  from  their  own  mouths.     There  stood 

A  grove  hard  by,  sprung  up  with  this  their  change, 

His  will  who  reigns  above,  to  aggravate 

Their  penance,  laden  with  fair  fruit,  like  that 

Which  grew  in  Paradise,  the  bait  of  Eve 

Used  by  the  tempter  :  on  that  prospect  strange 

Their  earnest  eyes  they  fix'd,  imagining 

For  one  forbidden  tree  a  multitude 

Now  ris'n,  to  work  them  further  woe  or  shame  : 

Yet  parch'd  with  scalding  thirst  and  hunger  fierce. 

Though  to  delude  them  sent,  could  not  abstain. 


1  Lybia,  where  the  blood  which  dropped  from  Medusa's  head  produced  serpents. 

2  An  island  in  the  Mediterranean,  which  was  deserted  on  account  of  its  serpents,  from 
which  it  derived iis  name. — Newton. 

3  A  huge  serpent,  sprung  from  the  slime  left  after  the  Deucalion  deluge.     It  was  slain  by 
Apollo. 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  259 

But  on  they  roll'd  in  heaps,  and  u^  the  trees 

Climbing  sat  thicker  than  the  snaky  locks 

That  curl'd  Megaera  •}  greedily  they  pluck'd 

The  fruitage  fair  to  sight,  like  that  which  grew 

Near  that  bituminous  lake^  where  Sodom  flamed; 

This  more  delusive,  not  the  touch,  but  taste 

Deceived  ;  they,  fondly  thinking  to  allay 

Their  appetite  with  gust,  instead  of  fruit 

Chew'd  bitter  ashes,  which  th'  offended  taste 

With  spattering  noise  rejected  :  oft  they  assay'd, 

Hunger  and  thirst  constraining,  drugg'd  as  oft, 

With  hatefullest  disrelish  writhed  their  jaws 

With  soot  and  cinders  fill'd  ;  so  oft  they  fell 

Into  the  same  illusion,  not  as  man 

Whom  they  triumph'd  once  lapsed.     Thus  were  they  plagued 

And  worn  with  famine  long  an*d  ceaseless  hiss, 

Till  their  lost  shape,  permitted,  they  resumed  ; 

Yearly  enjoin'd,  some  say,  to  undergo 

This  annual  humbling  certain  number'd  days 

To  dash  their  pride  and  joy  for  man  seduced. 

However,  some  tradition  they  dispersed 

Among  the  heathen  of  their  purchase  got, 

And  fabled  how  the  serpent,  whom  they  call'd 

Ophion  with  Eurynome,  (the  wide 

Encroaching  Eve  perhaps,)  had  first  the  rule 

Of  high  Olympus,  thence  by  Saturn  driv'n 

And  Ops,  ere  yet  Dictjean  Jove  was  born. 

Meanwhile  in  paradise  the  hellish  pair 
Too  soon  arrived,  Sin  there  in  power  before. 
Once  actual,  now  in  body,  and  to  dwell 
Habitual  habitant;  behind  her  Death 
Close  following  pace  for  pace,  not  mounted  yet 
On  his  pale  horse;  to  whom  Sin  thus  began. 

1  One  of  the  Furies. 

2  Lake  Asphaltites,  or  Dead  Sea.      Milton  alludes  to  Josephus's  account  of  the  apples  of 
Sodom,  said  to  have  a  lovely  exterior,  but  within  to  be  full  of  ashes.     It  is  not  true. 

^ ^ 


260  PARADISE  LOST. 

Second  of  Satan  sprung,  all  conquering  Death, 
What  think'st  thou  of  our  empire  now,  though  earn'd 
With  travail  difficult,  not  better  far 
Than  still  at  hell's  dark  threshold  to  have  sate  watch, 
Unnamed,  undreaded,  and  thyself  half  starved? 

Whom  thus  the  sin-born  monster  answer'd  soon. 
To  me,  who  with  eternal  famine  pine, 
Alike  is  hell,  or  paradise,  or  heaven. 
There  best,  where  most  with  ravine  I  may  meet ; 
Which  here,  though  plenteous,  all  too  little  seems  ^ 
To  stuff  this  maw,  this  vast  unhide-bound  corps. 

To  whom  th'  incestuous  mother  thus  replied. 
Thou  therefore  on  these  herbs,  and  fruits,  and  flowers 
Feed  first ;  on  each  beast  next,  and  fish,  and  fowl ; 
No  homely  morsels ;  and  whatever  thing 
The  scythe  of  Time  mows  down,  devour  unspared, 
Till  I  in  man  residing  through  the  race, 
His  thoughts,  his  looks,  words,  actions,  all  infect; 
And  season  him  thy  last  and  sweetest  prey. 

This  said,  they  both  betook  them  several  ways, 
Both  to  destroy,  or  unimmortal  make 
All  kinds,  and  for  destruction  to  mature 
Sooner  or  later;  which  th'  Almighty  seeing, 
From  his  transcendent  seat  the  saints  among, 
To  those  bright  orders  utter'd  thus  his  voice. 

See  with  what  heat  these  dogs  of  hell  advance 
To  waste  and  havoc  yonder  world,  which  I 
So  fair  and  good  created,  and  had  still 
Kept  in  that  state,  had  not  the  folly  of  man 
Let  in  these  wasteful  furies,  who  impute 
Folly  to  me ;  so  doth  the  prince  of  hell 
And  his  adherents,  that  with  so  much  ease 
I  suffer  them  to  enter  and  possess 
A  place  so  heavenly,  and  conniving  seem 

1  Prov.  xxvii.  20. 


This  said,  they  both  betook  them  several 


ways. 


Page  260. 


s- 


PARADISE  LOST.  261 

To  gratify  my  scornful  enemies, 

That  laugh,  as  if,  transported  with  some  fit 

Of  passion,  I  to  them  had  quitted  all, 

At  random  yielded  up  to  their  misrule ; 

And  know  not  that  I  called  and  drew  them  thither 

My  hell-hounds,  to  lick  up  the  draff  and  filth, 

Which  man's  polluting  sin  with  taint  hath  shed 

On  what  was  pure ;  till  cramm'd  and  gorged,  nigh  burst 

With  suck'd  and  glutted  offal,  at  one  sling 

Of  thy  victorious  arm,  well-pleasing  Son, 

Both  Sin  and  Death,  and  yawning  Grave,  at  last 

Through  Chaos  hurl'd,  obstruct  the  mouth  of  hell 

For  ever,  and  seal  up  his  ravenous  jaws/ 

Then  heav'n  and  earth  renew'd  shall  be  made  pure 

To  sanctify  that  shall  receive  no  stain  : 

Till  then  the  curse  pronounced  on  both  precedes. 

He  ended,  and  the  heav'nly  audience  loud 
Sung  Hallelujah,  as  the  sound  of  seas, 
Through  multitude  that  sung  :  Just  are  thy  ways,^ 
Righteous  are  thy  decrees  on  all  thy  works ; 
.  Who  can  extenuate  thee  ?     Next,  to  the  Son, 
Destined  restorer  of  mankind,  by  whom 
New  heav'n  and  earth  shall  to  the  ages  rise. 
Or  dow^n  from  heav'n  descend.     Such  was  their  song, 
While  the  Creator  calling  forth  by  name 
His  mighty  angels  gave  them  several  charge, 
As  sorted  best  with  present  things.     The  sun 
Had  first  his  precept  so  to  move,  so  shine. 
As  might  affect  the  earth  with  cold  and  heat 
Scarce  tolerable,  and  from  the  north  to  call 
Decrepit  winter;  from  the  south  to  bring 
Solstitial  summer's  heat.    To  the  blank  moon'^ 
Her  office  they  prescribed,  to  th'  other  five 
Their  planetary  motions  and  aspects 

1  See  Dante's  Inferno,  cant,  xxiii.  2  Rev.  xv.  3;  xvi.  7. 

3  Some  editions  printed  blanc  moon,  i.e.,  while. 

^ ^ ^ 


^. — ^ :- ^ 

262  PARADISE  LOST. 

In  Sextile,  Square,  and  Trine,  and  Opposite/ 
Of  noxious  efficacy,  and  when  to  join 
In  synod  unbenign,  and  taught  the  fix'd 
Their  influence  malignant  when  to  show'r, 
Which  of  them  rising  with  the  sun,  or  falling, 
Should  prove  tempestuous.     To  the  winds  they  set 
Their  corners,  when  with  bluster  to  confound 
Sea,  air,  and  shore;  the  thunder  when  to  roll 
With  terror  through  the  dark  aereal  hall. 
Some  say,  he  bid  his  angels  turn  askance 
The  poles  of  earth  twice  ten  degrees  and  more 
From  the  sun's  axle ;  they  with  labor  push'd 
Oblique  the  centric  globe :  some  say,  the  sun 
Was  bid  turn  reins  from  th'  equinoctial  road 
Like  distant  breadth  to  Taurus  with  the  sev'n 
Atlantic  sisters,^  and  the  Spartan  twins,^ 
Up  to  the  Tropic  Crab ;  thence  down  amain 
By  Leo,  and  the  Virgin,  and  the  Scales, 
As  deep  as  Capricorn,  to  bring  in  change 
Of  seasons  to  each  clime ;  else  had  the  spring 
Perpetual  smiled  on  earth  with  vernant  flow'rs, 
Equal  in  days  and  nights,  except  to  those 
Beyond  the  polar  circles  ;  to  them  day 

1  Terms  made  use  of  by  the  astrologers,  and  signifying  the  positions  or  aspects  of  ihe  five 
(then  known)  planets.  Sextile  rafans  a  planet  situated  at  a  distance  of  two  signs  (the 
sixth  of  twelve)  from  another  planet.  Square,  separated  by  four  signs  Trine,  separated 
by  three  signs.  Opposite  was  considered  a  position  of  noxious  efticacy.  The  period  in 
which  Milton  lived  explains  the  fact  of  his  countenancing  these  superstitions,  as  they  were 
universally  believed.  After  the  great  Fire  of  London,  the  House  of  Commons  called  the 
astrologer  Lilly  before  them,  to  examine  him  as  to  his  foreknowledge  of  that  calamity,  and 
gravely  received  his  explanation  of  how  he  obtained  his  foresight  from  the  art  he  practised. 
He  had  foretold  the  fire  in  a  hieroglyphic  resembling  those  formerly  published  in  Old 
Moore's  Almanack,  which  might  be  interpreted  ia  any  manner  the  reader  pleased.  "  Did 
you  foresee  the  year?''  asked  one  of  the  Committee.  "  I  did  not,"  replied  Lilly,  "  nor 
was  desirous;  of  that  I  made  no  scrutiny."  The  astrologer  then  told  them,  very  wisely, 
that  the  fire  was  not  of  man,  but  of  God.  It  was  believed  to  have  been  caused  by 
incendiaries. 

^  The  Pleiades,  daughters  of  Atlas.    This  constellation  is  in  the  neck  of  Taurus. 

8  Castor  and  Pollux,  the  Gemini. 

(^ . -^ 


a- -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  263 

Had  unbenighted  shone,  while  the  low  sun 

To  recompense  his  distance  in  their  sight 

Had  rounded  still  th'  horizon,  and  not  known 

Or  east  or  west,  which  had  forbid  the  snow 

From  cold  Estotiland/  and  south  as  far 

Beneath  Magellan."     At  that  tasted  fruit 

The  sun,  as  from  Thyestean  banquet,'*  turn'd 

His  course  intended  ;  else  how  had  the  world 

Inhabited,  though  sinless,  more  than  now 

Avoided  pinching  cold  and  scorching  heat? 

These  changes  in  the  heav'ns,  though  slow,  produced 

Like  change  on  sea  and  land,  sideral  blast, 

Vapor,  and  mist,  and  exhalation  hot, 

Corrupt  and  pestilent.      Now  from  the  north 

Of  Norumbega^  and  the  Samoed  shore, 

Bursting  their  brazen  dungeon,  arm'd  w'ith  ice, 

And  snow,  and  iiail,  and  stormy  gust,  and  flaw, 

Boreas,  and  Ccecias,  and  Argestes  loud. 

And  Thrascias'^  rend  the  woods,  and  seas  upturn  ; 

With  adverse  blast  upturns  them  from  the  south 

Notus,  and  Afer  black  with  thund'rous  clouds 

From  Serraliona,^  thwart  of  these  as  fierce 

Forth  rush  the  Levant  and  the  Ponent  winds, 

Eurus  and  Zephyr^  with  their  lateral  noise 

Sirocco  and  Libecchio.     Thus  began 

Outrage  from  lifeless  things;  but  Discord  first, 

1  A  tract  of  land  north  of  America,  near  the  Arctic  Ocean  and  Hudson's  Bay, — HUME. 

2  Extreme  south  cf  South  America. 

3  Atreus,  to  avenge  an  injury,  invited  his  brother  Thyestes  to  a  banquet,  and  served  up 
for  his  food  the  flesh  of  his  murdered  children.  This  horrid  revenge  was  visited  on  the 
family  of  Atreus  for  generations. 

*  A  province  of  the  northern  Armenia.  Samoieda,  in  the  northeast  of  Muscovy,  upon 
the  Frozen  Sea. — Hume. 

'  Names  of  the  winds.  Boreas,  the  north ;  Caecias,  northwest ;  Argestes,  northeast. 
Thrascias,  from  Threce.     Notus,  the  south  wind.     Afer,  from  Africa, — From  RICHARDSON. 

^  The  Lion  Mountains,  southwest  of  Africa,  famous  for  storms. 

■■  Levant  and  Ponent  are  Italian  names  for  the  east  and  west  winds,  called  by  the  G:eeks 
Eurus  and  Zephyr.     Sirocco  and  Libecchio  are  the  southeast  and  southwest  winds. 


s- 


264  PARADISE  LOST. 

Daughter  of  Sin,  among  th'  irrational 
Death  introduced  through  fierce  antipathy  : 
Beast  now  with  beast  gan  war,  and  fowl  with  fowl, 
And  fish  with  fish  ;  to  graze'the  herb  all  leaving 
Devour'd  each  other;  nor  stood  much  in  awe 
Of  man,  but  fled  him,  or  with  count'nance  grim 
Glared  on  him  passing.     These  were  from  without 
The  growing  miseries,  which  Adam  saw 
Already  in  part,  though  hid  in  gloomiest  shade. 
To  sorrow  abandon'd,  but  worse  felt  within, 
And,  in  a  troubled  sea  of  passion  tost, 
Thus  to  disburden  sought  with  sad  complaint. 

O  miserable  of  happy !  is  this  the  end 
Of  this  new  glorious  world,  and  me  so  late 
The  glory  of  that  glory,  who  now  become 
Accursed  of  blessed?     Hide  me  from  the  face 
Of  God,  whom  to  behold  was  then  my  highth 
Of  happiness:  yet  well,  if  here  would  end 
The  misery;  I  deserved  it,  and  would  bear 
My  own  deservings ;  but  this  will  not  serve  ; 
All  that  I  eat,  or  drink,  or  shall  beget. 
Is  propagated  curse.     O  voice  once  heard 
Delightfully,  Encrcase  and  multiply, 
Now  death  to  hear !  for  what  can  I  cncrease 
Or  multiply,  but  curses  on  my  head  ? 
Who  of  all  ages  to  succeed,  but  feeling 
The  evil  on  him  brought  by  me,  will  curse 
My  head?     Ill  fare  our  ancestor  impure. 
For  this  we  may  thank  Adam ;  but  his  thanks 
Shall  be  the  execration ;  so  besides 
Mine  own  that  bide  upon  me,  all  from  me 
Shall  with  a  fierce  reflux  on  me  redound, 
On  me,  as  on  their  natural  centre  light 
Heavy,  though  in  their  place.     O  fleeting  joys 
Of  paradise,  dear  bought  with  lasting  woes  ! 
Did  I  request  thee.  Maker,  from  my  clay 


4^- 


■^ 


a -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  265 

To  mould  me  man  ?     Did  I  solicit  thee 

From  darkness  to  promote  me,  or  here  place 

In  this  delicious  garden?     As  my  will 

Concurr'd  not  to  my  being,  it  were  but  right 

And  equal  to  reduce  me  to  my  dust, 

Desirous  to  resign,  and  render  back 

All  I  received,  unable  to  perform 

Thy  terms  too  hard,  by  which  I  was  to  hold 

The  good  I  sought  not.     To  the  loss  of  that 

Sufficient  penalty,  why  hast  thou  added 

The  sense  of  endless  woes?     Inexplicable 

Thy  justice  seems  ;  yet,  to  say  truth,  too  late 

I  thus  contest:  then  should  have  been  refused 

These  terms,  whatever,  when  they  were  proposed. 

Thou  didst  accept  them  ;  wilt  thou  enjoy  the  good, 

Then  cavil  the  conditions  ?'  and  though  God 

Made  thee  without  thy  leave,  what  if  thy  son 

Prove  disobedient,  and  reproved  retort, 

Wherefore  didst  thou  beget  me  ?     I  sought  it  not : 

Wouldst  thou  admit  for  his  contempt  of  thee 

That  proud  excuse  ?  yet  him  not  thy  election, 

But  natural  necessity  begot. 

God  made  thee  of  choice  his  own,  and  of  his  own 

To  serve  him,  thy  reward  was  of  his  grace, 

Thy  punishment  then  justly  is  at  his  will. 

Be  it  so,  for  I  submit,  his  doom  is  fair, 

That  dust  I  am,  and  shall  to  dust  return  : 

O  welcome  hour  whenever !  why  delays 

His  hand  to  execute  what  His  decree 

Fix'd  on  this  day?  why  do  I  overlive  ? 

Why  am  I  mock'd  with  death,  and  lengthen'd  out 

To  deathless  pain  ?  how  gladly  would  I  meet 

Mortality  my  sentence,  and  be  earth 

Insensible  !  how  glad  would  lay  me  down 

1  Job  ii.  10. 


a- ^ ^ 

266  PARADISE  LOST. 

As  in  my  mother's  lap  ?  there  I  should  rest 

And  sleep  secure ;  His  dreadful  voice  no  more 

Would  thunder  in  my  ears  ;  no  fear  of  worse 

To  me  and  to  my  offspring  would  torment  me 

With  cruel  expectation.     Yet  one  doubt 

Pursues  me  still,  lest  all  I  cannot  die, 

Lest  that  pure  breath  of  life,  the  spirit  of  man^ 

Which  God  inspired,  cannot  together  perish 

With  this  corporeal  clod ;  then  in  the  grave, 

Or  in  some  other  dismal  place,  who  knows 

But  I  shall  die  a  living  death  ?     O  thought 

Horrid,  if  true !  yet  why  ?  it  was  but  breath 

Of  life  that  sinn'd ;  what  dies  but  what  had  life 

And  sin  ?  the  body  properly  hath  neither. 

All  of  me  then  shall  die  ;  let  this  appease 

The  doubt,  since  human  reach  no  further  knows. 

For  though  the  Lord  of  all  be  infinite. 

Is  His  wrath  also  ?  be  it,  man  is  not  so, 

But  mortal  doom'd.     How  can  He  exercise 

Wrath  without  end  on  man  whom  death  must  end  ? 

Can  He  make  deathless  death  ?  that  were  to  make 

Strange  contradiction,  which  to  God  Himself 

Impossible  is  held,  as  argument 

Of  weakness,  not  of  power.     Will  He  draw  out. 

For  anger's  sake,  finite  to  infinite 

In  punish'd  man,  to  satisfy  his  rigor, 

Satisfied  never  ?  that  were  to  extend 

His  sentence  beyond  dust  and  nature's  law. 

By  which  all  causes  else,  according  still 

To  the  reception  of  their  matter,  act, 

Not  to  th'  extent  of  their  own  sphere.     But  say. 

That  death  be  not  one  stroke  as  I  supposed, 

Bereaving  sense,  but  endless  misery 

From  this  day  onward,  which  I  feel  begun 

1  Gen.  ii.  7. 


a- 


PARADISE  LOST.  267 

Both  in  me,  and  without  me,  and  so  last 

To  perpetuity  : — ay  me  !  that  fear 

Comes  thund'ring  back  with  dreadful  revolution 

On  my  defenceless  head ;  both  death  and  I 

Are  found  eternal,  and  incorporate  both ; 

Nor  I  on  my  part  single,  in  me  all 

Posterity  stands  cursed ;  fair  patrimony 

That  I  must  leave  ye  sons  !  O  were  I  able 

To  waste  it  all  myself,  and  leave  ye  none  ! 

So  disinherited,  how  would  ye  bless 

Me,  now  your  curse  !  Ah  !  why  should  all  mankind 

For  one  man's  fault,  thus  guiltless  be  condemn'd. 

If  guiltless  ?     But  from  me  what  can  proceed, 

But  all  corrupt,  both  mind  and  will  depraved, 

Not  to  do  only,  but  to  will  the  same 

With  me?  how  can  they  then  acquitted  stand 

In  sight  of  God  ?  Him,  after  all  disputes, 

Forced  I  absolve :  all  my  evasions  vain. 

And  reasonings,  though  through  mazes,  lead  me  still 

But  to  my  own  conviction :  first  and  last 

On  me,  me  only,  as  the  source  and  spring 

Of  all  corruption,  all  the  blame  lights  due; 

So  might  the  wrath  !     Fond  wish  !  couldst  thou  support 

That  burden  heavier  than  the  earth  to  bear, 

Than  all  the  world  much  heavier,  though  divided 

With  that  bad  woman  ?     Thus  what  tliou  desir'st, 

And  what  thou  fear'st,  alike  destroys  all  hope 

Of  refuge,  and  concludes  thee  miserable  ' 

Beyond  all  past  example  and  future  : 

To  Satan  only  like  both  crime  and  doom. 

0  Conscience,  into  what  abyss  of  fears 

And  horrors  hast  thou  driv'n  me,  out  of  which 

1  find  no  way  from  deep  to  deeper  plunged ! 

Thus  Adam  to  himself  lamented  loud 
Through  the  still  night ;  not  now,  as  ere  man  fell 
Wholesome,  and  cool,  and  mild,  but  with  black  air 


^ 


4^ 


^ -^ 

268  PARADISE  LOST. 

Accompanied,  with  damps  and  dreadful  gloom, 

Which  to  his  evil  conscience  represented 

All  things  with  double  terror.     On  the  ground 

Outstretch'd  he  lay,  on  the  cold  ground,  and  oft 

Cursed  his  creation,  death  as  oft  accused 

Of  tardy  execution,  since  denounced 

The  day  of  his  offence.     Why  comes  not  death, 

Said  he,  with  one  thrice  acceptable  stroke 

To  end  me  ?     Shall  truth  fail  to  keep  her  word, 

Justice  divine  not  hasten  to  be  just? 

But  death  comes  not  at  call,  justice  divine 

Mends  not  her  slowest  pace  for  prayers  or  cries. 

0  woods,  O  fountains,  hillocks,  dales,  and  bow'rs, 
With  other  echo  late  I  taught  your  shades 
To  answer,  and  resound  far  other  song. 
Whom  thus  afflicted  when  sad  Eve  beheld, 
Desolate  where  she  sat,  approaching  nigh, 
Soft  words  to  his  fierce  passion  she  assay'd : 
But  her  with  stern  regard  he  thus  repell'd. 

Out  of  my  sight,  thou  serpent!  that  name  best 
Befits  thee  with  him  leagued,  thyself  as  false 
And  hateful;  nothing  wants,  but  that  thy  shape, 
Like  his,  and  color  serpentine  may  show 
Thy  inward  fraud,  to  warn  all  creatures  from  thee 
Henceforth  ;  lest  that  too  heav'nly  form,  pretended 
To  hellish  falsehood,  snare  them.     But  for  thee 

1  had  persisted  happy,  had  not  thy  pride 
And  wand'ring  vanity,  when  least  was  safe, 
Rejected  my  forewarning,  and  disdain'd 
Not  to  be  trusted,  longing  to  be  seen 
Though  by  the  devil  himself,  him  overweening 
To  over-reach ;  but  with  the  serpent  meeting, 
Fool'd  and  beguiled,  by  him  thou,  I  by  thee. 
To  trust  thee  from  my  side,  imagined  wise, 
Constant,  mature,  proof  against  all  assaults, 
And  understood  not  all  was  but  a  show 


a ■■ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  269 

Rather  than  solid  virtue,  all  but  a  rib 

Crooked  by  nature,  bent,  as  now  appears, 

More  to  the  part  sinister  from  me  drawn ; 

Well  if  thrown  out,  as  supernumerary 

To  my  just  number  found.     Oh  !  why  did  God, 

Creator  wise,  that  peopled  highest  heav'n 

With  spirits  masculine,  create  at  last 

This  novelty  on  earth,  this  fair  defect 

Of  nature,  and  not  fill  the  world  at  once 

With  men  as  angels  without  feminine, 

Or  find  some  other  way  to  generate 

Mankind  ?     This  mischief  had  not  then  befall'n, 

And  more  that  shall  befall ;  innumerable 

Disturbances  on  earth  through  female  snares. 

And  straight  conjunction  with  this  sex:  for  either 

He  never  shall  find  out  fit  mate,  but  such 

As  some  misfortune  brings  him,  or  mistake; 

Or  whom  he  wishes  most  shall  seldom  gain 

Through  her  perverseness,  but  shall  see  her  gain'd 

By  a  far  worse ;  or  if  she  love,  withheld 

By  parents ;  or  his  happiest  choice  too  late 

Shall  meet,  already  link'd  and  wedlock-bound 

To  a  fell  adversary,  his  hate  or  shame ; 

Which  infinite  calamity  shall  cause 

To  human  life,  and  household  peace  confound. 

He  added  not,  and  from  her  turn'd  ;  but  Eve 
Not  so  repulsed,  with  tears  that  ceased  not  flowing, 
And  tresses  all  disorder'd,  at  his  feet 
Fell  humble,  and,  embracing  them,  besought 
His  peace,  and  thus  proceeded  in  her  plaint. 

Forsake  me  not  thus,  Adam,  witness  heav'n 
What  love  sincere  and  reverence  in  my  heart 
I  bear  thee,  and  unweeting  have  offended, 
Unhappily  deceived  ;  thy  suppliant 
I  beg,  and  clasp  thy  knees ;  bereave  me  not 
Whereon  I  live,  thy  gentle  looks,  thy  aid, 


a- ■ -^ 

2;o  PARADISE  LOST. 

Thy  counsel  in  this  uttermost  distress, 

My  only  strength  and  stay  :  forlorn  of  thee, 

Whither  shall  I  betake  me,  where  subsist  ? 

While  yet  we  live,  scarce  one  short  hour  perhaps, 

Between  us  two  let  there  be  peace,  both  joining. 

As  join'd  in  injuries,  one  enmity 

Against  a  foe  by  doom  express  assign'd  us, 

That  cruel  serpent.     On  me  exercise  not 

Thy  hatred  for  this  misery  befall'n, 

On  me  already  lost,  me  than  thyself 

More  miserable ;  both  have  sinn'd,  but  thou 

Against  God  only,  I  against  God  and  thee, 

And  to  the  place  of  judgment  will  return. 

There  with  my  cries  importune  heaven,  that  all 

The  sentence  from  thy  head  removed,  may  light 

On  me,  soul  cause  to  thee  of  all  this  woe, 

Me,  me  only,  just  object  of  his  ire. 

She  ended  weeping,  and  her  lowly  plight, 
Immoveable  till  peace  obtain'd  from  fault 
Acknowledged  and  deplored,  in  Adam  wrought 
Commiseration  ;  soon  his  heart  relented 
Towards  her,  his  life  so  late  and  sole  delight, 
Now  at  his  feet  submissive  in  distress  ; 
Creature  so  fair  his  reconcilement  seeking, 
His  counsel,  whom  she  had  displeased,  his  aid  ; 
As  one  disarm'd,  his  anger  all  he  lost, 
And  thus  with  peaceful  words  upraised  her  soon. 

Unwary  and  too  desirous  as  before, 
So  now  of  what  thou  know'st  not,  who  desir'st 
The  punishment  all  on  thyself;  alas. 
Bear  thine  own  first,  ill  able  to  sustain 
His  full  wrath,  whose  thou  feel'st  as  yet  least  part. 
And  my  displeasure  bear'st  so  ill.     If  prayers 
Could  alter  high  decrees,  I  to  that  place 
Would  speed  before  thee,  and  be  louder  heard, 
That  on  my  head  all  might  be  visited, 

d^ : ^ 


^ — : ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  271 

Thy  frailty  and  infirmer  sex  forgiv'n, 
To  me  committed,  and  by  me  exposed. 
But  rise,  let  us  no  more  contend,  nor  blame 
Each  other,  blamed  enough  elsewhere,  but  strive 
In  offices  of  love  how  we  may  lighten 
Each  other's  burden  in  our  share  of  woe ; 
Since  this  day's  death  denounced,  if  aught  I  see, 
Will  prove  no  sudden,  but  a  slow-paced  evil, 
A  long  day's  dying  to  augment  our  pain, 
And  to  our  seed,  O  hapless  seed  !  derived. 

To  whom  thus  Eve,  recovering  heart,  replied. 
Adam,  by  sad  experiment  I  know 
How  little  weight  my  words  with  thee  can  find. 
Found  so  erroneous,  thence  by  just  event 
Found  so  unfortunate  ;  nevertheless, 
Restored  by  thee,  vile  as  I  am,  to  place 
Of  new  acceptance,  hopeful  to  regain 
Thy  love,  the  sole  contentment  of  my  heart 
Living  or  dying,  from  thee  I  will  not  hide 
What  thoughts  in  my  unquiet  breast  are  ris'n, 
Tending  to  some  relief  of  our  extremes, 
Or  end,  though  sharp  and  sad,  yet  tolerable, 
As  in  our  evils,  and  of  easier  choice. 
If  care  of  our  descent  perplex  us  most. 
Which  must  be  born  to  certain  woe,  devour'd 
By  Death  at  last,  and  miserable  it  is 
To  be  to  others  cause  of  misery, 
Our  own  begotten,  and  of  our  loins  to  bring, 
Into  this  cursed  world  a  woful  race, 
That  after  wretched  life  must  be  at  last 
Food  for  so  foul  a  monster,  in  thy  power 
It  lies,  yet  ere  conception  to  prevent 
The  race  unblest,  to  being  yet  unbegot. 
Childless  thou  art,  childless  remain  :  so  Death 
Shall  be  deceived  his  glut,  and  with  us  two 
Be  forced  to  satisfy  his  rav'nous  maw. 
But  if  thou  judge  it  hard  and  difficult, 

^ . 


272  PARADISE  LOST. 

Conversing,  looking,  loving,  to  abstain 
From  love's  due  rites,  nuptial  embraces  sweet, 
And  with  desire  to  languish  without  hope. 
Before  the  present  object  languishing 
With  like  desire,  which  would  be  misery, 
And  torment  less  than  none  of  what  we  dread, 
Then  both  ourselves  and  seed  at  once  to  free 
From  what  we  fear  for  both,  let  us  make  short ; 
Let  us  seek  Death,  or,  he  not  found,  supply 
With  our  own  hands  his  office  on  ourselves : 
Why  stand  we  longer  shivering  under  fears. 
That  show  no  end  but  death,  and  have  the  power. 
Of  many  ways  to  die  the  shortest  choosing, 
Destruction  with  destruction  to  destroy? 

She  ended  here,  or  vehement  despair 
Broke  off  the  rest;  so  much  of  death  her  thoughts 
Had  entertain'd,  as  dyed  her  cheeks  with  pale. 
But  Adam,  with  such  counsel  nothing  sway'd, 
To  better  hopes  his  more  attentive  mind 
Laboring  had  raised,  and  thus  to  Eve  replied. 

Eve,  thy  contempt  of  life  and  pleasure  seems 
To  argue  in  thee  something  more  sublime 
And  excellent  than  what  thy  mind  contemns ; 
But  self-destruction  therefore  sought  refutes 
That  excellence  thought  in  thee,  and  implies, 
Not  thy  contempt,  but  anguish  and  regret 
For  loss  of  life  and  pleasure  overloved. 
Or  if  thou  covet  death,  as  utmost  end 
Of  misery,  so  thinking  to  evade 
The  penalty  pronounced,  doubt  not  but  God 
Hath  wiselier  arni'd  his  vengeful  ire  than  so 
To  be  forcstall'd :  much  more  I  fear  lest  death 
So  snatch'd  will  not  exempt  us  from  the  pain 
We  are  by  doom  to  pay :  rather  such  acts 
Of  contumacy  will  provoke  the  Highest 
To  make  death  in  us  live :  then  let  us  seek 

^ -^ 


r- 


* 


PARADISE  LOST.  273 

Some  safer  resolution,  which  methinks 

I  have  in  view,  calling  to  mind  with  heed 

Part  of  our  sentence,  that  thy  seed  shall  bruise 

The  serpent's  head  :  piteous  amends,  unless 

Be  meant,  whom  I  conjecture,  our  grand  foe 

Satan,  who  in  the  serpent  hath  contrived 

Against  us  this  deceit.     To  crush  his  head 

Would  be  revenge  indeed  ;  which  will  be  lost 

By  death  brought  on  ourselves,  or  childless  days 

Resolved,  as  thou  proposest;  so  our  foe 

Shall  scape  his  punishment  ordain'd,  and  we 

Instead  shall  double  ours  upon  our  heads. 

No  more  be  mention'd  then  of  violence 

Against  ourselves,  and  wilful  barrenness, 

That  cuts  us  off  from  hope,  and  savors  only 

Raiicor  and  pride,  impatience  and  despite, 

Reluctance  against  God  and  His  just  yoke 

Laid  on  our  necks.     Remember  with  what  mild 

And  gracious  temper  He  both  heard  and  judged 

Without  wrath  or  reviling  ;  we  expected 

Immediate  dissolution,  which  we  thought 

Was  meant  by  death  that  day,  when,  lo  !  to  thee 

Pains  only  in  child-bearing  were  foretold. 

And  bringing  forth  ;  soon  recompensed  with  joy, 

Fruit  of  thy  womb  :  on  me  the  curse  aslope 

Glanced  on  the  ground,  with  labor  I  must  earn 

My  bread ;  what  harm  ?  idleness  had  been  worse  ; 

My  labor  will  sustain  me ;  and  lest  cold 

Or  heat  should  injure  us.  His  timely  care 

Hath  unbesought  provided,  and  His  hands 

Clothed  us  unworthy,  pitying  while  He  judged. 

How  much  more,  if  we  pray  Him,  will  His  ear 

Be  open,  and  His  heart  to  pity  incline. 

And  teach  us  further  by  what  means  to  shun 

Th'  inclement  seasons,  rain,  ice,  hail,  and  snow, 

Which  now  the  sky  with  various  face  begins 

18 

^ ^ 


a- \ ^ 

274  PARADISE  LOST.     ■ 

To  show  us  in  this  mountain,  while  the  winds 

Blow  moist  and  keen,  shattering  the  graceful  locks 

Of  these  fair  spreading  trees,  which  bids  us  seek 

Some  better  shroud,  some  better  warmth  to  cherish 

Our  limbs  bcnumb'd,  ere  this  diurnal  star 

Leave  cold  the  night ;  how  we  his  gather'd  beams 

Reflected  may  with  matter  sere  foment, 

Or  by  collision  of  two  bodies  grind 

The  air  attrite^  to  fire,  as  late  the  clouds 

Justling  or  push'd  with  winds  rude  in  their  shock. 

Tine^  the  slant  lightning  whose  thwart  flame  driv'n  down 

Kindles  the  gummy  bark  of  fir  or  pine, 

And  sends  a  comfortable  heat  from  far, 

Which  might  supply  the  sun.     Such  fire  to  use, 

And  what  may  else  be  remedy  or  cure 

To  evils  which  our  own  misdeeds  have  wrought ;    % 

He  will  instruct  us  praying,  and  of  grace 

Beseeching  Him,  so  as  we  need  not  fear 

To  pass  commodiously  this  life,  sustain'd 

By  Him  with  many  comforts,  till  we  end 

In  dust,  our  final  rest  and  native  home. 

What  better  can  we  do,  than,  to  the  place 

Repairing  where  He  judged  us,  prostrate  fall 

Before  Him  reverent,  and  there  confess 

Humbly  our  faults,  and  pardon  beg,  with  tears 

Watering  the  ground,  and  with  our  sighs  the  air 

Frequenting,  sent  from  hearts  contrite,  in  sign 

Of  sorrow  unfeign'd  and  humiliation  meek? 

Undoubtedly  He  will  relent  and  turn 

From  His  displeasure,  in  whose  look  serene. 

When  angry  most  He  seem'd  and  most  severe. 

What  else  but  favor,  grace,  and  mercy  shone  ? 

So  spake  our  father  penitent,  nor  Eve 
Felt  less  remorse  :  they  forthwith  to  the  place 

1  Worn  by  rubbing  or  friction.  ^  To  kindle. 

^ ^ ^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  275 

Repairing  where  He  judged  them  prostrate  fell  • 
Before  Him  reverent,  and  both  confess'd 
Humbly  their  faults,  and  pardon  begg'd,  with  tears 
Watering  the  ground,  and  with  their  sighs  the  air 
Frequenting,^  sent  from  hearts  contrite,  in  sign 
Of  sorrow  unfeign'd  and  humiliation  meek. 

I  Beating  the  air. 


^ -^ 


^ ^ -^ 

2^6  PARADISE  LOST. 


BOOK  XI. 

The  Argument. 

The  Son  of  God  presents  to  his  Father  the  prayers  of  our  first  parents  now  repenting, 
and  intercedes  for  them :  God  accepts  them,  but  declares  that  they  must  no  longer  abide  in 
paradise;  sends  Michael  with  a  band  of  cherubim  to  dispossess  them  ;  but  first  to  reveal  to 
Adam  future  things:  Michael's  coming  down.  Adam  shows  to  Eve  certain  ominous  signs; 
he  discerns  Michael's  approach ;  goes  out  to  meet  him :  the  angel  denounces  their  ap- 
proaching departure.  Eve's  lamentation.  Adam  pleads,  but  submits  :  the  angel  leads  him 
up  to  a  high  hill ;  sets  before  him  in  vision  what  shall  happen  till  the  Flood. 

Thus  they  in  lowliest  plight  repentant  stood, 
Praying,  for  from  the  mercy-seat  above 
Prevenient  grace  descending  had  removed 
The  stony  from  their  hearts,  and  made  new  flesh 
Regenerate  grow  instead,  that  sighs  now  breathed 
Unutterable/  which  the  spirit  of  prayer 
Inspired,  and  wing'd  for  heav'n  with  speedier  flight 
Than  loudest  oratory  :  yet  their  port 
Not  of  mean  suitors,  nor  important  less 
Seem'd  their  petition,  than  when  the  ancient  pair 
In  fables  old,  less  ancient  yet  than  these, 
Deucalion  and  chaste  Pyrrha  to  restore 
The  race  of  mankind  drown'd,  before  the  shrine 
Of  Themis  stood  devout.^     To  heav'n  their  prayers 
Flew  up,  nor  miss'd  the  way,  by  envious  winds 
Blown  vagabond  or  frustrate :  in  they  pass'd 
Dimensionless  through  heav'nly  doors;  then  clad 
With  incense,^  where  the  golden  altar  fumed. 
By  their  great  Intercessor,  came  in  sight 
Before  the  Father's  throne  ;  them  the  glad  Son 
Presenting,  thus  to  intercede  began. 

1  Romans  viii.  26. 

^2  Themis,  the  goddess  of  justice.  The  fable  of  Deucalion  and  Pyrrha,  evidently  founded 
on  a  heathen  tradition  of  Noah's  fiood,  is  told  by  Ovid,  Met.  I.  fab.  8.        ^  Psalm  cxli.  2. 


a Qp 

PARADISE  LOST.  277 

See,  Father,  what  first  fruits  on  earth  are  sprung 
From  thy  implanted  grace  in  man,  these  sighs 
And  prayers,  which  in  this  golden  censer  mix'd 
With  incense,  I  thy  priest  before  thee  bring. 
Fruits  of  more  pleasing  savor  from  thy  seed 
Sown  with  contrition  in  his  heart,  than  those 
Which  his  own  hand  manuring  all  the  trees 
Of  paradise  could  have  produced,  ere  fall'n 
From  innocence.     Now  therefore  bend  thine  ear 
To  supplication,  hear  his  sighs  though  mute  ; 
Unskilful  with  what  words  to  pray,  let  me 
Interpict  for  him,  me  his  advocate  ^ 
And  propitiation;   all  his  works  on  me 
Good  or  not  good  ingraft,  my  merit  those 
Shall  perfect,  and  for  these  my  death  shall  pay. 
Accept  me,  and  in  me  from  these  receive 
The  smell  of  peace  toward  mankind,  let  him  live 
Before  thee  reconciled,  at  least  his  days 
Number'd,  though  sad,  till  death  his  doom,  (which  I 
To  mitigate  thus  plead,  not  to  reverse,) 
To  better  life  shall  yield  him,  where  with  me 
All  my  redeem'd  may  dwell  in  joy  and  bliss  ; 
Made  one  with  me  as  I  with  thee  am  one.^ 

To  whom  the  Father,  without  cloud,  serene  ; 
All  thy  request  for  man,  accepted  Son, 
Obtain  ;  all  thy  request  was  my  decree  : 
But  longer  in  that  Paradise  to  dwell 
The  law  I  gave  to  nature  him  forbids  : 
Those  pure  immortal  elements,  that  know 
No  gross,  no  unharmonious  mixture  foul. 
Eject  him  tainted  now,  and  purge  him  off 
As  a  distemper  gross,  to  air  as  gross. 
And  mortal  food,  as  may  dispose  him  best 
For  dissolution  wrought  by  sin,  that  first 

'  I  John  ii.  1,2.  22  John  xvii.  21,  22. 


^^ *~^ 

278  PARADISE  LOST. 

Distemper'd  all  things,  and  of  incorrupt 

Corrupted.     I,  at  first,  with  two  fair  gifts 

Created  him  endow'd,  with  happiness 

And  immortality  :  that  fondly  lost, 

This  other  served  but  to  eternize  woe, 

Till  I  provided  death  ;  so  death  becomes 

His  final  remedy,  and  after  life 

Tried  in  sharp  tribulation,  and  refined 

By  faith  and  faithful  works,  to  second  life, 

Waked  in  the  renovation  of  the  just, 

Resigns  him  up  with  heav'n  and  earth  renew'd. 

But  let  us  call  to  synod  all  the  blest 

Through  heav'n's  wide  bounds;  from  them  I  will  not  hide 

My  judgment;  how  with  mankind  I  proceed. 

As  how  with  peccant  angels  late  they  saw ; 

And  in  their  state,  though  firm,  stood  more  confirm'd. 

He  ended,  and  the  Son  gave  signal  high 
To  the  bright  minister  that  watch'd  ;  he  blew 
His  trumpet,  heard  in  Oreb  since  perhaps 
When  God  descended,  and  perhaps  once  more 
To  sound  at  general  doom.     The  angelic  blast 
Fill'd  all  the  regions  :  from  their  blissful  bow'rs 
Of  Amaranthine  shade,  fountain  or  spring, 
By  the  waters  of  life,  where  e'er  they  sat 
In  fellowships  of  joy,  the  sons  of  light 
Hasted,  resorting  to  the  summons  high, 
And  took  their  seats  ;  till  from  His  throne  supreme 
The  Almighty  thus  pronounced  His  sov'reign  will. 

O  Sons,  like  one  of  us  man  is  become 
To  know  both  good  and  evil,  since  his  taste 
Of  that  defended^  fruit;  but  let  him  boast 
His  knowledge  of  good  lost,  and  evil  got ; 
Happier,  had  it  sufficed  him  to  have  known 
Good  by  itself,  and  evil  not  at  all. 

1  Forbidden. 


^ 


<b 


PARADISE  LOST. 

He  sorrows  now,  repents  and  prays  contrite, 

My  motions  in  him,  longer  than  they  move, 

His  heart  I  know  how  variable  and  vain 

Self-left.     Lest  therefore  his  now  bolder  hand 

Reach  also  of  the  Tree  of  Life,  and  eat, 

And  live  for  ever,  dream  at  least  to  live 

For  ever,  to  remove  him  I  decree, 

And  send  him  from  the  garden  forth  to  till 

The  ground  whence  he  was  taken,  fitter  soil. 

Michael,  this  my  behest  have  thou  in  charge, 

Take  to  thee  from  among  the  Cherubim 

Thy  choice  of  flaming  warriors,  lest  the  fiend, 

Or  in  behalf  of  man,  or  to  invade 

Vacant  possession,  some  new  trouble  raise  : 

Haste  thee,  and  from  the  Paradise  of  God 

Without  remorse  drive  out  the  sinful  pair. 

From  hallow'd  ground  the  unholy,  and  denounce 

To  them  and  to  their  progeny  from  thence 

Perpetual  banishment.     Yet  lest  they  faint 

At  the  sad  sentence  rigorously  urged, 

For  I  behold  them  soften'd  and  with  tears 

Bewailing  their  excess,  all  terror  hide. 

If  patiently  thy  bidding  they  obey, 

Dismiss  them  not  disconsolate  ;  reveal 

To  Adam  what  shall  come  in  future  days, 

As  I  shall  thee  enlighten ;  intermix 

My  cov'nant  in  the  woman's  seed  renew'd  ; 

So  send  them  forth,  though  sorrowing,  yet  in  peace 

And  on  the  east  side  of  the  garden  place. 

Where  entrance  up  from  Eden  easiest  climbs, 

Cherubic  watch,  and  of  a  sword  the  flame 

Wide  waving,  all  approach  far  off  to  fright, 

And  guard  all  passage  to  the  Tree  of  Life  : 

Lest  paradise  a  receptacle  prove 

To  spirits  foul,  and  all  my  trees  their  prey, 

With  whose  stol'n  fruit  man  once  more  to  delude. 


279 


^ 


4 


^ ^ 

280  PARADISE  LOST. 

He  ceased  ;  and  the  archangelic  pow'r  prepared 
For  swift  descent,  with  him  the  cohort  bright 
Of  watchful  Cherubim  ;  four  faces  each 
Had,  Hke  a  double  Janus  /  all  their  shape 
Spangled  with  eyes  more  numerous  than  those 
Of  Argus,^  and  more  Av^akeful  than  to  drowse, 
Charm'd  with  Arcadian  Pipe,  the  pastoral  reed 
Of  Hermes,  or  his  opiate  rod.     Meanwhile, 
To  resalute  the  world  with  sacred  light 
Leucothea^  waked,  and  with  fresh  dews  imbalm'd 
The  earth,  when  Adam  and  first  matron  Eve 
Had  ended  now  their  orisons,  and  found 
Strength  added  from  above,  new  hope  to  spring 
Out  of  despair,  joy,  but  with  fear  yet  link'd  ; 
Which  thus  to  Eve  his  welcome  words  renew'd. 

Eve,  easily  may  faith  admit,  that  all 
The  good  which  we  enjoy  from  heav'n  descends ; 
But  that  from  us  aught  should  ascend  to  heav'n 
So  prevalent  as  to  concern  the  mind 
Of  God  high-bless'd,  or  to  incline  His  will. 
Hard  to  belief  may  seem  ;  yet  this  will  prayer, 
Or  one  short  sigh  of  human  breath,  upborne 
Ev'n  to  the  seat  of  God.     For  since  I  sought 
By  prayer  th'  offended  Deity  to  appease, 
Kneel'd  and  before  Him  humbled  all  my  heart, 
Methought  I  saw  Him  placable  and  mild, 
Bending  His  ear :  persuasion  in  me  grew 
That  I  was  heard  with  favor ;  peace  return'd 
Home  to  my  breast,  and  to  my  memory 
His  promise,  that  thy  seed  shall  bruise  our  foe ; 
Which,  then  not  minded  in  dismay,  yet  now 


1  Ezek.  X.  12,  14. 

2  Argus,  the  spy  of  Juno,  who  had  a  hundred  eyes,  was  lulled  to  sleep  and  killed  by 
Mercury  (or  Hermes),  by  the  command  of  Jupiter.  The  Caduceus  of  Mercury  is  called 
an  "  opiate  rod,"  because  with  it  he  could  charm  sleep  on  any  eyelids  he  pleased. 

3  «'  The  white  goddess,"  or  Dawn.  The  same  with  Matuta,  or  early  morning,  in  Latin. 
She  preceded  Aurora.— Newton. 

4- -^ -4" 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  2S1 

Assures  me  that  the  bitterness  of  death 
Is  past,  and  we  shall  live.     Whence  hail  to  thee, 
Eve^  rightly  call'd,  mother  of  all  mankind. 
Mother  of  all  things  living,  since  by  thee 
Man  is  to  live,  and  all  things  live  for  man. 

To  whom  th'us  Eve  with  sad  demeanor  meek. 
Ill  worthy  I  such  title  should  belong 
To  me  transgressor,  who,  for  thee  ordain'd 
A  help,  became  thy  snare  :  to  me  reproach 
Rather  belongs,  distrust  and  all  dispraise  : 
But  infinite  in  pardon  was  my  Judge, 
That  I,  who  first  brought  death  on  all,  am  graced 
The  source  of  life  ;  next  favorable  thou. 
Who  highly  thus  to  entitle  me  vouchsaf'st. 
Far  other  name  deserving.     But  the  field 
To  labor  calls  us  now  with  sweat  imposed, 
Though  after  sleepless  night ;  for  see,  the  morn. 
All  unconcern'd,  with  our  unrest,  begins 
Her  rosy  progress  smiling ;  let  us  forth, 
I  never  from  thy  side  henceforth  to  stray. 
Where'er  our  day's  work  lies,  though  now  enjoin'd 
Laborious,  till  day  droop  ;  while  here  we  dwell, 
What  can  be  toilsome  in  these  pleasant  walks  ? 
Here  let  us  live,  though  in  fall'n  state,  content. 

So  spake,  so  wish'd  much-humbled  Eve ;  but  fate 
Subscribed  not;  nature  first  gave  signs,  impress'd 
On  bird,  beast,  air  ;  air  suddenly  eclipsed 
After  short  blush  of  morn  :  nigh  in  her  sight 
The  bird  of  Jove,  stoop'd  from  his  aery  tow'r, 
Two  birds  of  gayest  plume  before  him  drove  : 
Down  from  a  hill  the  beast  that  reigns  in  woods, 
First  hunter  then,  pursued  a  gentle  brace, 
Goodliest  of  all  the  forest,  hart  and  hind; 
Direct  to  th'  eastern  gate  was  bent  their  flight. 

1  Eve  signifies  Life. 


a ^ ^ 

282  PARADISE  LOST. 

Adam  observed,  and,  with  his  eye  the  chase 
Pursuing,  not  unmoved  to  Eve  thus  spake. 

O  Eve,  some  further  change  awaits  us  nigh, 
Which  heav'n  by  these  mute  signs  in  nature  shows 
Forerunners  of  his  purpose,  or  to  warn 
Us  haply  too  secure  of  our  discharge 
From  penalty,  because  from  death  released 
Some  days-;  how  long,  and  wh^it  till  then  our  life, 
Who  knows,  or  more  than  this,  that  we  are  dust, 
And  thither  must  return  and  be  no  more  ? 
Why  else  this  double  object  in  our  sight 
Of  flight  pursued  in  the  air,  and  o'er  the  ground, 
One  way  the  selfsame  hour  ?     Why  in  the  east 
Darkness  ere  day's  mid-course,  and  morning  light 
More  orient  in  yon  western  cloud,  that  draws 
O'er  the  blue  firmament  a  radiant  white. 
And  slow  descends,  with  something  heav'nly  fraught  ? 

He  err'd  not,  for  by  this  the  heav'nly  bands 
Down  from  a  sky  of  jasper  lighted  now 
In  Paradise,  and  on  a  hill  made  halt, 
A  glorious  apparition,  had  not  doubt 
And  carnal  fear  that  day  dimm'd  Adam's  eye. 
Not  that  more  glorious,  when  the  angels  met 
Jacob  in  Mahanaim,^  where  he  saw 
The  field  pavilion'd  with  his  guardians  bright ; 
Nor  that  which  on  the  flaming  mount  appear'd 
In  Dothan,  cover'd  with  a  camp  of  fire,^ 
Against  the  Syrian  king,  who  to  surprise 
One  man  assassin-like  had  levy'd  war, 
War  unproclaim'd.     The  princely  hierarch 
In  their  bright  stand  there  left  his  powers  to  seize 
Possession  of  the  garden  ;  he  alone, 


1  Gen.  xxxii.  i,  2. 

2  Alluding  to  the  King  of  Syria's  attempt  to  take  the  prophet  Elisha  captive,  and  to  the 
vision  the  prophet  vouchsafed  to  obtain  for  his  servant  of  the  angel-guards  which  defended 
him.     2  Kings  vi.  17. 


4" 


The  heavenly  bands 
Down  from  a  sky  of  jasper  lighted  now 
In  Paradise. 


Page  282 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  283 

To  find  where  Adam  shelter'd,  took  his  way, 
Not  unperceived  of  Adam,  who  to  Eve, 
While  the  great  visitant  approach'd,  thus  spake. 

Eve,  now  expect  great  tidings,  which  perhaps 
Of  us  will  soon  determine,  or  impose 
New  Jaws  to  be  observed ;  for  I  descry 
From  yonder  blazing  cloud  that  veils  the  hill 
One  of  the  hcav'nly  host,  and  by  his  gait 
None  of  the  meanest :  some  great  potentate, 
Or  of  the  thrones  above,  such  majesty 
Invests  him  coming;  yet  not  terrible, 
That  I  should  fear,  nor  sociably  mild. 
As  Raphael,  that  I  should  much  confide  ; 
But  solemn  and  sublime,  whom  not  to  offend 
With  reverence  I  must  meet,  and  thou  retire. 

He  ended  ;   and  th'  archangel  soon  drew  nigh, 
Not  in  his  shape  celestial,  but  as  man 
Clad  to  meet  man  ;  over  his  lucid  arms 
A  military  vest  of  purple  flow'd, 
Livelier  than  Melibcean,^'or  the  grain 
Of  Sarra,  worn  by  kings  and  heroes  old 
In  time  of  truce ;   Iris  ^  had  dipp'd  the  woof; 
His  starry  helm  unbuckled  show'd  him  prime 
In  manhood  where  youth  ended  ;  by  his  side 
As  in  a  glistering  zodiac  hung  the  sword, 
Satan's  dire  dread,  and  in  his  hand  the  spear 
Adam  bow'd  low,  he  kingly  from  his  state 
Inclined  not,  but  his  coming  thus  declared. 

Adam,  heiv'n's  high  behest  no  preface  needs. 
Sufficient  that  thy  prayers  are  heard,  and  death, 
Then  due  by  sentence  when  thou  didst  transgress. 
Defeated  of  his  seizure  many  days 
Giv'n  thee  of  grace,  wherein  thou  may'st  repent 

1  Melibea,  a  city  of  Thessaly,  was  famous  for  dyeing  the  noblest  purple.  Sarra,  the  dye 
of  Tyre. — Hume.  Sar  was  the  name  of  the  fish  from  which  the  Tynan  purple  dye  was 
extracted.  2  -phe  rainbow  hues  are  meant. 

(i^ ^ 


^ -^ 

284  PARADISE  LOST. 

And  one  bad  act  with  many  deeds  well  done 
May'st  cover:  well  may  then  thy  Lord  appeased 
Redeem  thee  quite  from  death's  rapacious  claim ; 
But  longer  in  this  Paradise  to  dwell 
Permits  not:  to  remove  thee  I  am  come, 
And  send  thee  from  the  garden  forth  to  till 
The  ground  whence  thou  wast  taken,  fitter  soil. 

He  added  not,  for  Adam  at  the  news 
Heart-struck  with  chilling  gripe  of  sorrow  stood, 
That  all  his  senses  bound ;  Eve,  who  unseen 
Yet  all  had  heard,  with  audible  lament 
Discover'd  soon  the  place  of  her  retire. 
O  unexpected  stroke,  worse  than  of  death  ! 
Must  I  thus  leave  thee,  paradise  ?  thus  leave 
Thee,  native  soil,  these  happy  walks  and  shades, 
Fit  haunt  of  Gods  ?  where  I  had  hope  to  spend, 
Quiet  though  sad,  the  respite  of  that  day 
That  must  be  mortal  to  us  both.     O  flow'rs, 
That  never  will  in  other  climate  grow, 
My  early  visitation,  and  my  last 
At  ev'n,  which  I  bred  up  with  tender  hand 
From  the  first  op'ning  bud,  and  gave  ye  names, 
Who  now  shall  rear  ye  to  the  sun,  or  rank 
Your  tribes,  and  water  from  th'  ambrosial  fount  ? 
Thee  lastly,  nuptial  bow'r !  by  me  adorn'd 
With  what  to  sight  or  smell  was  sweet ;  from  thee 
How  shall  I  part,  and  whither  wander  down 
Into  a  lower  world,  to  this  obscure 
And  wild  ?  how  shall  we  breathe  in  other  air 
Less  pure,  accustom'd  to  immortal  fruits  ? 

Whom  thus  the  angel  interrupted  mild. 
Lament  not.  Eve,  but  patiently  resign 
What  justly  thou  hast  lost ;  nor  set  thy  heart, 
Thus  over  fond,  on  that  which  is  not  thine: 
Thy  going  is  not  lonely,  with  thee  goes 
Thy  husband,  him  to  follow  thou  art  bound ; 


a- ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  285 

Where  he  abides,  think  there  thy  native  soil, 

Adam,  by  this  from  the  cold  sudden  damp 
Recovering,  and  his  scatter'd  spirits  return'd, 
To  Michael  thus  his  humble  words  address'd. 

Celestial,  whether  among  the  thrones,  or  named 
Of  them  the  highest,  for  such  of  shape  may  seem 
Prince  above  princes,  gently  hast  thou  told 
Thy  message,  which  might  else  in  telling  wound. 
And  in  performing  end  us ;  what  besides 
Of  sorrow,  and  dejection,  and  despair, 
Our  frailty  can  sustain,  thy  tidings  bring; 
Departure  from  this  happy  place,  our  sweet 
Recess,  and  only  consolation  left 
Familiar  to  our  eyes,  all  places  else 
Inhospitable  appear  and  desolate, 
Nor  knowing  us  nor  known ;  and  if  by  prayer 
Incessant  I  could  hope  to  change  the  will 
Of  Him  who  all  things  can,  I  would  not  cease 
To  weary  him  with  my  assiduous  cries. 
But  prayer  against  His  absolute  decree 
No  more  avails  than  breath  against  the  wind, 
Blown  stifling  back  on  him  that  breathes  it  forth  : 
Therefore  to  His  great  bidding  I  submit 
This  most  afflicts  me,  that  departing  hence 
As  from  His  face  I  shall  be  hid,  deprived 
His  blessed  count'nance ;  here  I  could  frequent. 
With  worship,  place  by  place,  where  he  vouchsafed 
Presence  divine,  and  to  my  sons  relate. 
On  this  mount  he  appear'd,  under  this  tree 
Stood  visible,  among  these  pines  His  voice 
I  heard,  here  with  Him  at  this  fountain  talk'd : 
So  many  grateful  altars  I  would  rear 
Of  grassy  turf,  and  pile  up  every  stone 
Of  lustre  from  the  brook,  in  memory, 
Or  monument  to  ages,  and  thereon 
Offer  sweet-smelling  gums,  and  fruits,  and  flow'rs  : 


-e? 


286  PARADISE  LOST. 

In  yonder  nether  world  where  shall  I  seek 
His  bright  appearances,  or  footstep  trace  ? 
For  though  I  fled  him  angry,  yet,  recall'd 
To  life  prolong'd  and  promised  race,  I  now 
Gladly  behold  though  but  His  utmost  skirts 
Of  glory,  and  far  off  His  steps  adore. 

To  whom  thus  Michael  with  regard  benign. 
Adam,  thou  know'st  heav'n  His,  and  all  the  earth. 
Not  this  rock  only  ;  His  omnipresence  fills 
Land,  sea  and  air,  and  every  kind  that  lives,^ 
Fomented  by  His  virtual  power  and  warm'd  : 
All  the  earth  He  gave  thee  to  possess  and  rule, 
No  despicable  gift;  surmise  not  then 
His  presence  to  these  narrow  bouads  confined 
Of  Paradise  or  Eden :  this  had  been 
Perhaps  thy  capital  seat,  from  whence  had  spread 
All  generations,  and  had  hither  come 
From  all  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  celebrate 
And  reverence  thee,  their  great  progenitor. 
But  this  pre-eminence  thou  hast  lost,  brought  down 
To  dwell  on  even  ground  now  with  thy  sons : 
Yet  doubt  not  but  in  valley  and  in  plain 
God  is  as  here,  and  will  be  found  alike 
Present,  and  of  His  presence  many  a  sign 
Still  following  thee,  still  compassing  thee  round 
With  goodness  and  paternal  love,  His  face 
Express,  and  of  His  steps  the  track  divine. 
Which  that  thou  may'st  believe. and  be  confirm'd 
Ere  thou  from  hence  depart,  know,  I  am  sent 
To  show  thee  what  shall  come  in  future  days 
To  thee  and  to  thy  offspring;  good  with  bad 
Expect  to  hear,  supernal  grace  contending 
With  sinfulness  of  men  ;  thereby  to  learn 
True  patience,  and  to  temper  joy  with  fear 

1  Jeremiah  xxiii.  24. 


^ ^ Q? 

PARADISE  LOST.  2Z7 

And  pious  sorrow,  equally  inured 
By  moderation  either  state  to  bear, 
Prosperous  or  adverse:  so  shalt  thou  lead 
Safest  thy  life,  and  best  prepared  endure 
Thy  mortal  passage  when  it  comes.     Ascend 
This  hill ;  let  Eve,  for  I  have  drench'd  her  eyes, 
Here  sleep  below,  while  thou  to  foresight  wak'st, 
As  once  thou  slept'st,  while  she  to  life  was  form'd. 

To  whom  thus  Adam  gratefully  replied. 
Ascend,  I  follow  thee,  safe  guide,  the  path 
Thou  lead'st  me,  and  to  the  hand  of  heav'n  submit, 
However  chast'ning,  to  the  evil  turn 
My  obvious  breast,  arming  to  overcome 
By  suffering,  and  earn  rest  from  labor  won, 
If  so  I  may  attain.     So  both  ascend 
In  the  visions  of  God.     It  was  a  hill 
Of  Paradise  the  highest,  from  whose  top 
The  hemisphere  of  earth  in  clearest  ken 
Stretch'd  out  to  the  amplest  reach  of  prospect  lay. 
Not  higher  that  hill  nor  wider  looking  round, 
Whereon  for  different  cause  the  tempter  set 
Our  second  Adam^  in  the  wilderness, 
To  show  him  all  earth's  kingdoms  and  their  glory. 
His  eye  might  there  command  wherever  stood 
City  of  old  or  modern  fame,  the  seat 
Of  mightiest  empire,  from  the  destined  walls 
Of  Cambalu,^  seat  of  Cathaian  Can, 
And  Samarchand  by  Oxus,  Temir's  throne,^ 
To  Paquin  of  Sinaean  kings,*  and  thence 
To  Agra  and  Lahor  of  great  Mogul, 
Down  to  the  golden  Chersonese,''  or  where 

1  I  Cor.  XV.  45.     Matt.  iv.  8.  2  The  principal  city  of  Cathay. 

3  The  chief  city  of  Zagathian  Tartary.    It  was  the  royal  residence  of  the  great  conqueror 
Tamerlane,  or  "Temir." 

^  Paquin,  or  Pekin,  in  China,  the  country  of  the  ancient  Sinoe.— Newton. 
5  The  golden  Chersonese  is  Malacca. 


-^ 


288  PARADISE  LOST. 

The  Persian  in  Ecbatan  sat,  or  since 

In  Hispahan,  or  where  the  Russian  Czar 

In  Mosco,  or  the  Sultan  in  Bizance/ 

Turchestan-born  ;  nor  could  his  eye  not  ken 

The  empire  of  Negus ^  to  his  utmost  port 

Ercoco,  and  the  less  maritime  kings 

Mombaza,  and  Quiloa,  and  Melind,^ 

And  Sofala  thought  Ophir,  to  the  realm 

Of  Congo,  and  Angola  farthest  south  ; 

Or  thence  from  Niger  flood  to  Atlas  mount 

The  kingdoms  of  Almansor/  Fez,  and  Sus, 

Marocco,  and  Algiers,  and  Tremisen  ; 

Or  Europe  thence,  and  where  Rome  was  to  sway 
The  world :  in  spirit  perhaps  he  also  saw 

Rich  Mexico  the  seat  of  Motezume, 
And  Cusco  in  Peru,  the  richer  seat 
Of  Atabalipa,"  and  yet  unspoil'd 
Guiana,  whose  great  city  Geryon's  sons  '^ 
Call  El  Dorado ;  but  to  nobler  sights 
Michael  from  Adam's  eyes  the  film  removed, 
Which  that  false  fruit  that  promised  clearer  sight 
Had  bred  ;  then  purged  with  euphrasy  ^  and  rue 
The  visual  nerve,  for  he  had  much  to  see ; 
And  from  the  well  of  life  three  drops  instill'd. 
So  deep  the  power  of  these  ingredients  pierced, 
Ev'n  to  the  inmost  seat  of  mental  sight. 
That  Adam,  now  enforced  to  close  his  eyes, 

1  Byzantium,  or  Constantinople.     The  Turks  came  from  Turkestan,  in  Tartary. 

2  Upper  Ethiopia,  or  Abyssinia,  whose  king  is  still  styled  the  Negus.  Erco:o,  or  Erquieo, 
on  the  Red  Sea.  »  All  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa. 

*  Almansor  was  King  of  Barbary,  where  these  states  lie. 

'  Atahuallpa,  the  last  native  Emperor  or  Inca,  subdued  by  Pizarro. 

••  The  Spaniards,  So  called  from  Geryon,  an  ancient  King  of  Spain.  El  Dorado  revives 
the  memory  of  the  explorers  and  navigators  of  Elizabeth's  days.  The  whole  inhabited 
world  is  summed  up  in  this  sweeping  and  glorious  description  of  the  vision  of  our  Lord  on 
the  Mount. 

"'  The  herb  called  in  English  eyebright.  Both  it  and  rue  were  thought  to  have  great 
medicinal  power. 


n 


^ 


a ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  289 

Sunk  down,  and  all  his  spirits  became  intranced  : 
But  him  the  gentle  angel  by  the  hand 
Soon  raised,  and  his  attention  thus  recall'd. 

Adam,  now  ope  thine  eyes,  and  first  behold 
Th'  effects  which  thy  original  crime  hath  wrought 
In  some  to  spring  from  thee,  who  never  touch'd 
The  excepted  tree,  nor  with  the  snake  conspired. 
Nor  sinn'd  thy  sin ;  yet  from  that  sin  derive 
Corruption  to  bring  forth  more  violent  deeds. 

His  eyes  he  open'd,  and  beheld  a  field, 
Part  arable  and  tilth,  whereon  were  sheaves 
New  reap'd,  the  other  part  sheep-walks  and  folds  : 
r  th'  midst  an  altar  as  the  land-mark  stood. 
Rustic,  of  grassy  sord  ;^  thither  anon 
A  sweaty  reaper^  from  his  tillage  brought 
First  fruits,  the  green  ear,  and  the  yellow  sheaf, 
Uncull'd  as  came  to  hand;  a  shepherd  next 
More  meek  came  with  the  firstlings  of  his  flock 
Choicest  and  best ;  then  sacrificing  laid 
The  inwards  and  their  fat,  with  incense  strew'd. 
On  the  cleft  wood,  and  all  due  rites  perform 'd. 
His  off' ring  soon  propitious  fire  from  heav'n 
Consumed  with  nimble  glance,  and  grateful  steam ; 
The  other's  not,  for  his  was  not  sincere  : 
Whereat  he  inly  raged,  and,  as  they  talk'd. 
Smote  him  into  the  midriff  with  a  stone 
That  beat  out  life ;  he  fell,  and  deadly  pale 
Groan'd  out  his  soul  with  gushing  blood  effused. 
Much  at  that  sight  was  Adam  in  his  heart 
Dismay'd,  and  thus  in  haste  to  the  angel  cried. 

O  teacher,  some  great  mischief  hath  befall'n 
To  that  meek  man,  who  well  had  sacrificed ; 
Is  piety  thus  and  pure  devotion  paid  ? 

To  whom  Michael  thus,  he  also  moved,  replied. 

1  Sward.     See  green-sord  for  green-sward  in  early  editions  of  Shakespeare.     ^  Gen.  iv.  2. 

<^ ^ ^ 


-(b 

290  PARADISE  LOST, 

These  two  are  brethren,  Adam,  and  to  come 
Out  of  thy  loins  ;  the  unjust  the  just  hath  slain, 
For  envy  that  his  brother's  offering  found 
From  heav'n  acceptance ;  but  the  bloody  fact 
Will  be  avenged,  and  the  other's  faith  approved 
Lose  no  reward,  though  here  thou  see  him  die. 
Rolling  in  dust  and  gore.     To  which  our  sire : 

Alas,  both  for  the  deed  and  for  the  cause ! 
But  have  I  now  seen  death  ?  is  this  the  way 
I  must  return  to  native  dust?     O  sight 
Of  terror,  foul  and  ugly  to  behold, 
Horrid  to  think,  how  horrible  to  feel ! 

To  whom  thus  Michael.     Death  thou  hast  seen 
In  his  first  shape  on  man  ;  but  many  shapes 
Of  Death,  and  many  are  the  ways  that  lead 
To  his  grim  cave,  all  dismal ;  yet  to  sense 
More  terrible  at  the  entrance  than  within. 
Some,  as  thou  saw'st,  by  violent  stroke  shall  die, 
By  fire,  flood,  famine,  by  intemperance  more 
In  meats  and  drinks,  which  on  the  earth  shall  bring 
Diseases  dire,  of  which  a  monstrous  crew 
Before  thee  shall  appear;  that  thou  may'st  know 
What  misery  th'  inabstinence  of  Eve 
Shall  bring  on  men.     Immediately  a  place 
Before  his  eyes  appear'd,  sad,  noisome,  dark, 
A  lazar-house  it  seem'd,  wherein  were  laid 
Numbers  of  all  diseased,  all  maladies 
Of  ghastly  spasm,  or  racking  torture,  qualms 
Of  heart-sick  agony,  all  feverous  kinds, 
Convulsions,  epilepsies,  fierce  catarrhs. 
Intestine  stone,  and  ulcer,  colic  pangs, 
Daemoniac  frenzy,  moping  melancholy, 
And  moon-struck  madness,  pining  atrophy, 
Marasmus,  and  wide- wasting  pestilence, 
Dropsies,  and  asthmas,  and  joint-racking  rheums. 
Dire  w  is  the  tossing,  deep  the  groans ;  despair 

4>- -& 


f ~ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  .       291 

Tended  the  sick,  busiest  from  couch  to  couch  ; 
And  over  them  triumphant  Death  his  dart 
Shook,  but  delay'd  to  strike,  though  oft  invoked 
With  vows,  as  their  chief  good,  and  final  hope. 
Sight  so  deform,  what  heart  of  rock  could  long 
Dry-ey'd  behold  ?     Adam  could  not,  but  wept, 
Though  not  of  woman  born  ;  compassion  quell'd 
His  best  of  man,  and  gave  him  up  to  tears 
A  space,  till  firmer  thoughts  restrain'd  excess, 
And  scarce  recovering  words  his  plaint  renew'd. 

O  miserable  mankind,  to  what  fall 
Degraded,  to  what  wretched  state  reserved ! 
Better  end  here  unborn.     Why  is  life  giv'n 
To  be  thus  wrested  from  us  ?  rather  why 
Obtruded  on  us  thus  ?  who,  if  we  knew 
What  we  receive,  would  either  not  accept 
Life  offer'd,  or  soon  beg  to  lay  it  down, 
Glad  to  be  so  dismiss'd  in  peace.     Can  thus 
The  image  of  God  in  man,  created  once 
So  goodly  and  erect,  though  faulty  since. 
To  such  unsightly  sufferings  be  debased 
Under  inhuman  pains  ?     Why  should  not  man, 
Retaining  still  divine  similitude 
In  part,  from  such  deformities  be  free, 
And  for  his  Maker's  image  sake  exempt  ? 

Their  Maker's  image,  answer'd  Michael,  then 
Forsook  them,  when  themselves  they  villified 
To  serve  ungovern'd  appetite,  and  took 
His  image  whom  they  served,  a  brutish  vice. 
Inductive  mainly  to  the  sin  of  Eve. 
Therefore  so  abject  is  their  punishment, 
Disfiguring  not  God's  likeness,  but  their  own, 
Or  if  His  likeness,  by  themselves  defaced. 
While  they  pervert  pure  nature's  healthful  rules 
To  loathesome  sickness,  worthily,  since  they 
God's  imag-e  did  not  reverence  in  themselves. 


a- ^ 

292  PARADISE  LOST. 

I  yield  it  just,  said  Adam,  and  submit. 
But  is  there  yet  no  other  way,  besides 
These  painful  passages,  how  we  may  come 
To  death,  and  mix  with  our  connatural  dust  ? 

There  is,  said  Michael,  if  thou  well  observe 
The  rule  of  not  too  much,  by  temperance  taught 
In  what  thou  eat'st  and  drink'st,  seeking  from  thence 
Due  nourishment,  not  gluttonous  delight; 
Till  many  years  over  thy  head  return, 
So  may'st  thou  live,  till  like  ripe  fruit  thou  drop 
Into  thy  mother's  lap,  or  be  with  ease 
Gather'd,  not  harshly  pluck'd,  for  death  mature. 
This  is  old  age;  but  then  thou  must  outlive 
Thy  youth,  thy  strength,  thy  beauty,  which  will  change 
To  wither'd,  weak,  and  gray :  thy  senses  then 
Obtuse  all  taste  of  pleasure  must  forego 
To  what  thou  hast,  and  for  the  air  of  youth, 
Hopeful  and  cheerful,  in  thy  blood  will  reign 
A  melancholy  damp  of  cold  and  dry 
To  weigh  thy  spirits  down,  and  last  consume 
The  balm  of  life.     To  whom  our  ancestor: 

Henceforth  I  fly  not  death,  nor  would  prolong 
Life  much,  bent  rather  how  I  may  be  quit 
Fairest  and  easiest  of  this  cumbrous  charge, 
Which  I  must  keep  till  my  appointed  day 
Of  rend'ring  up,  and  patiently  attend 
My  dissolution.     Michael  replied. 

Nor  love  thy  life,  nor  hate ;  but  what  thou  liv'st 
Live  well,  how  long  or  short  permit  to  Heav'n : 
And  now  prepare  thee  for  another  sight. 
He  look'd,  and  saw  a  spacious  plain,  whereon 
Were  tents  of  various  hue ;  by  some  were  herds 
Of  cattle  grazing:^  others,  whence  the  sound 
Of  instruments  that  made  melodious  chime 


Jabal.     See  Gen.  iv.  20. 


^ 


m 


a- ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  293 

Was  heard,  of  harp  and  organ ;  and  who  moved 

Their  stops  and  chords  was  seen :  his  volant  touch 

Instinct  through  all  proportions  low  and  high 

Fled  and  pursued  transverse  the  resonant  fugue,^ 

In  other  part  stood  one  who,  at  the  forge  ^ 

Laboring,  two  massy  clods  of  iron  and  brass 

Had  melted,  whether  found  where  casual  fire 

Had  wasted  woods  on  mountain  or  in  vale, 

Down  to  the  veins  of  earth,  thence  gliding  hot 

To  some  cave's  mouth,  or  whether  wash'd  by  stream 

From  underground  ;  the  liquid  ore  he  drain'd 

Into  fit  moulds  prepared;  from  which  he  form'd 

First  his  own  tools ;  then,  what  might  else  be  wrought 

Fusil  or  grav'n  in  metal.     After  these, 

But  on  the  hither  side,  a  different  sort 

From  the  high  neighboring  hills,  which  was  their  seat, 

Down  to  the  plain  descended  :  by  their  guise 

Just  men  they  seem'd,^  and  all  their  study  bent 

To  worship  God  aright,  and  know  His  works 

Not  hid,  nor  those  things  last,  which  might  preserve 

Freedom  and  peace  to  men :  they  on  the  plain 

Long  had  not  walk'd,  when  from  the  tents  behold 

A  bevy  of  fair  women,  richly  gay 

In  gems  and  wanton  dress ;  to  the  harp  they  sung 

Soft  amorous  ditties,  and  in  dance  came  on  : 

The  men,  though  grave,  eyed  them,  and  let  their  eyes 

Rove  without  rein,  till,  in  the  amorous  net 

Fast  caught,  they  liked,  and  each  his  liking  chose : 

And  now  of  love  they  treat,  till  the  ev'ning  star, 

Love's  harbinger,  appear'd  ;  then  all  in  heat 

They  light  the  nuptial  torch,  and  bid  invoke 

Hymen,  then  first  to  marriage  rites  invoked ; 

With  feast  and  music  all  the  tents  resound. 

Such  happy  interview  and  fair  event 


Jubal.     See  Gen.  iv.  21.  ^  Tubal-cain.     Gen.  iv.  22.  ■'  The  descendants  of  Seth. 


^ 


b- ^ 


C7 


294  PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  love  and  youth  not  lost,  songs,  garlands,  flow'rs, 
And  charming  symphonies  attach'd  the  heart 
Of  Adam,  soon  inclined  to  admit  delight, 
The  bent  of  nature,  which  he  thus  express'd. 

True  opener  of  mine  eyes,  prime  angel  bless'd, 
Much  better  seems  this  vision,  and  more  hope 
Of  peaceful  days  portends,  than  those  two  past; 
Those  were  of  hate  and  death,  or  pain  much  worse, 
Here  nature  seems  fulfill'd  in  all  her  ends. 

To  whom  thus  Michael.     Judge  not  what  is  best 
By  pleasure,  though  to  nature  seeming  meet, 
Created,  as  thou  art,  to  nobler  ends 
Holy  and  pure,  conformity  divine. 
Thos3  tents,  thou  saw'st  so  pleasant,  were  the  tents 
Of  wickedness,  wherein  shall  dwell  his  race 
Who  slew  his  brother ;  studious  they  appear 
Of  arts  that  polish  life,  inventors  rare. 
Unmindful  of  their  Maker,  though  his  Spirit 
Taught  them,  but  they  his  gifts  acknowledged  none. 
Yet  they  a  beauteous  offspring  shall  beget ; 
For  that  fair  female  troup  thou  saw'st,  that  seem'd 
Of  Goddesses,  so  blithe,  so  smooth,  so  gay, 
Yet  empty  of  all  good  wherein  consists 
Woman's  domestic  honor  and  chief  praise; 
Bred  only  and  completed  to  the  taste 
Of  lustful  appetence,  to  sing,  to  dance, 
To  dress,  and  troll  the  tongue,  and  roll  the  eye. 
To  these  that  sober  race  of  men,  whose  lives 
Religious  titled  them  the  sons  of  God, 
Shall  yield  up  all  their  virtue,  all  their  fame 
Ignobly,  to  the  trains  and  to  the  smiles 
Of  these  fair  atheists;  and  now  swim  in  joy 
(Erelong  to  swim  at  large)  and  laugh  ;  for  which 
The  world  erelong  a  world  of  tears  must  weep. 

To  whom  thus  Adam  of  short  joy  bereft ; 
O  pity  and  shame,  that  they,  who  to  live  well 


4 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Enter'd  so  fair,  should  turn  aside  to  tread 
Paths  indirect,  or  in  the  midway  faint ! 
But  still  I  see  the  tenor  of  man's  woe" 
Holds  on  the  same,  from  woman  to  begin. 

From  man's  effeminate  slackness  it  b'ecrins 
Said  the  anorel,  who  should  better  hold  his  place 
By  wisdom  and  superior  gifts  received 
But  now  prepare  thee  for  another  scene. 

He  look'd,  and  saw  wide  territory  spread 
Before  him,  towns,  and  rural  works  between 
Cities  of  men  with  lofty  gates  and  tow'rs 
Concourse  in  arms,  fierce  faces  threatening  war 
Giants  of  mighty  bone,  and  bold  emprise  •        ' 
Part  wield  their  arms,  part  curb  the  foaming  steed 
^inglQ,  or  in  array  of  battle  ranged 
Both  horse  and  foot,  nor  idly  musfring  stood  • 
One  way  a  band  select  from  forage  drives 
A  herd  of  beeves,  fair  oxen  and  fair  kine 
From  a  fat  meadow  ground  ;  or  fleecy  flo'ck 
Ewes  and  their  bleating  lambs,  over  the  plain 
Their  booty;  scarce  with  life  the  shepherds  fly 
But  call  m  aid,  which  makes  a  bloody  fray        ' 
With  cruel  tournament  the  squadrons  join  • 
Where  cattle  pastured  late,  now  scatter'd  lies 
With  carcasses  and  arms  th'  ensan-uin'd  field 
Deserted.     Others  to  a  city  strong  ' 

Lay  siege,  encamp'd.  by  battery,  s'cale.  and  mine 
Assaulting;  others  from  the  wall  defend 
With  dart  and  javelin,  stones  and  sulphurous  fire  • 
On  each  hand  slaughter  and  gigantic  deeds. 
In  other  part  the  sceptered  heralds  call 
To  council  in  the  city  gates;  anon 
Gray-headed  men  and  grave,  with  warriors  mix'd 
Assemble,  and  harangues  are  heard ;  but  soon      ' 
In  factious  opposition;  till  at  last 


67 

295 


296  PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  middle  age  one  rising-/  eminent 
In  wise  deport,  spake  much  of  right  and  wrong 
Of  justice,  of  rehgion,  truth  and  peace, 
And  judgment  from  above  :  him  old  and  young 
Exploded,  and  had  seized  with  violent  hands, 
Had  not  a  cloud  descending  snatch'd  him  thence 
Unseen  amid  the  throng  :  so  violence 
Proceeded,  and  oppression,  and  sword-law, 
Through  all  the  plain,  and  refuge  none  was  found. 
Adam  was  all  in  tears,  and  to  his  guide 
Lamenting  turn'd  full  sad  ;  O  !  what  are  these, 
Death's  ministers,  not  men,  who  thus  deal  death 
Inhumanly  to  men,  and  multiply 
Ten  thousand-fold  the  sin  of  him  who  slew 
His  brother;  for  of  whom  such  massacre 
Make  they  but  of  their  brethren,  men  of  men  ? 
But  who  was  that  just  man,  whom  had  not  heav'n 
Rescued,  had  in  his  righteousness  been  lost  ? 

To  whom  thus  Michael.     These  are  the  product 
Of  those  ill-mated  marriages  thou  saw'st; 
Where  good  with  bad  were  match'd,  who  of  themselves 
Abhor  to  join  ;  and  by  imprudence  mix'd 
Produce  prodigious  births  of  body  or  mind. 
Such  were  these  giants,  men  of  high  renown ; 
For  in  those  days  might  only  shall  be  admired, 
And  valor  and  heroic  virtue  call'd : 
To  overcome  in  battle,  and  subdue 
Nations,  and  bring  home  spoils  with  infinite 
Manslaughter,  shall  be  held  the  highest  pitch 
Of  human  glory,  and  for  glory  done 
Of  triumph,  to  be  styled  great  conquerors, 
Patrons  of  mankind,  Gods,  and  sons  of  Gods, 
Destroyers  rightlier  call'd  and  plagues  of  men. 
Thus  fame  shall  be  achieved,  renown  on  earth, 

1  Enoch,  said  to  be  of  middle  age,  because  he  was  translated  when  he  was  only  365  years 
old,  a  middle  age  then.     Gen.  v.  23. — Richardson. 


Began  to  build  a  vessel  of  huge  bulk. 


Page  297. 


I 

PARADISE  LOST.  297 

And  what  most  merits  fame  in  silence  hid. 

But  he,  the  seventh  from  thee,  whom  thou  beheld'st 

The  only  righteous  in  a  world  perverse. 

And  therefore  hated,  therefore  so  beset 

With  foes  for  daring  single  to  be  just, 

And  utter  odious  truth,  that  God  would  come 

To  judge  them  with  his  saints;  him  the  most  High 

Wrapt  in  a  balmy  cloud  with  winged  steeds 

Did,  as  thou  saw'st,  receive,  to  walk  with  God 

High  in  salvation  and  the  climes  of  bliss. 

Exempt  from  death :  to  show  thee  what  reward 

Awaits  the  good,  the  rest  what  punishment : 

Which  now  direct  thine  eyes  and  soon  behold : 

He  look'd,  and  saw  the  face  of  things  quite  changed. 
The  brazen  throat  of  war  had  ceased  to  roar ; 
All  now  was  turn'd  to  jollity  and  game. 
To  luxury  and  riot,  feast  and  dance. 
Marrying  or  prostituting  as  befell, 
Rape  or  adultery,  where  passing  fair 
Allured  them ;  thence  from  cups  to  civil  broils. 
At  length  a  reverend  sire^  among  them  came, 
And  of  their  doings  great  dislike  declared. 
And  testified  against  their  ways ;  he  oft 
Frequented  their  assemblies,  whereso  met 
Triumphs,  or  festivals,  and  to  them  preach'd 
Conversion  and  repentance,  as  to  souls 
In  prison  under  judgments  imminent: 
But  all  in  vain :  which  when  he  saw,  he  ceased 
Contending,  and  removed  his  tents  far  off:^ 
Then  from  the  mountain  hewing  timber  tall. 
Began  to  build  a  vessel  of  huge  bulk. 
Measured  by  cubit,  length,  and  breadth,  and  highth, 
Smear'd  round  with  pitch,  and  in  the  side  a  door 

1  Noah.     See  i  Peter  iii.  19. 

2  Noah's  removal  to  another  land  is  taken  from  Josephus.     Antiq.  fud.  lib.  i.  c.  3. 

#- -^ 


^ ' -^ 

298  PARADISE  LOST. 

Contrived,  and  of  provisions  laid  in  large 
For  man  and  beast :  when  lo,  a  wonder  strange ! 
Of  every  beast,  and  bird,  and  insect  small. 
Came  sevens,  and  pairs,  and  enter'd  in,  as  taught 
Their  order :  last  the  sire  and  his  three  sons 
With  their  four  wives ;  and  God  made  fast  the  door. 
Meanwhile  the  south  wind  rose,  and,  with  black  wings 
Wide  hovering,  all  the  clouds  together  drove 
From  under  heav'n ;  the  hills  to  their  supply 
Vapor,  and  exhalation  dusk  and  moist 
Sent  up  amain :  and  now  the  thicken'd  sky 
Like  a  dark  ceiling  stood ;  down  rush'd  the  rain 
Impetuous,  and  continued  till  the  earth 
No  more  was  seen ;  the  floating  vessel  swum 
*  Uplifted ;  and  secure  with  beaked  prow 
Rode  tilting  o'er  the  waves,  all  dwellings  else 
Flood  overwhelm'd,  and  them  with  all  their  pomp 
Deep  under  water  roU'd ;  sea  cover'd  sea, 
Sea  without  shore,  and  in  their  palaces, 
Where  luxury  late  reign'd,  sea-monsters  whelp'd 
And  stabled  ;  of  mankind,  so  numerous  late. 
All  left  in  one  small  bottom  swum  embark'd. 
How  didst  thou  grieve  then,  Adam,  to  behold 
The  end  of  all  thy  offspring,  end  so  sad, 
Depopulation  !  thee  another  flood, 
Of  tears  and  sorrow  a  flood  thee  also  drown'd. 
And  sunk  thee  as  thy  sons ;  till  gently  rear'd 
By  the  angel,  on  thy  feet,  thou  stood'st  at  last, 
Though  comfortless,  as  when  a  father  mourns 
His  children,  all  in  view  destroy'd  at  once ; 
And  scarce  to  the  angel  utter'dst  thus  thy  plaint. 

O  visions  ill  foreseen !  better  had  I 
Lived  ignorant  of  future,  so  had  borne 
My  part  of  evil  only,  each  day's  lot 
Enough  to  bear ;  those  now,  that  were  dispensed 
The  burden  of  many  ages,  on  me  light 

d^ ^ 


^ -^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  299 

At  once,  by  my  foreknowledge  gaining  birth 

Abortive,  to  torment  me  ere  their  being, 

With  thought  that  they  must  be.     Let  no  man  seek 

Henceforth  to  be  foretold  what  shall  befall 

Him  or  his  children ;  evil  he  may  be  sure. 

Which  neither  his  foreknowing  can  prevent ; 

And  he  the  future  evil  shall  no  less 

In  apprehension  than  in  substance  feel, 

Grievous  to  bear :  but  that  care  now  is  past, 

Man  is  not  whom  to  warn ;  those  few  escaped 

Famine  and  anguish  will  at  last  consume 

Wand'ring  that  wat'ry  desert.     I  had  hope 

When  violence  was  ceased,  and  war  on  earth. 

All  would  have  then  gone  well ;  peace  would  have  crown'd 

With  length  of  happy  days  the  race  of  man ; 

But  I  was  far  deceived ;  for  now  I  see 

Peace  to  corrupt  no  less  than  war  to  waste. 

How  comes  it  thus?  unfold,  celestial  guide. 

And  whether  here  the  race  of  man  will  end. 

To  whom  thus  Michael.     Those  whom  last  thou  saw'st 
In  triumph  and  luxurious  wealth,  are  they 
First  seen  in  acts  of  prowess  eminent 
And  great  exploits,  but  of  true  virtue  void  ; 
Who  having  spill'd  much  blood,  and  done  much  waste, 
Subduing  nations,  and  achieved  thereby 
Fame  in  the  world,  high  titles,  and  rich  prey, 
Shall  change  their  course  to  pleasure,  ease,  and  sloth, 
Surfeit,  and  lust,  till  wantonness  and  pride 
Raise  out  of  friendship  hostile  deeds  in  peace. 
The  conquered  also  and  enslaved  by  war 
Shall  with  their  freedom  lost  all  virtue  lose 
And  fear  of  God,  from  whom  their  piety  feign'd 
In  sharp  contest  of  battle  found  no  aid 
Against  invaders  ;  therefore  cool'd  in  zeal 
Thenceforth  shall  practice  how  to  live  secure, 
Worldly,  or  dissolute,  on  what  their  lords 


S- -67 


300 


PARADISE  LOST. 

Shall  leave  them  to  enjoy,  for  the  earth  shall  bear 

More  than  enough,  that  temperance  may  be  tried : 

So  all  shall  turn  degenerate,  all  depraved, 

Justice  and  temperance,  truth  and  faith  forgot; 

One  man  except,  the  only  son  of  light 

In  a  dark  age,  against  example  good, 

Against  allurement,  custom,  and  a  world 

Offended  ;  fearless  of  reproach  and  scorn, 

Or  violence,  he  of  their  wicked  ways 

Shall  them  admonish,  and  before  them  set 

The  paths  of  righteousness,  how  much  more  safe 

And  full  of  peace,  denouncing  wrath  to  come 

On  their  impenitence  ;  and  shall  return 

Of  them  derided,  but  of  God  observed 

The  one  just  man  alive  ;  by  his  command 

Shall  build  a  wondrous  ark,  as  thou  beheld'st, 

To  save  himself  and  household  from  amidst 

A  world  devote  to  universal  wreck. 

No  sooner  he  with  them  of  man  and  beast 

Select  for  life  shall  in  the  ark  be  lodged 

And  sheltered  round,  but  all  the  cataracts 

Of  heav'n  set  open  on  the  earth  shall  pour 

Rain  day  and  night,  all  fountains  of  the  deep 

Broke  up  shall  heave  the  ocean  to  usurp 

Beyond  all  bounds,  till  inundation  rise 

Above  the  highest  hills  :  then  shall  this  mount 

Of  Paradise  by  might  of  waves  be  moved 

Out  of  his  place,  push'd  by  the  horned  flood, 

With  all  his  verdure  spoil'd,  and  trees  adrift, 

Down  the  great  river  to  the  op'ning  gulf, 

And  there  take  root,  an  island  salt  and  bare, 

The  haunt  of  seals,  and  ores,  and  sea-mews'  clang ; 

To  teach  thee  that  God  attributes  to  place 

No  sanctity,  if  none  be  thither  brought  • 

By  men  who  there  frequent,  or  therein  dwell. 

And  now  what  further  shall  ensue,  behold. 

^ 4^ 


^ Q, 

PARADISE  LOST.  301 

He  look'd,  and  saw  the  ark  hull  on  the  flood, 
Which  now  abated,  for  the  clouds  were  fled, 
Driv'n  by  a  keen  north-wind,  that  blowing  dry 
Wrinkled  the  face  of  deluge,  as  decay'd ; 
And  the  clear  sun  on  his  wide  wat'ry  glass 
Gazed  hot,  and  of  the  fresh  wave  largely  drew, 
As  after  thirst,  which  made  their  flowing  shrink 
From  standing  lake  to  tripping  ebb,  that  stole 
With  soft  foot  towards  the  deep,  who  now  had  stopp'd 
His  sluices,  as  the  heav'n  his  windows  shut. 
The  ark  no  more  now  floats,  but  seems  on  ground 
Fast  on  the  top  of  some  high  mountain  fix'd. 
And  now  the  tops  of  hills  as  rocks  appear; 
With  clamor  thence  the  rapid  currents  drive 
Towards  the  retreating  sea  their  furious  tide. 
Forthwith  from  out  the  ark  a  raven  flies, 
And  after  him  the  surer  messenger, 
A  dove,  sent  forth  once  and  again  to  spy 
Green  tree  or  ground  whereon  his  foot  may  light; 
The  second  time  returning,  in  his  bill 
An  olive  leaf  he  brings,  pacific  sign  : 
Anon  dry  ground  appears,  and  from  his  ark 
The  ancient  sire  descends  with  all  his  train ; 
Then  with  uplifted  hands,  and  eyes  devout, 
Grateful  to  heav'n,  over  his  head  beholds 
A  dewy  cloud,  and  in  the  cloud  a  bow 
Conspicuous  with  three  listed  colors  gay, 
Betok'ning  peace  from  God,  and  cov'nant  new. 
Whereat  the  heart  of  Adam  erst  so  sad 
Greatly  rejoiced,  and  thus  his  joy  broke  forth. 

O  thou,  who  future  things  canst  represent 
As  present,  heav'nly  instructor,  I  revive 
At  this  last  sight,  assured  that  man  shall  live 
With  all  the  creatures,  and  their  seed  preserve. 
Far  less  I  now  lament  for  one  whole  world 
Of  wicked  sons  destroy'd,  than  I  rejoice 

^ ^ 


^ -^ 

302  PARADISE  LOST. 

For  one  man  found  so  perfect  and  so  just, 

That  God  vouchsafes  to  raise  another  world 

From  him,  and  all  his  anger  to  forget. 

But  say,  what  mean  those  color'd  streaks  in  heav'n, 

Distended  as  the  brow  of  God  appeased  ? 

Or  serve  they  as  a  flow'ry  verge  to  bind 

The  fluid  skirts  of  that  same  wat'ry  cloud 

Lest  it  again  dissolve  and  show'r  the  earth  ? 

To  whom  the  archangel.     Dext'rously  thou  aim'st; 
So  willingly  doth  God  remit  His  ire, 
Though  late  repenting  Him  of  man  depraved, 
Grieved  at  His  heart,  when  looking  down  He  saw 
The  whole  earth  fiU'd  with  violence,  and  all  flesh 
Corrupting  each  their  way  ;  yet,  those  removed, 
Such  grace  shall  one  just  man  find  in  His  sight, 
That  He  relents,  not  to  blot  out  mankind, 
And  makes  a  covenant  never  to  destroy 
The  earth  again  by  flood,  nor  let  the  sea 
Surpass  his  bounds,  nor  rain  to  drown  the  world 
With  man  therein  or  beast ;  but  when  he  brings 
Over  the  earth  a  cloud,  will  therein  set 
His  triple-color'd  bow,  whereon  to  look, 
And  call  to  mind  his  cov'nant :  day  and  night, 
Seed-time  and  harvest,  heat  and  hoary  frost. 
Shall  hold  their  course,  till  fire  purge  all  things  new. 
Both  heav'n  and  earth,  wherein  the  just  shall  dwell. 


^ _____ — ___ ^ 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  303 


BOOK  XII. 

The  Argument. 

The  angel  Michael  continues  from  the  flood  to  relate  what  shall  succeed  ;  then,  in  the 
mention  of  Abraham,  comes  by  degrees  to  explain,  who  that  seed  of  the  woman  shall  be 
which  was  promised  Adam  and  Eve  in  the  fall;  his  incarnation,  death,  resurrection,  and 
ascension;  the  state  of  the  church  till  his  second  coming.  Adam,  greatly  satisfied,  and 
recomforted  by  these  relations  and  promises,  descends  the  hill  with  Michael ;  wakens  Eve, 
who  all  this  while  had  slept,  but  with  gentle  dreams  composed  to  quietness  of  mind  and 
submission.  Michael  in  either  hand  leads  them  out  of  paradise,  the  fiery  sword  waving 
behmd  them,  and  the  Cherubim  taking  their  stations  to  guard  the  place. 

As  one  who  in  his  journey  bates  at  noon, 
Though  bent  on  speed,  so  here  th'  archangel  paused 
Betwixt  the  world  destroy'd  and  world  restored ; 
If  Adam  aught  perhaps  might  interpose  ; 
Then  with  transition  sweet  new  speech  resumes. 

Thus  thou  hast  seen  one  world  begin  and  end; 
And  man  as  from  a  second  stock  proceed. 
Much  thou  hast  yet  to  see,  but  I  perceive 
Thy  mortal  sight  to  fail :  objects  divine 
Must  needs  impair  and  weary  human  sense  : 
Henceforth  what  is  to  come  I  will  relate, 
Thou  tlierefore  give  due  audience,  and  attend. 

This  second  source  of  men,  while  yet  but  few, 
And  while  the  dread  of  judgment  past  remains 
Fresh  in  their  minds,  fearing  the  Deity, 
With  some  regard  to  what  is  just  and  right 
Shall  lead  their  lives,  and  multiply  apace, 
Laboring  the  soil,  and  reaping  plenteous  crop, 
Corn,  wine,  and  oil ;  and  from  the  herd,  or  flock, 
Oft  sacrificing  bullock,  lamb,  or  kid. 
With  large  wine-offerings  pour'd,  and  sacred  feast, 
Shall  spend  their  days  in  joy  unblamed,  and  dwell 
Long  time  in  peace  by  families  and  tribes 
Under  paternal  rule ;  till  one  shall  rise 


a- -^ 

304  PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  proud  ambitious  heart,  who  not  content 
With  fair  equality,  fraternal  state. 
Will  arrogate  dominion  undeserved 
Over  his  brethren,  and  quite  dispossess 
Concord  and  law  of  nature  from  the  earth  ; 
Hunting,  and  men  not  beasts  shall  be  his  game, 
With  war  and  hostile  snare  such  as  refuse 
Subjection  to  his  empire  tyrannous. 
A  mighty  hunter  thence  he  shall  be  styled  ^ 
Before  the  Lord,  as  in  despite  of  heav'n. 
Or  from  heav'n  claiming  second  sov'reignty; 
And  from  rebellion  shall  derive  his  name,^ 
Though  of  rebellion  others  he  accuse. 
He  with  a  crew,  whom  like  ambition  joins 
With  him  or  under  him  to  tyrannize. 
Marching  from  Eden  towards  the  west,^  shall  find 
The  plain,  wherein  a  black  bituminous  gurge 
Boils  out  from  under  ground,  the  mouth  of  hell  : 
Of  brick  and  of  that  stuff  they  cast  to  build 
A  city  and  tow'r,  whose  top  may  reach,  to  heav'n. 
And  get  themselves  a  name,  lest  far  disperst 
In  foreign  lands  their  memory  be  lost. 
Regardless  whether  good  or  evil  fame. 
But  God,  who  oft  descends  to  visit  men 
Unseen,  and  through  their  habitations  walks, 
To  mark  their  doings,  them  beholding  soon, 
Comes  down  to  see  their  city,  ere  the  tower 
Obstruct  Heav'n-tow'rs,  and  in  derision  sets 
Upon  their  tongues  a  various  spirit,  to  rase 
Quite  out  their  native  language,  and  instead 
To  sow  a  jangling  noise  of  words  unknown. 

1  Nimrod.who  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  first  whoassiimid  kingly  power.    See  Gen  x.9. 

2  The  name  Nimrod  is  derived  from  a  Hebrew  word  that  signifies  to  rebel. 

3  "And  it  came  to  pass,  as  they  journeyed  from  the  east,  that  they  found  a  plain  in  the 
land  of  Shinar.  And  they  had  brick  for  stone,  and  slime  had  they  for  mortar."  Gen. 
xi.  2,  &c. 

^ ^ 


^ 

PARADISE  LOST.  305 

Forthwith  a  hideous  gabble  rises  loud 

Among  the  builders,  each  to  other  calls 

Not  understood,  till  hoarse,  and  all  in  rage. 

As  mock'd  they  storm ;  great  laughter  was  in  heav'n, 

And  looking  down,  to  see  the  hubbub  strange 

And  hear  the  din  ;  thus  was  the  building  left 

Ridiculous,  and  the  work  Confusion '  named. 

Whereto  thus  Adam  fatherly  displeased. 
O  execrable  son  !  so  to  aspire 
Above  his  brethren,  to  himself  assuming 
Authority  usurp'd,  from  God  not  giv'n. 
He  gave  us  only  over  beast,  fish,  fowl. 
Dominion  absolute ;  that  right  we  hold 
By  His  donation  ;  such  title  to  Himself 
Reserving,  human  left  fiom  human  free. 
But  this  usurper  his  encroachment  proud 
Stays  not  on  man  ;  to  God  his  tower  intends 
Siege  and  defiance.     Wretched  man  !  what  food 
W^ill  he  convey  up  thither  to  sustain 
Himself  and  his  rash  army,  where  thin  air 
Above  the  clouds  will  pine  his  entrails  gross, 
And  famish  him  of  breath,  if  not  of  bread  ? 

To  whom  thus  Michael.     Justly  thou  abhorr'st 
That  son,  who  on  the  quiet  state  of  men 
Such  trouble  brought,  affecting  to  subdue 
Rational  liberty  ;  yet  know  withal, 
Since  thy  original  lapse,  true  liberty 
Is  lost,  which  always  with  right  reason  dwells 
Twinn'd,  and  from  her  hath  no  dividual  being : 
Reason  in  man  obscured,  or  not  obey'd. 
Immediately  inordinate  desires 
And  upstart  passions  catch  the  government 
From  reason,  and  to  servitude  reduce 
Man  till  then  free.     Therefore,  since  he  permits 

^  Babel  signifies  confusion,  in  Hebrew. 
20 


a \ -^ 

306  PARADISE  LOST. 

Within  himself  unworthy  powers  to  reign 

Over  free  reason,  God  in  judgment  just 

Subjects  him  from  without  to  violent  lords 

Who  oft  as  undeservedly  enthral 

His  outward  freedom.     Tyranny  must  be, 

Though  to  the  tyrant  thereby  no  excuse. 

Yet  sometimes  nations  will  decline  so  low 

From  virtue,  which  is  reason,  that  no  wrong, 

But  justice,  and  some  fatal  curse  annex'd, 

Deprives  them  of  their  outward  liberty, 

Their  inward  lost :  witness  the  irreverent  son 

Of  him  who  built  the  ark,  who  for  the  shame 

Done  to  his  father,  heard  this  heavy  curse, 

Servant  of  servants,  on  his  vicious  race,^ 

Thus  will  this  latter,  as  the  former  world, 

Still  tend  from  bad  to  worse,  till  God  at  last. 

Wearied  with  their  iniquities,  withdraw 

His  presence  from  among  them,  and  avert 

His  holy  eyes  ;  resolving  from  thenceforth 

To  leave  them  to  their  own  polluted  ways ; 

And  one  peculiar  nation  to  select 

From  all  the  rest,  of  whom  to  be  invoked, 

A  nation  from  one  faithful  man^  to  spring : 

Him  on  this  side  Euphrates  yet  residing 

Bred  up  in  idol-worship  '}  O  that  men, 

(Canst  thou  believe  ?)  should  be  so  stupid  grown, 

While  yet  the  patriarch  lived,  who  scaped  the  flood. 

As  to  forsake  the  living  God,  and  fall 

To  worship  their  own  work  in  wood  and  stone 

For  Gods  ;  yet  him  God  the  most  high  vouchsafes 

To  call  by  vision  from  his  father's  house. 

His  kindred,  and  false  Gods,  into  a  land 

1  Gen.  ix.  22-25.  ''■  Abraham. 

2  Terah,  Abraham's  father,  was  an  idolater.  See  Josh.  xxiv.  2.  Jewish  tradition  repre- 
sents the  father  and  grandfather  of  Abraham  to  have  been  carvers  of  idols.  Terah  was 
born  in  Noah's  lifetime. 

. ^ 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  307 

Which  He  will  show  him,  and  from  him  will  raise 

A  mighty  nation,  and  upon  him  show'r 

His  benediction  so,  that  in  his  seed 

All  nations  shall  be  bless'd  ;  he  straight  obeys, 

Not  knowing  to  what  land,  yet  firm  believes. 

I  see  him,  but  thou  canst  not,  with  what  faith 

He  leaves  his  Gods,  his  friends,  and  native  soil, 

Ur  of  ChaldiEa,  passing  now  the  ford 

To  Haran,  after  him  a  cumbrous  train 

Of  herds,  and  flocks,  and  numerous  servitude; 

Not  wand'ring  poor,  but  trusting  all  his  wealth 

With  God,  who  call'd  him,  in  a  land  unknown. 

Canaan  he  now  attains,  I  see  his  tents 

Pitch'd  about  Sechem,  and  the  neighboring  plain 

Of  Moreh  ;  there  by  promise  he  receives 

Gift  to  his  progeny  of  all  that  land  ; 

From  Hamath  northward  to  the  desert  south. 

Things  by  their  names  I  call,  though  yet  unnamed, 

From  Hermon  east  to  the  great  western  sea. 

Mount  Hermon,  yonder  sea,  each  place  behold 

In  prospect,  as  I  point  them  ;  on  the  shore 

Mount  Carmel  ;  here  the  double-fountcd  stream 

Jordan,  true  limit  eastward  ;  but  his  sons 

Shall  dwell  to  Senir,  that  long  ridge  of  hills. 

This  ponder,  that  all  nations  of  the  earth 

Shall  in  his  seed  be  blessed  ;  by  that  seed 

Is  meant  thy  great  Deliverer,  who  shall  bruise 

The  serpent's  head  ;  whereof  to  thee  anon 

Plainlier  shall  be  reveal'd.     This  patriarch  bless'd, 

Whom  faithful  Abraham  due  time  shall  call, 

A  son,  and  of  his  son  a  grandchild,  leaves. 

Like  him  in  faith,  in  wisdom,  and  renown. 

The  grandchild,  with  twelve  sons  increased  departs 

From  Canaan,  to  a  land  hereafter  call'd 

Egypt,  divided  by  the  river  Nile  ; 

See  where  it  flows,  disgorging  at  seven  mouths 


^ 


508  PARADISE  LOST. 

Into  the  sea.     To  sojourn  in  that  land 

He  comes,  invited  by  a  younger  son 

In  time  of  dearth  ;  a  son  whose  worthy  deeds 

Raise  him  to  be  the   second  in  that  realm 

Of  Pharaoh  :  there  he  dies,  and  leaves  his  race 

Growing  into  a  nation  ;  and  now  grown 

Suspected  to  a  sequent  king,  who  seeks 

To  stop  their  overgrowth,  as  inmate  guests  * 

Too  numerous  ;  whence  of  guests  he  makes  them  slaves 

Inhospitably,  and  kills  their  infant  males  : 

Till  by  two  brethren  (those  two  brethren  call 

Moses  and  Aaron),  sent  from  God  to  claim 

His  people  from  enthralment,  they  return 

With  glory  and  spoil  back  to  their  promised  land. 

But  first  the  lawless  tyrant,  who  denies 

To  know  their  God,  or  message  to  regard, 

Must  be  compell'd  by  signs  and  judgments  dire; 

To  blood  unshed  the  rivers  must  be  turn'd  ; 

Frogs,  lice,  and  flies,  must  all  his  palace  fill 

With  loath'd  intrusion,  and  fill  all  the  land; 

His  cattle  must  of  rot  and  murrain  die  ; 

Blotches  and  blains  must  all  his  flesh  imboss. 

And  all  his  people  ;  thunder  mix'd  with  hail, 

Hail  mix'd  with  fire,  must  rend  the  Egyptian  sky, 

And  wheel  on  the  earth,  devouring  where  it  rolls ; 

What  it  devours  not,  herb,  or  fruit,  or  grain, 

A  darksome  cloud  of  locusts  swarming  down 

Must  eat,  and  on  the  ground  leave  nothing  green : 

Darkness  must  overshadow  all  his  bounds. 

Palpable  darkness,  and  blot  out  three  days ; 

Last  with  one  midnight  stroke  all  the  first-born 

Of  Egypt  must  lie  dead.     Thus  with  ten  wounds 

This  river-dragon^  tamed  at  length  submits 


1  An  allusion  to  the  crocodile,  the  Egyptian  animal.     Ezekiel  also  styles  Pharoah  "  the 
great  dragon  that  lieih  in  the  midst  of  his  rivers." 


^ : e? 

FARAD/SB  LOST.  309 

To  let  his  sojourners  depart,  and  oft 

Humbles  his  stubborn  heart ;  but  still  as  ice 

More  harden'd  after  thaw,  till,  in  his  rage 

Pursuing  whom  he  late  dismiss'd,  the  sea 

Swallows  him  with  his  host,  but  them  lets  pass 

As  on  dry  land  between  two  crystal  walls, 

Awed  by  the  rod  of  Moses  so  to  stand 

Divided,  till  his  rescued  gain  their  shore : 

Such  wondrous  power  God  to  his  saint  will  lend, 

Though  present  in  His  angel,  who  shall  go 

Before  them  in  a  cloud,  and  pillar  of  fire. 

By  day  a  cloud,  by  night  a  pillar  of  fire. 

To  guide  them  in  their  journey,  and  remove 

Behind  them,  while  the  obdurate  king  pursues: 

All  night  he  will  pursue,  but  his  approach 

Darkness  defends  between  till  morning  watch  ; 

Then  through  the  fiery  pillar  and  the  cloud 

God  looking  forth  will  trouble  all  his  host, 

And  craze  their  chariot  wheels :  when  by  command 

Moses  once  more  his  potent  rod  extends 

Over  the  sea;  the  sea  his  rod  obeys ; 

On  their  imbattled  ranks  the  waves  return. 

And  overwhelm  their  war.     The  race  elect 

Safe  towards  Canaan  from  the  shore  advance 

Through  the  wild  Desert ;  not  the  readiest  way, 

Lest  ent'ring  on  the  Canaanite  alarm'd 

War  terrify  them  inexpert,  and  fear 

Return  them  back  to  Egypt,  choosing  rather 

Inglorious  life  with  servitude  ;  for  life 

To  noble  and  ignoble  is  more  sweet 

Untrain'd  in  arms,  where  rashness  leads  not  on. 

This  also  shall  they  gain  by  their  delay 

In  the  wide  wilderness,  there  they  shall  found 

Their  government,  and  their  great  senate  choose 

Through  the  twelve  tribes,  to  rule  by  laws  ordain'd. 

God  from  the  mount  of  Sinai,  whose  gray  top 

^ , 4^ 


^i^-^ ^ -^ 

310  PARADISE  LOST. 

Shall  tremble,  He  descending,  will  Himself 

In  thunder,  lightning,  and  loud  trumpets'  sound 

Ordain  them  laws ;  part,  such  as  appertain 

To  civil  justice  ;  part,  religious  rites 

Of  sacrifice,  informing  them  by  types 

And  shadows  of  that  destined  seed  to  bruise 

The  serpent,  by  what  means  He  shall  achieve 

Mankind's  deliverance.     But  the  voice  of  God 

To  mortal  ear  is  dreadful :  they  beseech 

That  Moses  might  report  to  them  His  will 

And  terror  cease  ;   He  grants  what  they  besought, 

Instructed  that  to  God  is  no  access 

Without  mediator,  whose  high  office  now 

Moses  in  figure  bears,  to  introduce 

One  greater,  of  whose  day  he  shall  foretell ; 

And  all  the  prophets  in  their  age  the  times 

Of  great  Messiah  shall  sing.     Thus  laws  and  rites 

Establish'd,  such  delight  hath  God  in  men 

Obedient  to  His  will,  that  He  vouchsafes 

Among  them  to  set  up  His  tabernacle. 

The  Ho'y  One  with  mortal  men  to  dwell. 

By  His  prescript  a  sanctuary  is  framed 

Of  cedar,  overlaid  with  gold,  therein 

An  ark,  and  in  the  ark  His  testimony, 

The  records  of  His  cov'nant,  over  these 

A  mercy-seat  of  gold  between  the  wings 

Of  two  bright  Cherubim  ;  before  Him  burn 

Seven  lamps,  as  in  a  zodiac  representing 

The  heav'nly  fires  ;  over  the  tent  a  cloud 

Shall  rest  by  day,  a  fiery  gleam  by  night, 

Save  when  they  journey,  and  at  length  they  come 

Conducted  by  His  angel  to  the  land 

Promised  to  Abraham  and  his  seed.     The  rest 

Were  long  to  tell,  how  many  battles  fought, 

How  many  kings  destroy'd,  and  kingdoms  won  ; 

Or  how  the  sun  shall  in  mid  heav'n  stand  still 

^ ^ -^ 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  311 

A  day  entire,  and  night's  due  course  adjourn, 
Man's  voice  commanding, — Sun  in  Gibeon  stand, 
And  thou  moon  in  the  vale  of  Aialon, 
Till  Israel  overcome; — so  call  the  third 
From  Abraham,  son  of  Isaac,  and  from  him 
His  whole  descent,  who  thus  shall  Canaan  win. 

Here  Adam  interposed.     O  sent  from  heav'n, 
Enlightener  of  my  darkness,  gracious  things 
Thou  hast  reveal'd,  those  chiefly  which  concern 
Just  Abraham  and  his  seed :  now  first  I  find 
Mine  eyes  true  op'ning,  and  my  heart  much  eased, 
Erewhile  perplex'd  with  thoughts  what  would  become 
Of  me  and  all  mankind;  but  now  I  see 
His  day,  in  whom  all  nations  shall  be  bless'd ; 
Favor  unmerited  by  me,  who  sought 
Forbidden  knowledge  by  forbidden  means. 
This  yet  I  apprehend  not,  why  to  those 
Among  whom  God  will  deign  to  dwell  on  earth 
So  many  and  so  various  laws  are  giv'n  : 
So  many  laws  argue  so  many  sins 
Among  them  ;  how  can  God  with  such  reside  ? 

To  whom  thus  Michael.     Doubt  not  but  that  sin 
Will  reign  among  them,  as  of  thee  begot ; 
And  therefore  was  law  given  them  to  evince 
Their  natural  pravity,  by  stirring  up 
Sin  against  law  to  fight  ;  that  when  they  see 
Law  can  discover  sin,  but  not  remove, 
Save  by  those  shadowy  expiations  weak. 
The  blood  of  bulls  and  goats,  they  may  conclude 
Some  blood  more  precious  must  be  paid  for  man, 
Just  for  unjust,  that  in  such  righteousness 
To  them  b)^  faith  imputed  they  may  find 
Justification  towards  God,  and  peace 
Of  conscience,  which  the  law  by  ceremonies 
Cannot  appease,  nor  man  the  moral  part 
Perform,  and  not  performing  cannot  live. 


4 


a- 


^ 


312 


PARADISE  LOST. 

So  law  appears  imperfect,  and  but  giv'n 

With  purpose  to  resign  them  in  full  time 

Up  to  a  better  covenant,  disciplined 

From  shadowy  types  to  truth,  from  flesh  to  spirit. 

From  imposition  of  strict  laws  to  free 

Acceptance  of  large  grace,  from  servile  fear 

To  filial,  works  of  law  to  works  of  faith. 

And  therefore  shall  not  Moses,  though  of  God 

Highly  beloved,  being  but  the  minister 

Of  law,  his  people  into  Canaan  led; 

But  Joshua,  whom  the  Gentiles  Jesus  call. 

His  name  and  office  bearing,  who  shall  quell 

The  adversary  serpent,  and  bring  back 

Through  the  world's  wilderness  long  wander'd  man 

Safe  to  eternal  paradise  of  rest. 

Meanwhile  they  in  their  earthly  Canaan  placed 

Long  time  shall  dwell  and  prosper,  but  when  sins 

National  interrupt  their  public  peace, 

Provoking  God  to  raise  them  enemies, 

From  whom  as  oft  He  saves  them  penitent, 

By  judges  first,  then  under  kings  ;  of  whom 

The  second,  both  for  piety  renown'd 

And  puissant  deeds,  a  promise  shall  receive 

Irrevocable,  that  his  regal  throne 

Forever  shall  endure  ;  the  like  shall  sing 

All  prophesy,  that  of  the  royal  stock 

Of  David,  so  I  name  this  king,  shall  rise 

A  son,  the  woman's  seed  to  thee  foretold, 

Foretold  to  Abraham,  as  in  whom  shall  trust    . 

All  nations,  and  to  kings  foretold,  of  kings 

The  last,  for  of  his  reign  shall  be  no  end. 

But  first  a  long  succession  must  ensue, 

And  his  next  son,  for  wealth  and  wisdom  famed, 

The  clouded  ark  of  God,  till  then  in  tents 

Wand'ring,  shall  in  a  glorious  temple  enshrine. 

Such  follow  him,  as  shall  be  register'd 


f 


-^ 


PARADISE  LOST.  313 

Part  good,  part  bad,  of  bad  the  longer  scroll ; 

Whose  foul  idolatries,  and  other  faults 

Heap'd  to  the  popular  sum,  will  so  incense 

God,  as  to  leave  them,  and  expose  their  land, 

Their  city,  His  temple,  and  His  Holy  ark, 

With  all  His  sacred  things,  a  scorn  and  prey 

To  that  proud  city,  whose  high  walls  thou  saw'st 

Left  in  confusion,  Babylon  thence  call'd. 

There  in  captivity  He  lets  them  dwell 

The  space  of  seventy  years,  then  brings  them  back, 

Rememb'ring  mercy  and  His  cov'nant  sworn 

To  David  stablish'd  as  the  days  of  heav'n. 

Return'd  from  Babylon  by  leave  of  kings 

Their  lords,  whom  God  disposed,  the  house  of  God 

They  first  re-edify,  and  for  awhile 

In  mean  estate  live  moderate,  till  grown 

In  wealth  and  multitude,  factious  they  grow ; 

But  first  among  the  priests  dissension  springs,* 

Men  who  attend  the  altar,  and  should  most 

Endeavor  peace  :  their  strife  pollution  brings 

Upon  the  temple  itself:  at  last  they  seize 

The  sceptre,  and  regard  not  David's  sons  f 

Then  lose  it  to  a  stranger,^  that  the  true 

Anointed  king  Messiah  might  be  born 

Barr'd  of  his  right;  yet  at  his  birth  a  star 

Unseen  before  in  heav'n  proclaims  him  come ; 

And  guides  the  eastern  sages,  who  inquire 


J  The  murder  of  Jesus,  or  Joshua,  in  the  Temple  by  his  brother  John,  the  high  priest,  is 
perhaps  alluded  to  here.  Bagoas,  the  general  of  Artaxerxes'  army,  had  promised  to  pro- 
cure Jesus  the  high  priesthood.  In  confidence  of  the  Persian's  support.  Jesus  insulted  his 
brother  in  the  temple,  and  so  provoked  him  that  the  latter  slew  him.  Thus  the  Temple 
was  polluted  by  fratricide,  committed  by  the  high  priest  himself.  The  old  commentators 
suppose,  however,  that  the  passage  alludes  to  the  quarrels  between^ason  and  Menelaus  for 
the  high  priesthood  which  led  to  the  profanation  of  the  Temple  by  Aniiochus  Epiphanes. 

-  Aristobulus,  a  M.iccabee,  or  Asmonean,  erected  the  theocratic  republic  of  the  Jews  into 
a  kingdom  481  years  after  the  return  from  the  Babylonian  captivity.. 

3  Herod,  an  Idumean  or  Edoinite. 


^ ^ 

314  PARADISE  LOST. 

His  place,  to  offer  incense,  myrrh,  and  gold : 

His  place  of  birth  a  solemn  angel  tells 

To  simple  shepherds,  keeping  watch  by  night ; 

They  gladly  thither  haste,  and  by  a  choir 

Of  squadron'd  angels  hear  his  carol  sung. 

A  virgin  is  his  mother,  but  his  sire 

The  power  of  the  Most  High  ;  he  shall  ascend 

The  throne  hereditary,  and  bound  his  reign 

With  earth's  wide  bounds,  his  glory  with  the  heav'ns.^ 

He  ceased,  discerning  Adam  with  such  joy 
Surcharged,  as  had  like  grief  been  dew'd  in  tears, 
Without  the  vent  of  words,  which  these  he  breathed. 

O  prophet  of  glad  tidings,  finisher 
Of  utmost  hope!  now  clear  I  understand 
What  oft  my  steadiest  thoughts  have  search'd  in  vain, 
Why  our  great  expectation  should  be  call'd 
The  seed  of  woman  :  Virgin  Mother,  hail, 
High  in  the  love  of  Heav'n,  yet  from  my  loins 
Thou  shalt  proceed,  and  from  thy  womb  the  Son 
Of  God  most  high ;  so  God  with  man  unites. 
Needs  must  the  serpent  now  his  capital  bruise 
Expect  with  mortal  pain  :  say  where  and  when 
Their  fight,  what  stroke  shall  bruise  the  victor's  heel. 

To  whom  thus  Michael.     Dream  not  of  their  fight, 
As  of  a  duel,  or  the  local  wounds 
Of  head  or  heel :  not  therefore  joins  the  Son 
Manhood  to  Godhood,  with  more  strength  to  foil 
Thy  enemy ;  nor  so  is  overcome 
Satan,  whose  fall  from  heav'n,  a  deadlier  bruise, 
Disabled  not  to  give  thee  thy  death's  wound  ; 
Which  He,  who  comes  thy  Saviour,  shall  recure. 
Not  by  destroying  Satan,  but  his  works 
In  thee  and  in  thy  seed :  nor  can  this  be, 
But  by  fulfilling  that  which  thou  didst  want. 


1  Psalm  ii.  8.    Isaiah  ix.  7.    Zech.  ix.  9. 

^^- ^ ^ 


f~ — Qp 

PARADISE  LOST.  315 

Obedience  to  the  law  of  God,  imposed 

On  penalty  of  death,  and  suffering  death, 

The  penalty  to  thy  transgression  due, 

And  due  to  theirs  which  out  of  thine  will  grow: 

So  only  can  high  justice  rest  appaid. 

The  law  of  God  exact  Ke  shall  fulfil, 

Both  by  obedience  and  by  love,  though  love 

Alone  fulfil  the  law ;  thy  punishment 

He  shall  endure  by  coming  in  the  flesh 

To  a  reproachful  life  and  cursed  death, 

Proclaiming  life  to  all  who  shall  believe 

In  his  redemption  ;  and  that  His  obedience 

Imputed  becomes  theirs  by  faith;  His  merits 

To  save  them,  not  their  own  (though  legal)  works. 

For  this  He  shall  live  hated,  be  blasphemed, 

Seized  on  by  force,  judged,  and  to  death  condemn'd 

A  shameful  and  accursed,  nail'd  to  the  cross 

By  His  own  nation,  slain  for  bringing  life: 

But  to  the  cross  He  nails  thy  enemies, 

The  law  that  is  against  thee,  and  the  sins 

Of  all  mankind,  with  Him  there  crucified, 

Never  to  hurt  them  more  who  rightly  trust 

In  this  His  satisfaction:  so  He  dies, 

But  soon  revives,  death  over  Him  no  power 

Shall  long  usurp ;  ere  the  third  dawning  light 

Return,  the  stars  of  morn  shall  see  Him  rise 

Out  of  his  grave,  fresh  as  the  dawning  light, 

Thy  ransom  paid,  which  man  from  death  redeems, 

His  death  for  man,  as  many  as  offcr'd  life 

Neglect  not,  and  the  benefit  embrace 

By  faith  not  void  of  works.     This  godlike  act 

Annuls  thy  doom,  the  death  thou  shouldst  have  died, 

In  sin  forever  lost  from  life  ;  this  act 

Shall  bruise  the  head  of  Satan,  crush  his  strength 

Defeating  sin  and  death,  his  two  main  arms, 

And  fix  far  deeper  in  his  head  their  stings, 

'^ . 


^ -^ 

316  PARADISE  LOST. 

Than  temporal  death  shall  bruise  the  victor's  heel, 

Or  theirs  whom  He  redeems,  a  death,  like  sleep 

A  gentle  wafting  to  immortal  life. 

Nor  after  resurrection  shall  He  stay 

Longer  on  earth  than  certain  times  to  appear 

To  His  disciples,  men  who  in  His  life 

Still  foUow'd  Him  ;  to  them  shall  leave  in  charge 

To  teach  all  nations  what  of  Him  they  learn'd 

And  His  salvation  ;  them  who  shall  believe 

Baptizing  in  the  profluent  stream,  the  sign 

Of  washing  them  from  guilt  of  sin  to  life 

Pure,  and  in  mind  prepared,  if  so  befall, 

For  death,  like  that  which  the  redeemer  died. 

All  nations  they  shall  teach  ;  for  from  that  day 

Not  only  to  the  sons  of  Abraham's  loins 

Salvation  shall  be  preach'd,  but  to  the  sons 

Of  Abraham's  faith  wherever  through  the  world : 

So  in  his  seed  all  nations  shall  be  bless'd. 

Then  to  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns  He  shall  ascend 

With  victory,  triumphing  through  the  air 

Over  His  foes  and  thine;  there  shall  surprise 

The  serpent,  prince  of  air,  and  drag  in  chains 

Through  all  his  realm,  and  there  confounded  leave ; 

Then  enter  into  glory,  and  resume 

His  seat  at  God's  right  hand,  exalted  high 

Above  all  names  in  heav'n  ;  and  thence  shall  come, 

When  this  world's  dissolution  shall  be  ripe. 

With  glory  and  power  to  judge  both  quick  and  dead, 

To  judge  th'  unfaithful  dead,  but  to  reward 

His  faithful,  and  receive  them  into  bliss, 

Whether  in  heav'n  or  earth ;  for  then  the  earth 

Shall  all  be  paradise,  far  happier  place 

Than  this  of  Eden,  and  far  happier  days. 

So  spake  the  Archangel  Michael,  then  paused, 
As  at  the  world's  great  period ;  and  our  sire 
Replete  with  joy  and  wonder  thus  replied. 

^ : ^ 


^- 


^ 


PARADISE  LOST. 

O  goodness  infinite,  goodness  immense! 
That  all  this  good  of  evil  shall  produce, 
And  evil  turn  to  good ;  more  wonderful 
Than  that  which  by  creation  first  brought  forth 
Light  out  of  darkness  !  full  of  doubt  I  stand. 
Whether  I  should  repent  me  now  of  sin 
By  me  done  and  occasion'd,  or  rejoice 
Much  more,  that  much  more  good  thereof  shall  spring. 
To  God  more  glory,  more  good  will  to  men 
From  God,  and  over  wrath  grace  shall  abound. 
But  say,  if  our  Deliverer  up  to  heav'n 
Must  reascend,  what  will  betide  the  few 
His  faithful,  left  among  th'  unfaithful  herd, 
The  enemies  of  truth  ;  who  then  shall  guide 
His  people,  who  defend  ?  will  they  not  deal 
Worse  with  His  followers  than  with  Him  they  dealt? 

Be  sure  they  will,  said  the  angel ;  but  from  heav'n 
He  to  His  own  a  Comforter  will  send, 
The  promise  of  the  Father,  who  shall  dwell 
His  spirit  within  them,  and  the  law  of  faith 
Working  through  love  upon  their  hearts  shall  write, 
To  guide  them  in  all  truth,  and  also  arm 
With  spiritual  armor,  able  to  resist 
Satan's  assaults,  and  quench  his  fiery  darts, 
What  man  can  do  against  them,  not  afraid, 
Though  to  the  death,  against  such  cruelties 
With  inward  consolations  recompensed, 
And  oft  supported  so  as  shall  amaze 
Their  proudest  persecutors :  for  the  Spirit 
Pour'd  first  on  his  apostles,  whom  he  sends 
To  evangelize  the  nations,  then  on  all 
Baptized,  shall  them  with  wondrous  gifts  indue, 
To  speak  all  tongues,  and  do  all  miracles. 
As  did  their  Lord  before  them.     Thus  they  win 
Great  numbers  of  each  nation  to  receive 
With  joy  the  tidings  brought  from  heav'n  :  at  length 


3^7 


-e 


s- 


^ 


318  PARADISE  LOST. 

Their  ministry  perform'd,  and  race  well  run, 

Their  doctrine  and  their  story  written  left, 

They  die ;  but  in  their  room,  as  they  forewarn, 

Wolves  shall  succeed  for  teachers,  grievous  wolves, 

Who  all  the  sacred  mysteries  of  heav'n 

To  their  own  vile  advantages  shall  turn 

Of  lucre  and  ambition,  and  the  truth 

With  superstitions  and  traditions  taint, 

Left  only  in  those  written  records  pure, 

Though  not  but  by  the  Spirit  understood. 

Then  shall  they  seek  to  avail  themselves  of  names, 

Places,  and  titles,  and  with  these  to  join 

Secular  power,  though  feigning  still  to  act 

By  spiritual,  to  thf;mselves  appropriating 

The  Spirit  of  God,  promised  alike  and  giv'n 

To  all  believers;  and  from  that  pretence 

Spiritual  laws  by  carnal  powers  shall  force 

On  every  conscience  ;  laws  which  none  shall  find 

Left  them  inroU'd,  or  what  the  Spirit  within 

Shall  on  the  heart  engrave.     What  will  they  then 

But  force  the  Spirit  of  Grace  itself,  and  bind 

His  consort  Liberty  ?  what,  but  unbuild 

His  living  temples,  built  by  faith  to  stand. 

Their  own  faith,  not  another's?  for  on  earth 

Who  against  faith  and  conscience  can  be  heard 

Infallible  ?  yet  many  will  presume  : 

Whence  heavy  persecution  shall  arise 

On  all  who  in  the  worship  persevere 

Of  spirit  and  truth  ;  the  rest,  far  greater  part, 

Will  deem  in  outward  rites  and  specious  forms 

Religion  satisfied  ;  truth  shall  retire 

Bestuck  with  slanderous  darts,  and  works  of  faith 

Rarely  be  found :  so  shall  the  world  go  on. 

To  good  malignant,  to  bad  men  benign, 

Under  her  own  weight  groaning  till  the  day 

Appear  of  restoration  to  the  just, 


^ 


4 


^ (b 

PARADISE  LOST.  319 

And  vengeance  to  the  wicked,  at  return 
Of  Him  so  lately  promised  to  thy  aid, 
The  woman's  seed,  obscurely  then  foretold. 
Now  amplier  known  thy  Saviour  and  thy  Lord, 
Last  in  the  clouds  from  heav'n  to  be  reveal'd 
In  glory  of  the  Father,  to  dissolve 
Satan  with  his  perverted  world,  then  raise 
From  the  conflagrant  mass,  purged  and  refined, 
New  heav'ns,  new  earth,  ages  of  endless  date 
Founded  in  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  love. 
To  bring  forth  fruits  joy  and  eternal  bliss. 

He  ended;  and  thus  Adam  last  replied. 
How  soon  hath  thy  prediction,  Seer  bless'd. 
Measured  this  transient  world,  the  race  of  time 
Till  time  stand  fix'd !  beyond  is  all  abyss, 
Eternity,  whose  end  no  eye  can  reach  : 
Greatly  instructed  I  shall  hence  depart, 
Greatly  in  peace  of  thought,  and  have  my  fill 
Of  knowledge,  what  this  vessel  can  contain  ; 
Beyond  which  was  my  folly  to  aspire. 
Henceforth  I  learn  that  to  obey  is  best. 
And  love  with  fear  the  only  God,  to  walk 
As  in  His  presence,  ever  to  observe 
His  providence,  and  on  Him  sole  depend, 
Merciful  over  all  His  works,  with  good 
Still  overcoming  evil ;  and  by  small 
Accomplishing  great  things,  by  things  deem'd  weak 
Subverting  worldly  strong,  and  worldly  wise 
By  simply  meek  ;  that  suffering  for  truth's  sake 
Is  fortitude  to  highest  victory, 
And  to  the  faithful  death  the  gate  of  life ; 
Taught  this  by  his  example,  whom  I  now 
Acknowledge  my  Redeemer  ever  bless'd. 

To  whom  thus  also  th'  angel  last  replied. 
This  having  learn'd,  thou  hast  attain'd  the  sum 


4 


a-- ^ ^ 

320  PARADISE  LOST. 

Of  wisdom  ;  hope  no  higher,  though  all  the  stars 

Thou  knew'st  by  name,  and  all  th'  ethereal  powers, 

All  secrets  of  the  deep,  all  nature's  works, 

Or  works  of  God  in  heav'n,  air,  earth,  or  sea, 

And  all  the  riches  of  this  world  enjoy'dst, 

And  all  the  rule,  one  empire  ;  only  add 

Deeds  to  thy  knowledge  answerable,  add  faith, 

Add  virtue,  patience,  temperance,  add  love, 

By  name  to  come  call'd  charity,  the  soul 

Of  all  the  rest;  then  wilt  thou  not  be  loth 

To  leave  this  paradise,  but  shalt  possess 

A  paradise  within  thee,  happier  far. 

Let  us  descend  now,  therefore,  from  this  top 

Of  speculation  ;  for  the  hour  precise 

Exacts  our  parting  hence;  and  see  the  guards, 

By  me  encamp'd  on  yonder  hill,  expect 

Their  motion,  at  whose  front  a  flaming  sword, 

In  signal  of  remove,  waves  fiercely  round ; 

We  may  no  longer  stay :  go,  waken  Eve ; 

Her  also  I  with  gentle  dreams  have  calm'd 

Portending  good,  and  all  her  spirits  composed 

To  meek  submission :  thou  at  season  fit 

Let  her  with  thee  partake  what  thou  hast  heard. 

Chiefly  what  may  concern  her  faith  to  know, 

The  great  deliverance  by  her  seed  to  come. 

For  by  the  woman's  seed,  on  all  mankind. 

That  ye  may  live,  which  will  be  many  days, 

Both  in  one  faith  unanimous,  though  sad 

With  cause  for  evils  past;  yet  much  more  cheer'd 

With  meditation  on  the  happy  end. 

He  ended,  and  they  both  descend  the  hill : 
Descended,  Adam  to  the  bower,  where  Eve 
Lay  sleeping,  ran  before,  but  found  her  waked; 
And  thus  with  words  not  sad  she  him  received. 

Whence  thou  return'st,  and  whither  went'st,  I  know ; 


^ 


f 


* 


PARADISE  LOST. 

For  God  is  also  in  sleep,  and  dreams  advise, 

Which  He  hath  sent  propitious,  some  great  good 

Presaging,  since  with  sorrow  and  heart's  distress 

Wearied  I  fell  asleep :  but  now  lead  on  ; 

In  me  is  no  delay ;  with  thee  to  go 

Is  to  stay  here ;  without  thee  here  to  stay 

Is  to  go  hence  unwilling ;  thou  to  me 

Art  all  things  under  heav'n,  all  places  thou, 

Who  for  my  wilful  crime  art  banish'd  hence. 

This  further  consolation  yet  secure 

I  carry  hence;  though  all  by  me  is  lost. 

Such  favor  I  unworthy  am  vouchsafed, 

By  me  the  Promised  Seed  shall  all  restore. 

So  spake  our  mother  Eve,  and  Adam  heard 
Well  pleased,  but  answer'd  not;  for  now  too  nigh 
Th'  Archangel  stood,  and  from  the  other  hill 
To  their  fix'd  station  all  in  bright  array 
The  Cherubim  descended  ;  on  the  ground 
Gliding  meteorous,  as  ev'ning  mist 
Ris'n  from  a  river  o'er  the  marish^  glides, 
And  gathers  ground  fast  at  the  laborer's  heel 
Homeward  returning.     High  in  front  advanced 
The  brandish'd  sword  of  God  before  them  blazed 
Fierce  as  a  comet;  which  with  torrid  heat. 
And  vapor  as  the  Libyan  air  adust, 
Began  to  parch  that  temperate  clime :  whereat 
In  either  hand  the  hast'ning  angel  caught 
Our  ling'ring  parents,  and  to  the  eastern  gate 
Led  them  direct,  and  down  the  cliff  as  fast 
To  the  subjected  plain  ;  then  disappear'd. 
They  looking  back  all  the  eastern  side  beheld 
Of  Paradise,  so  late  their  happy  seat. 
Waved  over  by  that  flaming  brand;  the  gate 


321 


I  An  old  word  for  marsh. 
21 


^ 


■& 


^ 


^ 


322  PARADISE  LOST, 

With  dreadful  faces  throng'd  and  fiery  arms  : 
Some  natural  tears  they  dropp'd,  but  wiped  them  soon ; 
The  world  was  all  before  them,  where  to  choose 
Their  place  of  rest,  and  Providence  their  guide. 
They,  hand  in  hand  with  wand'ring  steps  and  slow. 
Through  Eden  took  their  solitary  way. 


^ 


4^ 


S- Q, 


Paradise  Regained. 


BOOK  I. 

I,  WHO  erewhile  the  happy  garden  sung, 
By  one  man's  disobedience  lost,  now  sing 
Recover'd  Paradise  to  all  mankind, 
By  one  man's  firm  obedience  fully  tried 
Through  all  temptation,  and  the  tempter  foil'd 
In  all  his  wiles,  defeated,  and  repulsed. 
And  Eden  raised  in  the  waste  wilderness. 
Thou  Spirit,  who  led'st  this  glorious  Eremite 
Into  the  desert,  His  victorious  field, 
Against  the  spiritual  foe,  and  brought'st  Him  thence 
By  proof  the  undoubted  Son  of  God,  inspire. 
As  thou  art  wont,  my  prompted  song,  else  mute, 
And  bear  through  highth  or  depth  of  nature's  bounds 
With  prosperous  wing  full  summ'd^  to  tell  of  deeds 
Above  heroic,  though  in  secret  done. 
And  unrecorded  left  through  many  an  age, 
Wo. thy  t'  have  not  remain'd  so  long  unsung. 
Now  had  the  great  Proclaimer,^  with  a  voice 
^    More  awful  than  the  sound  of  trumpet,  cried 
Repentance,  and  heaven's  kingdom  nigh  at  hand 
To  all  baptized :  to  his  great  baptism  flock'd 
With  awe  the  regions  round,  and  with  them  came 
From  Nazareth  the  Son  of  Joseph  deem'd 

1  Full  feathered,  a  term  used  in  falconry.  ^  John  the  Baptist. 

323 

^ -^ 


^ ^ 

324  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

To  the  flood  Jordan,  came,  as  then  obscure, 
Unmark'd,  unknown  ;  but  Him  the  Baptist  soon 
Descried,  divinely  warn'd,  and  witness  bore 
As  to  his  worthier,  and  would  have  resign'd 
To  him  his  heavenly  office,  nor  was  long 
His  witness  unconfirm'd  :  on  Him  baptized 
Heav'n  open'd,  and  in  likeness  of  a  dove 
The  Spirit  descended,  while  the  Father's  voice 
From  heav'n  pronounced  Him  His  beloved  Son. 
That  heard  the  adversary,  who,  roving  still 
About  the  world,  at  that  assembly  famed 
Would  not  be  last,  and,  with  the  voice  divine 
Nigh  thunder-struck,  th'  exalted  Man,  to  whom 
Such  high  attest  was  giv'n,  a  while  survey'd 
With  wonder,  then,  with  envy  fraught  and  rage, 
Flies  to  his  place,  nor  rests,  but  in  mid  air 
To  council  summons  all  his  mighty  peers. 
Within  thick  clouds  and  dark  ten-fold  involved, 
A  gloomy  consistory  ;  and  them  amidst 
With  looks  aghast  and  sad  he  thus  bespake. 

O  ancient  Powers  of  air^  and  this  wide  world. 
For  much  more  willingly  I  mention  air. 
This  our  old  conquest,  than  remember  Hell, 
Our  hated  habitation  ;  well  we  know 
How  many  ages,  as  the  years  of  men. 
This  universe  we  have  possest,  and  ruled 
In  manner  at  our  will  th'  affairs  of  earth. 
Since  Adam  and  his  facile  consort  Eve 
Lost  Paradise  deceived  by  me,  though  since 
With  dread  attending  when  that  fatal  wound 
Shall  be  inflicted  by  the  seed  of  Eve 
Upon  my  head ;  long  the  decrees  of  heav'n 
Delay,  for  longest  time  to  Him  is  short ; 
And  now  too  soon  for  us  the  circling  hours 


I  See  Ephes.  ii.  2  ;  vi.  12. 


a ^ — ^ ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  325 

This  dreaded  time  have  compast,  wherein  we 

Must  bide  the  stroke  of  that  long  threaten'd  wound, 

At  least  if  so  we  can,  and  by  the  head 

Broken  be  not  intended  all  our  power 

To  be  infringed,  our  freedom,  and  our  being, 

In  this  fair  empire  won  of  earth  and  air : 

For  this  ill  news  I  bring,  the  woman's  seed, 

Destined  to  this,  is  late  of  woman  born  ; 

His  birth  to  our  just  fear  gave  no  small  cause, 

But  his  growth  now  to  youth's  full  flow'r,  displaying 

All  virtue,  grace,  and  wisdom  to  achieve 

Things  highest,  greatest,  multiplies  my  fear. 

Before  him  a  great  prophet  to  proclaim 

His  coming  is  sent  harbinger,  who  all 

Invites,  and  in  the  consecrated  stream 

Pretends  to  wash  off  sin,  and  fit  them  so 

Purified  to  receive  Him  pure,  or  rather 

To  do  Him  honor  as  their  king:  all  come. 

And  He  Himself  among  them  was  baptized, 

Not  thence  to  be  more  pure,  but  to  receive 

The  testimony  of  heav'n,  that  who  He  is 

Thenceforth  the  nations  may  not  doubt.     I  saw 

The  prophet  do  him  reverence,  on  Him,  rising 

Out  of  the  water,  heav'n  above  the  clouds 

Unfold  her  crystal  doors,  thence  on  His  head 

A  perfect  dove  descend,  whate'er  it  meant. 

And  out  of  heav'n  Lhe  sovereign  voice  I  hear, 

— This  is  my  Son  beloved,  in  Him  am  pleased. 

His  mother  then  is*mortal,  but  His  sire 

He  who  obtains  the  monarchy  of  heav'n ; 

And  what  will  He  not  do  to  advance  His  Son  ? 

His  first-begot  we  know,  and  sore  have  felt, 

When  His  fierce  thunder  drove  us  to  the  deep ; 

Who  this  is  we  must  learn,^  for  man  He  seems 

1  Milton's  idea  that  Satan  did  not  know  that  the  wondrous  Man  baptized  was  the  Messiah, 


a- ^ 

326  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

In  all  His  lineaments,  though  in  His  face 

The  glimpses  of  His  Father's  glory  shine. 

Ye  see  our  danger  on  the  utmost  edge 

Of  hazard,  which  admits  no  long  debate, 

But  must  with  something  sudden  be  opposed, 

Not  force,  but  well-couch'd  fraud,  well- woven  snares, 

Ere  in  the  head  of  nations  He  appear 

Their  king,  their  leader,  and  supreme  on  earth. 

I,  when  no  other  durst,  sole  undertook 

The  dismal  expedition  to  find  out 

And  ruin  Adam,  and  the  exploit  perform'd 

Successfully ;  a  calmer  voyage  now 

Will  waft  me ;  and  the  way  found  prosp'rous  once 

Induces  best  to  hope  of  like  success. 

He  ended,  and  his  words  impression  left 
Of  much  amazement  to  th'  infernal  crew. 
Distracted  and  surprised  with  deep  dismay 
At  these  sad  tidings ;  but  no  time  was  then 
For  long  indulgence  to  their  fears  or  grief. 
Unanimous  they  all  commit  the  ca're 
And  management  of  this  main  enterprise 
To  him  their  great  dictator,  whose  attempt 
At  first  against  mankind  so  well  had  thrived 
In  Adam's  overthrow,  and  led  their  march 
From  hell's  deep-vaulted  den  to  dwell  in  light, 
Regents,  and  potentates,  and  kings,  yea  gods 
Of  many  a  pleasant  realm  and  province  wide. 
So  to  the  coast  of  Jordan  he  directs 
His  easy  steps,  girded  with  snaky^wiles,^ 
Where  he  might  likeliest  find  this  new-declared, 
This  man  of  men,  attested  Son  of  God, 
Temptation  and  all  guile  on  Him  to  try ; 


originated  probably  by  the  opinions  of  Ignatius,  Bezu,  etc.,  who  believed  that  the  devil  did 
not  recognize  in  mortal  form  the  Son  of  God.— From  Newton. 

1  Alluding  to  the  habits  of  pretended  sorcerers,  who  wore  a  girdle  of  snake's  skin.— . 
Newton.     Milton  also  alluded  to  the  tennptation  of  Eve. 

4- — ^ 


^ ■ ~(b 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  327 

So  to  subvert  whom  he  suspected  raised 

To  end  his  reign  on  earth  so  long  enjoy'd : 

But  contrary  unweeting  he  fulfill'd 

The  purposed  counsel  pre-ordain'd  and  fixt 

Of  the  most  High,  who,  in  full  frequence  bright 

Of  angels,  thus  to  GabrieP  smiling  spake. 

Gabriel,  this  day  by  proof  thou  shalt  behold. 
Thou  and  all  angels  conversant  on  earth 
With  man  or  men's  affairs,  how  I  begin 
To  verify  that  solemn  message  late. 
On  which  I  sent  thee  to  the  virgin  pure 
In  Galilee,  that  she  should  bear  a  son 
Great  in  renown,  and  call'd  the  Son  of  God  ; 
Thou  told'st  her,  doubtin^  how  these  things  could  be 
To  her  a  virgin,  that  on  her  should  come 
The  Holy  Ghost,  and  the  power  of  the  Highest 
O'ershadow  her :  this  man  born,  and  now  up-grown, 
To  show  him  worthy  of  his  birth  divine 
And  high  prediction,  henceforth  I  expose 
To  Satan ;  let  him  tempt  and  now  assay 
His  utmost  subtlety,  because  he  boasts 
And  vaunts  of  his  great  cunning  to  the  throng 
Of  his  apostasy;  he  might  have  learnt 
Less  overweening,  since  he  fail'd  in  Job, 
Whose  constant  perseverance  overcame 
Whate'er  his  cruel  malice  could  invent. 
He  now  shall  know  I  can  produce  a  man 
Of  female  seed,  far  abler  to  resist 
All  his  solicitations,  and  at  length 
All  his  vast  force,  and  drive  him  back  to  hell, 
Winning  by  conquest  what  the  first  man  lost 
By  fallacy  surprised.     But  first  I  mean 
To  exercise  him  in  the  wilderness  ; 
There  he  shall  first  lay  down  the  rudiments 

'  The  rabbis  say  that  Gabriel  was  the  angel  of  mercy ;  Michael,  of  justice. — From  New- 
ton. 

"^ -4^ 


a- ^ ^ 

328  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Of  his  great  warfare,  ere  I  send  him  forth 

To  conquer  sin  and  death,  the  two  grand  foes 

By  humiHation  and  strong  sufferance. 

His  weakness  shall  o'ercome  satanic  strength, 

And  all  the  world,  and  mass  of  sinful  flesh  ; 

That  all  the  angels  and  ethereal  powers. 

They  now,  and  men  hereafter,  may  discern, 

From  what  consummate  virtue  I  have  chose 

This  perfect  man,  by  merit  called  my  son. 

To  earn  salvation  for  the  sons  of  men. 

So  spake  th'  eternal  Father,  and  all  heav'n 

Admiring  stood  a  space,  then  into  hymns 

Burst  forth,  and  in  celestial  measures  moved. 

Circling  the  throne  and  singing,  while  the  hand 

Sung  with  the  voice,  and  this  the  argument. 
Victory  and  triumph  to  the  Son  of  God, 

Now  ent'ring  his  great  duel,  not  of  arms, 

But  to  vanquish  by  wisdom  hellish  wiles. 

The  Father  knows  the  Son ;  therefore  secure 

Ventures  His  filial  virtue,  though  untried, 

Against  whate'er  may  tempt,  whate'er  seduce, 

Allure,  or  terrify,  or  undermine. 

Be  frustrate  all  ye  stratagems  of  hell. 

And  devilish  machinations  come  to  nought. 
So  they  in  heav'n  their  odes  and  vigils  tuned  : 

Meanwhile  the  Son  of  God,  who  yet  some  days 

Lodg'd  in  Bethabara  where  John  baptized, 

Musing  and  much  revolving  in  his  breast, 

How  best  the  mighty  work  he  might  begin 

Of  Saviour  to  mankind,  and  which  way  first 

Publish  his  god-like  office  now  mature, 

One  day  forth  walked  alone,  the  Spirit  leading. 

And  his  deep  thoughts,  the  better  to  converse 

With  solitude,  till  far  from  track  of  men, 

Thought  following  thought,  and  step  by  step  led  on. 


^ ^ 


^ -^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  329 

He  enter'd  now  the  bordering  desert  wild/ 

And,  with  dark  shades  and  rocks  environ'd  round, 

His  holy  meditations  thus  pursued. 

O  what  a  multitude  of  thoughts  at  once 
Awaken'd  in  me  swarm,  while  I  consider 
What  from  within  I  feel  my  self,  and  hear 
What  from  without  comes  often  to  my  ears, 
111  sorting  with  my  present  state  compared. 
When  I  was  yet  a  child,  no  childish  play 
To  me  was  pleasing,  all  my  mind  was  set 
Serious  to  learn  and  know,  and  thence  to  do 
What  might  be  public  good  ;   myself  I  thought 
Born  to  that  end,  born  to  promote  all  truth. 
All  righteous  things  :  therefore,  above  my  years, 
The  law  of  God  I  read,  and  found  it  sweet, 
Made  it  my  whole  delight,  and  in  it  grew 
To  such  perfection,  that,  ere  yet  my  age 
Had  measured  twice  six  years,  at  our  great  feast 
I  went  into  the  temple,  there  to  hear 
The  teachers  of  our  law,  and  to  propose 
What  might  improve  my  knowledge  or  their  own. 
And  was  admired  by  all ;  yet  this  not  all 
To  which  my  spirit  aspired,  victorious  deeds 
P'lamed  in  my  heart,  heroic  acts ;  one  while 
To  rescue  Israel  from  the  Roman  yoke. 
Then  to  subdue  and  quell  o'er  all  the  earth 
Brute  violence  and  proud  tyrannic  pow'r, 
Till  truth  were  freed,  and  equity  restored  : 
Yet  held  it  more  humane,  more  heav'nly,  first 
By  winning  words  to  conquer  willing  hearts, 
And  make  persuasion  do  the  work  of  fear  ; 
At  least  to  try,  and  teach  the  erring  soul, 
Not  wilfully  misdoing,  but  unware 
Misled;  the  stubborn  only  to  subdue. 


1  The  Wilderness  of  Judea,  or  Ziph.   It  extended  frona  the  Jordan  along  the  western  side 
of  the  Dead  Sea. 


<b 


330 


PARADISE  REGAINED. 

These  growing  thoughts  my  Mother  soon  perceiving 
By  words  at  times  cast  forth,  inly  rejoiced, 
And  said  to  me  apart.     High  are  thy  thoughts 
.0  son,  but  nourish  them,  and  let  them  soar 
To  what  highth  sacred  virtue  and  true  worth 
Can  raise  them,  thou  above  example  high; 
By  matchless  deeds  express  thy  matchless  Sire. 
For  know,  thou  art  no  son  of  mortal  man, 
Though  men  esteem  thee  low  of  parentage, 
Thy  father  is  the  eternal  King  who  rules 
All  heav'n  and  earth,  angels  and  sons  of  men : 
A  messenger  from  God  foretold  thy  birth 
Conceived  in  me  a  virgin  ;^  he  foretold 
Thou  should'st  be  great,  and  sit  on  David's  throne, 
And  of  thy  kingdom  there  should  be  no  end. 
At  thy  nativity  a  glorious  quire 
Of  angels  in  the  fields  of  Bethlehem  sung 
To  shepherds  watching  at  their  folds  by  night,^ 
And  told  them  the  Messiah  now  was  born, 
Where  they  might  see  him  ;  and  to  thee  they  came, 
Directed  to  the  manger  where  thou  lay'st, 
For  in  the  inn  was  left  no  better  room. 
A  star,  not  seen  before,  in  heav'n  appearing 
Guided  the  wise  men  thither  from  the  east,^ 
To  honor  thee  with  incense,  myrrh,  and  gold, 
By  whose  bright  course  led  on  they  found  the  place. 
Affirming  it  thy  star  new  grav'n  in  heav'n, 
By  which  they  knew  the  king  of  Israel  born. 
Just  Simeon  and  prophetic  Anna,  warn'd 
By  vision,  found  thee  in  the  temple,  and  spake. 
Before  the  altar  and  the  vested  Priest, 
Like  things  of  thee  to  all  that  present  sfeood. 
This  having  heard,  straight  I  again  revolved 
The  law  and  prophets,  searching  what  was  writ 


1  Luke  i.  30-35. 


2  Luke  ii.  8  and  following  vs. 


3  Matt.  ii. 


^ 


4 


a ——. — -^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  331 

Concerning  the  Messiah,  to  our  scribes 

Known  partly,  and  soon  found  of  whom  they  spake 

I  am ;  this  chiefly,  that  my  way  must  he 

Through  many  a  hard  assay,  even  to  the  death, 

Ere  I  the  promised  kingdom  can  attain, 

Or  work  redemption  for  mankind,  whose  sins 

Full  weight  must  be  transferr'd  upon  my  head. 

Yet,  neither  thus  dishearten'd  or  dismay'd. 

The  time  prefixt  I  waited,  when,  behold ! 

The  Baptist,  of  whose  birth  I  oft  had  heard, 

Not  knew  by  sight/  now  come,  who  was  to  come 

Before  Messiah  and  his  way  prepare. 

I,  as  all  others,  to  his  baptism  came, 

Which  I  believed  was  from  above;  but  he 

Straight  knew  me,  and  with  loudest  voice  proclaim'd 

Me  Him  (for  it  was  shown  him  so  from  heav'n). 

Me  Kim  whose  harbinger  he  was  ;  and  first 

Refused  on  me  his  baptism  to  confer, 

As  much  his  greater,  and  was  hardly  won : 

But  as  I  rose  out  of  the  laving  stream. 

Heaven  open'd  her  eternal  doors,  from  whence 

The  Spirit  descended  on  me  like  a  dove ; 

And  last,  the  sum  of  all,  my  Father's  voice, 

Audibly  heard  from  heav'n  pronounced  me  His, 

Me  His  beloved  Son,  in  whom  alone 

He  was  well  pleased ;  by  which  I  knew  the  time 

Now  full,  that  I  no  more  should  live  obscure, 

But  openly  begin,  as  best  becomes 

The  authority  which  I  derived  from  heav'n. 

And  now  by  some  strong  motion  I  am  led 

Into  this  wilderness,  to  what  intent 

I  learn  not  yet,  perhaps,  I  need  not  know  ; 

For  what  concerns  my  knowledge  God  reveals.  . 

1  St.  John  was  brought  up  in  a  different  part  of  the  country  from  Jesus,  and  first  saw  his 
divine  cousin  at  his  baptism.     John  i.  31,  32.     ••  I  knew  him  not." 

^ . i 


^ : -^ 

332  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

So  spake  our  Morning  Star,  then  in  his  rise, 
And  looking  round  on  every  side  beheld 
A  pathless  desert,  dusk  with  horrid  shades ; 
The  way  he  came  not  having  mark'd,  return 
Was  difficult,  by  human  steps  untrod  ; 
And  he  still  on  was  led,  but  with  such  thoughts 
Accompanied  of  things  past  and  to  come 
Lodged  in  his  breast,  as  well  might  recommend 
Such  solitude  before  choicest  society. 
Full  forty  days  he  pass'd,  whether  on  hill 
Sometimes,  anon  in  shady  vale,  each  night 
Under  the  cover  of  some  ancient  oak 
Or  cedar,  to  defend  him  from  the  dew. 
Or  harbor'd  in  one  cave,  is  not  reveal'd ; 
Nor  tasted  human  food,  nor  hunger  felt 
Till  those  days  ended,  hunger'd  then  at  last 
Among  wild  beasts :  they  at  his  sight  grew  mild, 
Nor  sleeping  him  nor  waking  harm'd ;  his  v/alk 
The  fiery  serpent  fled  and  noxious  worm, 
The  lion  and  fierce  tiger  glared  aloof. 
But  now  an  aged  man  in  rural  weeds, 
Following,  as  seem'd,  the  quest  of  some  stray  ewe, 
Or  wither'd  sticks  to  gather,  which  might  serve 
Against  a  winter's  day,  when  winds  blow  keen. 
To  warm  him  wet  return'd  from  field  at  eve, 
He  saw  approach,  who  first  with  curious  eye 
Perused  him,  then  with  words  thus  utter'd  spake. 

Sir,  what  ill  chance  hath  brought  thee  to  this  place 
So  far  from  path  or  road  of  men,  who  pass 
In  troop  or  caravan,  for  single  none 
Durst  ever,  who  return'd,  and  dropt  not  here 
His  carcass,  pined  with  hunger  and  with  drought. 
I  ask  the  rather,  and  the  more  admire. 
For  that  to  me  thou  seem'st  the  man,  whom  late 
Our  new  baptizing  prophet  at  the  ford 
Of  Jordan  honor'd  so,  and  call'd  thee  Son 

^ ■ ^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  333 

Of  God  ;  I  saw  and  heard,  for  we  sometimes, 
Who  dwell  this  wild,  constrain'd  by  want,  come  forth 
To  town  or  village  nigh,  (nighest  is  far,) 
Where  aught  we  hear,  and  curious  are  to  hear, 
What  happens  new;  fame  also  finds  us  out. 

To  whom  the  Son  of  God.     Who  brought  me  hither 
Will  bring  me  hence ;  no  other  guide  I  seek. 

By  miracle  he  may,  replied  the  swain, 
What  other  way  I  see  not,  for  we  here 
Live  on  tough  roots  and  stubs,  to  thirst  inured 
More  than  the  camel,  and  to  drink  go  far, 
Men  to  much  misery  and  hardship  born. 
But  if  thou  be  the  Son  of  God,  command 
That  out  of  these  hard  stones  be  made  thee  bread, 
So  shalt  thou  save  thyself  and  us  relieve 
With  food,  whereof  we  wretched  seldom  taste. 

He  ended,  and  the  Son  of  God  replied. 
Think'st  thou  such  force  in  bread?  is  it  not  written, 
(For  I  discern  thee  other  than  thou  seem'st,) 
Man  lives  not  by  bread  only,  but  each  word 
Proceeding  from  the  mouth  of  God,  who  fed 
Our  fathers  here  with  Manna  ?  in  the  mount 
Moses  was  forty  days,  nor  eat,  nor  drank ; 
And  forty  days  Elijah  without  food 
Wander'd  this  barren  waste,  the  same  I  now. 
Why  dost  thou  then  suggest  to  me  distrust, 
Knowing  who  I  am,  as  I  know  who  thou  art  ? 

Whom  thus  answer'd  the  arch  fiend  now  undisguised. 
'Tis  true,  I  am  that  spirit  unfortunate, 
Who  leagued  with  millions  more  in  rash  revolt, 
Kept  not  my  happy  station,  but  was  driv'n 
With  them  from  bliss  to  the  bottomless  deep  ; 
Yet  to  that  hideous  place  not  so  confined 
By  rigor  unconniving,  but  that  oft. 
Leaving  my  dolorous  prison,  I  enjoy 
Large  liberty,  to  round  this  globe  of  earth, 


-e? 


334  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Or  range  in  the  air,  nor  from  the  heav'n  of  heav'ns 

Hath  he  excluded  my  resort  sometimes. 

I  came  among  the  sons  of  God,  when  he 
\  Gave  up  into  my  hands  Uzzean  Job 

To  prove  him,  and  illustrate  his  high  worth ; 

And  when  to  all  his  angels  he  proposed 
j  To  draw  the  proud  king  Ahab  into  fraud, 

\  That  he  might  fall  in  Ramoth,  they  demurring, 

!I  undertook  that  office,  and  the  tongues 
Of  all  his  flattering  prophets  glibb'd  with  lies^ 
I  To  his  destruction,  as  I  had  in  charge  ; 


For  what  He  bids  I  do.     Though  I  have  lost 

Much  lustre  of  my  native  brightness,  lost 

To  be  beloved  of  God,  I  have  not  lost 

To  love,  at  least  contemplate  and  admire, 

What  I  see  excellent  in  good,  or  fair. 

Or  virtuous;  I  should  so  have  lost  all  sense. 

What  can  be  then  less  in  me  than  desire 

To  see  thee  and  approach  thee,  whom  I  know 

Declared  the  Son  of  God,  to  hear  attent 

Thy  wisdom,  and  behold  thy  Godlike  deeds  ? 

Men  generally  think  me  much  a  foe 

To  all  mankind  :  why  should  I  ?  they  to  me 

Never  did  wrong  or  violence,  by  them 

I  lost  not  what  I  lost,  rather  by  them 

I  gain'd  what  I  have  gain'd,  and  with  them  dwell, 

Copartner  in  these  regions  of  the  world. 

If  not  disposer;  lend  them  oft  my  aid, 

Oft  my  advice  by  presages,  and  signs. 

And  answers,  oracles,  portents,  and  dreams. 

Whereby  they  may  direct  their  future  life.^ 

1  I  Kings  xxii.  19  arid  following  vs. 

2  The  following  passage  of  Cicero  reflects  so  much  light  on  these  lines  as  would  incline 
one  to  think  that  Milton  had  it  in  his  mind.  "  Multa  cernunt  haruspices;  niulta  augures 
provident,  multa  oraculis  declarantur,  multa  vaticinationibus,  multa  somniis,  multa  portentis  : 
quibus  cognitis,  mult;s  ssepe  res  hominum  sententia  atque  utilitate  partge  "  (or,  as  Lambinus 


^ 


a- ^ ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  335 

Envy  they  say  excites  me  thus  to  gain 

Companions  of  my  misery  and  woe. 

At  first  it  may  be ;  but  long  since  with  woe. 

Nearer  acquainted,  now  I  feel  by  proof, 

That  fellowship  in  pain  divides  not  smart, 

Nor  lightens  aught  each  man's  peculiar  load. 

Small  consolation  then,  were  man  adjoin'd  : 

This  wounds  me  most,  what  can  it  less?  that  man, 

Man  fall'n  shall  be  restored,  I  never  more. 

To  whom  our  Saviour  sternly  thus  replied. 
Deservedly  thou  griev'st,  composed  of  lies 
From  the  beginning,  and  in  lies  wilt  end, 
Who  boast  release  from  hell,  and  leave  to  come 
Into  the  Heav'n  of  Heav'ns.     Thou  com'st  indeed, 
As  a  poor  miserable  captive  thrall 
Comes  to  the  place  where  he  before  had  sat 
Among  the  prime  in  splendor,  now  deposed, 
Ejected,  emptied,  gazed,  unpitied,  shunn'd, 
A  spectacle  of  ruin  or  of  scorn 
To  all  the  host  of  heav'n.     The  happy  place 
Imports  to  thee  no  happiness,  no  joy, 
Rather  inflames  thy  torment,  representing 
Lost  bliss  to  thee  no  more  communicable. 
So  never  more  in  hell  than  when  in  heav'n. 
But  thou  art  serviceable  to  heaven's  King. 
Wilt  thou  impute  t'  obedience  what  thy  fear 
Extorts,  or  pleasure  to  do  ill  excites  ? 
What  but  thy  malice  moved  thee  to  misdeem 
Of  righteous  Job,  then  cruelly  to  afflict  him 
With  all  inflictions  ?  but  his  patience  won. 
The  other  service  was  thy  chosen  task, 
To  be  a  liar  in  four  hundred  mouths  ; 
For  lying  is  thy  sustenance,  thy  food. 

reads,  "  ex  animi  sententia  atque  utilitate  partae");  "  multa  etiam  pericula  depulsa  sunt." 
— De  Nat.  Dear.  II.  65. — NEWTON. 


^- 


a- 


336  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Yet  thou  pretend'st  to  truth ;  all  oracles 

By  thee  are  giv'n,  and  what  confest  more  true 

Among  the  nations  ?  that  hath  been  thy  craft, 

By  mixing  somewhat  true  to  vent  more  lies. 

But  what  have  been  thy  answers  ?  what  but  dark, 

Ambiguous,  and  with  double  sense  deluding, 

Which  they  who  asked  have  seldom  understood, 

And  not  well  understood  as  good  not  known  ? 

Who  ever  by  consulting  at  thy  shrine 

Return'd  the  wiser,  or  the  more  instruct 

To  fly  or  follow  what  concern'd  him  most. 

And  run  not  sooner  to  his  fatal  snare  ? 

For  God  hath  justly  given  the  nations  up 

To  thy  delusions;  justly,  since  they  fell 

Idolatrous.     But  when  His  purpose  is 

Among  them  to  declare  His  providence 

To  thee  not  known,  whence  hast  thou  then  thy  truth, 

But  from  Him  or  His  angels  president 

In  every  province  ?  who,  themselves  disdaining 

T'  approach  thy  temples,  give  thee  in  command 

What  to  the  smallest  tittle  thou  shalt  say 

To  thy  adorers  ;  thou  with  trembling  fear, 

Or  like  a  fawning  parasite,  obey'st; 

Then  to  thyself  ascrib'st  the  truth  foretold. 

But  this  thy  glory  shall  be  soon  retrench'd ; 

No  more  shalt  thou  by  oracling  abuse 

The  Gentiles  ;  henceforth  oracles  are  ceased,^ 

And  thou  no  more  with  pomp  and  sacrifice 

Shalt  be  inquired  at  Delphos  or  elsewhere, 

At  least  in  vain,  for  they  shall  find  thee  mute.^ 


1  Ceased.     Juv.  Sat.  VI.  554.     ••  Delphis  oracula  cessant." 

2  Thus  the  priestess  tells  Appius  when  he  wishes  to  consult  the  oracle  at  Delphi,  and  finds 


it  dumb: 


"  Muto  Parnassus  hiatu 
Conticuit  pressitque  Deum  ;  seu  spiritus  istas 
Destituit  fauces  mundique  in  devi.-'.  versuin. 
Duxit  iter." —  Luc  AN,  quoted  by  DUNSTER. 


4 


I 


^- -^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  337 

God  hath  now  sent  His  living  oracle 

Into  the  world  to  teach  His  final  will, 

And  sends  His  Spirit  of  Truth  henceforth  to  dwell 

In  pious  hearts,  and  inward  oracle 

To  all  truth  requisite  for  men  to  know. 

So  spake  our  Saviour;  but  the  subtle  fiend, 
Though  inly  stung  with  anger  and  disdain. 
Dissembled,  and  this  answer  smooth  return'd. 

Sharply  thou  hast  insisted  on  rebuke. 
And  urged  me  hard  with  doings,  which  not  will 
But  misery,  hath  wrested  from  me ;  where 
Easily  canst  thou  find  one  miserable, 
And  not  enforced  ofttimes  to  part  from  truth ; 
If  it  may  stand  him  more  in  stead  to  lie, 
Say  and  unsay,  feign,  flatter,  or  abjure  ? 
But  thou  art  placed  above  me,  thou  art  Lord; 
From  thee  I  can,  and  must,  submiss  endure 
Check  or  reproof,  and  glad  to  escape  so  quit. 
Hard  are  the  ways  of  truth,  and  rough  to  walk, 
Smooth  on  the  tongue  discoursed,  pleasing  to  th*  ear, 
And  tuneable  as  sylvan  pipe  or  song ; 
What  wonder  then  if  I  delight  to  hear 
Her  dictates  from  thy  mouth  ?  most  men  admire 
Virtue,  who  follow  not  her  lore  :  permit  me 
To  hear  thee  when  I  come,  since  no  man  comes. 
And  talk  at  least,  though  I  despair  to  attain. 
Thy  Father,  who  is  holy,  wise,  and  pure, 
Suffers  the  hypocrite  or  atheous  priest 
To  tread  his  sacred  courts,  and  minister 
About  his  altar,  handling  holy  things. 
Praying  or  vowing,  and  vouchsafed  his  voice 
To  Balaam  reprobate,  a  prophet  yet 
Inspired ;  disdain  not  such  access  to  me. 

To  whom  our  Saviour  with  unalter'd  brow. 
Thy  coming  hither,  though  I  know  thy  scope, 
I  bid  not  or  forbid  ;  do  as  thou  find'st 
22 


^ ~ -^ 

338  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Permission  from  above ;  thou  canst  not  more. 

He  added  not ;  and  Satan,  bowing  low 
His  gray  dissimulation,  disappear'd 
Into  thin  air  diffused  ■}  for  now  beean 
Night  with  her  sullen  wings  to  double-shade 
The  desert;  fowls  in  their  clay  nests  were  couch'd  ; 
And  now  wild  beasts  come  forth  the  woods  to  roam.. 


1  "  These  our  actors, 
As  I  foretold  you,  were  all  spirits,  and 
Are  melted  into  air,  into  ikin  air." — 

isHAKSPEARE,  Tempest.,  Act  IV.  So.  2. 


#- -4^ 


^ 


-^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED. 


339 


BOOK  II. 

Meanwhile  the  new-baptized,  who  yet  remain'd 

At  Jordan  with  the  Baptist,  and  had  seen 

Him  whom  they  heard  so  late  expressly  call'd 

Jesus,  Messiah,  Son  of  God  declared, 

And  on  that  high  authority  had  believed, 

And  with  him  talk'd,  and  with  him  lodged,^  I  mean 

Andrew  and  Simon,  famous  after  known, 

With  others  though  in  holy  writ  not  named, 

Now  missing  him  their  joy  so  lately  found, 

So  lately  found,  and  so  abruptly  gone. 

Began  to  doubt,  and  doubted  many  days, 

And,  as  the  days  increased,  increased  their  doubt : 

Sometimes  they  thought  he  might  be  only  shown, 

And  for  a  time  caught  up  to  God,  as  once 

Moses  was  in  the  Mount,  and  missing  long ; 

And  the  great  Thisbite,^  who  on  fiery  wheels 

Rode  up  to  heav'n,  yet  once  again  to  come. 

Therefore  as  those  young  prophets  then  with  care 

Sought  lost  Elijah,^  so  in  each  place  these 

Nigh  to  Bethabara ;  in  Jericho 

The  city  of  palms,^  /Enon,  and  Salem  old. 

Machaerus,'^  and  each  town  or  city  wall'd 

On  this  side  the  broad  lake  Genezaret, 

Or  in  Peraea;  but  return'd  in  vain. 

Then  on  the  bank  of  Jordan,  by  a  creek, 

Where  winds  with  reeds  and  osiers  whisp'ring  play. 

Plain  fishermen,  no  greater  men  them  call, 


1  See  John  i.  35-40.  ^  Elijah. 

*  Jericho  is  called  the  city  of  palm  trees  in  Deut.  xxxiv.  3. 

6  A  stronghold  fortified  by  Herod  Antipas, 


3  2  Kings  ii.  17. 


^ 


4 


340 


^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Close  in  a  cottage  low  together  got, 

Their  unexpected  loss  and  plaints  outbreathed. 

Alas,  from  what  high  hope  to  what  relapse 

Unlook'd  for  are  we  fall'n  !  our  eyes  beheld 

Messiah  certainly  now  come,  so  long 

Expected  of  our  fathers ;  we  have  heard 

His  words,  his  wisdom  full  of  grace  and  truth : 

Now,  now,  for  sure,  deliverance  is  at  hand, 

The  kingdom  shall  to  Israel  be  restored  : 

Thus  we  rejoiced,  but  soon  our  joy  is  turn'd 

Into  perplexity  and  new  amaze: 

For  whither  is  he  gone,  what  accident 

Hath  wrapt  him  from  us  ?  will  he  now  retire 

After  appearance,  and  again  prolong 

Our  expectation  ?  God  of  Israel, 

Send  thy  Messiah  forth,  the  time  is  come, 

Behold  the  kings  of  the  earth  how  they  oppress 

Thy  chosen,  to  what  highth  their  power  unjust 

They  have  exalted,  and  behind  them  cast 

All  fear  of  thee.     Arise  and  vindicate 

Thy  glory,  free  thy  people  from  their  yoke. 

But  let  us  wait ;  thus  far  He  hath  perform'd, 

Sent  His  Anointed,  and  to  us  reveal'd  him, 

By  His  great  prophet  pointed  at  and  shown 

In  public,  and  with  him  we  have  conversed ; 

Let  us  be  glad  of  this,  and  all  our  fears 

Lay  on  His  providence ;  He  will  not  fail, 

Nor  will  withdraw  him  now,  nor  will  recall ; 

Mock  us  with  his  blest  sight,  then  snatch  him  hence ; 

Soon  we  shall  see  our  hope,  our  joy  return. 

Thus  they  out  of  their  plaints  new  hope  resume 
To  find  whom  at  the  first  they  found  unsought : 
But  to  his  mother  Mary,  when  she  saw 
Others  return'd  from  baptism,  not  her  Son, 
Nor  left  at  Jordan,  tidings  of  him  none, 
Within  her  breast  though  calm,  her  breast  though  pure, 

^ # 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  341 

Motherly  cares  and  fears  got  head,  and  raised 

Some  troubled  thoughts,  which  she  in  sighs  thus  clad.* 

O  what  avails  me  now  that  honor  high 
To  have  conceived  of  God,  or  that  salute, 
Hail,  highly  favor'd,  among  women  blest ! 
While  I  to  sorrows  am  no  less  advanced, 
And  fears  as  eminent,  above  the  lot 
Of  other  women,  by  the  birth  I  bore, 
In  such  a  season  born,  when  scarce  a  shed 
Could  be  obtain'd  to  shelter  him  or  me 
From  the  bleak  air !  a  stable  was  our  warmth, 
A  manger  his  :  yet  soon  enforced  to  fly 
Thence  into  Egypt,  till  the  murd'rous  king 
Were  dead,  who  sought  his  life,  and  missing  fill'd 
With  infant  blood  the  streets  of  Bethlehem. 
From  Egypt  home  return'd,  in  Nazareth 
Hath  been  our  dwelling  many  years  ;  his  life 
Private,  unactive,  calm,  contemplative, 
Little  suspicious  to  any  king;  but  now 
Full  grown  to  man,  acknowledged,  as  I  hear, 
By  John  the  Baptist,  and  in  public  shown, 
Son  own'd  from  heav'n  by  his  Father's  voice  ; 
I  look'd  for  some  great  change  :  to  honor  ?  no, 
But  trouble,  as  old  Simeon  plain  foretold. 
That  to  the  fall  and  rising  he  should  be 
Of  many  in  Israel,  and  to  a  sign 
Spoken  against,  that  through  my  very  soul 
A  sword  shall  pierce.     This  is  my  favor'd  lot. 
My  exaltation  to  afflictions  high  ; 
Afflicted  I  may  be,  it  seems,  and  blest ; 
I  will  not  argue  that,  nor  will  repine. 
But  where  delays  he  now  ?  some  great  intent 
Conceals  him.     When  twelve  years  he  scarce  had  seen, 
I  lost  him,  but  so  found,  as  well  I  saw 
He  could  not  lose  himself;  but  went  about 
His  father's  business.     What  he  meant  I  mused, 

^ ^ ^ -^ 


a- -^ 

342  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Since  understand.     Much  more  his  absence  now 
Thus  long  to  some  great  purpose  he  obscures. 
But  I  to  wait  with  patience  am  inured  ; 
My  heart  hath  been  a  store-house  long  of  things 
And  sayings  laid  up,  portending  strange  events. 

Thus  Mary  pond'ring  oft,  and  oft  to  mind 
Recalling  what  remarkably  had  pass'd 
Since  first  her  salutation  heard,  with  thoughts 
Meekly  composed  awaited  the  fulfilling : 
The  while  her  Son,  tracing  the  desert  wild, 
Sole  but  with  holiest  meditations  fed, 
Into  himself  descended,  and  at  once 
All  his  great  work  to  come  before  him  set; 
How  to  begin,  how  to  accomplish  best 
His  end  of  being  on  earth,  and  mission  high  : 
For  Satan,  with  sly  preface  to  return. 
Had  left  him  vacant,  and  with  speed  was  gone 
Up  to  the  middle  region  of  thick  air, 
Where  all  his  potentates  in  council  sat; 
There,  without  sign  of  boast,  or  sign  of  joy, 
Solicitous  and  blank  he  thus  began. 

Princes,  heav'n's  ancient  sons,  ethereal  thrones, 
Demonian  spirits  now  from  the  element 
Each  of  his  reign  allotted,  rightlier  call'd 
Pow'rs  of  fire,  air,  water,  and  earth  beneath, 
So  may  we  hold  our  place,  and  these  mild  seats 
Without  new  trouble ;  such  an  enemy 
Is  risen  to  invade  us,  who  no  less 
Threatens,  than  our  expulsion  down  to  hell ; 
I,  as  I  undertook,  and  with  the  vote 
Consenting  in  full  frequence  was  impower'd, 
Have  found  him,  view'd  him,  tasted  him,^  but  find 
Far  other  labor  to  be  undergone 
Than  when  I  dealt  with  Adam  first  of  men, 

1  A  Grecism.    See  also  Psalm  xxxiv.  8 :  "  O  taste  and  see  how  gracious  the  Lord  is  1  " 

(^ ^ ^ 


e- -^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  343 

Though  Adam  by  his  wife's  allurement  fell, 

However  to  this  man  inferior  far, 

If  he  be  man  by  mother's  side  at  least, 

With  more  than  human  gifts  from  heav'n  adorn'd, 

Perfections  absolute,  graces  divine, 

And  amplitude  of  mind  to  greatest  deeds. 

Therefore  I  am  return'd,  lest  confidence 

Of  my  success  with  Eve  in  paradise 

Deceive  ye  to  persuasion  oversure 

Of  like  succeeding  here :  I  summon  all 

Rather  to  be  in  readiness,  with  hand 

Or  counsel  to  assist,  lest  I,  who  erst 

Thought  none  my  equal,  now  be  overmatch'd. 

So  spake  the  old  Serpent  doubting,  and  from  all 
With  clamor  was  assured  their  utmost  aid 
At  his  command ;  when  from  amidst  them  rose 
Belial,  the  dissolutest  spirit  that  fell. 
The  sensualest,  and  after  Asmodai  ^ 
The  fleshliest  Incubus,  and  thus  advised. 

Set  women  in  his  eye,  and  in  his  walk. 
Among  daughters  of  men  the  fairest  found  ; 
Many  are  in  each  region  passing  fair 
As  the  noon  sky;  more  like  to  goddesses 
Than  mortal  creatures,  graceful  and  discreet. 
Expert  in  amorous  arts,  enchanting  tongues 
Persuasive,  virgin  majesty  with  mild 
And  sweet  allay'd,  yet  terrible  to  approach, 
Skill'd  to  retire,  and  in  retiring  draw 
Hearts  after  them  tangled  in  amorous  nets. 
Such  object  hath  the  power  to  soften  and  tame 
Severest  temper,  smooth  the  rugged'st  brow, 
Enerve,  and  with  voluptuous  hope  dissolve, 
Draw  out  with  credulous  desire,  and  lead 
At  will  the  manliest,  resolutest  breast, 

1  Or  Asmodeus,  the  angel  who  persecuted  Sara,  the  daughter  of  Raguel,  and  slew  her 
husbands.    See  Tobit. 

^ ^ ^ 


^^^-^ ^— — -— ^ 

344  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

As  the  magnetic^  hardest  iron  draws. 
Women,  when  nothing  else,  beguiled  the  heart 
Of  wisest  Solomon,  and  made  him  build, 
And  made  him  bow  to  the  gods  of  his  wives. 

To  whom  quick  answer  Satan  thus  return'd. 
Belial,  in  much  uneven  scale  thou  weigh'st 
All  others  by  thyself;  because  of  old 
Thou  thyself  doat'dst  on  woman-kind,  admiring 
Their  shape,  their  color,  and  attractive  grace. 
None  are,  thou  thuik'st,  but  taken  with  such  toys. 
Before  the  flood  thou  with  thy  lusty  crew, 
False  titled  sons  of  god,  roaming  the  earth. 
Cast  wanton  eyes  on  the  daughters  of  men. 
And  coupled  with  them,  and  begot  a  race. 
Have  we  not  seen,  or  by  relation  heard, 
In  courts  and  regal  chambers  how  thou  lurk'st, 
In  wood  or  grove  by  mossy  fountain  side. 
In  valley  or  green  meadow,  to  way- lay 
Some  beauty  rare,  Calisto,  Clymene, 
Daphne,  or  Semele,  Antiopa,^ 
Or  Amymone,  Syrinx,  many  more 
Too  long,  then  lay'st  thy  scapes  on  names  adored, 
Apollo,  Neptune,  Jupiter,  or  Pan, 
Satyr,  or  fawn,  or  sylvan  ?  but  these  haunts 
Delight  not  all ;  among  the  sons  of  men, 
How  many  have  with  a  smile  made  small  account 
Of  beauty  and  her  lures,  easily  scorn'd 
All  her  assaults,  on  worthier  things  intent? 
Remember  that  Pcllean  conqueror,* 
A  youth,  how  all  the  beauties  of  the  east 
He  slightly  view'd,  and  slightly  overpass'd  ; 
How  he  surnamed  of  Africa^  dismiss'd 

1  The  loadstone,  or  magnet. 

2  Women  beloved  by  the  heathen  deities.     Ovid  relates  these  fables.     Calisto,  Semele, 
and  Antiopa  were  the  loves  of  Jupiter;  Clymene  and  Daphne,  of  Apollo;  Syrinx,  of  Pan. 

•''  Alexander  the  Great.     He  was  born  at  Pella,  in  Macedonia. 

*  Scipio  Africanus.     His  generous  treatment  of  his  Spanish  captive  is  well-known. 


f 


^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  345 

In  his  prime  youth  the  fair  Iberian  maid. 

For  Solomon,  he  lived  at  ease,  and  full 

Of  honor,  wealth,  high  fare,  aim'd  not  beyond 

Higher  design  than  to  enjoy  his  state ; 

Thence  to  the  bait  of  women  lay  exposed  : 

But  He  whom  we  attempt  is  wiser  far 

Than  Solomon,  of  more  exalted  mind. 

Made  and  set  wholly  on  the  accomplishment 

Of  greatest  things;  what  woman  will  you  find. 

Though  of  this  age  the  wonder  and  the  fame, 

On  whom  his  leisure  will  vouchsafe  an  eye 

Of  fond  desire  ?  or  should  she  confident, 

As  sitting  queen  adored  on  beauty's  throne, 

Descend  with  all  her  winning  charms  begirt 

To  enamour,  as  the  zone  of  Venus  once 

Wrought  that  effect  on  Jove,  so  fables  tell ; 

How  would  one  look  from  his  majestic  brow, 

Seated  as  on  the  top  of  virtue's  hill, 

Discount'nance  her  despised,  and  put  to  rout 

All  her  array;  her  female  pride  deject. 

Or  turn  to  reverent  awe  ?  for  beauty  stands 

In  the  admiration  only  of  weak  minds 

Led  captive.     Cease  to  admire,  and  all  her  plumes 

Fall  flat  and  shrink  into  a  trivial  toy. 

At  every  sudden  slighting  quite  abash'd: 

Therefore  with  manlier  objects  we  must  try 

His  constancy,  with  such  as  have  more  show 

Of  worth,  of  honor,  glory,  and  popular  praise ; 

Rocks  whereon  greatest  men  have  oftest  wreck'd ; 

Or  that  which  only  seems  to  satisfy 

Lawful  desires  of  nature,  not  beyond  ; 

And  now  I  know  he  hungers  where  no  food 

Is  to  be  found,  in  the  wide  wilderness  ; 

The  rest  commit  to  me,  I  shall  let  pass 

No  advantage,  and  his  strength  as  oft  assay. 

He  ceased,  and  heard  their  grant  in  loud  acclaim  : 

^ ^ 


a -^ 

346  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Then  forthwith  to  him  takes  a  chosen  band 

Of  spirits,  likest  to  himself  in  guile, 

To  be  at  hand,  and  at  his  beck  appear, 

If  cause  were  to  unfold  some  active  scene 

Of  various  persons  each  to  kno\;^  his  part ; 

Then  to  the  desert  takes  with  these  his  flight ; 

Where  still  from  shade  to  shade  the  Son  of  God 

After  forty  days'  fasting  had  remain'd, 

Now  hung'ring  first,  and  to  himself  thus  said. 

Where  will  this  end  ?  four  times  ten  days  I've  pass'd 
Wand'ring  this  woody  maze,  and  human  food 
Nor  tasted,  nor  had  appetite  :  that  fast 
To  virtue  I  impute  not,  or  count  part 
Of  what  I  suffer  here.     If  nature  need  not, 
Or  God  support  nature  without  repast 
Though  needing,  what  praise  is  it  to  endure  ? 
But  now  I  feel  I  hunger,  which  declares 
Nature  hath  need  of  what  she  asks ;  yet  God 
Can  satisfy  that  need  some  other  way, 
Though  hunger  still  remain  :  so  it  remain 
Without  this  body's  wasting,  I  content  me, 
And  from  the  sting  of  famine  fear  no  harm, 
Nor  mind  it,  fed  with  better  thoughts,  that  feed 
Me  hung'ring  more  to  do  my  Father's  will. 

It  was  the  hour  of  night,  when  thus  the  Son 
Communed  in  silent  walk,  then  laid  him  down 
Under  the  hospitable  covert  nigh 
Of  trees  thick  interwoven  ;  there  he  slept, 
And  dream'd,  as  appetite  is  wont  to  dream. 
Of  meats  and  drinks,  nature's  refreshment  sweet : 
Him  thought  he  by  the  brook  of  Cherith  stood. 
And  saw  the  ravens  with  their  horny  beaks^ 
Food  to  Elijah  bringing  even  and  morn, 
Though  ravenous,  taught  to  abstain  from  what  they  brought: 


1  I  Kings  xvii.  5,  6. 


^ 


^ ^ ^ ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  347 

He  saw  the  prophet  also  how  he  fled 

Into  the  desert,  and  how  there  he  slept 

Under  a  juniper:  then  how,  awaked, 

He  found  his  supper  on  the  coals  prepared, 

And  by  the  angel  was  bid  rise  and  eat, 

And  eat  the  second  time  after  repose, 

The  strength  whereof  sufficed  him  forty  days ; 

Sometimes  that  with  Elijah  he  partook, 

Or  as  a  guest  with  Daniel  at  his  pulse.^ 

Thus  wore  out  night,  and  now  the  herald  lark 

Left  his  ground-nest,  high  tow'ring  to  descry 

The  morn's  approach,  and  greet  her  with  his  song. 

As  lightly  from  his  grassy  couch  up  rose 

Our  Saviour,  and  found  all  was  but  a  dream, 

Fasting  he  went  to  sleep,  and  fasting  waked. 

Up  to  a  hill  anon  his  steps  he  rear'd. 

From  whose  high  top  to  ken  the  prospect  round, 

If  cottage  were  in  view,  sheep-cote,  or  herd; 

But  cottage,  herd,  or  sheep-cote  none  he  saw. 

Only  in  a  bottom  saw  a  pleasant  grove, 

With  chaunt  of  tuneful  birds  resounding  loud; 

Thither  he  bent  his  way,  determined  there 

To  rest  at  noon,  and  enter'd  soon  the  shade 

High  roof'd,  and  walks  beneath,  and  alleys  brown, 

That  open'd  in  the  midst  a  woody  scene  ; 

Nature's  own  work  it  seem'd,  nature  taught  art. 

And  to  a  superstitious  eye  the  haunt 

Of  wood-gods  and  wood-nymphs ;  he  view'd  it  round, 

When  suddenly  a  man  before  him  stood, 

Not  rustic  as  before,  but  seemlier  clad. 

As  one  in  city,  or  court,  or  palace  bred, 

And  with  fair  speech  these  words  to  him  address'd. 

With  granted  leave  officious  I  return, 
But  much  more  wonder  that  the  Son  of  God 

1  Daniel  i.  12. 


^ ■ -^ 

348  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

In  this  wild  solitude  so  long  should  bide 

Of  all  things  destitute,  and  well  I  know, 

Not  without  hunger.     Others  of  some  note, 

As  story  tells,  have  trod  this  wilderness ; 

The  fugitive  bond-woman  with  her  son 

Out-cast  Nebaioth,  yet  found  here  relief 

By  a  providing  angel  ;^  all  the  race 

Of  Israel  here  had  famish'd,  had  not  God 

Rain'd  from  heav'n  manna ;  and  that  prophet  bold 

Native  of  Thebez^  wand'ring  here  was  fed 

Twice  by  a  voice  inviting  him  to  eat.^ 

Of  thee  these  forty  days  none  hath  regard, 

Forty  and  more  deserted  here  indeed. 

To  whom  thus  Jesus.     What  conclud'st  thou  hence  ? 
They  all  had  need,  I,  as  thou  seest,  have  none. 

How  hast  thou  hunger  then?  Satan  replied. 
Tell  me,  if  food  were  now  before  thee  set, 
Would'st  thou  not  eat  ?     Thereafter  as  I  like 
The  giver,  answer'd  Jesus.     Why  should  that 
Cause  thy  refusal  ?  said  the  subtle  fiend. 
Hast  thou  not  right  to  all  created  things  ? 
Owe  not  all  creatures  by  just  right  to  thee 
Duty  and  service,  nor  to  stay  till  bid. 
But  tender  all  their  power  ?  nor  mention  I 
Meats  by  the  law  unclean,  or  offer'd  first 
To  idols,  those  young  Daniel  could  refuse; 
Nor  proffer'd  by  an  enemy,  though  who 
Would  scruple  that  with  want  opprest  ?  behold 
Nature  ashamed,  or,  better  to  express, 


1  Hagar  and  Ishmael.  See  Gen.  xxi.  14-21.  Nebaioth  was  Ishmael's  eldest  son,  who 
gave  their  name  to  the  nation  descended  from  him,  the  Nebatheans. 

2  Thisbe  was  the  birthplace  of  Elijah. 

3  Hagar,  the  Israelites,  and  Elijah  did  not  suffer  hunger  on  the  identical  spot  where  our 
Lord  fasted;  but  Milton  takes  in  the  who/e  desert  at  one  view,  not  caring  to  distinguish 
different  spots  in  one  wide  tract. — From  NEWTON. 


^ ^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  349 

Troubled  that  thou  should'st  hunger,  hath  purvey'd 
From  all  the  elements  her  choicest  store 
To  treat  thee  as  beseems,  and  as  her  Lord 
With  honor,  only  deign  to  sit  and  eat. 

He  spake  no  dream,  for  as  his  words  had  end, 
Our  Saviour  lifting  up  his  eyes  beheld 
In  ample  space  under  the  broadest  shade 
A  table  richly  spread,  in  regal  mode, 
With  dishes  piled,  and  meats  of  noblest  sort 
And  savor,  beasts  of  chase,  or  fowl  of  game. 
In  pastry-built,^  or  from  the  spit,  or  boil'd, 
Gris-amber^  steam'd  ;  all  fish  from  sea  or  shore, 
Freshet'  or  purling  brook,  of  shell  or  fin. 
And  exquisitest  name,  for  which  was  drain'd 
Pontus,  and  Lucrine  bay,^  and  Afric  coast. 
Alas  how  simple,  to  these  cates  compared. 
Was  that  crude  apple  that  diverted''  Eve  ! 
And  at  a  stately  side-board  by  the  wine 
That  fragrant  smell  diffused,  in  order  stood 
Tall  stripling  youths  rich  clad,  of  fairer  hue 
Than  Ganymed  or  Hylas,''  distant  more 
Under  the  trees  now  tripp'd,  now  solemn  stood 
Nymphs  of  Diana's  train,  and  Naiades 
With  fruits  and  flowers  from  Amalthea's  horn, 
And  ladies  of  the  Hesperides,^  that  seem'd 
Fairer  than  feign'd  of  old,  or  fabled  since 
Of  fairy  damsels  met  in  forest  wide 

1  Milton  a'.ludes  to  the  culinary  feats  called   "  subtilities,"  or  "  sotilties  " — wonderful 
pastry  built  in  the  shape  of  embattled  towers,  &c.,  to  a  great  height. 

2  Ambergris,  which  was  used  in  Milton's  day  in  cookery. 

3  A  stream  of  fresh  water. 

*  Pontus  is  the  Black  Sea ;  the  Lucrine  bay  in  Italy. 
5  Diverted  here  means  "  turned  aside,"  from  the  Latin  diverto,  to  turn  aside. 

*  Ganymede  was  the  cupbearer  of  Jupiter;  Hylas  drew  water  for  Hercules. 
■7  The  "  ladies  of  the  Hesperides  "  were  famed  for  their  lovely  singing.     The  nymphs  of 

the  chase  and  of  the  water  (the  Naiades)  appropriately  attend  such  a  feast. 

4- ^ 


^^ -^ 

350  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

By  knights  of  Logres/  or  of  Lyones,^ 

Lancelot,  or  Pelleas,  or  Pellenore,^ 

And  all  the  while  harmonious  airs  were  heard 

Of  chiming  strings  or  charming  pipes,  and  winds 

Of  gentlest  gale  Arabian  odors  fann'd 

From  their  soft  wings,  and  Flora's  earliest  smells. 

Such  was  the  splendor ;  and  the  tempter  now 

His  invitation  earnestly  renew'd. 

What  doubts  the  Son  of  God  to  sit  and  eat  ? 
These  are  not  fruits  forbidden  ;  no  interdict 
Defends  the  touching  of  these  viands  pure ; 
Their  taste  no  knowledge  works  at  least  of  evil, 
But  life  preserves,  destroy's  life's  enemy, 
Hunger,  with  sweet  restorative  delight. 
All  these  a're  spirits  of  air,  and  woods,  and  springs. 
Thy  gentle  ministers,  who  come  to  pay 
Thee  homage,  and  acknowledge  thee  their  lord  : 
What  doubt'st  thou.  Son  of  God?  sit  down  and  eat. 

To  whom  thus  Jesus  temperately  replied. 
Said'st  thou  not  that  to  all  things  I  had  right  ? 
And  who  withholds  my  power  that  right  to  use  ? 
Shall  I  receive  by  gift  what  of  my  own, 
When  and  where  likes  me  best,  I  can  command  ? 
I  can  at  will,  doubt  not,  as  soon  as  thou, 
Command  a  table  in  this  wilderness, 
And  call  swift  flights  of  angels  ministrant, 
Array'd  in  glory,  on  my  cup  to  attend ; 
Why  should'st  thou  then  obtrude  this  diligence, 

I  Logres.  or  Logris,  is  the  same  as  Loegria,  an  ancient  name  for  England.    See  Holinshed's 
"  Hiitory  of  England,"  B.  II.  4,  5.     Spenser  uses  this  name  in  his  "  Faerie  Queene  ■': — 
"And  Camber  did  possess  the  western  quart 
Which  Severn  now  from  Logris  doth  depart,"— /=><;»«  DUNSTERS  Note. 
'  Lyones,  or  Lionesse,  was  an  ancient  name  for  part  of  Cornwall— the  extreme  west, 
towards  the  Land's  End. 

^  Lancelot's  name  has  again  become  a  "  household  word,"  through  Tennyson's  exquisite 
"  Idylls."  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  he,  Pelleas,  and  Pellenore  were  three  of 
Arthur's  knights. 


^ 


4 


^ 


^ Qp 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  351 

In  vain,  where  no  acceptance  it  can  find  ? 

And  with  my  hunger  what  hast  thou  to  do? 

Thy  pompous  dehcacies  I  contemn, 
.  And  count  thy  specious  gifts  no  gifts,  but  guiles. 
To  whom  thus  answer'd  Satan  malecontent. 

That  I  have  also  power  to  give  thou  seest. 

If  of  that  power  I  bring  thee  voluntary 

What  I  might  have  bestow'd  on  whom  I  pleased. 

And  rather  opportunely  in  this  place 

Chose  to  impart  to  thy  apparent  need, 

Why  should'st  thou  not  accept  it  ?  but  I  see 

What  I  can  do  or  offer  is  suspect; 

Of  these  things  others  quickly  will  dispose, 

Whose  pains  have  earn'd  the  far-fet»  spoil.  '  With  that 

Both  table  and  provision  vanish'd  quite 

With  sounds  of  Harpies'  wings  and  talons  heard; 

Only  the  importune  tempter  still  remained, 
And  with  these  words  his  temptations  pursued. 

By  hunger,  that  each  other  creature  tames. 
Thou  art  not  to  be  harm'd,  therefore  not  moved  ; 
Thy  temperance  invincible  besides, 
For  no  allurement  yields  to  appetite, 
And  all  thy  heart  is  set  on  high  designs. 
High  actions  ;  but  wherewith  to  be  achieved  ? 
Great  acts  require  great  means  of  enterprise  ; 
Thou  art  unknown,  unfriended,  low  of  birth, 
A  carpenter  thy  father  known,  thyself 
Bred  up  in  poverty  and  straits  at  home. 
Lost  in  a  desert  here  and  hunger-bit: 
Which  way,  or  from  what  hope,  dost  thou  aspire 
To  greatness  ?  whence  authority  deriv'st  ? 
What  followers,  what  retinue  can'st  thou  gain  ? 
Or  at  thy  heels  the  dizzy  multitude. 
Longer  than  thou  canst  feed  them  on  thy  cost  ? 


a- 


<b 


352  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Money  brings  honor,  friends,  conquest,  and  realms. 
What  raised  Antipater  the  Edomite, 
And  his  son  Herod  placed  on  Judah's  throne,^ 
Thy  throne,  but  gold  that  got  him  puissant  friends  ? 
Therefore,  if  at  great  things  thou  would'st  arrive, 
Get  riches  first,  get  wealth,  and  treasure  heap, 
Not  difficult,  if  thou  hearken  to  me; 
Riches  are  mine,  fortune  is  in  my  hand ; 
They  whom  I  favor  thrive  in  wealth  amain, 
While  virtue,  valor,  wisdom,  sit  in  want. 
To  whom  thus  Jesus  patiently  replied. 
Yet  wealth  without  these  three  is  impotent 
To  gain  dominion,  or  to  keep  it  gain'd. 
Witness  those  ancient  empires  of  the  earth, 
In  highth  of  all  their  flowing  wealth  dissolved. 
But  men  endued  with  these  have  oft  attain'd 
In  lowest  poverty  to  highest  deeds; 
Gideon^  and  Jeptha,^  and  the  shepherd  lad, 
Whose  offspring  on  the  throne  of  Judah  sat 
So  many  ages,  and  shall  yet  regain 
•That  seat,  and  reign  in  Israel  without  end. 
Among  the  heathen,  for  throughout  the  world 
To  me  is  not  unknown  what  hath  been  done 
Worthy  of  memorial,  canst  thou  not  remember 
Quintius,^  Fabricius,'^  Curius,"  Regulus  ?'' 

1  See  Josephus,  B.  IV.  26.  2  Judges  vi.  15.  ^  Judges  xi.  i. 

*  Quintius  Cincinnatus,  twice  taken  from  the  plough  to  be  Consul  and  Dictator  of  Rome. 
After  subduing  the  enemies  of  his  country,  he  refused  the  wealth  the  people  would  have 
lavished  on  him,  and  returned  to  his  cottage  and  humble  life. 

s  Fabricius  refused  to  be  bribed  by  all  the  wealth  of  Pyrrhus  of  Epirus  to  negotiate  a 
peace  for  that  King  with  the  Romans,  and  died  so  poor  that  he  was  obliged  to  be  buried  at 
the  public  expense. 

6  Curius  Dentatus,  when  offered  a  large  sum  of  money  by  the  Samnites,  as  he  sat  by  the 
fire  roasting  turnips  with  his  own  hands,  refused  it,  saying  that  it  was  not  his  ambition  to 
be  rich,  but  to  command  those  who  were  so. 

7  The  story  of  how  Regulus  kept  his  word  to  the  Carthaginians,  and  returned  to  die  in 
torture  rather  than  break  his  pledged  promise,  is  well  known. 


f-- 


^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  .  353 

For  I  esteem  those  names  of  men  so  poor, 

Who  could  do  mighty  things,  and  could  contemn 

Riches  though  offer'd  from  the  hands  of  kings. 

And  what  in  me  seems  wanting,  but  that  I 

May  also  in  this  poverty  as  soon 

Accomplish  what  they  did,  perhaps,  and  more? 

Extol  not  riches  then,  the  toil  of  fools, 

The  wise  man's  cumbrance,  if  not  snare,  more  apt 

To  slacken  virtue,  and  abate  her  edge, 

Than  prompt  her  to  do  aught  may  merit  praise. 

What,  if  with  like  aversion  I  reject 

Riches  and  realms  ?  yet  not,  for  that  a  crown, 

Golden  in  show,  is  but  a  wreath  of  thorns, 

Brings  dangers,  troubles,  cares,  and  sleepless  nights. 

To  him  who  wears  the  regal  diadem, 

When  on  his  shoulders  each  man's  burden  lies  ; 

For  therein  stands  the  office  of  a  king. 

His  honor,  vrtue,  merit,  and  chief  praise, 

That  for  the  public  all  this  weight  he  bears. 

Yet  he  who  reigns  within  himself,  and  rules 

Passions,  desires,  and  fears,  is  more  a  king ; 

Which  ev'ry  wise  and  virtuous  man  attains : 

And  who  attains  not,  ill  aspires  to  rule 

Cities  of  men,  or  head  strong  multitudes, 

Subject  himself  to  anarchy  within, 

Or  lawless  passions  in  him,  which  he  serves. 

But  to  guide  nations  in  the  way  of  truth. 

By  saving  doctrine,  and  from  error  lead 

To  know,  and  knowing  worship  God  aright. 

Is  yet  more  kingly  ;  this  attracts  the  soul. 

Governs  the  inner  man,  the  nobler  part ; 

That  other  o'er  the  body  only  reigns, 

And  oft  by  force,  which  to  a  generous  mind. 

So  reigning,  can  be  no  sincere  delight. 

Besides,  to  give  a  kingdom  hath  been  thought 

£^__ : ^ 


s- -^ 

354  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Greater  and  nobler  done,  and  to  lay  down 
Far  more  magnanimous  than  to  assume. 
Riches  are  needless  then,  both  for  themselves, 
And  for  thy  reason  why  they  should  be  sought, 
To  gain  a  sceptre,  oftest  better  miss'd. 


^ -^ 


^ ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  355 


BOOK  III. 

So  spake  the  Son  of  God,  and  Satan  stood 
Awhile  as  mlite,  confounded  what  to  say, 
What  to  reply,  confuted  and  convinced 
Of  his  weak  arguing  and  fallacious  drift ; 
At  length,  collecting  all  his  serpent  wiles. 
With  soothing  words  renew'd,  him  thus  accosts. 

I  see  thou  know'st  what  is  of  use  to  know, 
What  best  to  say  canst  say,  to  do  canst  do ; 
Thy  actions  to  thy  words  accord,  thy  words 
To  thy  large  heart  give  utterance  due,  thy  heart 
Contains  of  good,  wise,  just,  the  perfect  shape. 
Should  kings  and  nations  from  thy  mouth  consult. 
Thy  counsel  would  be  as  the  oracle 
Urim  and  Thummim,  those  oraculous  gems 
On  Aaron's  breast ;   or  tongue  of  seers  old 
Infallible  :  or  wert  thou  sought  to  deeds 
That  might  require  th'  array  of  war,  thy  skill 
Of  conduct  would  be  such,  that  all  the  world 
Could  not  sustain  thy  prowess,  or  subsist 
In  battle,  though  against  thy  few  in  arms. 
These  god-like  virtues  wherefore  dost  thou  hide, 
Affecting  private  life,  or  more  obscure 
In  savage  wilderness  ?  wherefore  deprive 
All  earth  her  wonder  at  thy  acts,  thyself 
The  fame  and  glory,  glory  the  reward 
That  sole  excites  to  high  attempts,  the  flame 
Of  most  erected  spirits,  most  temper'd  pure 
.^therial,  who  all  pleasures  else  despise, 
All  treasures  and  all  gain  esteeem  as  dross, 
And  dignities  and  powers,  all  but  the  highest  ? 

^ ^ 


^ -^ 

356  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Thy  years  are  ripe/  and  over-ripe ;  the  son 
Of  Macedonian  Philip^  had  ere  these 
Won  Asia,  and  the  throne  of  Cyrus  held 
At  his  dispose  ;  young  Scipio^  had  brought  down 
The  Carthaginian  pride ;  young  Pompey  quell'd 
The  Pontic  king,  and  in  triumph  had  rode.* 
Yet  years,  and  to  ripe  years  judgment  mature, 
Quench  not  the  thirst  of  glory,  but  augment. 
Great  Julius,  whom  now  all  the  world  admires, 
The  more  he  grew  in  years,  the  more  inflamed 
With  glory,  wept  that  he  had  lived  so  long 
Inglorious,^  but  thou  yet  art  not  too  late. 

To  whom  our  Saviour  calmly  thus  replied. 
Thou  neither  dost  persuade  me  to  seek  wealth 
For  empire's  sake,  nor  empire  to  affect 
For  glory's  sake  by  all  thy  argument. 
For  what  is  glory  but  the  blaze  of  fame, 
The  people's  praise,  if  always  praise  unmixt? 
And  what  the  people  but  a  herd  confused, 
A  miscellaneous  rabble,  who  extol 

Things  vulgar,  and  well  weigh'd,  scarce  worth  the  praise? 
They  praise  and  they  admire  they  know  not  what, 
And  know  not  whom,  but  as  one  leads  the  other : 
And  what  delight  to  be  by  such  extoll'd. 
To  live  upon  their  tongues  and  be  their  talk, 
Of  whom  to  be  dispraised  were  no  small  praise, 
His  lot  who  dares  be  singularly  good. 
Th'  intelligent  among  them  and  the  wise 

1  Our  Saviour  was  then  "about  thirty  years  of  age."     Luke  iii.  23. 

2  Alexander  the  Great. 

3  Scipio  was  only  twenty-nine  years  old  when  he  conquered  the  Carthaginians. 
*  Pompey  distinguished  himself  in  his  youth  ;  but  when  he  conquered  Mithridates  he  was 

forty  years  old. 

5  Julius  C?esar,  whilst  meditating  over  a  "  Life  of  Alexander,"  was  seen  to  weep  by  his 
friends.  On  being  asked  the  reason  of  his  tears,  he  replied,  "  Do  you  not  think  I  have  just 
cause  to  weep,  when  I  consider  that  Alexander  at  my  age  had  conquered  so  many  nations, 
and  I  in  all  these  years  have  done  nothing  memorable?  " — Plutarch. 


s [ ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  357 

Are  few,  and  glory  scarce  of  few  is  raised. 

This  is  true  glory  and  renown,  when  God, 

Looking  on  the  earth,  with  approbation  marks 

The  just  man,  and  divulges  him  through  heaven 

To  all  His  angels,  who  with  true  applause 

Recount  his  praises.     Thus  He  did  to  Job, 

When,  to  extend  his  fame  through  hcav'n  and  earth, 

As  thou  to  thy  reproach  may'st  well  remember, 

He  ask'd  thee.  Hast  thou  seen  my  servant  Job  ? 

Famous  he  was  in  heav'n,  on  earth  less  known  ; 

Where  glory  is  false  glory,  attributed 

To  things  not  glorious,  men  not  worthy  of  fame. 

They  err  who  count  it  glorious  to  subdue 

By  conquest  far  and  wide,  to  overrun 

Large  countries,  and  in  field  great  battles  win. 

Great  cities  by  assault :  what  do  these  worthies, 

But  rob,  and  spoil,  burn,  slaughter,  and  enslave 

Peaceable  nations,  neigboring  or  remote, 

Made  captive,  yet  deserving  freedom  more 

Than  those  their  conquerors,  who  leave  behind 

Nothing  but  ruin  whereso'er  they  rove. 

And  all  the  flourishing  works  of  peace  destroy, 

Then  swell  with  pride,  and  must  be  titled  gods. 

Great  benefactors  of  mankind,  deliverers, 

Worshipp'd  with  temple,  priest,  aud  sacrifice  ; 

One  is  the  son  of  Jove,  of  Mars  the  other ; 

Till  conqueror  death  discover  them  scarce  men, 

Rolling  in  brutish  vices,  and  deform'd, 

Violent  or  shameful  death  their  due  reward. 

But  if  there  be  in  glory  aught  of  good. 

It  may  by  means  far  different  be  attain'd 

Without  ambition,  war,  or  violence ; 

By  deeds  of  peace,  by  wisdom  eminent. 

By  patience,  temperance.     I  mention  still 

Him  whom  thy  wrongs  with  saintly  patience  borne 

Made  famous  in  a  land  and  times  obscure ; 


^a^ -^ 

358  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Who  names  not  now  with  honor  patient  Job  ? 
Poor  Socrates,  who  next  more  memorable  ? 
By  what  he  taught  and  suffer'd  for  so  doing, 
For  truth's  sake  suffering  death  unjust,  hves  now 
Equal  in  fame  to  proudest  conquerors. 
Yet  if  for  fame  and  glory  aught  be  done, 
Aught  suffer'd  ;  if  young  African '  for  fame 
His  wasted  country  freed  from  Punic  rage, 
The  deed  becomes  unpraised,  the  man  at  least, 
And  loses,  though  but  verbal  his  reward. 
Shall  I  seek  glory  then,  as  vain  men  seek. 
Oft  not  deserved?  I  seek  not  mine,  but  His 
Who  sent  me,  and  thereby  witness  whence  I  am. 

To  whom  the  tempter  murmuring  thus  replied. 
Think  not  so  slight  of  glory,  therein  least 
Resembling  thy  great  Father :  He  seeks  glory. 
And  for  His  glory  all  things  made,  all  things 
Orders  and  governs ;  nor  content  in  heav'n 
By  all  His  angels  glorified  requires 
Glory  from  men,  from  all  men  good  or  bad, 
Wise  or  unwise,  no  difference,  no  exemption  ; 
Above  all  sacrifice  or  hallow'd  gift 
Glory  He  requires,  and  glory  He  receives 
Promiscuous  from  all  nations,  Jew,  or  Greek, 
Or  barbarous,  nor  exception  hath  declared  : 
From  us.  His  foes  pronounced,  glory  He  exacts. 

To  whom  our  Saviour  fervently  replied. 
And  reason,  since  His  word  all  things  produced, 
Though  chiefly  not  for  glory  as  prime  end. 
But  to  show  forth  His  goodness,  and  impart 
His  good  communicable  to  every  soul 
Freely ;  of  whom  what  could  He  less  expect 
Than  glory  and  benediction,  that  is,  thanks. 
The  slightest,  easiest,  readiest,  recompense 

1  Scipio  Africanus. 

^ ^ 


f ' -<b 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  359 

From  them  who  could  return  Him  nothing-  else 
And  not  returning  that  would  likeliest  render 
Contempt  instead,  dishonor,  obloquy  ? 

Hard  recompense,  unsuitable  return 

For  so  much  good,  so  much  beneficence. 

But  why  should  man  seek  glory,  who  of  his  own 

Hath  nothing,  and  to  whom  nothing  belongs 

But  condemnation,  ignominy,  and  shame? 

Who  for  so  many  benefits  received 

Turn'd  recreant  to  God,  ingrate  and  false. 

And  so  of  all  true  good  himself  despoil'd, 

Yet,  sacrilegious,  to  himself  would  take 

That  which  to  God  alone  of  right  belono-s  • 

Yet  so  much  bounty  is  in  Goo,  such  grace. 

That  who  advance  His  glory,  not  their  own. 

Them  He  Himself  to  glory  will  advance. 
So  spake  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  here  again 

Satan  had  not  to  answer,  but  stood  struck 

With  guilt  of  his  own  sin,  for  he  himself 

Insatiable  of  glory  had  lost  all ; 

Yet  of  another  plea  bethought  him  soon. 

Of  glory,  as  thou  wilt,  said  he,  so  deem. 
Worth  or  not  worth  the  seeking,  let  it  pass. 
But  to  a  kingdom  thou  art  born,  ordain'd 
To  sit  upon  thy  father  David's  throne. 
By  mother's  side  thy  father ;  though  thy  right 
Be  now  in  powerful  hands,  that  will  not  part 
Easily  from  possession  won  with  arms. 
Judsa  now  and  all  the  promised  land. 
Reduced  a  province  under  Roman  yoke, 
Obeys  Tiberius;  nor  is  always  ruled 
With  temperate  sway  :  oft  have  they  violated 
The  temple,^  oft  the  law  with  foul  affronts, 
Abominations  rather,  as  did  once 


1  Pompey,  with  several  of  his  officers,  entered  the  Holy  of  Holies,  where  none  were  al- 
lowed to  step  except  the  high  priest  once  a  year,  on  the  great  day  of  expiation. 

^^^— -^ 


^ 


■Qp 


360 


PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Antiochus  •}  and  think'st  thou  to  regain 

Thy  right  by  sitting  still  or  thus  retiring  ? 

So  did  not  Maccabeus  :^  he  indeed 

Retired  unto  the  desert,  but  with  arms ; 

And  o'er  a  mighty  king  so  oft  prevail'd, 

That  by  strong  hand  his  family  obtain'd, 

Though  priests,  the  crown,  and  David's  throne  U3urp'd, 

With  Modin  and  her  suburbs  once  content. 

If  kingdom  move  thee  not,  let  move  thee  zeal 

And  duty;  zeal  and  duty  are  not  slow; 

But  on  occasion's  forelock^  watchful  wait. 

They  themselves  rather  are  occasion  best, 

Zeal  of  thy  father's  house,  duty  to  free 

Thy  country  from  her  heathen  servitude; 

So  shalt  thou  best  fulfil,  best  verify 

The  prophets  old,  who  sung  thy  endless  reign  ; 

The  happier  reign  the  sooner  it  begins ; 

Reign  then;  what  canst  thou  better  'do  the  while  ? 
To  whom  our  Saviour  answer  thus  return'd. 

All  things  are  best  fulfill'd  in  their  due  time, 

And  time  there  is  for  all  things.  Truth  had  said  :* 

If  of  my  reign  prophetic  writ  hath  told 

That  it  shall  never  end,  so  when  begin 

The  Father  in  his  purpose  hath  decreed. 

He  in  whose  hands  all  times  and  seasons  roll.^ 

What,  if  He  hath  decreed  that  I  shall  first 

Be  tried  in  humble  state  and  things  adverse, 

By  tribulations,  injuries,  insults. 

Contempts,  and  scorns,  and  snares,  and  violence. 

Suffering,  abstaining,  quietly  expecting. 

Without  distrust  or  doubt,  that  he  may  know 


1  2  Maccab.  v. 

«  Judas  Maccabeus.     Modin  was  the  inheritance  of  the  Maccabees. 

s  The  Greek  and  Latin  poets  represented  Time  (or  Opportunity)  with  a  single  lock  of 
hair  in  front.     The  expression  of  seizing  Time  by  the  forelock  is  proverbial. 
*  Eccles.  iii.  1.  ^  Acts  i.  7.     Mark  xii.  32. 


^ 


-e 


4^- 


What  I  can  suffer,  how  obey  ?     Who  best 

uTuf7'  ^u"'','"?  "^^^  ^'''  ^^'g"'  ^^'ho  first 
Well  hath  obey'd  :'  just  trial,  ere  I  merit 

My  exaltation  without  change  or  end. 

But  what  concerns  it  thee  when  I  begin 

My  everlasting  kingdom  ?  why  art  th'^ou 

Solicitous  ?  what  moves  thy  inquisition  ? 

Know'st  thou  not  that  my  rising  is  thy  fall 

And  my  promotion  will  be  thy  destruction  ? 

To  whom  the  tempter,  inly  rack'd,  replied 

Let  that  come  when  it  comes  ;  all  hope  is  lost 

Of  my  reception  into  grace:  what  worse? 

For  where  no  hope  is  left,  is  left  no  fear  • 

If  there  be  worse,  the  expectation  more 

Of  worse  torments  me  than  the  feelino-  can 

I  would  be  at  the  worst,  worst  is  my  port 

My  harbor,  and  my  ultimate  repose  ; 

The  end  I  would  attain,  my  final  good. 

My  error  was  my  error,  and  my  crime 

My  crime  ;  whatever  for  itself  condemn'd 

And  will  alike  be  punish'd,  whether  thou  ' 

Re.gn  or  reign  not;  though  to  that  gentle  brow 

Willmgly  I  could  fly,  and  hope  thy  reign 

From  that  placid  aspect  and  meek  rega'^d' 

Rather  than  aggravate  my  evil  state, "^ 

Would  stand  between  me  and  thy  Father's  ire 

(Whose  ire  I  dread  more  than  the  fire  of  hell )' 

A  shelter,  and  a  kind  of  shading  cool 

Interposition,  as  a  summer's  cloud. 

If  I  then  to  the  worst  that  can  be  haste, 

Why  move  thy  feet  so  slow  to  what  is  b-st 

Happiest  both  to  thyself  and  all  the  world  ' 

ihat  thou  who  worthiest  art  should'st  be  their  kin<.? 

^"'^^P'  ^^^°"  ^'"ger'st  in  deep  thoughts  detain'd     " 

1  "Qui  bene  imperat,  paruerit  aliquando  nece«^  P.f  •  »*      '■        Z 

aliquando  i.peret.  dignus  e.e^-clT.o,  ^ZZ\'^^^^^  P^^'  -<^--.  <iui 


a ^ -^ 

362  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Of  the  enterprize  so  hazardous  and  high : 

No  wonder,  for,  though  in  thee  be  united 

What  of  perfection  can  in  man  be  found, 

Or  human  nature  can  receive,  consider, 

Thy  Hfe  hath  yet  been  private,  most  part  spent 

At  home,  scarce  view'd  the  GaHlean  towns, 

And  once  a  year  Jerusalem,'  few  days' 

Short  sojourn  ;  and  what  thence  could'st  thou  observe? 

The  world  thou  hast  not  seen,  much  less  her  glory, 

Empires,  and  monarchs,  and  their  radiant  courts. 

Best  school  of  best  experience,  quickest  insight 

In  all  things  that  to  greatest  actions  lead. 

The  wisest,  unexperienced,  will  be  ever 

Timorous  and  loth,  with  novice  modesty, 

As  he  who  seeking  asses  found  a  kingdom,^ 

Irresolute,  unhardy,  unadvent'rous : 

But  I  will  bring  thee  where  thou  soon  shall  quit 

Those  rudiments,  and  see  before  thine  eyes 

The  monarchies  of  the  earth,  their  pomp  and  state. 

Sufficient  introduction  to  inform 

Thee,  of  thyself  so  apt,  in  regal  arts 

And  regal  mysteries,  that  thou  may'st  know 

How  best  their  opposition  to  withstand. 

With  that  (such  power  was  given  him  then)  he  took 
The  Son  of  God  up  to  a  mountain  high.^ 
It  was  a  mountain  at  whose  verdant  feet 
A  spacious  plain  outstretch'd  in  circuit  wide 
Lay  pleasant ;  from  his  side  two  rivers  flow'd,* 
The  one  winding,  the  other  straight,  and  left  between 
Fair  champaign  with  less  rivers  intervein'd, 


J  At  the  Passover.  *  Saul.     See  i  Sam.  ix.  20,  21. 

3  Milton  is  supposed  to  mean  Mount  Niphates,  in  the  Taurus,  which  rises  immediately 
above  Assyria,  and  from  whence  he  had  made  Satan  survey  Eden  in  the  "  Paradise  Lost." 
— See  DUNSTER. 

*  The  Euphrates — "vagus  Euphrates" — and  the  Tigris,  the  course  of  which  was  very 
straight.— Todd. 

^fe '■ -^ 


a ■ -^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  363 

Then  meeting  join'd  their  tribute  to  the  sea  : 

Fertile  of  corn  the  glebe,  of  oil  and  wine, 

With  herds  the  pastures  throng'd,  with  flocks  the  hills ; 

Huge  cities  and  high  tower'd,  that  well  might  seem 

The  seats  of  mightiest  monarchs,  and  so  large 

The  prospect  was  that  here  and  there  was  room 

For  barren  desert,  fountainless  and  dry. 

To  this  high  mountain  top  the  tempter  brought 

Our  Saviour,  and  new  train  of  words  began. 

Well  have  we  speeded,  and  o'er  hill  and  dale, 
Forest  and  field,  and  flood,  temples,  arid  towers, 
Cut  shorter  many  a  league  ;  here  thou  behold'st 
Assyria,  and  her  empire's  ancient  bounds, 
Araxes,  and  the  Caspian  lake,  thence  on 
As  far  as  Indus  east,  Euphrates  west. 
And  oft  beyond ;  to  south  the  Persian  bay. 
And  inaccessible  the  Arabian  drought:^  . 

Here  Nineveh,  of  length  within  her  wall 
Several  days'  journey,  built  by  Ninus  old,  ^ 

Of  that  first  golden  monarchy  the  seat, 
And  seat  of  Salmanassar,^  whose  success  j 

Israel  in  long  captivity  still  mourns;  i 

There  Babylon,  the  wonder  of  all  tongues, 
As  ancient,  but  rebuilt  by  him^  who  twice 
Judah  and  all  thy  father  David's  house 
Led  captive,  and  Jerusalem  laid  waste, 
Till  Cyrus  set  them  free ;  Persepolis 
His  city  there  thou  seest,  and  Bactra  there  ; 
Ecbactana  her  structure  vast  there  shows, 
And  Hecatompylos  ■*  her  hundred  gates  ; 
There  Susa  by  Choaspes,  amber  stream, 

1  A  figure  of  speech  for  the  desert. 

2  Shalmansar,  in  the  reign  of  Hezekiah,  King  of  Judah,  carried  away  captive  to  Assyria 
the  ten  tribes  of  Israel. 

3  Nebuchadnezzar. 
*  Capital  of  Parthia,  so  called  from  its  hundred  gates. 


^ 


364  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

The  drink  of  none  but  kings  ;^  of  later  fame 

Built  by  Emathian,^  or  by  Parthian  hands. 

The  great  Seleucia,  Nisibis,^  and  there 

Artaxata,  Teredon,  Ctesiphon, 

Turning  with  easy  eye  thou  may'st  behold. 

All  these  the  Parthian,  now  some  ages  past, 

By  great  Arsaces  led,  who  founded  first 

That  empire,  under  his  dominion  holds. 

From  the  luxurious  kings  of  Antioch  won. 

And  just  in  time  thou  com'st  to  have  a  yiew 

Of  his  great  power ;  for  now  the  Parthian  king 

In  Ctesiphon  hath  gather'd  all  his  host  * 

Against  the  Scythian,  whose  incursions  wild 

Have  wasted  Sogdiana ;  to  her  aid 

He  marches  now  in  haste  ;  see,  though  from  far, 

His  thousands,  in  what  martial  equipage 

They  issue  forth,  steel  bows  and  shafts  their  arms, 

Of  equal  dread  in  flight'^  or  in  pursuit; 

All  horsemen,  in  which  fight  they  most  excel : 

See  how  in  warlike  muster  they  appear. 

In  rhombs,  and  wedges,  and  half-moons,  and  wings, 

He  look'd,  and  saw  what  numbers  numberless 

The  city  gates  outpour'd,  light  armed  troops 

In  coats  of  mail  and  military  pride; 

In  mail  their  horses  clad,  yet  fleet  and  strong, 

Prancing  their  riders  bore,  the  flower  and  choice 


1  Modern  research  confirms  this  fact  in  a  singular  manner.  "  It  is  a  fact  worthy  of  re- 
mark," says  Buckingham,  "  that  at  this  moment,  while  all  the  inhabitants  of  Kermanshah 
drink  of  the  stream  of  Aub  Dedoong,  and  of  the  spring  called  Aubi-i-Hassan-Khan,  the 
King's  son  alone  has  the  water  for  hinvself  and  his  harem  brought  from  the  stream  of  the 
Kar.i  Soo  (the  Choaspes).  We  drank  of  it  ourselves  as  we  passed,  and  from  its  superiority 
to  all  the  waters  of  which  we  had  tasted  since  leaving  the  banks  of  the  Tigris,  the  draught 
was  delicious  enough  to  be  sweet  even  to  the  palsied  taste  of  royalty  itself." — Quoted  in 
Aldine  Edition. 

2  Macedonian.  ^  Also  named  Antiochus. 
*  Ctesiphon  was  the  place  at  which  the  Parthian  kings  always  assembled  their  forces. 
5  They  discharged  their  arrows  as  they  fled. 

^ ■ -^ 


*- 


^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  365 

Of  many  provinces  from  bound  to  bound ; 

From  Arachosia,  from  Candaor  east, 

And  Margiana  to  the  Hyrcaniart  cliffs 

Of  Caucasus,  and  dark  Iberian  dales/ 

From  Atropatia  and  the  neighboring  plains 

Of  Adiabene,  Media,  and  the  south 

Of  Susiana,  to  Balsara's^  haven. 

He  saw  them  in  their  forms  of  battle  ranged, 

How  quick  they  wheel'd,  and  flying  behind  them  shot 

Sharp  sleet  of  arrowy  showers  against  the  face 

Of  their  pursuers,  and  overcame  by  flight; 

The  field  all  iron  cast  a  gleaming  brown  : 

Nor  wanted  clouds  of  foot,  nor  on  each  horn 

Cuirassiers  all  in  steel  for  standing  fight, 

Chariots  or  elephants  endorsed  with  towers 

Of  archers,  nor  of  laboring  pioneers 

A  multitude  with  spades  and  axes  arm'd 

To  lay  hills  plain,  fell  woods,  or  valleys  fill, 

Or,  where  plain  was  raise  hill,  or  overlay 

With  bridges  rivers  proud,  as  with  a  yoke ; 

Mules  after  these,  camels,  and  dromedaries, 

And  waggons  fraught  with  utensils  of  war. 

Such  forces  met  not,  nor  so  wide  a  camp. 

When  Agrican^  with  all  his  northern  powers 

Besieged  Albracca,  as  romances  tell, 

The  city  of  Gallaphrone,  from  thence  to  win 

The  fairest  of  her  sex  Ansfelica 


1  Said  to  be  "  dark  "  from  their  thick  forests. 

2  The  Persian  Gulf,  so  called  from  Bussora,  or  Balsera,  the  port  situated  on  it. 
^Agricano,  one   of   the  heroes   of    Boiardo's  "Orlando   Inamorato."      Angelica,    his 

daughter,  was  fabled  to  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  of  the  age,  and,  like  Helen  of  Troy, 
a  fair  mischief,  who  gave  rise  to  continual  strife.  She  reappears  in  Ariosto's  "  Orlando 
Furioso."  Orlando  goes  mad  for  love  of  her.  We  must  remember,  when  we  marvel 
somewhat  at  this  blending  ot  truth  and  hction,  that  the  poems  ot  Ariosto  and  Boiardo  had 
probably  been  the  delight  of  Milton's  youth  ;  and  that  he  is  alluding  to  the  greatest  poets 
of  bis  own  age,  not  merely  to  romances. 

^ —4^ 


■e? 


366  PARADISE  REGAINED, 

His  daughter,  sought  by  many  prowest^  knights. 
Both  Paynim,  and  the  peers  of  Charlemain. 
Such  and  so  numerous  was  their  chivalry ; 
At  sight  whereof  the  fiend  yet  more  presumed. 
And  to  our  Savior  thus  his  words  renew'd. 

That  thou  may'st  know  I  seek  not  to  engage 
Thy  virtue,  and  not  every  way  secure 
On  no  slight  grounds  thy  safety,  hear  and  mark 
To  what  end  I  have  brought  thee  hither  and  shown 
All  this  fair  sight;  thy  kingdom,  though  foretold 
By  prophet  or  by  angel,  unless  thou 
Endeavor,  as  thy  fatlicr  David  did, 
Thou  never  shalt  obtain  ;  prediction  still 
In  all  things,  and  all  men,  supposes  means. 
Without  means  used,  what  it  predicts  revokes. 
But  say  thou  wert  possess'd  of  David's  throne 
By  free  con  ent  of  all,  none  opposite 
Samaritan  or  Jew;   how  could'st  thou  hope 
Long  to  enjoy  it  quiet  and  secure, 
Between  two  such  enclosing  enemies, 
Roman  and  Parthian  ?  therefore  one  of  these 
Thou  must  make  sure  thy  own.  the  Parthian  first 
By  my  advice,  as  nearer,  and  of  late 
Found  able  by  invasion  to  annoy 
Thy  country,  and  captive  lead  away  her  kings, 
Antigonus,  and  old  Hyrcanus^  bound, 
Maugre  the  Roman.     It  shall  be  my  task 
To  render  thee  the  Parthian  at  dispose  ; 
Choose  which  thou  wilt,  by  conquest  or  by  league 
By  him  thou  shalt  regain,  without  him  not. 
That  which  alone  can  truly  reinstall  thee 
In  David's  royal  seat,  his  true  successor, 


1  Prowest  is  the  superlative  of  prow,  from  the  old  French  preux,  valiant. — DUNSTER. 
>  The  Parthians  led  Hyrcanus  away  captive  to  Seleucia  when  he  was  seventy  years  old. — 
See  JOSEPilUS. 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  367 

Deliverance  of  thy  brethren,  those  ten  tribes, 
Whose  offspring  in  his  territory  yet  serve, 
In  Habor,  and  among  the  Medes  dispersed ; 
Ten  sons  of  Jacob,  two  of  Joseph  lost 
Thus  long  from  Israel,  serving,  as  of  old 
Their  fathers  in  the  land  of  Egypt  served, 
This  offer  sets  before  thee  to  deliver. 
These  if  from  servitude  thou  shalt  restore 
To  their  inheritance,  then,  nor  till  then. 
Thou  on  the  throne  of  David  in  full  glory, 
From  Egypt  to  Euphrates  and  beyond, 
Shalt  reign,  and  Rome  or  Caesar  not  need  fear. 

To  whom  our  Saviour  answer'd  thus  unmoved. 
Much  ostentation  vain  of  fleshly  arm. 
And  fragile  arms,  much  instrument  of  war 
Long  in  preparing,  soon  to  nothing  brought, 
Before  mine  eyes  thou  hast  set ;  and  in  my  ear 
Vented  much  policy,  and  projects  deep 
Of  enemies,  of  aids,  battles,  and  leagues, 
Plausible  to  the  world,  to  me  worth  nought. 
Means  I  must  use,  thou  say'st,  prediction  else 
Will  unpredict  and  fail  me  of  the  throne. 
My  time,  I  told  thee,  (and  that  time  for  thee 
Were  better  farthest  off,)  is  not  yet  come ; 
When  that  comes,  think  not  thou  to  find  me  slack 
On  my  part  aught  endeavoring,  or  to  need 
Thy  politic  maxims,  or  that  cumbersome 
Luggage  of  war  there  shown  me,  argument 
Of  human  weakness  rather  than  of  strength. 
My  brethren,  as  thou  call'st  them,  those  ten  tribes 
I  must  deliver,  if  I  mean  to  reign 
David's  true  heir,  and  his  full  sceptre  sway 
To  just  extent  over  all  Israel's  sons. 
But  whence  to  thee  this  zeal,  where  was  it  then 
For  Israel,  or  for  David,  or  his  throne. 
When  thou  stood'st  up  his  tempter  to  the  pride 


^ 


s -^ 

368  "  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Of  numb'ring  Israel,  which  cost  the  hves 
Of  threescore  and  ten  thousand  Israelites 
By  three  days'  pestilence  ?'  such  was  thy  zeal 
To  Israel  then,  the  same  that  now  to  me. 
As  for  those  captive  tribes,  themselves  were  they 
Who  wrought  their  own  captivity,  fell  off 
From  God  to  worship  calves,  the  deities 
Egypt,  Baal  next,  and  Ashtaroth, 
And  all  th'  idolatries  of  heathen  round. 
Besides  their  other  worse  than  heathenish  crimes ;  * 
Nor  in  the  land  of  their  captivity. 
Humbled  themselves,  or  penitent  besought 
The  God  of  their  forefathers  ;  but  so  died 
Impenitent,  and  left  a  race  behind 
Like  to  themselves,  distinguishable  scarce 
From  Gentiles,  but  by  circumcision  vain, 
And  God  with  idols  in  their  worship  join'd. 
Should  I  of  these  the  liberty  regard. 
Who  freed  as  to  their  ancient  patrimony, 
Unhumbled,  unrepentant,  unreforin'd, 
Headlong  would  follow ;  and  to  their  gods  perhaps 
Of  Bethel  and  of  Dan?  no,  let  them  serve 
Their  enemies,  who  serve  idols  with  God. 
Yet  he  at  length,  time  to  himself  best  known, 
Rememb'ring  Abraham,  by  some  wondrous  call 
May  bring  them  back  repentant  and  sincere. 
And  at  their  passing  cleave  the  Assyrian  flood. 
While  to  their  native  land  with  joy  they  haste, 
As  the  Red  Sea  a.nd  Jordan  once  he  cleft, 
When  to  the  promised  land  their  fathers  pass'd; 
To  his  due  time  and  providence  I  leave  them. 
So  spake  Israel's  true  king,  and  to  the  fiend 
Made  answer  meet,  that  made  void  all  his  wiles. 
So  fares  it  when  with  truth  falsehood  contends. 

1  I  Chron.  xxi.  i. 

4^-^ ^-4^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  369 


BOOK  IV. 

Perplex'd  and  troubled  at  his  bad  success 

The  tempter  stood,  nor  had  what  to  reply, 

Discover'd  in  his  fraud,  thrown  from  his  hope 

So  oft,  and  the  persuasive  rhetoric 

That  sleek'd  his  tongue,  and  won  so  much  on  Eve ; 

So  little  here,  nay  lost:  but  Eve  was  Eve, 

This  far  his  over-match,  who  self-deceived 

And  rash  before-hand  had  no  better  weigh'd 

The  strength  he  was  to  cope  with,  or  his  own : 

But  as  a  man  who  had  been  matchless  held 

In  cunning,  over-reach'd  where  least  he  thought, 

To  salve  his  credit,  and  for  very  spite. 

Still  will  be  tempting  him  who  foils  him  still, 

And  never  cease,  though  to  his  shame  the  more ; 

Or  as  a  swarm  of  flies  in  vintage  time. 

About  the  wine-press  where  sweet  must  is  pour'd, 

Beat  off,  returns  as  oft  with  humming  sound  ; 

Or  surging  waves  against  a  solid  rock, 

Though  all  to  shivers  dash'd,  the  assault  renew, 

Vain  batt'ry,  and  in  froth  or  bubbles  end; 

So  Satan,  whom  repulse  upon  repulse 

Met  ever,  and  to  shameful  silence  brought. 

Yet  gives  not  o'er,  though  desperate  of  success, 

And  his  vain  importunity  pursues. 

He  brought  our  Savior  to  the  western  side 

Of  that  high  mountain,  whence  he  might  behold 

Another  plain,^  long,  but  in  breadth  not  wide, 

Wash'd  by  the  southern  sea,  and  on  the  north 

1  Italy,  washed  by  the  Mediterranean. 
24 

<^ ^ 


<b 


370  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

To  equal  length  back'd  with  a  ridge  of  hills/ 
That  screen'd  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  seats  of  men 
From  cold  Septentrion  blasts,  thence  in  the  midst 
Divided  by  a  river,  of  whose  banks 
On  each  side  an  imperial  city  stood, 
With  towers  and  temples  proudly  elevate 
On  seven  small  hills,  with  palaces  adorn'd, 
Porches,  and  theatres,  baths,  aqueducts, 
Statues,  and  trophies,  and  triumphal  arcs. 
Gardens,  and  groves  presented  to  his  eyes. 
Above  the  highth  of  mountains  interposed: 
By  what  strange  parallax  or  optic  skill 
Of  vision,  multiplied  through  air,  or  glass 
Of  telescope,  were  curious  to  enquire: 
And  now  the  tempter  thus  his  silence  broke. 
The  city  which  thou  seest  no  other  deem 
Than  great  and  glorious  Rome,  queen  of  the  earth 
So  far  renown'd,  and  with  the  spoils  enrich'd 
Of  nations ;  there  the  Capitol  thou  seest 
Above  the  rest  lifting  his  stately  head 
On  the  Tarpeian  rock,  her  citadel 
Impregnable,  and  there  mount  Palatine, 
Th'  imperial  palace,  compass  huge,  and  high 
The  structure,  skill  of  noblest  architects. 
With  gilded  battlements  conspicuous  far, 
Turrets,  and  terraces,  and  glittering  spires. 
Many  a  fair  edifice  besides,  more  like 
Houses  of  gods,  so  well  I  have  disposed 
My  aery  microscope,  thou  mayst  behold 
Outside  and  inside  both,  pillars  and  roofs, 
Carved  work,  the  hand  of  famed  artificers 
In  cedar,  marble,  ivory  or  gold. 
Thence  to  the  gates  cast  round  thine  eye,  and  see 
What  conflux  issuing  forth,  or  ent'ring  in, 


1  The  Apennines. 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  ij\ 

Praetors,  proconsuls  to  their  provinces 

Hasting,  or  on  return,  in  robes  of  state; 

Lictors  and  rods,  the  ensigns  of  their  power. 

Legions  and  cohorts,  turms'  of  horse  and  wings; 

Or  embassies  from  regions  far  remote 

In  various  habits  on  the  Appian  road, 

Or  on  th'  Emihan,^  some  from  farthest  south 

Syene,^  and  where  the  shadow  both  way  falls, 

Meroe,  Nilotic  isle,  and  more  to  west. 

The  realm  of  Bocchus*  to  the  Black-moor  sea; 

From  the  Asian  kings  and  Parthian,  among  these, 

From  India  and  the  golden  Chersonese, 

And  utmost  Indian  isle  Taprobane, 

Dusk  faces  with  white  silken  turbans  wreath'd : 

From  Gallia,  Gades,^  and  the  British  west, 

Germans,  and  Scythians,  and  Sarmatians  north 

Beyond  Danubius  to  the  Tauric  pool.® 

All  nations  now  to  Rome  obedience  pay, 

To  Rome's  gr^at  emperor,  whoSe  wide  domain 

In  ample  territory,  wealth,  and  power, 

Civility  of  manners,  arts,  and  arms, 

And  long  renown,  thou  justly  may'st  prefer 

Before  the  Parthian ;  these  two  thrones  except, 

The  rest  are  barbarous,  and  scarce  worth  the  sight, 

Shared  among  petty  kings  too  far  removed. 

These  having  shown  thee,  I  have  shown  thee  all 

The  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and  all  their  glory. 

This  emperor'^  hath  no  son,  and  now  is  old, 

Old  and  lascivious,  and  from  Rome  retired 

To  Capreae,  an  island  small  but  strong 

1  Troops  of  horse,  a  word  coined  from  the  Latin  turtna.     •' Equitum  turmae.'" — ViRG. 
y£«.  V.  360. — Newton. 

2  The  Appian  road  led  towards  the  south  of  Italy,  and  the  Emilian  towards  the  north. 

3  Put  for  the  farthest  point  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

*  Mauritania.  *  Cadiz,  in  Spain,  the  extreme  west  of  the  Roman  Empire. 

6  Palus  Moeotis,  or  Black  Sea.  '  Tiberius. 


^ -^ 

372  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

On  the  Campanian  shore,  with  purpose  there 

His  horrid  lusts  in  private  to  enjoy, 

Committing  to  a  wicked  favorite' 

All  public  cares,  and  yet  of  him  suspicious, 

Hated  of  all  and  hating :  with  what  ease, 

Indued  with  regal  virtues  as  thou  art, 

Appearing  and  beginning  noble  deeds, 

Might'st  thou  expel  this  monster  from  his  throne 

Now  made  a  sty,  and,  in  his  place  ascending, 

A  victor  people  free  from  servile  yoke? 

And  with  my  help  thou  may'st ;  to  me  the  power 

Is  given,  and  by  that  right  I  give  it  thee. 

Aim  therefore  at  no  less  than  all  the  world, 

Aim  at  the  highest  without  the  highest  attain'd 

Will  be  for  thee  no  sitting,  or  not  long, 

On  David's  throne,  be  prophesied  what  will. 

To  whom  the  Son  of  God  unmoved  replied. 
Nor  doth  this  grandeur  and  majestic  show 
Of  luxury,  though  cail'd  magnificence, 
More  than  of  arms  before,  allure  mine  eye. 
Much  less  my  mind;  though  thou  should'st  add  to  tell 
Their  sumptuous  gluttonies  and  gorgeous  feasts 
On  citron  tables^  or  Atlantic  stone, 
For  I  have  also  heard,  perhaps  have  read. 
Their  wines  of  Setia,  Cales,  and  Falerne,^ 
Chios,  and  Crete,^  and  how  they  quaff  in  gold, 
Crystal  and  myrrhine  cups  emboss'd  with  gems 
And  studs  of  pearl,  to  me  should'st  tell  who  thirst 
And  hunger  still.     Then  embassies  thou  show'st 
From  nations  far  and  nigh.     What  honor  that, 

1  Sejanus. 

2  Tables  of  citron-wood  were  very  highly  valued  by  the  Romans.  It  grew  on  Mount 
Atlas.  Atlantic  stone  was  probably  marble  from  Numidia.  Pliny,  in  his  //w/.  Nat.  lib.  v. 
c.  i.,  says  that  the  woods  of  Atlas  were  explored  for  citron-wood. 

3  These  were  famous  Campanian  wines.     Falerian  was  the  best  wine  they  possessed. 
*  Greek  wines. 

^ -^ 


a- ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  373 

But  tedious  waste  of  time  to  sit  and  hear 

So  many  hollow  compliments  and  lies, 

Outlandish  flatteries  ?  then  proceed'st  to  talk 

Of  the  emperor,  hovv  easily  subdued, 

How  gloriously  ;  I  shall,  thou  say'st,  expel 

A  brutish  monster:  what  if  I  withal 

Expel  a  devil  who  first  made  him  such  ? 

Let  his  tormentor  conscience  find  him  out; 

For  him  I  was  not  sent,  nor  yet  to  free 

That  people,  victor  once,  now  vile  and  base, 

Deservedly  made  vassal,  who,  once  just, 

Frugal,  and  mild,  and  temperate,  conquer'd  well, 

But  govern  ill  the  nation  under  yoke. 

Peeling  their  provinces,  exhausted  all 

But  lust  and  rapine  ;  first  ambitious  grown 

Of  triumph,  that  insulting  vanity; 

Then  cruel,  by  their  sports  to  blood  inured 

Of  fighting  beasts,  and  men  to  beasts  exposed, 

Luxurious  by  their  wealth,  and  greedier  still, 

And  from  the  daily  scene  effeminate. 

What  wise  and  valiant  man  would  seek  to  free 

These  thus  degenerate,  by  themselves  enslaved. 

Or  could  of  inward  slave  make  outward  free? 

Know  therefore,  when  my  season  comes  to  sit 

On  David's  throne,  it  shall  be  like  a  tree 

Spreading  and  overshadowing  all  the  earth. 

Or  as  a  stone  that  shall  to  pieces  dash 

All  monarchies  besides  throughout  the  world. 

And  of  my  kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end. 

Means  there  shall  be  to  this,  but  what  the  means. 

Is  not  for  thee  to  know,  nor  me  to  tell. 

To  whom  the  tempter  impudent  replied, 
I  see  all  offers  made  by  me  how  slight 
Thou  valu'st,  because  ofifer'd,  and  reject'st; 
Nothing  will  please  the  difficult  and  nice. 
Or  nothing  more  than  still  to  contradict. 

a^ , ^ 


C7- 


^ 


374  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

On  the  other  side  know  also  thou,  that  I 
On  what  I  offer  set  as  high  esteem, 
Nor  what  I  part  with  mean  to  give  for  nought  ; 
All  these  which  in  a  moment  thou  behold'st, 
The  kingdoms  of  the  world  to  thee  I  give ; 
For,  giv'n  to  me,  I  give  to  whom  I  please, 
No  trifle ;  yet  with  this  reserve,  not  else, 
On  this  condition,  if  thou  wilt  fall  down. 
And  worship  me  as  thy  superior  lord, 
Easily  done,  and  hold  them  all  of  me  : 
For  what  can  less  so  great  a  gift  deserve? 

Whom  thus  our  Savior  answer'd  with  disdain. 
I  never  liked  thy  talk,  thy  offers  less, 
Now  both  abhor,  since  thou  hast  dared  to  utter 
The  abominable  terms,  impious  condition  ; 
But  I  endure  the  time,  till  which  expired, 
Thou  hast  permission  on  me.     It  is  written 
The  first  of  all  commandments.  Thou  shalt  worship 
The  Lord  thy  God,  and  only  him  shalt  serve ; 
And  dar'st  thou  to  the  Son  of  God  propound 
To  worship  thee  accurst,  now  more  accurst 
For  this  attempt,  bolder  than  that  on  Eve, 
And  more  blasphemous?  which  expect  to  rue. 
The  kingdoms  of  the  world  to  thee  were  giv'n. 
Permitted  rather,  and  by  thee  usurp'd. 
Other  donation  none  thou  canst  produce  : 
If  giv'n,  by  whom  but  by  the  King  of  kings, 
God  over  all  Supreme  ?  if  given  to  thee, 
By  thes  how  fairly  is  the  giver  now 
Repaid  ?  but  gratitude  in  thee  is  lost 
Long  since.     Wert  thou  so  void  of  fear  or  shame. 
As  offer  them  to  me  the  Son  of  God, 
To  me  my  own,  on  such  abhorred  pact. 
That  I  fall  down  and  worship  thee  as  God? 
Get  thee  behind  me  ;  plain  thou  now  appear'st 
That  evil  one,  Satan  for  ever  damn'd. 


% 


-4 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  375 

To  whom  the  fiend  with  fear  abash'd  replied. 
Be  not  so  sore  offended,  Son  of  God, 
Though  sons  of  God  both  angels  are  and  men, 
If  I,  to  try  whether  in  higher  sort 
Than  these  thou  bear'st  that  title,  have  proposed 
What  both  from  men  and  angels  I  receive, 
Tetrachs  of  fire,  air,  flood,  and  on  the  earth 
Nations  besides  from  all  the  quarter'd  winds, 
God  of  this  world  invoked  and  world  beneath  ; 
Who  then  thou  art,  whose  coming  is  foretold 
To  me  so  fatal,  me  it  most  concerns. 
The  trial  hath  indamaged  thee  no  way. 
Rather  more  honor  left  and  more  esteem  ; 
Me  nought  advantaged,  missing  what  I  aim'd. 
Therefore  let  pass,  as  they  are  transitory. 
The  kingdoms  of  this  world ;   I  shall  no  more 
Advise  thee;  gain  them  as  thou  canst,  or  not. 
And  thou  thyself  Seem'st  otherwise  inclined 
Than  to  a  worldly  crown,  addicted  more 
To  contemplation  and  profound  dispute. 
As  by  that  early  action  may  be  judged, 
When  slipping  from  thy  mother's  eye,  thou  vvent'st 
Alone  into  the  temple,  thou  wast  found 
Amongst  the  gravest  rabbles  disputant 
On  points  and  questions  fitting  Moses'  chair, 
Teaching,  not  taught.     The  childhood  shows  the  man, 
As  morning  shows  the  day.     Be  famous  then 
By  wisdom  ;  as  thy  empire  must  extend. 
So  let  extend  thy  mind  o'er  all  the  world 
In  knowledge,  all  things  in  it  comprehend  : 
AH  knowledge  is  not  couch'd  in  Moses'  law. 
The  Pentateuch,  or  what  the  prophets  wrote ; 
The  Gentiles  also  know,  and  write,  and  teach 
To  admiration,  led  by  nature's  light ; 
And  with  the  Gentiles  much  thou  must  converse, 
Ruling  them  by  persuasion  as  thou  mean'st; 


a- 


^ 


3/6  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Without  their  learning  how  wilt  thou  with  them, 

Or  they  with  thee,  hold  conversation  meet  ? 

How  wilt  thou  reason  with  them?  how  refute 

Their  idolisms,  traditions,  paradoxes  ? 

Error  by  his  own  arms  is  best  evinced. 

Look  once  more,  ere  we  leave  this  specular  mount, 

Westward,  much  nearer  by  south-west,  behold 

Where  on  the  yEgean  shore  a  city  stands 

Built  nobly,  pure  the  air,  and  light  the  soil, 

Athens  the  eye  of  Greece,^  mother  of  arts 

And  eloquence,  native  to  famous  wits, 

Or  hospitable,  in  her  sweet  recess, 

City  or  suburban,  studious  walks  and  shades  ; 

See  there  the  olive  grove  of  Academe,^ 

Plato's  retirement,  where  the  Attic  bird^ 

Trills  her   thick-warbled  notes  the  summer  long; 

There  flow'ry  hill  Hymettus  with  the  sound 

Of  bees'  industrious  murmur  oft  invites 

To  studious  musing;  there  Ilissus  rolls 

His  whispering  stream ;  within  the  walls  then  view 

The  schools  of  ancient  sages;  his*  who  bred 

Great  Alexander  to  sudue  the  world; 

Lyceum  there,  and  painted  Stoa  next. 

There  thou  shalt  hear  and  learn  the  secret  power 

Of  harmony,  in  tones  and  numbers  hit 

By  voice  or  hand,  and  various-measured  verse, 

/Eolian  charms^  and  Dorian  lyric  odes, 

I  So  called  by  Demosthenes. — NfiWTON. 

^  "A  gymnasium,  or  place  of  exercise,"  in  the  suburbs  of  Athens,  surrounded  by  woods. 
It  took  its  name  from  Academus,  one  of  the  heroes.  In  this  Academe,  or  Academy,  Plato 
taught. 

•*  The  nightingale;  i.e.,  Philomela,  the  daughter  of  Pandion,  King  of  Athens,  was 
changed  into  a  nightingale. 

^  Aristotle.  The  Lyceum  was  the  school  of  Aristotle.  Stoa  was  the  school  of  Zeno, 
whose  disciples  were  hence  called  Stoics.  This  Stoa,  ox  portico  was  adorned  with  a  variety 
of  paintings. 

6  /Eolian  charms.  The  poems  of  Alcoeus  and  Sappho  ;  the  Dorian  lyric  odes  were  those 
of  Pindar.— Newton. 


I 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  377 

And  his  who  gave  them  breath,  but  higher  sung, 
BHnd  Melesigenes/  thence  Homer  call'd, 
Whose  poem  Phoebus  challenged  for  his  own. 
Thence  what  the  the  lofty  grave  tragedians  taught 
In  Chorus  or  lambick,  teachers  best 
Of  moral  prudence,  with  delight  received, 
In  brief  sententious  precepts,  while  they  treat 
Of  fate  and  chance,  and  change  in  human  life ; 
High  actions  and  high  passions  best  describing. 
Thence  to  the  famous  orators  repair, 
Those  ancient,  whose  resistless  eloquence 
Wielded  at  will  that  fierce  democratic, 
Shook  the  arsenal,  and  fulmin'd  over  Greece, 
To  Macedon,  and  Artaxerxes'  throne : 
To  sage  philosophy  next  lend  thine  ear. 
From  heav'n  descended  to  the  low-rooft  house 
Of  Socrates;  see  there  his  tenement, 
Whom  well  inspired  the  oracle  pronounced 
Wisest  of  men ;  from  whose  mouth  issued  forth 
Mellifluous  streams  that  vvater'd  all  the  schools 
Of  Academics^  old  and  new,  with  those 
Surnamed  Peripatetics,^  and  the  sect 
Epicurean,  and  the  Stoic  severe ; 
These  here  revolve,  or,  as  thou  lik'st,  at  home, 
Till  time  mature  thee  to  a  kingdom's  weight ; 
These  rules  will  render  thee  a  king  complete 
Within  thyself,  much  more  with  empire  join'd. 

To  whom  our  Saviour  thus  sagely  replied. 
Think  not  but  that  I  know^  these  things,  or  think 
I  know  them  not ;  not  therefore  am  I  short 
Of  knowing  what  I  ought :  he  who  receives 
Light  from  above,  from  the  fountain  of  light, 

1  Homer  was  so  called  by  his  mother  because  he  was  born  near  the  River  Meles. 

2  The  old  Academic  philosophers  were  those  who  followed  Plato  ;   the  new,  those  who 
followed  Carneades. — See  DuNSTER. 

3  Pupils  of  Aristotle,  so  called  became  they  taught  while  walking, 

^ ^ -& 


^ -^ 

378  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

No  other  doctrine  needs,  though  granted  true : 

But  these  are  false,  or  little  else  but  dreams, 

Conjectures,  fancies,  built  on  nothing  firm. 

The  first  and  wisest  of  them  alP  professed 

To  know  this  only,  that  he  nothing  knew  ; 

The  next  to  fabling  fell  and  smooth  conceits  f 

A  third  sort  doubted  all  things,^  though  plain  sense ; 

Others  in  virtue  placed  felicity, 

But  virtue  join'd  with  riches  and  long  life  ; 

In  corporal  pleasure  he  and  careless  ease ; 

The  Stoic  last  in  philosophic  pride, 

By  him  call'd  virtue ;  and  his  virtuous  man, 

Wise,  perfect  in  himself,  and  all  possessing, 

Equal  to  God,  oft  shames  not  to  prefer, 

As  fearing  God  nor  man,  contemning  all 

Wealth,  pleasure,  pain  or  torment,  death  and  life. 

Which  when  he  lists  he  leaves,  or  boasts  he  can, 

For  all  his  tedious  talk  is  but  vain  boast. 

Or  subtle  shifts  conviction  to  evade. 

Alas  !  what  can  they  teach  and  not  mislead, 

Ignorant  of  themselves,  of  God  much  more. 

And  how  the  world  began,  and  how  man  fell 

Degraded  by  himself,  on  grace  depending  ? 

Much  of  the  soul  they  talk,  but  all  awry. 

And  in  themselves  seek  virtue,  and  to  themselves 

All  glory  arrogate,  to  God  give  none, 

Rather  accuse  him  under  usual  names, 

Fortune  and  fate,  as  one  regardless  quite 

Of  mortal  things.     Who  therefore  seeks  in  these 

True  wisdom,  finds  her  not,  or  by  delusion 

Far  worse,  her  false  resemblance  only  meets. 

An  empty  cloud."*     However,  many  books 

1  Socrates.  2  Plato. 

3  The  Pyrrhonians,  or  disciples  of  Pyrrho,  who  were  sceptics. — Newton. 
*An  allusion  to  the  fable  of  Ixion,  who  embraced  a  cloud  which  had  the  form  of  Juno. — 
Newton, 


4- 


4^ 


^ 


' — ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  379 

Wise  men  have  said  are  wearisome  •}  who  reads 

Incessantly,  and  to  his  reading  brings  not 

A  spirit  and  judgment  equal  or  superior, 

(And  what  he  brings  what  need  he  elsewhere  seek '') 

Uncertain  and  unsettled  still  remains, 

Deep  versed  in  books  and  shallow  in  himself, 

Crude  or  intoxicate,  collecting  toys, 

And  trifles  for  choice  matters,  worth  a  sponge  ; 

As  children  gathering  pebbles  on  the  shore. 

Or  if  I  would  delight  my  private  hours 

With  music  or  with  poem,  where  so  soon 

As  in  our  native  language  can  I  find 

That  solace  ?  all  our  law  and  story  strew'd 

With  hymns,  our  psalms  with  artful  terms  inscribed, 

Our  Hebrew  songs  and  harps  in  Babylon, 

That  pleased  so  well  our  victor's  ear,  declare 

That  rather  Greece  from  us  these  arts  derived  ; 

111  imitated,  while  they  loudest  sing 

The  vices  of  their  deities  and  their  own 

In  fable,  hymn,  or  song,  so  personating 

Their  gods  ridiculous,  and  themselves  past  shame. 

Remove  their  swelling  epithets,  thick  laid 

As  varnish  on  a  harlot's  cheek,  the  rest. 

Thin  sown,  with  aught  of  profit  or  delight. 

Will  far  be  found  unworthy  to  compare 

With  Sion's  songs,  to  all  true  tastes  excelling, 

Where  God  is  praised  aright,  and  godlike  men, 

The  Holiest  of  Holies,  and  his  saints: 

Such  are  from  God  inspired,  not  such  from  thee, 

Unless  where  moral  virtue  is  express'd 

By  light  of  nature  not  in  all  quite  lost. 

Their  orators  thou  then  extol'st,  as  those 

The  top  of  eloquence,  statists  indeed, 

And  lovers  of  their  country,  as  may  seem  ; 


^ 


^ 


380  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

But  herein  to  our  prophets  far  beneath, 
As  men  divinely  taught,  and  better  teaching 
The  solid  rules  of  civil  government 
In  their  majestic  unaffected  style, 
Than  all  the  oratory  of  Greece  and  Rome. 
In  them  is  plainest  taught,  and  easiest  learnt, 
What  makes  a  nation  happy,  and  keeps  it  so, 
What  ruins  kingdoms,  and  lays  cities  flat ; 
These  only  with  our  law  best  form  a  king. 

So  spake  the  Son  of  God  ;  but  Satan,  now, 
Quite  at  a  loss,  for  all  his  darts  were  spent. 
Thus  to  our  Saviour  with  stern  brow  replied. 

Since  neither  wealth,  nor  honor,  arms,  nor  arts, 
Kingdom  nor  empire  pleases  thee,  nor  aught 
By  me  proposed  in  life  contemplative 
Or  active,  tended  on  by  glory  or  fame. 
What  dost  thou  in  this  world  ?  the  wilderness 
For  thee  is  fittest  place  ;  I  found  thee  there, 
And  thither  will  return  thee ;  yet  remember 
What  I  foretell  thee,  soon  thou  shalt  have  cause 
To  wish  thou  never  hadst  rejected  thus 
Nicely  or  cautiously  my  offer'd  aid. 
Which  would  have  set  thee  in  short  time  with  ease 
On  David's  throne,  or  throne  of  all  the  world, 
Now  at  full  age,  fulness  of  time,  thy  season. 
When  prophecies  of  thee  are  best  fulfill'd. 
Now  contrary,  if  I  read  aught  in  heav'n, 
Or  heav'n  write  aught  of  fate,  by  what  the  stars. 
Voluminous,  or  single  characters. 
In  their  conjunction  met,  give  me  to  spell, 
Sorrows,  and  labors,  opposition,  hate, 
Attends  thee,  scorns,  reproaches,  injuries, 
Violence,  and  stripes,  and  lastly  cruel  death ; 
A  kingdom  they  portend  thee,  but  what  kingdom. 
Real  or  allegoric,  I  discern  not, 
Nor  when,  eternal  sure,  as  without  end, 


^ 


-^ 


^ 


^ 


PARADISE  REGAINED.  381 

Without  beginning ;  for  no  date  prefixt 
Directs  me  in  the  starry  rubric  set. 

So  saying  he  took,  for  still  he  knew  his  pow'r 
Not  yet  expired,  and  to  the  wilderness 
Brought  back  the  Son  of  God,  and  left  him  there, 
Feigning  to  disappear.     Darkness  now  rose, 
As  daylight  sunk,  and  brought  in  low'ring  Night, 
Her  shadowy  offspring,  unsubstantial  both, 
Privation  mere  of  light  and  absent  day. 
Our  Saviour,  meek  and  with  untroubled  mind 
After  his  aery  jaunt,  though  hurried  sore, 
Hungry  and  cold  betook  him  to  his  rest. 
Wherever,  under  some  concourse  of  shades, 
Whose  branching  arms  thick  intertwined  might  shield 
From  dews  and  damps  of  night  his  shelter'd  head. 
But  shelter'd  slept  in  vain,  for  at  his  head 
The  tempter  watch'd,  and  soon  with  ugly  dreams 
Disturbed  his  sleep:  and  either  tropic  now 
'Gan  thunder,  and  both  ends  of  heav'n  the  clouds 
From  many  a  horrid  rift  abortive  pour'd 
Fierce  rain  with  light'ning  mix'd,  water  with  fire 
In  ruin  reconciled :  nor  slept  the  winds 
Within  their  stony  caves,  but  rush'd  abroad 
From  the  four  hinges'  of  the  world,  and  fell 
On  the  vext  wilderness,  whose  tallest  pines. 
Though  rooted  deep  as  high,  and  sturdiest  oaks 
Bow'd  their  stiff  necks,  loaden  with  storm}-  blasts, 
Or  torn  up  sheer:   ill  wast  thou  shrouded  then, 
O  patient  Son  of  God,  yet  only  stood'st 
Unshaken  ;  nor  yet  staid  the  terror  there. 
Infernal  ghosts  and  hellish  furies  round 
Environ'd  thee ;  some  howl'd,  some  yell'd,  some  shriek'd, 
Some  bent  at  thee  their  fiery  darts,  while  thou 
Sat'st  unappall'd  in  calm  and  sinless  peace. 

1  The  cardinal  points — north,  south,  east,  and  west.     Cardo,  from  whence  the  word  car- 
dinal is  derived,  signifies  a  hinge. 


^ 


382  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Thus  pass'd  the  night  so  foul,  till  morning  fair 
Came  forth  with  pilgrim  steps  in  amice  gray, 
Who  with  her  radiant  finger  still'd  the  roar 
Of  thunder,  chased  the  clouds,  and  laid  the  winds, 
And  grisly  spectres,  which  the  fiend  had  raised 
To  tempt  the  Son  of  God  with  terrors  dire. 
And  now  the  sun  with  more  effectual  beams 
Had  cheer'd  the  face  of  earth,  and  dried  the  wet 
From  drooping  plant  or  drooping  tree  ;  the  birds. 
Who  all  things  now  behold  more  fresh  and  green, 
After  a  night  of  storm  so  ruinous, 
Clear'd  up  their  choicest  notes  in  bush  and  spray, 
To  gratulate  the  sweet  return  of  morn : 
Nor  yet  amidst  this  joy  and  brightest  morn 
Was  absent,  after  all  his  mischief  done. 
The  prince  of  darkness,  glad  would  also  seem 
Of  this  fair  change,  and  to  our  Savior  came, 
Yet  with  no  new  device,  they  all  were  spent, 
Rather  by  this  his  last  affront  resolved. 
Desperate  of  better  course,  to  vent  his  rage. 
And  mad  despite  to  be  so  oft  repcll'd. 
Him  walking  on  a  sunny  hill  he  found, 
Back'd  on  the  north  and  west  by  a  thick  wood : 
Out  of  the  wood  he  starts  in  wonted  shape. 
And  in  a  careless  mood  thus  to  him  said. 

Fair  morning  yet  betides  thee.  Son  of  God, 
After  a  dismal  night:   I  heard  the  rack 
As  earth  and  sky  would  mingle,  but  myself 
Was  distant ;  and  these  flaws,^  though  mortals  fear  them 
As  dangerous  to  the  pillar'd  frame  of  heav'n. 
Or  to  the  earth's  dark  basis  underneath, 
Are  to  the  main  as  inconsiderable 
And  harmless,  if  not  wholesome,  as  a  sneeze 
To  man's  less  universe,  and  soon  are  gone ; 

1  A  sea  term  for  a  sudden  gust  of  wind. 


^ 


<b 


PARADISE  REGAINED. 

Yet  as  being  ofttimes  noxious  where  they  h'ght 

On  man,  beast,  plant,  wasteful,  and  turbulent, 

Like  turbulencies  in  the  affairs  of  men, 

Over  whose  heads  they  roar,  and  seem  to  point. 

They  oft  fore-signify  and  threaten  ill  : 

This  tempest  at  this  desert  most  was  bent : 

Of  men  at  thee,  for  only  thou  here  dwell'st. 

Did  I  not  tell  thee,  if  thou  did'st  reject 

The  perfect  season  offer'd  with  my  aid 

To  win  thy  destined  seat,  but  wilt  prolong 

All  to  the  push  of  fate,  pursue  thy  way 

Of  gaining  David's  throne  no  man  knows  when, 

For  both  the  when  and  how  is  no  where  told, 

Thou  shalt  be  what  thou  art  ordain'd,  no  doubt; 

For  angels  have  proclaim'd  it,  but  concealing 

The  time  and  means ;  each  act  is  rightliest  done 

Not  when  it  must,  but  when  it  may  be  best. 

If  thou  observe  not  this,  be  sure  to  find, 

What  I  foretold  thee,  many  a  hard  assay 

Of  dangers,  and  adversities,  and  pains. 

Ere  thou  of  Israel's  sceptre  get  fast  hold  ; 

Whereof  this  ominous  night  that  closed  thee  round, 

So  many  terrors,  voices,  prodigies, 

May  warn  thee,  as  a  sure  fore-going  sign. 

So  talk'd  he,  while  the  Son  of  God  went  on 
And  staid  not,  but  in  brief  him  answer'd  thus. 

Me  worse  than  wet  thou  find'st  not ;  other  harm 
Those  terrors,  which  thou  speak'st  of,  did  me  none; 
I  never  fear'd  they  could,  though  noising  loud 
And  threat'ning  nigh  ;  what  they  can  do  as  signs 
Betok'ning,  or  ill-boding,  I  contemn 
As  false  portents,  not  sent  from  God,  but  thee ; 
Who,  knowing  I  shall  reign  past  thy  preventing, 
Obtrud'st  thy  offer'd  aid,  that  I  accepting 
At  least  might  seem  to  hold  all  pow'r  of  thee, 
Ambitious  spirit!  and  would'st  be  thought  my  God, 


383 


^ 


^ 


a- -^ 

384  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

And  storm'st  refused,  thinking  to  terrify 
Me  to  thy  will.     Desist,  thou  art  discern'd 
And  toil'st  in  vain,  nor  me  in  vain  molest. 

To  whom  the  fiend  now  swoll'n  with  rage  replied. 
Then  hear,  O  Son  of  David,  virgin-born ; 
For  Son  of  God  to  me  is  yet  in  doubt : 
Of  the  Messiah  I  had  heard,  foretold 
By  all  the  prophets ;  of  thy  birth  at  length 
Announced  by  Gabriel  with  the  first  I  knew, 
And  of  the  angelic  song  in  Bethlehem  field, 
On  thy  birthnight,  that  sung  thee  Saviour  born. 
From  that  time  seldom  have  I  ceased  to  eye 
Thy  infancy,  thy  childhood,  and  thy  youth, 
Thy  manhood  last,  though  yet  in  private. bred ; 
Till  at  the  ford  of  Jordan,  whither  all 
Flock'd  to  the  Baptist,  I  among  the  rest, 
Though  not  to  be  baptized,  by  voice  from  heav'n 
Heard  thee  pronounced  the  Son  of  God  beloved. 
Thenceforth  I  thought  thee  worth  my  nearer  view 
And  narrower  scrutiny,  that  I  might  learn 
In  what  degree  or  meaning  thou  art  call'd 
The  Son  of  God,  which  bears  no  single  sense ; 
The  Son  of  God  I  also  am,  or  was, 
And  if  I  was  I  am  ;  relation  stands ; 
All  men  are  sons  of  God  ;  yet  thee  I  thought 
In  some  respect  far  higher  so  declared. 
Therefore  I  watch'd  thy  footsteps  from  that  hour, 
And  follow'd  thee  still  on  to  this  waste  wild ; 
Where  by  all  best  conjectures  I  collect 
Thou  art  to  be  my  fatal  enemy. 
Good  reason  then,  if  I  beforehand  seek 
To  understand  my  adversary,  who. 
And  what  he  is ;  his  wisdom,  power-,  intent; 
By  pari,  or  composition,  truce,  or  league, 
To  win  him,  or  win  from  him  what  I  can. 
And  opportunity  I  here  have  had 

<^ -^ 


a ^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  385 

To  try  thee,  sift  thee,  and  confess  have  found  thee      • 
Proof  against  all  temptation,  as  a  rock 
Of  adamant,  and  as  a  centre  firm, 
To  the  utmost  of  mere  man  both  wise  and  good, 
Not  more  ;  for  honors,  riches,  kingdoms,  glory, 
Have  been  before  contemn'd,  and  may  again  : 
Therefore  to  know  what  more  thou  art  than  man. 
Worth  naming  Son  of  God  by  voice  from  heav'n. 
Another  method  I  must  now  begin. 

So  saying  he  caught  him  up,  and  without  wing 
Of  hippogrif^  bore  through  the  air  sublime 
Over  the  wilderness  and  o'er  the  plain ; 
Till  underneath  them  fair  Jerusalem, 
The  holy  city,  lifted  high  her  towers. 
And  higher  yet  the  glorious  temple  rear'd 
Her  pile,  far  off  appearing  like  a  mount 
Of  alabaster,  topp'd  with  golden  spires  : 
There  on  the  highest  pinnacle  he  set 
The  Son  of  God,  and  added  thus  in  scorn. 

There  stand,  if  thou  wilt  stand  ;  to  stand  upright 
Will  ask  thee  skill ;  I  to  thy  Father's  house 
Have  brought  thee,  and  highest  placed  ;  highest  is  best ; 
Now  show  thy  progeny  ;  if  not  to  stand. 
Cast  thyself  down ;  safely,  if  Son  of  God  ; 
For  it  is  written.  He  will  give  command 
Concerning  thee  to  his  angels,  in  their  hands 
They  shall  uplift  thee,  lest  at  any  time 
Thou  chance  to  dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone. 

To  whom  thus  Jesus.     Also  it  is  written, 
Tempt  not  the  Lord  thy  God  :  he  said  and  stood  : 
But  Satan  smitten  with  amazement  fell. 
As  when  earth's  son  Antseus;^  to  compare 


1  A  fabulous  creature,  on  which  Ariosto's  heroes  were  borne  through  the  air. 

2  A  giant  of  Libya,  son  of  Terra  (the  earth)  and  Neptune  (the  sea).   Alcides  (Hercules) 
attacked  him  ;    and  as  every  time  the  giant  touched  the  earth  he  received  new  strength, 

25 


^ -^ 

386  PARADISE  REGAINED, 

Small  things  with  greatest,  in  Irassa  strove 

With  Jove's  Alcides,  and  oft  foil'd  still  rose, 

Receiving  from  his  mother  earth  new  strength, 

Fresh  from  his  fall,  and  fiercer  grapple  join'd, 

Throttled  at  length  in  th'  air,  expired  and  fell ; 

So  after  many  a  foil  the  tempter  proud. 

Renewing  fresh  assaults,  amidst  his  pride 

Fell  whence  he  stood  to  see  his  victor  fall. 

And  as  that  Theban  monster^  that  proposed 

Her  riddle,  and  him  who  solved  it  not,  devour'd, 

That  once  found  out  and  solved,  for  grief  and  spite 

Cast  herself  headlong  from  th'  Ismenian  steep ; 

So  struck  with  dread  and  anguish  fell  the  fiend, 

And  to  his  crew  that  sat  consulting,  brought 

Joyless  triumphals  of  his  hoped  success, 

Ruin,  and  dcsperation,and  dismay. 

Who  durst  so  proudly  tempt  the  Son  of  God. 

So  Satan  fell ;  and  straight  a  fiery  globe 

Of  angels  on  full  sail  of  wing  flew  nigh, 

Who  on  their  plumy  vans  received  Him  soft 

From  His  uneasy  station,  and  upbore 

As  on  a  floating  couch  through  the  blithe  air. 

Then  in  a  flow'ry  valley  set  Him  down 

On  a  green  bank,  and  set  before  Him  spread 

A  table  of  celestial  food,  divine, 

Ambrosial  fruits,  fetch'd  from  the  Tree  of  Life, 

And  from  the  Fount  of  Life  ambrosial  drink, 

That  soon  refresh'd  Him  wearied,  and  repair'd 

What  hunger,  if  aught  hunger  had  impair'd     . 

Or  thirst ;  and,  as  He  fed,  angelic  quires 

Sung  heav'nly  anthems  of  his  victory 

Over  temptation  and  the  tempter  proud. 

True  Image  of  the  Father,  whether  throned 
In  the  bosom  of  bliss,  and  light  of  light 

Hercules  lifted  him  up  into  the  air,  and  squeezed  him  to  death  in  his  arms.     Irassa  was  a 
city  in  Libya.  1  The  Sphinx. 

^ -4 


a -^ 

PARADISE  REGAINED.  387 

Conceiving,  or  remote  from  heav'n,  enshrined 

In  fleshly  tabernacle  and  human  form, 

VVand'ring  the  wilderness,  whatever  place, 

Habit,  or  state,  or  motion,  still  expressing 

The  Son  of  God,  with  god-like  force  indued 

Against  the  attempter  of  thy  Father's  throne. 

And  thief  of  paradise ;   him  long  of  old 

Thou  didst  debel,^  and  down  from  heav'n  cast 

With  all  his  army,  now  thou  has  avenged 

Supplanted  Adam,  and  by  vanquishing 

Temptation,  hast  regain'd  lost  Paradise  ; 

And  frustrated  the  conquest  fraudulent : 

Me  never  more  henceforth  will  dare  set  foot 

In  Paradise  to  tempt;  his  snares  are  broke  : 

For  though  that  seat  of  earthly  bliss  be  fail'd, 

A  fairer  paradise  is  founded  now 

For  Adam  and  his  chosen  sons,  whom  thou 

A  Savior  art  come  down  to  re-install 

Where  they  shall  dwell  secure,  when  time  shall  be. 

Of  tempter  and  temptation  without  fear. 

But  thou  infernal  serpent,  shalt  not  long 

Rule  in  the  clouds ;  like  an  autumnal  star 

Or  light'ning  thou  shalt  fall  from  heav'n,  trod  down 

Under  His  feet:  for  proof,  ere  this  thou  feel'st 

Thy  wound,  yet  not  thy  last  and  deadliest  wound^ 

By  this  repulse  received,  and  hold'st  in  hell 

No  triumph.     In  all  her  gates  Abaddon^  rues 

Thy  bold  attempt ;  hereafter  learn  with  awe 

To  dread  the  Son  of  God  :  he  all  unarm'd 

Shall  chase  thee  with  the  terror  of  his  voice 

From  thy  demoniac  holds,  possession  foul. 

Thee  and  thy  legions  ;  yelling  they  shall  fly, 

And  beg  to  hide  them  in  a  herd  of  swine. 

Lest  he  command  them  down  into  the  deep 

1  Conquer.  2  Rev.  ix.  11.     The  name  is  here  applied  to  hell. 

d^ — -^ 


^ -^ 

388  PARADISE  REGAINED. 

IJound,  and  to  torment  sent  before  their  time. 
Hail  Son  of  the  Most  High,  heir  of  both  worlds, 
Queller  of  Satan,  on  thy  glorious  work 
Now  enter,  and  begin  to  save  mankind. 

Thus  they  the  Son  of  God,  our  Saviour  meek 
Sung  victor,  and  from  heav'nly  feast  refresh'd 
Brought  on  his  way  with  joy  ;  he  unobserved 
Home  to  his  mother's  house  private  return'd. 


^fe- ^ 


f 


^ 


Samson  Agonistes. 


A  DRAMATIC  POEM. 


THE   AUTHOR, 


JOHN  MILTON. 


"TpayoiSi'a  ixiiJ.r)(Tii  7rpa|c(os  (T7TovSa^a^;,       &C. 

Aristot.  Poe<.  c.  vi. 

'Tragoedia  et  imitatio  actionis  serine,  &c.  per  misericordiam  et  metum  perficiens 
talium  affectuum  lustrationem." 


(389) 


c^ ^^ 


a- 


^ 


OF  THAT  SORT  OF  DRAMATIC  POEM   WHICH  IS 
CALLED  TRAGEDY. 


Preface  written  by  Milton. 

Tragedy,  as  it  was  anciently  composed,  hath  been  ever  held  the  gravest,  moralest,  and 
most  profitable  of  all  other  poems  ;  therefore  said  by  Aristotle  to  be  of  power,  by  raising 
pity,  and  fear,  or  terror,  to  purge  the  mind  of  those  and  such  like  passions,  that  is,  to  tem- 
per and  reduce  them  to  just  measure  with  a  kind  of  delight,  stirred  up  by  reading  or  seeing 
those  passions  well  imitated.  Nor  is  nature  wanting  in  her  own  effects  to  make  good  his 
assertion,  for  so  in  physic  things  of  melancholic  hue  and  quality  are  used  against  melan- 
choly, sour  against  sour,  salt  to  remove  salt  humors.  Hence  philosophers  and  other 
gravest  writers,  as  Cicero,  Plutarch,  and  others,  frequently  cite  out  of  tragic  poets,  both  to 
adorn  and  illustrate  their  discourse.  The  Apostle  Paul  himself  thought  it  not  unworthy  to 
insert  a  verse  of  Euripides  into  the  text  of  Holy  Scripture,  i  Cor.  xv.  31,1  and  Parseus, 
commenting  on  the  Revelation,  divides  the  whole  book,  as  a  tragedy,  into  acts,  distinguished 
each  by  a  chorus  of  heavenly  harpings  and  song  between.  Heretofore  men  in  highest 
dignity  have  labored  not  a  little  to  be  thought  able  to  compose  a  tragedy.  Of  that  honor 
Dionysius  the  elder  was  no  less  ambitious,  than  before  of  his  attainirg  to  the  tyranny. 
Augustus  C^sar  also  had  begun  his  "Ajax,"  but  unable  to  please  his  own  judgment  with 
what  he  had  begun,  left  it  unfinished.  Seneca,  the  philosopher,  is  by  so:i:e  thought  the 
author  of  those  tragedies,  at  least  the  best  of  them,  that  go  under  that  name.  Gregory 
Nazianzcn,  a  father  of  the  Church,  thought  it  not  unbeseeming  the  sanctity  of  his  person 
to  write  a  tragedy,  which  is  entitled,  "  Christ  Suffering."  This  is  mentioned  to  vindicate 
tragedy  from  the  small  esteem,  or  rather  infamy,  which  in  the  account  of  many  it  undergoes 
at  this  day  2  with  other  common  interludes;  happening  through  the  poet's  error  of  inter- 
mixing comic  stuff  with  tragic  sadness  and  gravity,  or  introducing  trivial  and  vulgar  persons, 
which  by  all  judicious  hath  been  counted  absurd,  and  brought  in  without  discretion,  cor- 
ruptly to  gratify  the  people.  And  though  ancient  tragedy  use  no  prologue,  yet  using  some- 
times, in  case  of  self-defence,  or  explanation,  that  which  Martial  calls  an  epistle,  in  behalf 
of  this  tragedy  coming  forth  after  the  ancient  manner,  much  different  from  what  among  us 
passes  for  best,  thus  much  beforehand  may  be  epistled  :  that  Chorus  is  here  introduced  after 
the  Greek  manner,  not  ancient  only  but  modern,  and  still  ia  use  among  the  Italians.  In 
the  modelling  therefore  of  this  poem,  with  good  reason,  the  ancients  and  Italians  are  rather 
followed,  as  of  much  more  authority  and  fame.  The  measure  of  verse  used  in  the  chorus  is 
of  all  sorts,  called  by  the  Greeks  Monostrophic,  or  rather  Apolelymenon,  without  regard 


^ 


1  "  Evil  communications  corrupt  good  manners.'" 

2  The  Puritans  held  the  drama  in  the  utmost  abhorrence.    It  was  probably  on  this  account 
that  the  Puritan  Poet  wrote  this  defence  of  tragedy,  to  justify  himself  for  writing  a  drama. 


(390) 


4" 


SAMSON  AGONISTES.  391 

had  to  Strophe,  Antistrophe,  or  Epode,  which  were  a  kind  of  stanzas  framed  only  for  the 
music  then  used  with  the  chorus  that  sung;  not  essential  to  the  poem,  and  therefore  not 
material ;  or  being  divided  into  stanzas  or  pauses,  they  may  be  called  Alloeostropha.  Divi- 
sion into  act  and  scene  referring  chiefly  to  the  stage,  to  which  this  work  never  was  intended, 
is  here  omitted. 

It  suffices  if  the  whole  drama  be  found  not  produced  beyond  the  fifth  act ;  of  the  style 
and  uniformity,  and  that  commonly  called  the  plot,  whether  intricate  or  explicit,  which  is 
nothing  indeed  but  such  economy,  or  disposition  of  the  fable  as  may  stand  best  with  veri- 
similitude ind  decorum,  they  only  will  best  judge  who  are  not  unacquainted  with  ^schuylus, 
Sophocles,  and  Euripides,  the  three  tragic  poets,  unequalled  yet  by  any,  and  the  best  rule 
to  all  who  endeavor  to  write  tragedy.  The  circumscription  of  time,  wherein  the  whole 
drama  begins  and  ends  is,  according  to  ancient  rule  and  best  examplci  within  the  sp.ice  of 
.  wenty-four  hours. 


^ 


^ : 97 

392  SAMSOy  AGOXISTES. 


SAMSON  AGONISTES.^ 

THE  ARGUMENT. 

Samson  made  captive,  blind,  and  now  in  the  prison  at  Gaza,  there  to  labor  as  in  a 
common  workhouse,  on  a  festival-day,  in  the  general  cessation  from  labor,  comes  forth  into 
the  open  air.  to  a  place  nigh,  somewhat  retired,  there  to  sit  awhile  and  bemoan  his  condi- 
tion; where  he  happens  at  length  to  be  visited  by  certain  friends  and  equals  of  his  tribe, 
which  make  the  chorus,  who  seek  to  comfort  him  what  they  can;  .then  by  his  old  father 
Manoah,  who  endeavors  the  like,  and  withal  tells  him  his  purpose  to  procure  his  liberty  by 
ransom;  and,  lastly,  that  this  feast  was  proclaimed  by  the  Philistines  as  a  day  of  thanks- 
giving for  their  deliverance  from  the  hands  of  Samson,  which  yet  more  troubles  him, 
Manoah  then  departs  to  prosecute  his  endeavor  with  the  Philistine  lords  for  Samson's  re 
demption;  who  in  the  meanwhile  is  visited  by  other  persons;  and  lastly  by  a  public  officer 
to  require  his  coming  to  the  feast  before  the  lords  and  people,  to  play  or  show  his  strength 
in  their  presence.  He  at  first  refuses,  dismissing  the  public  officer  with  absolute  denial  to 
come  ;  at  length  persuaded  inwardly  that  this  was  from  God,  he  yields  to  go  along  with  him, 
who  came  now  the  second  time  with  great  threatenings  to  fetch  him.  The  chorus  yet  re- 
maining on  the  place,  Manoah  returns  full  of  joyful  hope,  to  procure  ere  long  his  son's  de- 
liverance: in  the  midst  of  which  discourse  a  Hebrew  comes  in  haste,  confusedly  at  first,  and 
afterward  more  distinctly,  relating  the  catastrophe,  what  Samson  had  done  to  the  Philis- 
tines, and  by  accident  to  himself  ;   wherewith  the  tragedy  ends. 

THE  PERSONS. 

Samson.  1  Public  Officer. 

Manoah,  the  Father  of  Samson.  |  Messenger. 

Dalila,  his  Wife.  Chorus  of  Danites. 

Harapha  of  Gatb. 

The  Scene  before  the  Prison  in  Gaza. 

Sams.  A  little  onward  lend  thy  guiding  hand 
To  these  dark  steps,  a  little  further  on  ; 
For  yonder  bank  hath  choice  of  sun  or  shade: 
There  I  am  wont  to  sit,  when  any  chance 
Relieves  me  from  my  task  of  servile  toil. 
Daily  in  the  common  prison  else  enjoin'd  me, 

*  That  is,  Samson  an  actor;  or,  the  fate  of  Samson  acted  in  a  play.  "Agonistes," 
Dunster  supposes,  "  is  rather  here  athleta,  the  subject  being  Samson's  being  brought  forth  to 
exhibit  as  an  athlete." 

I 

^ ^ 


SAMSON  AGONISTES.  393 

Where  I,  a  prisoner  chain'd,  scarce  freely  draw 

The  air  imprison'd  also,  close  and  damp, 

Unwholesome  draught :  but  here  I  feel  amends, 

The  breath  of  heav'n  fresh  blowing,  pure  and  sweet, 

With  day-spring  born;  here  leave  me  to  respire. 

This  day  a  solemn  feast  the  people  hold 

To  Dagon,  their  sea-idol,  and  forbid 

Laborious  works,  unwillingly  this  rest 

Their  superstition  yields  me ;  hence  with  leave 

Retiring  from  the  popular  noise  I  seek 

This  unfrequented  place  to  find  some  ease ; 

Ease  to  the  body  some ;  none  to  the  mind 

From  restless  thoughts,  that,  like  a  deadly  swarm 

Of  hornets  arm'd,  no  sooner  found  alone, 

But  rush  upon  me  thronging,  and  present 

Times  past,  what  once  I  was,  and  what  am  now. 

Oh !  wherefore  was  my  birth  from  heav'n  foretold 

Twice  by  an  angel,  who  at  last  in  sight 

Of  both  my  parents  all  in  flames  ascended 

From  off  the  altar,  where  an  off'ring  burn'd, 

As  in  a  fiery  column  charioting 

His  god-like  presence,  and  from  some  great  act 

Or  benefit  reveal'd  to  Abraham's  race  ?^ 

Why  was  my  breeding  order'd  and  prescribed 

As  of  a  person  separate  to  God, 

Design'd  for  great  exploits,  if  I  must  die 

Betray'd,  captived,  and  both  my  eyes  put  out, 

Made  of  my  enemies  the  scorn  and  gaze. 

To  grind  in  brazen  fetters  under  task 

With  this  heav'n-gifted  strength  ?     O  glorious  strength 

Put  to  the  labor  of  a  beast,  debased 

Lower  than  bondslave !     Promise  was  that  I 

Should  Israel  from  Philistian  yoke  deliver; 

Ask  for  this  great  deliverer  now,  and  find  him 

1  Judges  xiii.  3,  11-20. 


^ 


•€? 


394  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Eyeless  in  Gaza  at  the  mill  with  slaves, 

Himself  in  bonds  under  Philistian  yoke. 

Yet  stay,  let  me  not  rashly  call  in  doubt 

Divine  prediction  :  what  if  all  foretold 

Had  been  fulfill'd  but  through  mine  own  default. 

Whom  have  I  to  complain  of  but  myself? 

Who  this  high  gift  of  strength  committed  to  me. 

In  what  part  lodged,  how  easily  bereft  me, 

Under  the  seal  of  silence  could  not  keep, 

But  weakly  to  a  woman  must  reveal  it, 

O'ercome  with  importunity  and  tears. 

O  impotence  of  mind  in  body  strong ! 

But  what  is  strength  without  a  double  share 

Of  wisdom  ?  vast,  unwieldy,  burthensome. 

Proudly  secure,  yet  liable  to  fall 

By  weakest  subtleties,  not  made  to  rule, 

But  to  subserve  where  wisdom  bears  command. 

God,  when  he  gave  me  strength,  to  show  withal 

How  slight  the  gift  was,  hung  it  in  my  hair. 

But  peace,  I  must  not  quarrel  with  the  will 

Of  highest  dispensation,  which  herein 

Haply  had  ends  above  my  reach  to  know : 

Suffices  that  to  me  strength  is  my  bane 

And  proves  the  source  of  all  my  miseries, 

So  many,  and  so  huge,  that  each  apart 

Would  ask  a  life  to  wail ;  but  chief  of  all, 

O  loss  of  sight,  of  thee  I  most  complain! 

Blind  among  enemies,  O  worse  than  chains, 

Dungeon,  or  beggary,  or  decrepit  age  ! 

Light  the  prime  work  of  God  to  me's  extinct, 

And  all  her  various  objects  of  delight 

Annull'd,  which  might  in  part  my  grief  have  eased 

Inferior  to  the  vilest  now  become 

Of  man  or  worm,  the  vilest  here  excel  me  ; 

They  creep,  yet  see,  I  dark  in  light  exposed 

To  daily  fraud,  contempt,  abuse,  and  wrong. 


% 


s- 


SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Within  doors,  or  without,  still  as  a  fool 

In  power  of  others,  never  in  my  own  ; 

Scarce  half  I  seem  to  live,  dead  more  than  half. 

O  dark,  dark,  dark,  amid  the  blaze  of  noon, 

Irrecoverably  dark,  total  eclipse 

Without  all  hope  of  day  ! 

O  first  created  beam,  and  thou  great  Word, 

Let  there  be  light,  and  light  was  over  all ; 

Why  am  I  thus  bereaved  thy  prime  decree? 

The  sun  to  me  is  dark 

^nd  silent  as  the  moon,^ 

When  she  deserts  the  night 

Hid  in  her  vacant  intcrlunar  cave. 

Since  light  so  necessary  is  to  life. 

And  almost  life  itself,  if  it  be  true 

That  light  is  in  the  soul. 

She  all  in  every  part ;  why  was  the  sight 

To  such  a  tender  ball  as  th'  eye  confined. 

So  obvious  and  so  easy  to  be  quench'd  ? 

And  not,  as  feeling,  through  all  parts  diffused, 

That  she  might  look  at  will  through  every  pore? 

Then  had  I  not  been  thus  exiled  from  light, 

As  in  the  land  of  darkness  yet  in  light, 

To  live  a  life  half  dead,  a  living  death. 

And  buried;  but  O  yet  more  miserable  ! 

Myself  my  sepulchre,  a  moving  grave, 

Buried,  yet  not  exempt 

By  privilege  of  death  and  burial 

From  worst  of  other  evils,  pains,  and  wrongs, 

But  made  hereby  obnoxious  more 

To  all  the  miseries  of  life, 

Life  in  captivity 

Among  inhuman  foes. 

But  who  are  these  ?  for  with  joint  pace  I  hear 


395 


1  Silenj  Itina  is  the  moon  at  or  near  the  change,  and  in  conjunction  with  the  sun. — 
Meadowcourt. 


^ 


4 


396  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

The  tread  of  many  feet  steering  this  way; 
Perhaps  my  enemies,  who  come  to  stare 
At  my  affliction,  and  perhaps  t'  insult, 
Their  daily  practice  to  afflict  me  more. 

Chor.  This,  this  is  he ;  softly  a  while, 
Let  us  not  break  in  upon  him  ; 
O  change  beyond  report,  thought,  or  belief! 
See  how  he  lies  at  random,  carelessly  diffused/ 
With  languish'd  head  unpropp'd, 
As  one  past  hope,  abandon'd, 

As  by  himself  given  over;  ^ 

In  slavish  habit,  ill-fitted  weeds 
O'er-worn  and  soil'd  ; 

Or  do  my  eyes  misrepresent  ?  can  this  be  he,  • 
That  heroic,  that  renown'd, 
Irresistible  Samson  ?  whom  unarm'd 

No  strength  of  man  or  fiercest  wild  beast  could  withstand; 
Who  tore  the  lion,  as  the  lion  tears  the  kid. 
Ran  on  imbattled  armies  clad  in  iron, 
And,  weaponless  himself. 
Made  arms  ridiculous,  useless  the  forgery 
Of  brazen  shield  and  spear,  the  hammer'd  cuirass 
Chalybean^  temper'd  steel,  and  frock  of  mail 
Adamantean  proof; 
But  safest  he  who  stood  aloof. 
When  insupportably  his  foot  advanced, 
In  scorn  of  their  proud  arms  and  warlike  tools, 
Spurn'd  them  to  death  by  troops.     The  bold  Ascalonite^ 
Fled  from  his  lion  ramp,"*  old  warriors  turn'd 
Their  plated  backs  under  his  heel : 


1  Stretched  out. 

■■'  The  Chalybes  were  famous  in  the  old  world  for  their  skill  in  working  iron.  Hence  the 
best  tempered  steel  was  called  Chalj'bean.  ViRG.  Georg.  I.  58.  "Ad  Chalybes  nud 
ferrum." — NeWTON. 

^  Philistine.      Ascalon  was  a  city  of  Philistia. 

*  "  Rampant,"  like  a  lion.     A  heraldic  term. 


a ■ 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  397 

Or  grov'ling  soil'd  their  crested  helmets  in  the  dust. 

Then  with  what  trivial  weapon  came  to  hand, 

The  jaw  of  a  dead  ass,  his  sword  of  bone, 

A  thousand  fore-skins  fell,  the  flower  of  Palestine 

In  Ramath-lechi,^  famous  to  this  day : 

Then  by  main  force  puU'd  up,  and  on  his  shoulders  bore 

The  gates  of  Azza,^  post,  and  massy  bar. 

Up  to  the  hill  by  Hebron,  seat  of  giants  old,^ 

No  journey  of  a  Sabbath  day,^  and  loaded  so ; 

Like  whom  the  Gentiles  feign  to  bear  up  heav'n.^ 

Which  shall  I  first  bewail, 

Thy  bondage  or  lost  sight 

Prison  within  prison 

Inseparably  dark  ? 

Thou  art  become,  O  worst  imprisonment ! 

The  dungeon  of  thyself;  thy  soul. 

Which  men  enjoying  sight  oft  without  cause  complain, 

Imprison'd  now  indeed, 

In  real  darkness  of  the  body  dwells, 

Shut  up  from  outward  light, 

T'  incorporate  with  gloomy  night ! 

For  inward  light,  alas ! 

Puts  forth  no  visual  beam. 

O  mirror  of  our  fickle  state. 

Since  man  on  earth  unparallel'd  ! 

The  rarer  thy  example  stands, 

By  how  much  from  the  top  of  wondrous  glory, 

Strongest  of  mortal  men, 

To  lowest  pitch  of  abject  fortune  thou  art  fall'n, 

For  him  I  reckon  not  in  high  estate, 

Whom  long  descent  of  birth 

1  Judges  XV.  17.     Ramath-lechi  means  the  lifting  up,  or  casting  away,  of  the  jaw-bone. 

2  Another  name  for  Gaza. 

3  The  city  of  the  Anakims,  who  were  giants.     Judges  xv.  13,  14.     Num.  xiii.  33. 
*  A  Sabbath  day's  journey  was,  with  the  Jews,  three-quarters  of  a  geographical  mile. 
5  Atlas. 


^ _^ 

398  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Or  the  sphere  of  fortune  raises  : 

But  thee,  whose  strength,  while  virtue  was  her  mate, 

Might  have  subdued  the  earth, 

Universally  crown'd  with  highest  praises. 

Sams.  I  hear  the  sound  of  words,  their  sense  the  air 
Dissolves  unjointed  ere  it  reach  my  ear. 

Chor.  He  speaks,  let  us  draw  nigh.     Matchless  in  might, 
The  glory  late  of  Israel,  now  the  grief, 
We  come,  thy  friends  and  neighbors  not  unknown. 
From  Eshtaol  and  Zora's^  fruitful  vale, 
To  visit  or  bewail  thee,  or,  if  better. 
Counsel  or  consolation  we  may  bring,       « 
Salve  to  thy  sores :  apt  words  have  power  to  swage 
The  tumors  of  a  troubled  mind, 
And  are  as  balm  to  fester'd  wounds. 

Sams.  Your  coming,  friends,  revives  me,  for  I  learn 
Now  of  my  own  experience,  not  by  talk, 
How  counterfeit  a  coin  they  are  who  friends 
Bear  in  their  superscription,  (of  the  most 
I  would  be  understood  ;)  in  prosperous  days 
They  swarm,  but  in  adverse  withdraw  their  head. 
Not  to  be  found,  though  sought.     Ye  see,  O,  friends, 
How  many  evils  have  inclosed  me  round  ; 
Yet  that  which  was  the  worse  now  least  afflicts  me, 
Blindness,  for  had  I  sight,  confused  with  shame, 
How  could  I  once  look  up,  or  heave  the  head, 
Who,  like  a  foolish  pilot,  have  shipwreck'd 
My  vessel  trusted  to  me  from  above. 
Gloriously  rigg'd ;  and  for  a  word,  a  tear, 
Fool !  have  divulged  the  secret  gift  of  God 
To  a  deceitful  woman  ?  tell  me  friends, 
Am  I  not  sung  and  proverb'd  for  a  fool 
In  every  street  ?  do  they  not  say,  how  well 
Are  come  upon  him  his  deserts  ?  yet  why  ? 

1  Towns  in  the  tribe  of  Dan.     Zora  was  the  birthplace  of  Samson. 

^^ ^ _^ 


^ 


^ 


SAMSON  AGONISTES.  399 

Immeasurable  strength  they  might  behold, 
In  me,  of  wisdom  nothing  more  than  mean  ; 
This  with  the  other  should,  at  least,  have  pair'd, 
These  two  proportion'd  ill  drove  me  transverse. 

Chor.  Tax  not  divine  disposal  :  wisest  men 
Have  err'd,  and  by  bad  women  been  deceived  ; 
And  shall  again,  pretend  they  ne'er  so  wise. 
Deject  not  then  so  overmuch  thyself, 
Who  hast  of  sorrow  thy  full  load  besides  ; 
Yet,  truth  to  say,  I  oft  have  heard  men  wonder 
Why  thou  should'st  wed  Philistian  women  rather 
Than  of  thine  own  tribe  fairer,  or  as  fair 
At  least  of  thy  own  nation,  and  as  noble. 

S.\MS.  The  first  I  saw  at  Timna,  and  she  pleased 
Me,  not  my  parents,  that  I  sought  to  wed 
The  daughter  of  an  infidel.     They  knew  not 
That  what  I  motion'd  was  of  God  ;  I  knew 
From  intimate  impulse,  and  therefore  urged 
The  marriage  on  ;  that  by  occasion  hence 
I  might  begin  Israel's  deliverance. 
The  work  to  which  I  was  divinely  call'd. 
She  proving  false,  the  next  I  took  to  wife, 

0  that  I  never  had !  fond  wish  too  late ! 
Was  in  the  vale  of  Sorec,  Dalila, 
That  specious  monster,  my  accomplish'd  snare. 

1  thought  it  lawful  from  my  former  act. 
And  the  same  end,  still  watching  to  oppress 
Israel's  oppressors.     Of  what  now  I  suffer 
She  was  not  the  prime  cause,  but  I  myself. 
Who,  vanquish'd  with  a  peal  of  words,  O  weakness  ! 
Gave  up  my  fort  of  silence  to  a  woman. 

Chor.  In  seeking  just  occasion  to  provoke 
The  Philistine,  thy  country's  enemy. 
Thou  never  wast  remiss,  I  bear  thee  witness: 
Yet  Israel  still  serves  with  all  his  sons. 

Sams.  That  fault  I  take  not  on  me,  but  transfer 

d^ ^ 


f- ^ -^ 

400  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

On  Israel's  governors,  and  heads  of  tribes, 

Who,  seeing  those  great  acts  which  God  had  done 

Singly  by  me  against  their  conquerors, 

Acknowledged  not,  or  not  at  all  consider'd 

Deliverance  ofifer'd.     I  on  the  other  side 

Used  no  ambition  to  commend  my  deeds, 

The  deeds  themselves,  though  mute,  spoke  loud  the  doer; 

But  they  persisted  deaf,  and  would  not  seem 

To  count  them  things  worth  notice,  till  at  length 

Their  lords  the  Philistines  with  gather'd  powers 

Entered  Judea  seeking  me,  who  then 

Safe  to  the  rock  of  Etham^  was  retired, 

Not  flying,  but  forecasting  in  what  place 

To  set  upon  them  what  advantaged  best. 

Meanwhile  the  men  of  Judah,  to  prevent 

The  harass  of  their  land,  beset  me  round ; 

I  willingly  on  some  conditions  came 

Into  their  hands,  and  they  as  gladly  yield  me 

To  the  uncircumcised  a  welcome  prey. 

Bound  with  two  cords :  but  cords  to  me  were  threads 

Touch'd  with  the  flame.     On  their  whole  liost  I  flew 

Unarm'd,  and  with  a  trivial  weapon  fell'd 

Their  choicest  youth;   they  only  lived  who  fled. 

Had  Judah  that  day  join'd,  or  one  whole  tribe. 

They  had  by  this  possess'd  the  towers  of  Gath,^ 

And  lorded  over  them  whom  now  they  serve  : 

But  what  more  oft  in  nations  grown  corrupt, 

And  by  their  vices  brought  to  servitude, 

Than  to  love  bondage  more  than  liberty, 

Bondage  with  ease  than  strenuous  liberty; 

And  to  despise,  or  envy,  or  suspect 

Whom  God  hath  of  his  special  favor  raised 

As  their  deliverer  ?     If  he  aught  begin, 

How  frequent  to  desert  him,  and  at  last 


1  Judges  XV.  8. 


^ 


f — -^ 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  401 

To  heap  ingratitude  on  worthiest  deeds  ? 
Chor.  Thy  words  to  my  remembrance  bring 

How  Succoth  and  the  fort  of  Penuel 

Their  great  deliverer  contemn'd  ^ 

The  matchless  Gideon  in  pursuit 

Of  Madian  and  her  vanquish'd  kings  : 

And  how  ingrateful  Ephraim 

Had  dealt  with  Jephtha,-  who  by  argument, 

Not  worse  than  by  his  shield  and  spear, 

Defended  Israel  from  the  Ammonite, 

Had  not  his  prowess  quell'd  their  pride 
In  that  sore  battle,  when  so  many  died 
Without  reprieve  adjudged  to  death,^ 
For  want  of  well  pronouncing  Shibboleth. 

Sams.  Of  such  examples  add  me  to  the  roll. 
Me  easily  indeed  mine  may  neglect, 
But  God's  proposed  deliverance  not  so. 

Chor.  Just  are  the  ways  of  God, 
And  justifiable  to  men; 
Unless  there  be  who  think  not  God  at  all : 
If  any  be,  they  walk  obscure  ; 
For  of  such  doctrine  never  was  there  school. 
But  the  heart  of  the  fool, 
And  no  man  therein  doctor  but  himself. 

Yet  more  there  be  who  doubt  His  ways  not  just. 
And  to  His  own  edicts  found  contradicting. 
Then  give  the  reins  to  wand'ring  thought, 
Regardless  of  His  glory's  diminution  ; 
Till,  by  their  own  perplexities  involved. 
They  ravel  more,  still  less  resolved, 
But  never  find  self-satisfying  solution. 

As  if  they  would  confine  th'  Interminable, 
And  tie  Him  to  His  own  prescript, 


^  They  refused  Gideon  provisions.    See  Judges  viii.  4,  9. 

2  See  Judges  xi.  15-27.  3  judges  xii.  1-6. 

26 


^ 


402  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Who  made  our  laws  to  bind  us,  not  Himself, 

And  hath  full  right  to  exempt 

Whom  so  it  pleases  Him  by  choice 

From  national  obstriction,  without  taint 

Of  sin,  or  legal  debt ; 

For  with  His  own  laws  He  can  best  dispense. 

He  would  not  else,  who  never  wanted  means, 
Nor  in  respect  of  th'  enemy  just  cause 
To  set  His  people  free, 
Have  prompted  this  heroic  Nazarite, 
Against  his  vow  of  strictest  purity, 
To  seek  in  marriage  that  fallacious  bride, 
Unclean,  unchaste. 

Down  reason  then,  at  least  vain  reasonings  down, 
Though  reason  here  aver 
That  moral  verdict  quits  her  of  unclean  : 
Unchaste  was  subsequent,  her  stain,  not  his. 

But,  see  !  here  comes  thy  reverend  sire 
With  careful  step,  locks  white  as  down, 
Old  Manoah  ;  advise 
Forthwith  how  thou  ought'st  to  receive  him. 

Sams.  Aye  mc  !  another  inward  grief  awaked 
With  mention  of  that  name  renews  th'  assault. 

Man.  Brethren  and  men  of  Dan,  for  such  ye  seem, 
Though  in  this  uncouth  place  ;  if  old  respect, 
As  I  suppose,  towards  your  once  gloried  friend. 
My  son  now  captive,  hither  hath  inform'd 
Your  younger  feet,  while  mine  cast  back  with  age 
Came  lagging  after ;  say  if  h.e  be  here. 

Chor.  As  signal  now  in  low  dejected  state, 
As  erst  in  highest,  behold  him  where  he  lies, 

Man,  O  miserable  change  !  is  this  the  man. 
That  invincible  Samson,  far  renown'd, 
The  dread  of  Israel's  foes,  who  with  a  strength 
Equivalent  to  angels  walk'd  their  streets, 
None  offering  fight ;  who  single  combatant 

(^ ^^ 


^ 

SAMSON  AGOXISTES.  403 

Duell'd  their  armies  rank'd  in  proud  array, 
Himself  an  army,  now  unequal  match 
To  save  himself  against  a  coward  arm'd 
At  one  spear's  length.     O  ever-failing  trust 
In  mortal  strength  !  and,  oh  !  what  not  in  man 
Deceivable  and  vain  ?  nay,  what  thing  good, 
Pray'd  for,  but  often  proves  our  woe,  our  bane  ? 
I  pray'd  for  children,  and  thought  barrenness 
In  wedlock  a  reproach ;   I  gain'd  a  son, 
And  such  a  son  as  all  men  hailed  me  happy : 
Who  would  be  now  a  father  in  my  stead  ? 
O  wherefore  did  God  grant  me  my  request. 
And  as  a  blessing  with  such  pomp  adorn'd  ? 
Why  are  His  gifts  desirable,  to  tempt 
Our  earnest  pray'rs,  then,  giv'n  with  solemn  hand 
As  graces,  draw  a  scorpion's  tail  behind  ? 
For  this  did  the  angel  twice  descend  ?  for  this 
Ordain'd  thy  nurture  holy,  as  of  a  plant 
Select  and  sacred,  glorious  for  a  while, 
The  miracle  of  men  ;   then  in  an  hour 
Ensnared,  assaulted,  overcome,  led  bound, 
Thy  foes'  derision,  captive,  poor,  and  blind, 
Into  a  dungeon  thrust  to  work  with  slaves  ? 
Alas  !  methinks  whom  God  hath  chosen  once 
To  worthiest  deeds,  if  he  through  frailty  err, 
He  should  not  so  o'erwhelm,  and  as  a  thrall 
Subject  him  to  so  foul  indignities, 
Be  it  but  for  honor's  sake  of  former  deeds. 

Sams,  Appoint^  not  heav'nly  disposition,  father; 
Nothing  of  all  these  evils  hath  befall'n  me 
But  justly  ;  I  myself  have  brought  them  on, 
Sole  author  I,  sole  cause  ;   if  aught  seem  vile, 
As  vile  hath  been  my  folly,  who  have  profaned 
The  mystery  of  God  giv'n  me  under  pledge 

1  That  is,  arraign  not,  summon  not  to  answer. — Wareurton. 

^ ^ -^ 


■^ 


404  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Of  vow,  and  have  betray'd  it  to  a  woman, 
A  Canaanite,  my  faithless  enemy. 
This  well  I  knew,  nor  was  at  all  surprised, 
But  warn'd  by  oft  experience  :  did  not  she 
Of  Timna  first  betray  me,  and  reveal 
The  secret  wrested  from  me  in  her  height 
Of  nuptial  love  profest,  carrying  it  straight 
To  them  who  had  corrupted  her,  my  spies 
And  rivals?     In  this  other  was  there  found 
]\Iore  faith,  who  also  in  her  prime  of  love, 
Spousal  embraces,  vitiated  with  gold. 
Though  offer'd  only  by  the  scent  conceived, 
Her  spurious  first-born,  treason  against  me  ? 
Thrice  she  assay'd  with  flattering  prayers,  and  sighs, 
And  amorous  approaches,  to  win  from  me. 
My  capital  secret,  in  what  part  my  strength 
Lay.  stored,  in  what  part  summ'd,  that  she  m.ight  know; 
Thrice  I  deluded  her,  and  turn'd  to  sport 
•   Her  importunity,  each  time  perceiving 
How  openly  and  with  what  impudence 
She  purposed  to  betray  me,  and  which  was  worse 
Than  undissembled  hate,  with  what  contempt 
She  sought  to  make  me  traitor  to  myself; 
Yet,  the  fourth  time,  when,  mustering  all  her  wiles 
With  blandish'd  parlies,  feminine  assaults, 
Tongue-batteries,  she  surceased  not  day  nor  night 
To  storm  me  over  watch'd  and  wearied  out, 
At  times  when  men  seek  most  repose  and  rest, 
I  yielded,  and  unlock'd  her  all  my  heart, 
Who  with  a  grain  of  manhood  well  resolved 
Might  easily  have  shook  off  all  her  snares  : 
But  foul  effeminacy  held  me  yoked 
Her  bond  slave;  O  indignity!  O  blot 
To  honor  and  religion!  servile  mind 
Rewarded  well  with  servile  punishment ! 
The  base  degree  to  which  I  now  am  fall'n, 


^ 


4^ 


SAMSON  AGOXISTES.  405 

These  rags,  this  grinding-,  is  not  yet  so  base 
As  was  my  former  servitude,  ignoble, 
Unmanly,  ignominious,  infamous. 
True  slavery,  and  that  blindness  worse  than  this. 
That  saw  not  how  degenerately  I  served. 

Man.  I  cannot  praise  thy  marriage  choices,  son, 
Rather  approved  them  not;  but  thou  didst  plead 
Divine  impulsion  prompting  how  thou  might'st 
Find  some  occasion  to  infest  our  foes. 
I  state  not  that;   this  I  am  sure,  our  foes 
Found  soon  occasion  thereby  to  make  thee 
Their  captive  and  their  triumph ;  thou  the  sooner 
Temptation  found'st,  or  over-potent  charms 
To  violate  the  sacred  trust  of  silence 
Deposited  within  thee;  which  to  have  kept 
Tacit,  was  in  thy  power.     True  ;  and  thou  bear'st 
Enough  and  more  the  burthen  of  that  fault ; 
Bitterly  hast  thou  paid,  and  still  art  paying 
That  rigid  score.     A  worse  thing  yet  remains. 
This  day  the  Philistines  a  popular  feast 
Here  celebrate  in  Gaza  ;^  and  proclaim 
Great  pomp,  and  sacrifice,  and  praises  loud 
To  Dagon,  as  their  god,  who  hath  deliver'd 
Thee  Samson,  bound  and  blind  into  their  hands. 
Them  out  of  thine,  who  slew'st  them  many  a  slain. 
So  Dagon  shall  be  magnified,  and  God, 
Besides  whom  is  no  God,  compared  with  idols, 
Disglorified,  blasphemed,  and  had  in  scorn 
By  the  idolatrous  rout  amidst  their  wine ; 
Which  to  have  come  to  pass  by  means  of  thee, 
Samson,  of  all  thy  sufferings  think  the  heaviest. 
Of  all  reproach  the  most  with  shame  that  ever 
Could  have  befall'n  thee  and  thy  father's  house. 
Sams.  Father,  I  do  acknowledge  and  confess 

1  Judges  xvi.  23. 

^ ^ ^ 


^ 


-e? 


406  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

That  I  this  honor,  I  this  pomp,  have  brought 
To  Dagon,  and  advanced  his  praises  high 
Among  the  heathen  round ;  to  God  have  brought 
Dishonor,  obloquy,  and  oped  the  mouths 
Of  idolists  and  atheists  ;  have  brought  scandal 
To  Israel,  diffidence  of  God,  and  doubt 
In  feeble  hearts,  propense  enough  before 
To  waver,  or  fall  off,  and  join  with  idols ; 
Which  is  my  chief  affliction,  shame,  and  sorrow, 
The  anguish  of  my  soul,  that  suffers  not 
Mine  eye  to  harbor  sleep,  or  thoughts  to  rest. 
This  only  hope  relieves  me,  that  the  strife 
With  me  hath  end  ;  all  the  contest  is  now 
'Twixt  God  and  Dagon  ;  Dagon  hath  presumed. 
Me  overthrown,  to  enter  lists  with  God, 
His  deity  comparing  and  preferring 
Before  the  God  of  Abraham.     He,  be  sure, 
Will  not  connive,  or  linger,  thus  provoked, 
But  will  arise,  and  His  great  name  assert : 
Dagon  nmst  stoop,  and  shall  ere  long  receive 
Such  a  discomfit,  as  shall  quite  dispoil  him 
Of  all  these  boasted  trophies  won  on  me, 
And  with  confusion  blank  ^  his  worshippers. 

Man.  With  cause  this  hope  relieves  thee,  and  these  words 
I  as  a  prophecy  receive  :  for  God, 
Nothing  more  certain,  will  not  long  defer 
To  vindicate  the  glory  of  His  name 
Against  all  competition,  nor  will  long 
Endure  it,  doubtful  whether  God  be  lord. 
Or  Dagon.     But  for  thee  what  shall  be  done  ? 
Thou  mu.st  not  in  the  meanwhile  here  forgot 
Lie  in  this  miserable  loathsome  plight 
Neglected.     I  already  have  made  way 
To  some  Philistian  lords  with  whom  to  treat 

1  Confound. 


4 


s- 


SAMSON  AGONISTES.  407 

About  thy  ransom  :  well  they  may  by  this 
Have  satisfied  their  utmost  of  revenge 
By  pains  and  slaveries,  worse  than  death,  Inflicted 
On  thee,  who  now  no  more  canst  do  them  harm. 

Sams.  Spare  that  proposal,  father,  spare  the  trouble 
Of  that  solicitation  :   let  me  here. 
As  I  deserve,  pay  on  my  punishment, 
And  expiate,  if  possible,  my  crime, 
Shameful  garrulity.     To  have  reveal'd 
Secrets  of  men,  the  secrets  of  a  friend. 
How  heinous  had  the  fact  been,  how  deserving 
Contempt  and  scorn  of  all,  to  be  excluded 
All  friendship,  and  avoided  as  a  blab, 
The  mark  of  fool  set  on  his  front  ? 
But  I  God's  counsel  have  not  kept,  His  holy  secret 
Presumptuously  have  publish'd,  impiously, 
Weakly  at  least,  and  shamefully;  a  sin 
That' Gentiles  in  their  parables  condemn 
To  their  abyss  and  horrid  pains  confined.^ 

Man.  Be  penitent  and  for  thy  fault  contrite, 
But  act  not  in  thy  own  affliction,  son  ; 
Repent  the  sin,  but  if  the  punishment 
Thou  canst  avoid,  self-preservation  bids; 
Or  th'  execution  leave  to  high  disposal, 
And  let  another  hand,  not  thine,  exact 
Thy  penal  forfeit  from  thyself;  perhaps 
God  will  relent,  and  quit  thee  all  His  debt, 
Who  evermore  approves  and  more  accepts, 
Best  pleased  with  humble  and  filial  submission, 
Him  who  imploring  mercy  ?ues  for  life. 
Than  who  self-rigorous  chooses  death  as  due 
Which  argues  over- just,  and  self  displeased 
For  self-offence,  more  than  for  God  offended. 


1  Milton  is  supposed  here  to  allude  to  the  fable  of  Tantalus,  who,  for  revealing  the  secrets 
of  the  gods,  was  punished  in  hell  by  an  insatiable  thirst,  and,  placed  in  a  pool  of  wate', 
could  never  succeed  in  tasting  a  drop. 


^ 


a-- 


^ 


408  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Reject  not  then  what  offer'd  means  :  who  knows 
But  God  hath  set  before  us,  to  return  thee 
Home  to  thy  country  and  His  sacred  house, 
Where  thou  may'st  bring  thy  off'rings,  to  avert 
His  further  ire,  witli  prayers  and  vows  renew'd  ? 

Sams.   His  pardon  I  implore ;  but  as  for  hfe, 
To  what  end  should  I  seek  it?  when  in  strength 
All  mortals  I  excell'd,  and  great  in  hopes 
With  youthful  courage  and  magnanimous  thoughts 
Of  birth  from  heav'n  foretold,  and  high  exploits, 
Full  of  divine  instinct,  after  some  proof 
Of  acts  indeed  heroic,  far  beyond 
The  sons  of  Anak,  famous  now  and  blazed, 
Fearless  of  danger,  like  a  petty  God 
I  walk'd  about,  admired  of  all  and  dreaded, 
On  hostile  ground,  none  daring  my  affront. 
Then  swoll'n  with  pride  into  the  snare  I  fell 
Of  fair  fallacious  looks,  venereal  trains, 
Soften'd  with  pleasure  and  voluptuous  life; 
At  length  to  lay  my  head  and  hallow'd  pledge 
Of  all  my  strength  in  the  lascivious  lap 
Of  a  deceitful  concubine,  who  shore  me, 
Like  a  tame  wether,  all  my  precious  fleece, 
Then  turn'd  me  out  ridiculous,  despoil'd, 
Shav'n  and  disarm'd,  among  mine  enemies. 

Chor.  Desire  of  wine  and  all  delicious  drinks, 
Which  many  a  famous  warrior  overturns, 
Thou  could'st  repress,  nor  did  the  dancing  ruby 
Sparkling,  out-pour'd,  the  flavor,  or  the  smell 
Or  taste  that  cheers  the  hearts  of  Gods  and  men,^ 
Allure  thee  from  the  cool  crystalline  stream. 

Sams.  Wherever  fountain  or  fresh  current  flow'd 
Against  the  eastern  ray,  translucent,  pure, 
With  touch  etheriai  of  heav'n's  fiery  rod, 

1  Judges ix.  13.     "  Wine  which  cheereth  God  and  man." — Mitford. 

a^ ^ ^ 


f ==¥ 

SAMSON  AGOmSTES.  409 

I  drank,  from  the  clear  milky  juice  allaying 
Thirst,  and  refresh 'd ;  nor  envied  them  the  grape. 
Whose  heads  that  turbulent  hquor  fills  with  fumes. 

Chor.  O  madness,  to  think  use  of  strongest  wines 
And  strongest  drinks  our  chief  support  of  health, 
When  God  with  these  forbidden  made  choice  to  rear 
His  mighty  champion,  strong  above  compare, 
Whose  drink  was  only  from  the  liquid  brook.'^ 

Sams.  But  what  avail'd  this  temperance,  not  complete 

Against  another  object  more  enticing  ? 
What  boots  it  at  one  gate  to  make  defence. 

And  at  another  to  let  in  the  foe, 

Effeminately  vanquish'd  ?  by  which  means, 

Now  blind,  dishearten'd,  shamed,  dishonored,  quell'd, 

To  what  can  I  be  useful,  wherein  serve 

My  nation,  and  the  work  from  heav'n  imposed, 

But  to  sit  idle  on  the  household  hearth, 

A  burd'nous  drone ;  to  visitants  a  gaze, 

Or  pitied  object,  these  redundant  locks 

Robustious  to  no  purpose  clust'ring  down, 

Vain  monument  of  strength,  till  length  of  years 

And  sedentary  numbness  craze  my  limbs 

To  a  contemptible  old  age  obscure? 

Here  rather  let  me  drudge  and  earn  my  bread. 

Till  vermin  or  the  draffs  of  servile  food 

Consume  me,  and  oft  invocated  death 

Hasten  the  welcome  end  of  all  my  pains. 

Man.  Wilt  thou  then  serve  the  Philistines  with  that  gift 

Which  was  expressly  giv'n  thee  to  annoy  them  ? 
Better  at  home  lie  bedrid,  not  only  idle. 

Inglorious,  unemploy'd,  with  age  outworn. 
But  God,  who  caused  a  fountain  at  thy  prayer 


1  Samson  was  a  Nazarite  from  his  birth.     See  Judges  xiii.  7.     Num.  vi. 
i*  Refuse      Draff  was  hterally  brewers'  spent  grains. 


■^ 


^ -^ 

410  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

From  the  dry  ground  to  spring,^  thy  thirst  to  allay 
After  the  brunt  of  battle,  can. as  easy 
Cause  light  again  within  thy  eyes  to  spring, 
Wherewith  to  serve  him  better  than  thou  hast; 
And  I  persuade  me  so  ;  why  else  this  strength 
Miraculous  yet  remaining  in  those  locks? 
His  might  continues  in  thee  not  for  nought, 
Nor  shall  His  wondrous  gifts  be  frustrate  thus. 

Sams.  All  otherwise  to  me  my  thoughts  portend, 
That  these  dark  orbs  no  more  shall  treat  with  light, 
Nor  the  other  light  of  life  continue  long. 
But  yield  to  double  darkness  nigh  at  hand: 
So  much  I  feel  my  genial  spirits  droop, 
My  hopes  all  flat,  nature  within  me  seems 
In  all  her  functions  weary  of  herself, 
My  race  of  glory  run,  and  race  of  shame, 
And  I  shall  shortly  be  with  them  that  rest. 

Man.  Believe  not  these  suggestions,  which  proceed 
From  anguish  of  the  mind  and  humors  black, 
That  mingle  with  thy  fancy.     I  however 
Must  not  omit  a  father's  timely  care 
To  prosecute  the  means  of  thy  deliverance 
By  ransom  or  how  else:  meanwhile  be  calm, 
And  healing  words  from  these  thy  friends  admit, 

Sams.  O  that  torment  should  not  be  confined 
To  the  body's  wounds  and  sores, 
With  maladies  innumerable 
In  heart,  head,  breast,  and  reins ; 
But  must  secret  passage  find 
To  th'  inmost  mind. 
There  exercise  all  his  fierce  accidents, 
And  on  her  purest  spirits  prey, 
As  on  entrails,  joints,  and  limbs, 

1  Milton  differs  from  our  translation  of  the  Bible.  See  Judges  xv.  18.  19.  He  agrees 
with  the  Chaldee  paraphast,  who  understood  that  God  made  a  cleft  in  the  earth  or  rock  at 
a  place  called  Leki.    Lehi  also  signifies  a  jaw. — See  Newton's  notes. 


^ — ^ ^ 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  411 

With  answerable  pains,  but  more  intense, 
Though  void  of  corporal  sense. 

My  griefs  not  only  pain  me 
As  a  ling'ring  disease, 
But,  finding  no  redress,  ferment  and  rage, 
Nor  less  than  wounds  immedicable 
Rankle,  and  fester,  and  gangrene. 
To  black  mortification. 

Thoughts  my  tormentors,  arm'd  with  deadly  stings. 
Mangle  my  apprehensive  tenderest  parts, 
Exasperate,  exulcerate,  and  raise 
Dire  inllammation,  which  no  cooling  herb, 
Or  medcinal^   liquor  can  assuage, 
Nor  breath  of  vernal  air  from  snowy  Alp. 
Sleep  hath  forsook  and  given  me  o'er 
To  death's  benumbing  opium  as  my  only  cure  : 
Thence  faintings,  swoonings  of  despair, 
And  sense  of  heav'n's  desertion. 

I  was  his  nursling  once,  and  choice  delight, 
His  destined  from  the  womb. 
Promised  by  heavenly  message  twice  descending  : 
Under  His  special  eye 
Abstemious  I  grew  up  and  thrived  amain ; 
He  led  me  on  to  mightiest  deeds, 
Above  the  nerve  of  mortal  arm, 
Against  the  uncircumcised,  our  enemies  : 
But  now  hath  cast  me  off  as  never  known, 
And  to  those  cruel  enemies. 
Whom  I  by  His  appointment  had  provoked. 
Left  me  all  helpless  with  the  irreparable 
Of  sight,  reserved  alive  to  be  repeated 
The  subject  of  their  cruelty  and  scorn. 
Nor  am  I  in  the  list  of  them  that  hope  ; 
Hopeless  are  all  my  evils,  all  remediless  ; 

1  Milton  always  spells  this  word  "  medcinal." — MiTFORD. 

^ -^ 


a- 


^ 


412 


SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

This  one  prayer  yet  remains,  might  I  be  lieard, 

No  long  petition,  speedy  death, 

The  close  of  all  my  miseries,  and  the  balm. 

Chok.  Many  are  the  sayings  of  the  wise, 
In  ancient  and  in  modern  books  enroU'd, 
Extolling  patience  as  the  truest  fortitude; 
And  to  the  bearing  well  of  all  calamities, 
All  chances  incident  to  man's  frail  life, 
Consolatories  writ 

With  studied  argument,  and  much  persuasion  sought, 
Lenient  of  grief  and  anxious  thought: 
But  with  the  afflicted  in  his  pangs  their  sound 
Little  prevails,  or  rather  seems  a  tune 
Harsh  and  of  dissonant  mood  from  his  complaint; 
Unless  he  feel  within 
Some  source  of  consolation  from  above. 
Secret  refreshings,  that  repair  his  strength, 
And  fainting  spirits  uphold. 

God  of  our  fathers,  what  is  man  ! 
That  thou  towards  him  with  hand  so  various, 
Or  may  I  say  contrarious, 

Temper'st  thy  providence  through  his  short  course, 
Not  ev'nly,  as  thou  rul'st 

The  angelic  orders  and  inferior  creatures  mute, 
Irrational  and  brute. 

Nor  do  I  name  of  men  the  common  rout, 
That  wand'ring  loose  about 
Grow  up  and  perish,  as  the  summer  fly. 
Heads  without  name  no  more  remember'd, 
But  such  as  thou  hast  solemnly  elected, 
With  gifts  and  graces  eminently  adorn'd 
To  some  great  work,  thy  glory, 
And  people's  safety,  which  in  part  they  effect: 
Yet  toward  these  thus  dignified,  thou  oft 
Amidst  their  height  of  noon, 
Changest  thy  countenance,  and  thy  hand  with  no  regard 


^ 


-e 


f — ^ 

SAMSON  AGON/STBS.  413 

Of  highest  favors  past 

From  thee  on  them,  or  them  to  thee  of  service. 

Nor  only  dost  degrade  them,  or  remit 
To  life  obscured,  which  were  a  fair  dismission. 
But  throw'st  them  lower  than  thou  didst  exalt  them  high 
Unseemly  falls  in  human  eye, 
Too  grievous  for  the  trespass  of  omission; 
Oft  leav'st  them  to  the  hostile  sword 
Of  heathen  and  profane,  their  carcases 
To  dogs  and  fowls  a  prey,  or  else  captived 
Or  to  the  unjust  tribunals,  under  change  of  times, 
And  condemnation  of  the  ingrateful  multitude. 
If  these  they  scape,  perhaps  in  poverty 
With  sickness  and  disease  thou  bow'st  them  down, 
Painful  diseases  and  deform'd, 
In  crude  ^  old  age  : 

Though  not  disordinate,  yet  causeless  suff' ring 
The  punishment  of  dissolute  days:  in  fine, 
Just  or  unjust,  alike  seem  miserable. 
For  oft  alike  both  come  to  evil  end. 

So  deal  not  with  this  once  thy  glorious  champion, 
The  image  of  thy  strength,  and  mighty  minister. 
What  do  I  beg?  how  hast  thou  dealt  already! 
Behold  him  in  this  state  calamitous,  and  turn 
His  labors,  for  thou  canst,  to  peaceful  end. 

But  who  is  this?  what  thing  of  sea  or  land? 
Female  of  sex  it  seems. 
That  so  bedeck'd,  ornate  and  gay, 
Comes  this  way  sailing 
Like  a  stately  ship 
Of  Tarsus,  bound  for  th'  isles 
Of  Javan-  or  Gadire,^ 
With  all  her  bravery  on,  and  tackle  trim, 
Sails  fiU'd,  and  streamers  waving, 

1  Premature.  2  Greece.  s  Cadiz. 

^-  . - .  (^ 


^ — -^ 

414  SAJfSON  AGON/STBS. 

Courted  by  all  the  winds  that  hold  them  play, 
An  amber  scent  of  odorous  perfume 
Her  harbinger,  a  damsel  train  behind; 
Some  rich  Philistian  matron  she  may  seem, 
And  now,  at  nearer  view,  no  other  certain 
Than  Dalila,  thy  wife. 

Sams.  My  wife  !  my  traitress:  let  her  not  come  near  me. 

Chor.  Yet  on  she  moves,  now  stands  and  eyes  thee  fix'd, 
About  t'  have  spoke,  but  now,  with  head  declined. 
Like  a  fair  flow'r  surcharged  with  dew,  she  weeps. 
And  words  address'd  seem  into  tears  dissolved, 
Wettine  the  borders  of  her  silken  veil : 
But  now  again  she  makes  address  to  speak. 

Dal.  With  doubtful  feet  and  wavering  resolution 
I  came,  still  dreading  thy  displeasure,  Samson, 
Which  to  have  merited  without  excuse, 
I  cannot  but  acknowledge;  yet  if  tears 
May  expiate,  though  the  fact  more  evil  drew 
In  the  perverse  event  than  I  foresaw, 
My  penance  hath  not  slacken'd.  though  my  pardon 
No  way  assured:  but  conjugal  affection. 
Prevailing  over  fear  and  timorous  doubt, 
Hath  led  me  on,  desirous  to  behold 
Once  more  thy  face,  and  know  of  thy  estate, 
If  aught  in  my  ability  may  serve 
To  lighten  what  thou  suffer'st,  and  appease 
Thy  mind  with  what  amends  is  in  my  power. 
Though  late,  yet  in  some  part  to  recompense 
My  rash,  but  more  unfortunate,  misdeed. 

Sams.  Out,  out,  hyaena!  these  are  thy  wonted  arts 
And  arts  of  every  woman  false  like  thee, 
To  break  all  faith,  all  vows,  deceive,  betray. 
Then,  as  repentant,  to  submit,  beseech, 
And  reconcilement  move  with  feign'd  remorse, 
Confess,  and  promise  wonders  in  her  change. 
Not  truly  penitent,  but  chief  to  try 

4 -^ 


n 


a 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  415 

Her  husband,  how  far  urged  his  patience  bears, 
His  virtue  or  weakness  which  way  to  assail  ; 
Then  with  more  cautious  and  instructed  skill 
Again  transgresses,  and  again  submits; 
That  wisest  and  best  men  full  oft  beguiled, 
With  goodness  principled  not  to  reject 
The  penitent,  but  ever  to  forgive. 
Are  drawn  to  wear  out  miserable  days. 
Entangled  with  a  pois'nous  bosom  snake. 
If  not  by  quick  destruction  soon  cut  off, 
As  I  by  thee,  to  ages  an  example. 

Dal.  Yet  hear  me,  Samson;  not  that  I  endeavor 
To  lessen  or  extenuate  my  offence. 
But  that,  on  th'  other  side  if  it  be  weigh'd 
By  itself,  with  aggravations  not  surcharged. 
Or  else  with  just  allowance  counterpoised, 
I  may,  if  possible,  thy  pardon  find 
The  easier  towards  me,  or  thy  hatred  less. 
First  granting,  as  I  do,  it  was  a  weakness 
In  me,  but  incident  to  all  our  sex. 
Curiosity,  inquisitive,  importune 
Of  secrets,  then  with  like  infirmity 
To  publish  them,  both  common  female  faults  : 
Was  it  not  weakness  also  to  make  known 
For  importunity,  that  is,  for  nought. 
Wherein  consisted  all  thy  strength  and  safety  ? 
To  what  I  did  thou  show'dst  me  first  the  way. 
But  I  to  enemies  reveal'd,  and  should  not ; 
Nor  should'st  thou  have  trusted  that  to  woman's  frailty. 
Ere  I  to  thee'  thou  to  thyself  was  cruel. 
Let  weakness  then  with  weakness  come  to  parle, 
So  near  related,  or  the  same  of  kind. 
Thine  forgive  mine ;  that  men  may  censure  thine 
The  gentler,  if  severely  thou  exact  not 
More  strength  from  me  than,  in  thyself  was  found. 
And  what  if  love,  which  thou  interpret'st  hate, 

"^ -^ 


^ -^ 

416  SAMSOiV  AGONISTES. 

The  jealousy  of  love,  powerful  of  sway 

In  human  hearts,  nor  less  in  mine  towards  thee, 

Caused  what  I  did  ?     I  saw  thee  mutable 

Of  fancy,  fear'd  lest  one  day  thou  would'st  leave  me 

As  her  at  Timna,  sought  by  all  means  therefore 

How  to  endear,  and  hold  thee  to  me  firmest : 

No  better  way  I  saw  than  by  importuning 

To  learn  thy  secrets,  get  into  my  power 

Thy  key  of  strength  and  safety.     Thou  wilt  say, 

Why  then  reveal'd  ?     I  was  assured  by  those 

Who  tempted  me,  that  nothing  was  design'd 

Against  thee  but  safe  custody  and  hold  : 

That  made  for  me ;   I  knew  that  liberty 

Would  draw  thee  forth  to  perilous  enterprises, 

While  I  at  home  sat  full  of  cares  and  fears, 

Wailing  thy  absence  in  my  widow'd  bed  : 

Here  I  should  still  enjoy  thee  day  and  night. 

Mine  and  love's  prisoner,  not  the  Philistines', 

Whole  to  myself,  unhazardcd  abroad, 

Fearless  at  home  of  partners  in  my  love. 

These  reasons  in  love's  law  have  past  for  good, 

Though  fond  and  reasonless  to  some  perhaps  ; 

And  love  hath  oft,  well  meaning,  wrought  much  woe. 

Yet  always  pity  or  pardon  hath  obtain'd. 

Be  not  unlike  all  others,  not  austere 

As  thou  art  strong,  inflexible  as  steel. 

If  thou  in  strength  all  mortals  dost  exceed, 

In  uncompassionate  anger  do  not  so. 

Sams.  How  cunningly  the  sorceress  displays 
Her  own  transgressions,  to  upbraid  me  mine  ! 
That  malice  not  repentance  brought  thee  hither. 
By  this  appears :  I  gave,  thou  say'st,  th'  example, 
I  led  the  way;  bitter  reproach,  but  true ; 
I  to  myself  was  false  ere  thou  to  me  ; 
Such  pardon  therefore  as  I  give  my  folly, 
Take  to  thy  wicked  deed  ;  which  when  thou  seest 

^ ^ 


SAMSON  AGONISTES.  417 

Impartial,  self-severe,  inexorable. 

Thou  wilt  renounce  thy  seeking-,  and  much  rather 

Confess  it  feign'd ;  weakness  is  thy  excuse, 

And  I  believe  it,  weakness  to  resist 

Philistian  gold  ;   if  weakness  may  excuse, 

What  murderer,  what  traitor,  parricide. 

Incestuous,  sacrilegious,  but  may  plead  it  ? 

All  wickedness  is  weakness  :  that  plea  therefore 

With  God  or  man  will  gain  thee  no  remission. 

But  love  constrain'd  thee;  call  it  furious  rage 

To  satisfy  thy  lust.     Love  seeks  to  have  love : 

My  love  how  could'st  thou  hope,  who  took'st  the  way 

To  raise  in  me  inexpiable  hate, 

Knowing,  as  needs  I  must,  by  thee  betray'd  ? 

In  vain  thou  striv'st  to  cover  shame  with  shame. 

Or  by  evasions  thy  crime  uncoverest  more. 

Dal,  Since  thou  determin'st  weakness  for  no  plea 
In  man  or  woman,  through  to  thy  own  condemning, 
Hear  what  assaults  I  had,  what  snares  besides, 
What  sieges  girt  me  round,  ere  I  consented, 
Which  might  have  awed  the  best  resolved  of  men, 
The  constantest,  to  have  yielded  without  blame. 
It  was  not  gold,  as  to  my  charge  thou  lay'st. 
That  wrought  with  me.     Thou  know'st  tlie  magistrates 
And  princes  of  my  country  came  in  person,^ 
Solicited,  commanded,  threaten'd,  urg,ed, 
Adjured  by  all  the  bonds  of  civil  duty 
And  of  religion,  press'd  how  just  it  was. 
How  honorable,  how  glorious,  to  entrap 
A  common  enemy,  who  has  destroy'd 
Such  numbers  of  our  nation  :  and  the  priest 
Was  not  behind,  but  ever  at  my  ear. 
Preaching  how  meritorious  with  the  gods 
It  would  be  to  ensnare  an  irreligious 

1  Judges  xvi.  5. 
27 

0^ ^ 


41 8  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Dishonorer  of  Dagon.     What  had  I 

T'  oppose  against  such  powerful  arguments  ? 

Only  my  love  of  thee  held  long  debate, 

And  combated  in  silence  all  these  reasons 

With  hard  contest;  at  length  that  grounded  maxim, 

So  rife  and  celebrated  in  the  mouths 

Of  wisest  men,  that  to  the  public  good 

Private  respects  must  yield  with  grave  authority, 

Took  full  possession  of  me  and  prevail'd ; 

Virtue,  as  I  thought,  truth,  duty,  so  enjoining. 

Sams.  I  thought  where  all  thy  circling  wiles  would  end; 
In  feign'd  religion,  smooth  hypocrisy. 
But  had  thy  love,  still  odiously  pretended. 
Been,  as  it  ought,  sincere,  it  would  have  taught  thee 
Far  other  reasonings,  brought  forth  other  deeds. 
I,  before  all  the  daughters  of  my  tribe 
And  of  my  nation,  chose  thee  from  among 
My  enemies,  loved  thee,  as  too  well  thou  knew'st, 
Too  well,  unbosom'd  all  my  secrets  to  thee, 
Not  out  of  levity,  but  over-power'd 
By  thy  request,  who  could  deny  thee  nothing ; 
Yet  now  am  judged  an  enemy.     Why  then 
Didst  thou  at  first  receive  me  for  thy  husband. 
Then,  as  since  then,  thy  countr3''s  foe  profess'd  ? 
Being  once  a  wife,  for  me  thou  wast  to  leave 
Parents  and  country ;   nor  was  I  their  subject, 
Nor  under  their  protection,  but  my  own, 
Thou  mine,  not  theirs.     If  aught  against  my  life 
Thy  country  sought  of  thee,  it  sought  unjustly, 
Against  the  law  of  nature,  law  of  nations, 
No  more  thy  country,  but  an  impious  crew 
Of  men,  conspiring  to  uphold  their  state 
By  worse  than  hostile  deeds,  violating  the  ends 
For  which  our  country  is  a  name  so  dear ; 
Not  therefore  to  be  obey'd.     But  zeal  moved  thee; 
To  please  thy  gods  thou  didst  it ;  gods  unable 

%_ ^ ^ 


"^  \  . ^ -^ 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  419 

To  acquit  themselves  and  prosecute  their  foes 

But  by  ungodly  deeds,  the  contradiction 

Of  their  own  deity,  gods  cannot  be ; 

Less  therefore  to  be  pleased,  obey'd  or  fear'd. 

These  false  pretexts  and  varnish'd  colors  failing, 

Bare  in  thy  guilt  how  foul  must  thou  appear? 
Dal.  In  argurnent  with  men  a  woman  ever 

Goes  by  the  worse,  whatever  be  her  cause. 

Sams.  For  want  of  words,  no  doubt,  or  lack  of  breath, 

Witness  when  I  was  worried  with  thy  peals. 

Dal.   I  was  a  fool,  too  rash,  and  quite  mistaken 

In  what  I  thought  would  have  succeeded  best. 

Let  me  obtain  forgiveness  of  thee,  Samson, 

Afford  me  place  to  show  what  recompense 

Towards  thee  I  intend  for  what  I  have  misdone, 

Misguided ;  only  what  remains  past  cure 

Bear  not  too  sensibly,  nor  still  insist 

To  afflict  thyself  in  vain.     Though  sight  be  lost 

Life  yet  hath  many  solaces,  enjoy'd 

Where  other  senses  want  not  their  delights 

At  home  in  leisure  and  domestic  ease. 

Exempt  from  many  a  care  and  chance  to  which 

Eyesight  exposes  daily  men  abroad. 

I  to  the  lords  will  intercede,  not  doubting 

Their  favorable  ear,  that  I  may  fetch  thee 

From  forth  this  loathsome  prison-house,  to  abide 

With  me,  where  my  redoubled  love  and  care 

With  nursing  diligence,  to  me  glad  office, 

May  ever  tend  about  thee  to  old  age. 

With  all  things  grateful  cheer'd,  and  so  supplied. 

That  what  by  me  thou  hast  lost  thou  least  shalt  miss. 

Sams.  No,  no ;  of  my  condition  take  no  care  ; 
It  fits  not;  thou  and  I  long  since  are  twain; 
Nor  think  me  so  unwary  or  accurst, 
To  bring  my  feet  again  into  the  snare 
Where  once  I  have  been  caught:  I  know  thy  trains 

"^ 4> 


420  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Though  dearly  to  my  cost;  thy  gins,  and  toils, 

Thy  fair  enchanted  cup  and  warbling  charms 

No  more  on  me  have  power,  their  force  is  null'd; 

So  much  of  adder's  wisdom  I  have  learnt 

To  fence  my  ear  against  thy  sorceries. 

If  in  my  flower  of  youth  and  strength,  when  all  men 

Loved,  honor'd,  fear'd  me,  thou  alone  could'st  hate  me 

Thy  husband,  slight  me,  sell  me,  and  forego  me; 

How  would'st  thou  use  me  now,  blind,  and  thereby 

Deceivable,  in  most  things  as  a  child 

Helpless,  thence  easily  contemn'd  and  scorn'd, 

And  last  neglected?  how  would'st  thou  insult, 

When  I  must  live  uxorious  to  thy  will 

In  perfect  thraldom,  how  again  betray  me, 

Bearing  my  words  and  doings  to  the  lords 

To  gloss  upon,  and  censuring,  frown  or  smile? 

This  gaol  I  count  the  house  of  liberty 

To  thine,  whose  doors  my  feet  shall  never  enter. 

Dal.  Let  me  approach  at  least  and  touch  thy  hand. 

Sams.  Not  for  thy  life,  lest  fierce  remembrance  wake 
My  sudden  rage  to  tear  thee  joint  by  joint. 
At  distance  I  forgive  thee ;  go  with  that, 
Bewail  thy  falsehood,  and  the  pious  works 
It  hath  brought  forth  to  make  thee  memorable 
Among  illustrious  women,  faithful  wives  : 
Cherish  thy  hasten'd  widowhood  with  the  gold 
Of  matrimonial  treason  :  so  farewell. 

Dal.  I  see  thou  art  implacable,  more  deaf 
To  prayers  than  winds  and  seas,  yet  winds  to  seas 
Are  reconciled  at  length,  and  sea  to  shore : 
Thy  anger  unappeasable  still  rages, 
Eternal  tempest  never  to  be  calm'd. 
Why  do  I  humble  thus  myself,  and,  suing 
For  peace,  reap  nothing  but  repulse  and  hate? 
Bid  go  with  evil  omen  and  the  brand 
Of  infamy  upon  my  nam-e  denounced? 


^ ' (b 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  421 

To  mix  with  thy  concernments  I  desist 

Henceforth,  nor  too  much  disapprove  my 

Fame  if  not  double-faced  is  double-mouth'd, 

And  with  contrary  blasts  proclaims  most  deeds; 

On  both  his  wings,  one  black,  the  other  white, 

Bears  greatest  names  in  his  wild  aery  flight. 

My  name  perhaps  among  the  circumcised, 

In  Dan,  in  Judah,  and  the  bordering  tribes, 

To  all  posterity  may  stand  defamed, 

With  malediction  mention'd,  and  the  blot. 

Of  falsehood  most  unconjugal  traduced. 

But  in  my  country  where  I  most  desire, 

In  Ecron,  Gaza,  Asdod,  and  in  Gath, 

I  shall  be  named  among  the  famousest 

Of  women,  sung  at  solemn  festivals, 

Living  and  dead  recorded,  who  to  save 

Her  country  from  a  fierce  destroyer,  chose 

Above  the  faith  of  wedlock-bands;  my  tomb 

With  odors  visited  and  annual  flowers ; 

Not  less  renown'd  than  in  Mount  Ephraim 

Jael,  who  with  inhospitable  guide 

Smote  Sisera  sleeping  through  the  temples  nail'd.^ 

Nor  shall  I  count  it  heinous  to  enjoy 

The  public  marks  of  honor  and  reward 

Conferr'd  upon  me,  for  the  piety 

Which  to  my  country  I  was  judged  to  have  shown. 

At  this  who  ever  envies  or  repines, 

I  leave  him  to  his  lot,  and  like  my  own. 

Chor.  She's  gone,  a  manifest  serpent  by  her  sting 
Discover'd  in  the  end,  till  now  conceal'd. 

S.A.MS.  So  let  her  go :  God  sent  her  to  debase  me. 
And  aggravate  my  folly,  who  committed 
To  such  a  viper  His  most  sacred  trust 
Of  secrecy,  my  safety,  and  my  life. 


1  Judges  V. 


1 


"^ 


C7 


^ 


422  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Chor.  Yet  beauty,  though  injurious,  hath  strange  power, 
After  offence  returning,  to  regain 
Love  once  possess'd,  nor  can  be  easily 
Repulsed,  without  much  inward  passion  felt 
And  secret  sting  of  amorous  remorse. 

Sams.  Love-quarrels  oft  in  pleasing  concord  end; 
Not  wedlock-treachery  endang'ring  life 

Chor.  It  is  not  virtue,  wisdom,  valour,  wit, 
Strength,  comeliness  of  shape,  or  amplest  merit, 
That  woman's  love  can  win  or  long  inherit; 
But  what  it  is,  hard  is  to  say, 
Harder  to  hit, 

Which  way  soever  men  refer  it, 
Much  like  thy  riddle,  Samson,  in  one  day 
Or  seven,  though  one  should  musing  sit. 

If  any  of  these  or  all,  the  Timnian  bride 
Had  not  so  soon  preferr'd 
Thy  paranymph*  worthless  to  thee  compared, 
Successor  in  thy  bed, 
Nor  both  so  loosely  disallied 
Their  nuptials,  nor  this  last  so  treacherously 
Had  shorn  the  fatal  harvest  of  thy  head. 
Is  it  for  that  such  outward  ornament 
Was  lavish'd  on  their  sex,  that  inward  gifts 
Were  left  for  haste  unfinish'd,  judgment  scant. 
Capacity  not  raised  to  apprehend 
Or  value  what  is  best 
In  choice,  but  oftest  to  affect  the  wrong? 
Or  was  too  much  of  self-love  mix'd, 
Of  constancy  no  root  infix'd, 
That  either  they  love  nothing,  or  not  long? 

What'er  it  be  to  wisest  men  and  best 
Seeming  at  first  all  heav'nly  under  virgin  veil, 
Soft,  modest,  meek,  demure, 


1  Bridegroom 's-man.     Judges  xiv.  20. 


% 


^ 


SAJISO.V  AGONISTES.  423 

Once  join'd,  the  contrary  she  proves,  a  thorn 

Intestine,  far  within  defensive  arms 

A  cleaving  mischief,  in  his  way  to  virtue 

Adverse  and  turbulent,  or  by  her  charms 

Draws  him  awry  enslaved 

With  dotage,  and  his  sense  depraved 

To  folly  and  shameful  deeds  which  ruin  ends. 

What  pilot  so  expert  but  needs  must  wreck, 

Imbark'd  with  such  a  steers-mate  at  the  helm? 

Favor'd  of  heav'n  who  finds 
One  virtuous,  rarely  found, 
That  in  domestic  good  combines  : 
Happy  that  house  !   his  way  to  peace  is  smooth ; 
But  virtue,  which  breaks  through  all  opposition  J 
And  all  temptation  can  remove, 

Most  shines  and  most  is  acceptable  above.  ' 

Therefore  God's  universal  law 
Gave  to  the  man  despotic  power 
Over  his  female  in  due  awe. 
Nor  from  that  right  to  part  an  hour, 
Smile  she  or  lour  : 
So  shall  he  least  confusion  draw 
On  his  whole  life,  not  sway'd 
By  female  usurpation,  or  dismay 'd. 
But  had  we  best  retire?  I  see  a  storm. 
Sams.  Fair  days  have  oft  contracted  wind  and  rain. 
Chor.  But  this  another  kind  of  tempest  brings. 
Sams.  Be  less  abstruse,  my  riddling  days  are  past. 
Chor.  Look  now  for  no  enchanting  voice,  nor  fear 
The  bait  of  honied  words  ;  a  rougher  tongue 
Draws  hitherward,  I  know  him  by  his  stride, 
The  giant  Harapha  of  Gath,  his  look 
Haughty  as  is  his  pile  high-built  and  proud. 
Comes  he  in  peace  ?  what  wind  hath  blown  him  hither 
I  less  conjecture  than  when  first  I  saw 
The  sumptuous  Dalila  floating  this  way : 


^- 


a- 


^ 


424  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

His  habit  carries  peace,  his  brow  defiance. 

Sams.  Or  peace  or  not,  alike  to  me  he  comes. 

Chor.  His  fraught^  we  soon  shall  know,  he  now  arrives. 

Har.  I  come  not,  Samson,  to  condole  thy  chance, 
As  these  perhaps,  yet  wish  it  had  not  been. 
Though  for  no  friendly  intent.     I  am  of  Gath, 
Men  call  me  Harapha,  of  stock  renown'd 
As  Og,  or  Anak,  and  the  Emims  old 
That  Kiriathaim^  held;  thou  know'st  me  now 
If  thou  at  all  art  known.     Much  I  have  heard 
Of  thy  prodigious  might  and  feats  perform'd, 
Incredible  to  me,  in  this  displeased, 
That  I  was  never  present  on  the  place 
Of  those  encounters,  where  we  might  have  tried 
Each  other's  force  in  camp  or  listed  field: 
And  now  am  come  to  see  of  whom  such  noise 
Hath  walk'd  about,  and  each  limb  to  survey. 
If  thy  appearance  answer  loud  report. 

Sams.  The  way  to  know  were  not  to  see  but  taste. 

Har.  Dost  thou  already  single  me  ?     I  thought 
Gyves ^  and  the  mill  had  tamed  thee.     O  that  fortune 
Had  brought  me  to  the  field  where  thou  art  famed 
To  have  wrought  such  wonders  with  an  ass's  jaw  ! 
I  should  have  forced  thee  soon  with  other  arms, 
Or  left  thy  carcass  where  the  ass  lay  thrown  ; 
So  had  the  glory  of  prowess  been  recover'd 
To  Palestine,  won  by  a  Philistine 
From  the  unforeskinn'd  race,  of  whom  thou  bear'st 
The  highest  name  for  valiant  acts  :  that  honor 
Certain  to  have  won  by  mortal  duel  from  thee, 
I  lose,  prevented  by  thy  eyes  put  out. 

Sams.  Boast  not  of  what  thou  would'st  have  done,  but  do 
What  then  thou  would'st,  thou  seest  it  in  thy  hand. 

Har.  To  combat  with  a  blind  man  I  disdain, 

J  Freight;  his  purpose,  with  which  he  is  freighted.  ^  Qen.  xiv._5.  3  Fetters. 


f  ^ -^ 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  425 

And  thou  hast  need  much  washing  to  be  touch'd. 
Sams.  Such  usage  as  your  honorable  lords 

Afford  me  assassinated  and  betray 'd, 

Who  durst  not  with  their  whole  united  powers 

In  fight  withstand  me  single  and  unarm'd, 

Nor  in  the  house  with  chamber  ambushes 

Close-banded  durst  attack  me,  no  not  sleeping, 

Till  they  had  hired  a  woman  with  their  gold. 

Breaking  her  marriage  faith,  to  circumvent  me. 

Therefore  without  feign'd  shifts  let  be  assign'd 

Some  narrow  place  inclosed,  where  sight  may  give  thee, 

Or  rather  flight,  no  great  advantage  on  me ; 
Then  put  on  all  thy  gorgeous  arms,  thy  helmet 
And  brigandine  of  brass,^  thy  broad  habergeon 
Vant-brass  and  greves,  and  gauntlets,  add  thy  spear, 
A  weaver's  beam,  and  seven-times  folded  shield, 
I  only  with  an  oaken  staff  will  meet  thee, 
And  raise  such  outcries  on  thy  clatter'd  iron, 
Which  long  shall  not  withhold  me  from  thy  head, 
That  in  a  little  time,  while  breath  remains  thee, 
Thou  oft  shalt  wish  thyself  at  Gath  to  boast 
Again  in  safety  what  thou  would'st  have  done 
To  Samson,  but  shall  never  see  Gath  more. 

Har.  Thou  durst  not  thus  disparage  glorious  arms. 
Which  greatest  heroes  have  in  battle  worn. 
Their  ornament  and  safety,  had  not  spells 
And  black  enchantment,  some  magician's  art, 
Arm'd  thee,  or  charm'd  thee  strong,  which  thou  from  hcav'n 
Feign'dst  at  thy  birth  was  giv'n  thee  in  thy  hair. 
Where  strength  can  least  abide,  though  all  thy  hairs 
Were  bristles  ranged  like  those  that  ridge  the  back 
Of  chafed  wild  boars  or  ruffled  porcupines. 

Sams.  I  know  no  spells,  use  no  forbidden  arts  ; 


1  Coat  of  mail,  armor  for  the  neck  and  shoulders.      Vant-brace  is  armor  for  the  arms. 
Greaves  covered  the  legs. 

^ ' ^ 


^ ^ -^ 

42 J  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

My  trust  is  in  tlje  living  God,  who  gave  me 
At  my  nativity  this  strength,  diffused 
No  less  through  all  my  sinews,  joints,  and  bones, 
Than  thine,  while  I  preserved  these  locks  unshorn, 
The  pledge  of  my  unviolated  vow. 
For  proof  hereof,  if  Dagon  be  thy  god, 
Go  to  his  temple,  invocate  his  aid 
With  solemnest  devotion  spread  before  him 
How  highly  it  concerns  his  glory  now 
To  frustrate  and  dissolve  these  magic  spells, 
Which  I  to  be  the  power  of  Israel's  God 
Avow,  and  challenge  Dagon  to  the  test, 
Off'ring  to  combat  thee  his  champion  bold. 
With  th'  utmost  of  his  godhead  seconded  : 
Then  thou  shalt  see,  or  rather  to  thy  sorrow 
Soon  feel,  whose  God  is  strongest,  thine  or  mine. 
Har.  Presume  not  on  thy  God,  whate'er  he  be, 
Thee  he  regards  not,  owns  not,  hath  cut  off 

Quite  from  his  people,  and  deliver'd  up 

Into  thy  enemies'  hand,  permitted  them 

To  put  out  both  thine  eyes,  and  fetter'd  send  thee 

Into  the  common  prison,  there  to  grind 

Among  the  slaves  and  asses,  thy  comrades, 

As  good  for  nothing  else,  no  better  service 

With  those  thy  boist'rous  locks,  no  worthy  match 

For  valor  to  assail,  nor  by  the  sword 

Of  noble  warrior,  so  to  stain  his  honor, 

F)Ut  by  the  barber's  razor  best  subdued. 

Sams.  All  these  indignities,  for  such  they  are, 

From  thine,  these  evils  I  deserve  and  more. 

Acknowledge  them  from  God  inflicted  on  me 

Justly,  yet  despair  not  of  His  final  pardon 

Whose  ear  is  ever  open,  and  His  eye 

Gracious  to  readmit  the  suppliant; 

In  confidence  whereof  I  once  again 

Defy  thee  to  the  trial  of  mortal  fight. 


^ 


4^ 


s- 


^ 


SAMSON  AGONISTES. 


427 


By  combat  to  decide  whose  God  is  God, 
Thine,  or  whom  I  with  Israel's  sons  adore. 

Har.  Fair  honor  that  thou  dost  thy  God,  in  trusting 
He  will  accept  thee  to  defend  his  cause, 
A  murderer,  a  revolter,  and  a  robber.  [these  ? 

Sams.   Tongue-doughty  giant,  how  dost  thou  prove  me 

Har.  Is  not  thy  nation  subject  to  our  lords  ? 
Their  magistrates  confess'd  it,  when  they  took  thee 
As  a  league-breaker,  and  deliver'd  bound 
Into  our  hands;  for  hadst  thou  not  committed 
Notorious  murder  on  those  thirty  men 
At  Ascalon,  who  never  did  thee  harm, 
Then  like  a  robber  stripp'dst  them  of  their  robes? 
The  Philistines,  when  thou  hadst  broke  the  league, 
Went  up  with  armed  powers  thee  only  seeking, 
To  others  did  no  violence  nor  spoil. 

Sams.  Among  the  daughters  of  the  Philistines 
I  chose  a  wife,  which  argued  me  no  foe ; 
And  in  your  city  held  my  nuptial  feast : 
But  your  ill  meaning  politician  lords. 
Under  pretence  of  bridal  friends  and  guests, 
Appointed  to  await  me  thirty  spies, 
Who  threat'ning  cruel  death  constrain'd  the  bride 
To  wring  from  me  and  tell  to  them  my  secret. 
That  solved  the  riddle  which  I  had  proposed. 
When  I  perceived  all  set  on  enmity. 
As  on  my  enemies,  w:herever  chanced, 
I  used  hostility,  and  took  their  spoil 
To  pay  my  underminers  in  their  coin. 
My  nation  was  subjected  to  your  lords. 
It  was  the  force  of  conquest;  force  with  force 
Is  well  ejected  when  the  conquer'd  can. 
But  I  a  private  person,  whom  my  country 
As  a  league-breaker  gave  up  bound,  presumed 
Single  rebellion,  and  did  hostile  acts. 
I  was  no  private,  but  a  person  raised 


4 


^ : ^ 

428  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

With  strength  sufficient  and  command  from  heav'n 

To  free  my  country ;   if  their  servile  minds 

Me  their  deHverer  sent  would  not  receive, 

But  to  their  masters  gave  me  up  for  nought, 

Th'  unworthier  they;  whence  to  this  day  they  serve. 

I  was  to  do  my  part  from  heav'n  assign'd. 

And  had  perform'd  it,  if  my  known  offence 

Had  not  disabled  me,  not  all  your  force  : 

These  shifts  refuted,  answer  thy  appellant, 

Though  by  his  blindness  maim'd  for  high  attempts, 

Who  now  defies  thee  thrice  to  single  fight. 

As  a  petty  enterprise  of  small  enforce. 

Har.  With  thee  a  man  condemn'd,  a  slave  enroU'd, 
Due  by  the  law  to  capital  punishment  ? 
To  fight  with  thee  no  man  of  arms  will  deign. 

Sams.  Cam'st  thou  for  this,  vain  boaster,  to  survey  me, 
To  descant  on  my  strength,  and  give  the  verdict  ? 
Come  nearer,  part  not  hence  so  slight  inform'd ; 
But  take  good  heed  my  hand  survey  not  thee. 

Har.  O  Baal-zebub  !^  can  my  ears  unused 
Hear  these  dishonors,  and  not  render  death  ? 

Sams.  No  man  withholds  thee,  nothing  from  thy  hand 
Fear  I  incurable ;  bring  up  thy  van, 
My  heels  are  fetter'd,  but  my  fist  is  free. 

Har.  This  insolence  other  kind  of  answer  fits. 

Sams.  Go,  baffled  coward,  lest  I  run  upon  thee, 
Though  in  these  chains,  bulk  without  spirit  vast, 
And  with  one  buffet  lay  thy  structure  low. 
Or  swing  thee  in  the  air,  then  dash  thee  down 
To  the  hazard  of  thy  brains  and  shatter'd  sides. 

Har.  By  Astaroth^  ere  long  thou  shalt  lament 
These  braveries  in  irons  leaden  on  thee. 

Chor.  His  giantship  is  gone  somewhat  crestfall'n. 


1  a  deity  of  the  Philistines ;   the  god  of  flies. 

2  Another  deity  of  the  Philistines  and  Sidonians.     The  "Venus"  of  the  East,  or,  it  is 
thought,  the  Moon. 


^ Q, 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  429 

Stalking  with  less  unconscionable  strides, 
And  lower  looks,  but  in  a  sultry  chafe. 

Sams.  I  dread  him  not,  nor  all  his  giant  brood, 
Though  fame  divulge  him  father  of  five  sons, 
All  of  gigantic  size,  Goliah  chief 

Chor.  He  will  directly  to  the  lords,  I  fear, 
And  with  malicious  counsel  stir  them  up 
Some  way  or  other  yet  further  to  afflict  thee. 

Sams.  He  must  allege  some  cause,  and  offer'd  fight 
Will  not  dare  mention,  lest  a  question  rise 
Whether  he  durst  accept  the  offer  or  not. 
And  that  he  durst  not  plain  enough  appear'd. 
Much  more  affliction  than  already  felt 
They  cannot  well  impose,  nor  I  sustain  ; 
If  they  intend  advantage  of  my  labors, 
The  work  of  many  hands,  which  earns  my  keeping 
With  no  small  profit  daily  to  my  owners. 
But  come  what  will,  my  deadliest  foe  will  prove 
My  speediest  friend,  by  death  to  rid  me  hence, 
The  worst  that  he  can  give,  to  me  the  best. 
Yet  so  it  may  fall  out,  because  their  end 
Is  hate,  not  help  to  me,  it  may  with  mine 
Draw  their  own  ruin  who  attempt  the  deed. 
V  Chor.  Oh,  how  comely  it  is,  and  how  reviving 

To  the  spirits  of  just  men  long  oppress'd  ! 
When  God  into  the  hands  of  their  deliverer 
Puts  invincible  might 

To  quell  the  mighty  of  the  earth,  th'  oppressor, 
The  brute  and  boist'rous  force  of  violent  men 
Hardy  and  industrious  to  support 
Tyrannic  power,  but  raging  to  pursue 
The  righteous,  and  all  such  as  honor  truth; 
He  all  their  ammunition 
And  feats  of  war  defeats. 
With  plain  heroic  magnitude  of  mind 
And  celestial  vigor  arm'd, 

^ — -^ 


: -^ 

430  SAMSON  AGONFSTES. 

Their  armories  and  magazines  contemns, 

Renders  them  useless,  while 

With  winged  expedition, 

Swift  as  the  lightning  glance,  he  executes 

His  errand  on  the  wicked,  who  surprised 

Lose  their  defence  distracted  and  amazed. 

But  patience  is  more  oft  the  exercise 
Of  saints,  the  trial  of  their  fortitude, 
Making  them  each  his  own  deliverer, 
And  victor  over  all 
That  tyranny  of  fortune  can  inflict : 
Either  of  these  is  in  thy  lot, 
Samson,  with  might  endued 
Above  the  sons  of  men  ;  but  sight  bereaved 
May  chance  to  number  thee  with  those 
Whom  patience  finally  must  crown. 

This  idol's  day  hath  been  to  thee  no  day  of  rest 
Laboring  thy  mind 

More  than  the  working  day  thy  hands. 
And  yet  perhaps  more  trouble  is  behind. 
For  I  descry  this  way 
Some  other  tending,  in  his  hand 
A  sceptre  or  quaint  staff  he  bears, 
Comes  on  amain,  speed  in  his  look. 
By  his  habit  I  discern  him  now 
A  public  officer,  and  now  at  hand. 
His  message  will  be  short  and  voluble. 

Off.  Hebrews,  the  pris'ner  Samson  here  I  seek. 

Chor.  His  manacles  remark  him,  there  he  sits. 

Off.  Samson,  to  thee  our  lords  thus  bid  me  say : 
This  day  to  Dagon  is  a  solemn  feast. 
With  sacrifices,  triumph,  pomp,  and  games ; 
Thy  strength  they  know  surpassing  human  rate 
And  now  some  public  proof  thereof  require 
To  honor  this  great  feast  and  great  assembly  ; 
Rise  therefore  with  all  speed  and  come  along, 

'^ -^ 


a ^ 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  431 

Where  I  will  see  thee  hearten'd  and  fresh  clad 
T'  appear  as  fits  before  th'  illustrious  lords. 

Sams.  Thou  know'st  I  am  an  Hebrew,  therefore  tell  them 
Our  law  forbids  at  their  religious  rites 
My  presence  ;  for  that  cause  I  cannot  come. 

Off,  This  answer,  be  assured,  will  not  content  them, 

Sams,  Have  they  not  sword-players,  and  ev'ry  sort 
Of  gymnic  artists,  wrestlers,  riders,  runners, 
Jugglers,  and  dancers,  antics,  mummers,  mimics, 
But  they  must  pick  me  out,  with  shackles  tired, 
And  over-labor'd  at  their  public  mill, 
To  make  them  sport  with  blind  activity? 
Do  they  not  seek  occasion  of  new  quarrels 
On  my  refusal  to  distress  me  more. 
Or  make  a  game  of  my  calamities  ? 
Return  the  way  thou  cam'st,  I  will  not  come. 

Off.  Regard  thyself,  this  will  offend  them  highly, 

Sams.  Myself?  my  conscience  and  internal  peace. 
Can  they  think  me  so  broken,  so  debased 
With  corporal  servitude,  that  my  mind  ever 
Will  condescend  to  such  absurd  commands  ? 
Although  their  drudge,  to  be  their  fool  or  jester, 
And  in  my  midst  of  sorrow  and  heart-grief 
To  show  them  feats,  and  play  before  their  god, 
The  worst  of  all  indignities,  yet  on  me 
Join'd  with  extreme  contempt?     I  will  not  come. 

Off.  My  message  was  imposed  on  me  with  speed. 
Brooks  no  delay.     Is  this  thy  resolution  ? 

Sams.  So  take  it  with  what  speed  thy  message  needs. 

Off.  I  am  sorry  what  this  stoutness  will  produce. 

Sams.  Perhaps  thou  shalt  have  cause  to  sorrow  indeed. 

Chor.  Consider,  Samson,  matters  now  are  strain'd 
Up  to  the  height,  whether  to  hold  or  break. 
He's  gone,  and  who  knows  how  he  may  report 
Thy  words  by  adding  fuel  to  the  flame  ? 
Expect  another  message  more  imperious, 

^ ^ ^ ^ 


^ -Qp 

432  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

More  lordly  thund'ring  than  thou  well  wilt  bear. 

Sams.  Shall  I  abuse  this  consecrated  gift 
Of  strength,  again  returning  with  my  hair 
After  my  great  transgression,  so  requite 
Favor  renew'd,  and  add  a  greater  sin 
By  prostituting  holy  things  to  idols ; 
A  Nazarite  m  place  abominable 
Vaunting  my  strength  in  honor  to  their  Dagon  ? 
Besides,  how  vile,  contemptible,  ridiculous, 
What  act  more  execrably  unclean,  profane  ? 
•  Chor.  Yet  with  this  strength  thou  serv'st  the  Philistines 

Idolatrous,  uncircumcised,  unclean. 

Sams.  Not  in  their  idol-worship,  but  by  labor 
Honest  and  lawful  to  deserve  my  food 
Of  those  who  have  me  in  their  civil  power. 

Chor.  Where  the  heart  joins  not,  outward  acts  defile  not. 

Sams.  Where  outward  force  constrains,  the  sentence  holds, 
But  who  constrains  me  to  the  temple  of  Dagon, 
Not  dragging?  the  Philistian  lords  command. 
Commands  are  no  constraints.     If  I  obey  them, 
I  do  it  freely,  vent'ring  to  displease 
God  for  the  fear  of  man,  and  man  prefer, 
Set  God  behind:   which  in  His  jealousy 
Shall  never,  unrepented,  find  forgiveness. 
Yet  that  He  may  dispense  with  me  or  thee 
Present  in  temples  at  idolatrous  rites 
For  some  important  cause,  thou  need'st  not  doubt. 

Chor.  How  thou  wilt  here  come  off  surmounts  my  reach. 

Sams.  Be  of  good  courage,  I  begin  to  feel 
Some  rousing  motions  in  me,  which  dispose 
To  something  extraordinary  my  thoughts. 
I  with  this  messenger  will  go  along. 
Nothing  to  do,  be  sure,  that  may  dishonor 
Our  law,  or  stain  my  vow  of  Nazarite. 
If  there  be  aught  of  presage  in  the  mind, 
This  day  will  be  remarkable  in  my  life 

(^ , 


a Qd 

SAMSON  AGONISTBS.  433 

By  some  great  act,  or  of  my  days  the  last. 

Chor.  In  time  thou  hast  resolved,  the  man  returns. 

Off.  Samson,  this  second  message  from  our  lords 
To  thee  I  am  bid  say.     Art  thou  our  slave, 
Our  captive,  at  the  public  mill  our  drudge, 
And  dar'st  thou  at  our  sending  and  command 
Dispute  thy  coming  ?  come  without  delay; 
Or  we  shall  find  such  engines  to  assail 
And  hamper  thee,  as  thou  shalt  come  of  force. 
Though  thou  wert  firmlier  fasten'd  than  a  rock. 

Sams.  I  could  be  well  content  to  try  their  art. 
Which  to  no  few  of  them  would  prove  pernicious. 
Yet  knowing  their  advantages  too  many, 
Because  they  shall  not  trail  me  through  their  streets 
Like  a  wild  beast,  I  am  content  to  go. 
Master's  commands  come  with  a  power  resistless 
To  such  as  owe  them  absolute  subjection ; 
And  for  a  life  who  will  not  change  his  purpose? 
So  mutable  are  all  the  ways  of  men  ! 
Yet  this  be  sure  in  nothing  to  comply 
Scandalous  or  forbidden  in  our  law. 

Off.  I  praise  thy  resolution  :  doff  these  links ; 
By  this  compliance  thou  wilt  win  the  lords 
To  favor,  and,  perhaps,  to  set  thee  free. 

Sams.  Brethren,  farewell ;  your  company  along 
I  will  not  wish,  lest  it  perhaps  offend  them 
To  see  me  girt  with  friends;  and  how  the  sight 
Of  me  as  of  a  common  enemy, 
So  dreaded  once,  may  how  exasperate  them 
I  know  not.     Lords  are  lordliest  in  their  wine; 
And  the  well  feasted  priest  then  soonest  fired 
With  zeal,  if  aught  religion  seem  concern'd; 
No  less  the  people  on  their  holy-days 
Impetuous,  insolent,  unquenchable : 
Happen  what  may,  of  me  expect  to  hear 
Nothing  dishonorable,  impure,  unworthy 
28 

^ -& 


^ ^ 

434  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Our  God,  our  law,  my  nation,  or  myself, 
The  last  of  me  or  no  I  cannot  warrant. 

Chor.  Go.  and  the  Holy  One 
Of  Israel  be  thy  guide 

To  what  may  serve  His  glory  best,  and  spread  His  name 
Great  among  the  heathen  round ; 
Send  thee  the  angel  of  thy  birtli,  to  stand 
Fast  by  thy  side,  who  from  thy  father's  field 
Rode  up  in  flames  after  his  message  told 
Of  thy  conception,  and  be  now  a  shield 
Of  fire;   that  spirit  that  first  rush'd  on  thee 
In  the  camp  of  Dan 
Be  efficacious  in  thee  now  at  need. 
For  never  was  from  heaven  imparted 
Measure  of  strength  so  great  to  mortal  seed, 
As  in  thy  wondrous  actions  hath  been  seen. 
But  wherefore  comes  old  Manoah  in  such  haste 
With  youthful  steps?   much  livelier  than  ere  while 
He  seems ;  supposing  here  to  find  his  son, 
Or  of  him  bringing  to  us  some  glad  news  ? 

Man.  Peace  with  you,  brethren!  my  inducement  hither 
Was  not  at  present  here  to  find  my  son, 
By  order  of  the  lords  new  parted  hence, 
To  come  and  play  before  them  at  their  feast, 
I  heard  all  as  I  came,  the  city  rings. 
And  numbers  thither  flock  ;  I  had  no  will, 
Lest  I  should  see  him  forced  to  things  unseemly. 
But  that  which  moved  my  coming  now  was  chiefly 
To  give  ye  part  with  me  what  hope  I  have 
With  good  success  to  work  his  liberty. 

Chor.  That  hope  would  much  rejoice  us  to  partake 
With  thee  ;  say,  reverend  Sire,  we  thirst  to  hear. 

Man.  I  have  attempted  one  by  one  the  lords 
Either  at  home  or  through  the  high  street  passing, 
With  supplication  prone  and  father's  tears, 
To  accept  of  ransom  for  my  son  their  pris'ner. 

^ -4^ 


I 


a- 


^ 


^ 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  435 

Some  much  averse  I  found  and  wondrous  harsh, 

Contemptuous,  proud,  set  on  revenge  and  spite  ; 

That  part  most  reverenced  Dagon  and  his  priests : 

Others  more  moderate  seeming,  but  their  aim 

Private  reward,  for  which  both  God  and  State 

They  easily  would  set  to  sale  ;  a  third 

More  generous  far  and  civil,  who  confess'd 

They  had  enough  revenged,  having  reduced 

Their  foe  to  misery  beneath  their  fears, 

The  rest  was  magnanimity  to  remit, 

If  some  convenient  ransom  were  proposed. 

What  noise  or  shout  was  that?  it  tore  the  sky. 
Chor.  Doubtless  the  people  shouting  to  behold 

Their  once  great  dread,  captive  and  blind  before  them, 

Or  at  some  proof  of  strength  before  them  shown. 

Man.  His  ransom,  if  my  whole  inheritance 
May  compass  it,  shall  willingly  be  paid 
And  number'd  down :  much  rather  I  shall  choose 
To  live  the  poorest  in  my  tribe,  than  richest. 
And  he  in  that  calamitous  prison  left. 
No,  I  am  fix'd  not  to  part  hence  without  him. 
For  his  redemption  all  my  patrimony, 
If  need  be,  I  am  ready  to  forego 
And  quit :  not  wanting  him,  I  shall  want  nothing. 
Chor.  Fathers  are  wonL  to  lay  up  for  their  sons, 
Thou  for  thy  son  art  bent  to  lay  out  all  :  \ 

Sons  wont  to  nurse  their  parents  in  old  age. 
Thou  in  old  age  carest  how  to  nurse  thy  son, 
Made  older  than  thy  age  through  eyesight  lost. 
Man.  It  shall  be  my  delight  to  tend  his  eyes. 
And  view  him  sitting  in  the  house,  ennobled, 
With  all  those  high  exploits  by  him  achieved. 
And  on  his  shoulders  waving  down  those  locks. 
That  of  a  nation  arm'd  the  strength  contain'd  : 
And  I  persuade  me  God  hath  not  permitted 
His  strength  again  to  grow  up  with  his  hair, 

= -^ 


^  ,                                                                                                 ^ 

V 

J 

V. 

7 

436                            SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Garrison'd  round  about  him  like  a  camp 

Of  faithful  soldiery,  were  not  his  purpose 

To  use  him  further  yet  in  some  great  service, 

Not  to  sit  idle,  with  so  great  a  gift 

Useless,  and  thence  ridiculous,  about  him. 

And  since  his  strength  with  eyesight  was  not  lost. 

God  will  restore  him  eyesight  to  his  strength. 

Chor.  Thy  hopes  are  not  ill  founded  nor  seem  vain 

Of  his  delivery,  and  thy  joy  thereon 

Conceived,  agreeable  to  a  father's  love, 

In  both  which  we,  as  next,  participate. 

Man.  I  know  your  friendly  minds,  and — 0  what  noise ! 

Mercy  of  heav'n,  what  hideous  noise  was  that? 

Horribly  loud,  unlike  the  former  shout. 

Chor.  Noise  call  you  it  or  universal  groan. 

As  if  the  whole  inhabitation  perish'd  ! 

Blood,  deathj  and  deathful  deeds  are  in  that  noise, 

Ruin,  destruction  at  the  utmost  point. 

Man.  Of  ruin  indeed  methought  I  heard  the  noise : 

Oh,  it  continues,  they  have  slain  my  son. 

Chor.  Thy  son  is  rather  slaying  them,  that  outcry 

From  slaughter  of  one  foe  could  not  ascend. 

Man.  Some  dismal  accident  it  needs  must  be ; 

What  shall  we  do,  stay  here,  or  run  and  see  ? 

Chor.  Best  keep  together  here,  lest  running  thither 

We  unawares  run  into  danger's  mouth. 

This  evil  on  the  Philistines  is  fall'n ; 

From  whom  could  else  a  general  cry  be  heard  ? 

The  sufferers  then  will  scarce  molest  us  here. 

From  other  hands  we  need  not  much  to  fear. 

What  if  his  eyesight,  for  to  Israel's  God 

Nothing  is  hard,  by  miracle  restored, 

He  now  be  dealing  dole  among  his  foes. 

• 

And  over  heaps  of  slaughter'd  walk  his  way  ? 

M.\n.  That  were  a  joy  presumptuous  to  be  thought. 
Chor.  Yet  God  hath  wrought  things  as    incredible 

C 

^    , 

^    C 

:^ 

V  '                                                                                         '  ^ 

^- 


SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

For  His  people  of  old  ;  what  hinders  now  ? 

Man.  He  can,  I  know,  but  doubt  to  think  He  will ; 
Yet  hope  would  fain  subscribe,  and  tempts  belief. 
A  little  stay  will  bring  some  notice  hither. 

Chor.  Of  good  or  bad  so  great,  of  bad  the  sooner  ; 
For  evil  news  rides  post,  while  good  news  baits. 
And  to  our  wish  I  see  one  hither  speeding, 
An  Hebrew,  as  I  guess,  and  of  our  tribe. 

Mess.  O  whither  shall  I  run,  or  which  way  fly 
The  sight  of  this  so  horrid  spectacle. 
Which  erst  my  eyes  beheld,  and  yet  behold  ? 
For  dire  imagination  still  pursues  me. 
But  providence  or  instinct  of  nature  seems. 
Or  reason  though  disturb'd,  and  scarce  consulted, 
To  have  guided  me  aright,  I  know  not  how, 
To  thee  first,  reverend  Manoah,  and  to  these 
My  countrymen,  whom  here  I  knew  remaining. 
As  at  some  distance  from  the  place  of  horror, 
So  in  the  sad  event  too  much  concern'd. 

Man.  The  accident  was  loud,  and  here  before  thee 
With  rueful  cry,  yet  what  it  was  we  hear  not ; 
No  preface  needs,  thou  seest  we  long  to  know. 

Mess.  It  would  burst  forth,  but  I  recover  breath 
And  sense  distract,  to  know  well  what  I  utter. 

Man.  Tell  us  the  sum,  the  circumstance  defer. 

Mess.  Gaza  yet  stands,  but  all  her  sons  are  fall'n. 
All  in  a  moment  overwhelm'd  and  fall'n. 

Man.  Sad;  but  thou  know'st  to  Israelites  not  saddest 
The  desolation  of  a  hostile  city. 

Mess.  Feed  on  that  first,  there  may  in  grief  be  surfeit. 

Man.  Relate  by  whom. 

Mess.  By  Samson. 

Man.  That  still  lessens 
The  sorrow  and  converts  it  nigh  to  joy. 

Mess.  Ah  !  Manoah,  I  refrain  too  suddenly 
To  utter  what  will  come  at  last  too  soon  ; 


437 


^ 


c 

i\   .                                                                                                    .    r\ 

) 

V. 

J 

438 

SAMSOM  AGONISTES. 

Lest  evil  tidings  with  too  rude  irruption 
Hitting  thy  aged  ear  should  pierce  too  deep. 

Man.  Suspense  in  news  is  torture,  speak  them  out. 

Mess.  Take  then  the  worst  in  brief,  Samson  is  dead. 

Man.  The  worst  indeed.     O  !  all  my  hopes  defeated 
To  free  him  hence !  but  death,  who  sets  all  free, 
Hath  paid  his  ransom  now  and  full  discharge. 
What  windy  joy  this  day  had  I  conceived 
Hopeful  of  his  delivery,  which  now  proves 
Abortive  as  the  first-born  bloom  of  spring 
Nipt  with  the  lagging  rear  of  winter's  frost ! 
Yet  ere  I  give  the  reins  to  grief,  say  first 
How  died  he ;  death  to  life  is  crown  or  shame. 
All  by  him  fell  thou  say'st,  by  whom  fell  he  ? 
What  glorious  hand  gave  Samson  his  death's  wound  ? 

Mess.  Unwounded  of  his  enemies  he  fell. 

Man.  Wearied  with  slaughter  then,  or  how  ?  explain. 

Mess.  By  his  own  hands. 

1 

. 

Man.  Self-violence?  what  cause 
Brought  him  so  soon  at  variance  with  himself 
Among  his  foes ! 

Mess.  Inevitable  cause 
At  once  both  to  destroy  and  be  destroy'd ; 
The  edifice,  where  all  were  met  to  see  him. 
Upon  their  heads  and  on  his  own  he  pull'd. 

Man.  0  lastly  over-strong  against  thyself! 
A  dreadful  way  thou  took'st  to  thy  revenge. 
More  than  enough  we  know  ;  but  while  things  yet 
Are  in  confusion,  give  us,  if  thou  can'st, 
Eye-witness  of  what  first  or  last  was  done, 
Relation  more  particular  and  distinct. 

Mess.  Occasions  drew  me  early  to  this  city, 
And  as  the  gates  I  cnter'd  with  sun-rise, 
The  morning  trumpets  festival  proclaim'd 
Through  each  high-street.     Little  I  had  dispatch'd 
When  all  abroad  was  rumor'd,  that  this  day 

Samson  should  be  brought  forth  to  show  the  people 

r 

^ 

r 

^ 

V                                                                                                    ^ 

^ ■  Qp 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  439 

Proof  of  his  mighty  strength  in  feats  and  games; 

I  sorrow'd  at  his  captive  state,  but  minded 

Not  to  be  absent  at  that  spectacle. 

The  building  was  a  spacious  theatre, 

Half-round,  on  two  main  pillars  vaulted  high. 

With  seats,  where  all  the  lords  and  each  degree 

Of  sort  might  sit  in  order  to  behold  ; 

The  other  side  was  open,  where  the  throng 

On  banks  and  scaffolds  under  sky  might  stand; 

I  among  these  aloof  obscurely  stood. 

The  feast  and  noon  grew  high,  and  sacrifice 

Had  fill'd  their  hearts  with  mirth,  high  cheer,  and  wine, 

When  to  their  sports  they  turn'd.     Immediately 

Was  Samson  as  a  public  servant  brought, 

In  their  state  livery  clad  ;  before  him  pipes 

And  timbrels,  on  each  side  went  armed  guards, 

Both  horse  and  foot,  before  him  and  behind 

Archers,  and  slingers,  cataphracts,^  and  spears. 

At  sight  of  him  the  people  with  a  shout 

Rifted  the  air,  clamoring  their  God  with  praise. 

Who  had  made  their  dreadful  enemy  their  thrall. 

He  patient,  but  undaunted,  where  they  led  him. 

Came  to  the  place,  and  what  was  set  before  him, 

Which  without  help  of  eye  might  be  assay'd. 

To  heave,  pull,  draw,  or  break,  he  still  perform'd 

All  with  incredible  stupendous  force, 

None  daring  to  appear  antagonist. 

At  length  for  intermission'  sake  they  led  him 

Between  the  pillars ;  he  his  guide  requested, 

For  so  from  such  as  nearer  stood  we  heard, 

As  over-tired  to  let  him  lean  awhile 

With  both  his  arms  on  those  two  massy  pillars, 

That  to  the  arched  roof  gave  main  support 

He  unsuspicious  led  him  ;  which  when  Samson 

1  Men  and  horses  in  armor. 

^ ^ 


<fr- 


l' 


440  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

Felt  in  his  arms,  with  head  awhile  inclined, 

And  eyes  fast  fixt  he  stood,  as  one  who  pray'd, 

Or  some  great  matter  in  his  mind  revolved: 

At  last  with  head  erect  thus  cried  aloud, 

Hitherto,  lords,  what  your  commands  imposed 

I  have  perform'd  as  reason  was,  obeying, 

Not  without  wonder  or  delight  beheld  : 

Now  of  my  own  accord  such  other  trial 

I  mean  to  show  you  of  my  strength,  yet  greater; 

As  with  amaze  shall  strike  all  who  behold. 

This  utter'd,  straining  all  his  nerves  he  bow'd, 

As  with  the  force  of  winds  and  waters  pent 

When  mountains  tremble,  those  two  massy  pillars 

With  horrible  convulsion  to  and  fro 

He  tugg'd,  he  shook,  till  down  they  came  and  drew 

The  whole  roof  after  them,  with  burst  of  thunder 

Upon  the  heads  of  all  who  sat  beneath. 

Lords,  ladies,  captains,  counsellors,  or  priests, 

Their  choice  nobility  and  flower,  not  only 

Of  this,  but  each  Philistian  city  round, 

Met  from  all  parts  to  solemnize  this  feast. 

Samson,  with  these  inmixt,  inevitably 

PuU'd  down  the  same  destruction  on  himself; 

The  vulgar  only  'scaped  who  stood  without. 

Chor.  O  dearly-bought  revenge,  yet  glorious  ! 
Living  or  dying  thou  hast  fulfiU'd 
The  work  for  which  thou  wast  foretold 
To  Israel,  and  now  liest  victorious 
Among  thy  slain,  self-kill'd 
Not  willingly,  but  tangled  in  the  fold 
Of  dire  necessity,  whose  law  in  death  conjoin'd 
Thee  with  thy  slaughter'd  foes  in  number  more 
Than  all  thy  life  had  slain  before. 

I.  Semichor.  While  their  hearts  were  jocund  and  sublime, 
Drunk  with  idolatry,  drunk  with  wine. 
And  fat  regorged  of  bulls  and  goats, 

4- ' -^ 


^ a? 

SAMSON  AGONISTES.  441 

Chanting  their  idol,  and  preferring 

Before  our  living  Droad  who  dwells 

In  Silo^  His  bright  sanctuary  : 

Among  them  He  a  spirit  of  frenzy  sent. 

Who  hurt  their  minds, 

And  urged  them  on  with  mad  desire 

To  call  in  haste  for  their  destroyer ; 

They,  only  set  on  sport  and  play, 

Unweetingly  importuned 

Their  own  destruction  to  come  speedy  upon  them. 

So  fond  are  mortal  men 

Fall'n  into  wrath  divine, 

As  their  own  ruin  on  themselves  to  invite, 

Insensate  left,  or  to  sense  reprobate, 

And  with  blindness  internal  struck. 

2.  Semichor.  But  he,  though  blind  of  sight. 
Despised  and  thought  extinguish'd  quite, 
With  inward  eyes  illuminated, 
His  fiery  virtue  roused 
From  under  ashes  into  sudden  flame. 
And  as  an  ev'ning  dragon  came, 
Assailant  on  the  perched  roosts 
And  nests  in  order  ranged 
Of  tame  villatic  fowl  f  but  as  an  eagle 
His  cloudless  thunder  bolted  on  their  heads. 
So  virtue  giv'n  for  lost, 
Depress'd,  and  overthrown,  as  seem'd, 
Like  that  self-begotten  bird 
In  the  Arabian  woods  imbost, 
That  no  second  knows  nor  third, 
And  lay  ere  while  a  holocaust, 
From  out  her  ashy  womb  now  teem'd, 
Revives,  reflourishes,  then  vigorous  most 

1  Where  the  Ark  then  was. 

2  See  Plin.  lib.  xxiii.  sect.  17.    "Villaticas  alites." — Richardson. 

^ ^ 


^^- ' -^ 

442  SAMSON  AGONISTES. 

When  most  unactivc  deem'd, 

And  though  her  body  die,  her  fame  survives 

A  secular  bird  ages  of  Hves/ 

Man.     Come,  come,  no  time  for  lamentation  now, 
Nor  much  more  cause:  Samson  hath  quit  himself 
Like  Samson,  and  heroically  hath  finished 
A  life  heroic,  on  his  enemies 

Fully  revenged,  hath  left  them  years  of  mourning, 
And  lamentation  to  the  son  of  Caphtor^ 
Through  all  Philistian  bounds.     To  Israel 
Honor  hath  left  and  freedom,  let  but  them 
Find  courage  to  lay  hold  on  this  occasion ; 
To  himself  and  father's  house  eternal  fame; 
And,  which  is  best  and  happiest  yet,  all  this 
With  God  not  parted  from  him,  as  was  fear'd, 
But  favoring  and  assisting  to  the  end. 
Nothing  is  here  for  tears,  nothing  to  wail 
Or  knock  the  breast,  no  weakness,  no  contempt. 
Dispraise,  or  blame,  nothing  but  well  and  fair, 
And  what  may  quiet  us  in  a  death  so  noble. 
Let  us  go  find  the  body  where  it  lies 
Soak'd  in  his  enemies'  blood,  and  from  the  stream 
With  lavers  pure  and  cleansing  herbs  wash  off 
The  clotted  gore.     I,  with  what  speed  the  while, 
(Gaza  is  not  in  plight  to  say  us  nay,) 
Will  send  for  all  my  kindred,  all  my  fi-iends, 
To  fetch  him  hence,   and  solemnly  attend 
With  silent  obsequy  and  funeral  train 
Home  to  his  father's  house:   there  will  I  build  him 
A  monument,  and  plant  it  round  with  shade 
Of  laurel  ever  green,  and  branching  palm, 

1  The  Phoenix;  supposed  to  make  a  funeral  pile  of  sweet-scented  woods,  and  fan  it  to  a 
flame  with  her  wings  ;  from  her  ashes  rose  another  phoenix,  sole  of  its  kind  always.  The 
phoenix  was  considered  an  emblem  of  the  resurrection. 

-  The  Philistines  are  called  the  sons  ofCaphtor  because  they  came  originally  from  the 
island  ol  Caphtor,  or  Crete. 


^ 


SAMSON  AGONISTES.  443 

With  all  his  trophies  hung,  and  acts  inroll'd 
In  copious  legend,  or  sweet  lyric  song. 
Thither  shall  all  the  valiant  youth  resort, 
And  from  his  memory  inflame  their  breasts 
To  matchless  valor  and  adventures  high  : 
The  virgins  also  shall  on  feastful  days 
Visit  his  tomb  with  flowers,  only  bewailing 
His  lot  unfortunate  in  nuptial  choice, 
From  whence  captivity  and  loss  of  eyes. 

Chor.  All  is  best,  though  we  oft  doubt. 
What  th'  unsearchable  dispose 
Of  Highest  Wisdom  brings  about. 
And  ever  best  found  in  the  close 
Oft  He  seems  to  hide  His  face, 
But  unexpectedly  returns, 
And  to  His  faithful  champion  hath  in  place 
Bore  witness  gloriously  ;  whence  Gaza  mourns 
And  all  that  band  them  to  resist 
His  uncontrollable  intent: 
His  servants  He,  with  new  acquist 
Of  true  experience  from  this  great  event, 
With  peace  and  consolation  hath  dismiss'd. 
And  calm  of  mind,  all  passion  spent 


^ ^ 


^ 


■^ 


Early  Poems. 


f-X^,)/^^ 


Anno  ^tatis  17, 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A   FAIR   INFANT/   DYING   OF    A 

COUGH. 

1625. 
I. 

O  FAIREST  flower,  no  sooner  blown  but  blasted, 
Soft  silken  primrose  fading  timelessly, 
Summer's  chief  honor,  if  thou  hadst  out-lasted 
Bleak  Winter's  force  that  made  thy  blossom  dry ; 
For  he  being  amorous  on  that  lovely  dye 

That  did  thy  cheek  envermeil,  thought  to  kiss, 
But  kill'd  alas !  and  then  bewail'd  his  fatal  bliss. 

II. 

For  since  grim  Aquilo"  his  charioteer 
By  boisterous  rape  th'  Athenian  damsel^  got, 
He  thought  it  touch 'd  his  deity  full  near, 
If  likewise  he  some  fair  one  wedded  not, 
Thereby  to  wipe  away  the  infamous  blot 

Of  long-uncoupled  bed,  and  childless  eld, 
Which  'mongst  the  wanton  Gods  a  foul  reproach  was  held. 


1  The  Poet's  infant  niece,  daughter  of  his  sister,  Mrs.  Philips. 

2  Boreas,  or  the  North  Wind.  3  Orithyia — OViD.  Metam,  6. 

445 


^ 


^ 


446  '  EARLY  POEMS. 

III. 

So  mounting  up  in  icy-pearled  car, 
Through  middle  empire  of  the  freezing  air 
He  wander'd  long,  till  thee  he  ^py'd  from  far; 
There  ended  was  his  quest,  there  ceased  his  care. 
Down  he  descended  from  his  snow-soft  chair, 
But  all  unwares  with  his  cold-kind  embrace 
Unhoused  thy  virgin  soul  from  her  fair  biding  place. 

IV. 

Yet  art  thou  not  inglorious  in  thy  fate  ; 
For  so  Apollo,  with  unwecting  hand, 
Whilome  did  slay  his  dearly-loved  mate. 
Young  Hyacinth,^  born  on  Eurotas'  strand 
Young  Hyacinth,  the  pride  of  Spartan  land ; 

But  then  transform'd  him  to  a  purple  flower : 
Alack,  that  so  to  change  thee  Winter  had  no  power ! 

V. 

Yet  can  I  not  persuade  me  thou  art  dead. 
Or  thit  thy  corse  corrupts  in  earth's  dark  womb, 
Or  that  thy  beauties  lie  in  wormy  bed, 
Hid  from  the  world  in  a  low  delved  tomb  ; 
Could  Heaven  for  pity  thee  so  strictly  doom  ? 
Oh  no!  for  something  in  thy  face  did  shine 
Above  mortality,  that  show'd  thou  wast  divine. 

VI, 

Resolve  me  then,  oh  Soul  most  surely  blest, 
(If  so  it  be  that  thou  these  plaints  dost  hear,) 
Tell  me,  bright  Spirit,  where'er  thou  hoverest, 
Whether  above  that  high  first-moving  sphere. 
Or  in  th'  Elysian  fields,  (if  such  there  were,) 

Oh  say  me  true,  if  thou  wert  mortal  wight. 
And  why  from  us  so  quickly  thou  didst  take  thy  flight. 

lA  Prince  of  Sparta,  said  to  have  bsen  accidentally  slain  by  Apollo.      Festivals  to  his 
honor  were  held  annually  by  the  Greeks  at  Amycloe,  a  city  of  Laconia. 

4- ^- & 


f ^ 

EARLY  POEMS.  447 

VII. 

Wert  thou  some  star  which  from  the  ruin'd  roof 
Of  shaked  Olympus  by  mischance  didst  fall ; 
Which  careful  Jove  in  nature's  true  behoof 
Took  up,  and  in  fit  place  did  reinstall  ? 
Or  did  of  late  earth's  sons  besiege  the  wall 

Of  sheeny  Heaven,  and  thou  some  Goddess  fled 
Amongst  us  here  below  to  hide  thy  nectar'd  head  ? 

VIII. 

Or  wert  thou  that  just  Maid,  who  once  before 

Forsook  the  hated  earth,  O  tell  me  sooth, 

And  camest  again  to  visit  us  once  more  ? 

Or  wert  thou  that  sweet- smiling  youth  ? 

Or  that  crown'd  matron  sage  white-robed  Truth  ? 

Or  any  other  of  that  heavenly  brood 
Let  down  in  cloudy  throne  to  do  the  world  some  good  ? 

IX. 

Or  wert  thou  of  the  golden-winged  host, 
Who  having  clad  thyself  in  human  weed, 
To  earth  from  thy  prefixed  seat  didst  post, 
And  after  short  abode  fly  back  with  speed. 
As  if  to  show  what  creatures  heaven  doth  breed, 

Thereby  to  set  the  hearts  of  men  on  fire 
To  scorn  the  sordid  world  and  unto  heaven  aspire  ? 

X. 

But  oh,  why  didst  thou  not  stay  here  below 
To  bless  us  with  thy  heaven- loved  innocence. 
To  slake  his  wrath  whom  sin  hath  made  our  foe, 
To  turn  swift-rushing  black  Perdition  hence, 
Or  drive  away  the  slaughtering  Pestilence, 

To  stand  'twixt  us  and  our  deserved  smart  ? 
But  thou  canst  best  perform  that  office  where  thou  art. 

D     '  : '- ^^ 


^ : -^ 

448  EARLY  POEMS. 

XI. 

Then  thou,  the  Mother  of  so  sweet  a  Child, 
Her  false  imagined  loss  cease  to  lament, 
And  wisely  learn  to  curb  thy  sorrows  wild ; 
Think  what  a  present  thou  to  God  hast  sent, 
And  render  Him  with  patience  what  He  lent ; 

This  if  thou  do,  He  will  an  offspring  give 
That  till  the  world's  last  end  shall  make  thy  name  to  live. 


Anno  ^Etatis  19. 

AT  A  VACATION  EXERCISE  IN  THE  COLLEGE. 

1627. 

PART   LATIN,    PART   ENGLISH. 
The  Latin  speeches  ended,  the  English  thus  began  :— 

Hail,  native  Language,  that  by  sinews  weak 

Didst  move  my  first  endeavoring  tongue  to  speak, 

And  madest  imperfect  words  with  childish  trips. 

Half  unpronounced,  slide  through  my  infant  lips, 

Driving  dumb  silence  from  the  portal  door, 

Where  he  had  mutely  sat  two  years  before : 

Here  I  salute  thee,  and  thy  pardon  ask, 

That  now  I  use  thee  in  my  latter  task : 

Small  loss  it  is  that  thence  can  come  unto  thee, 

I  know  my  tongue  but  little  grace  can  do  thee : 

Thou  need'st  not  be  ambitious  to  be  first, 

Believe  me  I  have  thither  pack'd  the  worst ; 

And,  if  it  happen  as  I    did  forccasty* 

The  daintiest  dishes  shall  be  served  up  last. 

I  pray  thee  then  deny  me  not  thy  aid 

For  this  same  small  neglect  that  I  have  made : 

But  haste  thee  straight  to  do  me  once  a  pleasure, 

And  from  thy  wardrobe  bring  thy  chicfest  treasure, 

4_ — _ ^ 


s ^ 

EARLY  POEMS.  449 

Not  those  new-fangled  toys,  and  trimming  slight^ 

Which  takes  our  late  fantastics  with  delight, 

But  cull  those  richest  robes  and  gay'st  attire 

Which  deepest  spirits,  and  choicest  wits  desire : 

I  have  some  naked  thoughts  that  rove  about, 

And  loudly  knock  to  have  their  passage  out; 

And  weary  of  their  place  do  only  stay 

Till  thou  hast  deck'd  them  in  thy  best  array ; 

That  so  they  may  without  suspect  or  fears 

Fly  swiftly  to  this  fair  assembly's  ears ; 

Yet  I  had  rather,  if  I  were  to  choose, 

Thy  service  in  some  graver  subject  use. 

Such  as  may  make  thee  search  thy  coffers  round, 

Before  thou  clothe  my  fancy  in  fit  sound  : 

Such  where  the  deep  transported  mind  may  soar 

Above  the  wheeling  poles,  and  at  Heaven's  door 

Look  in,  and  see  each  blissful  Deity 

How  he  before  the  thunderous  throne  doth  lie, 

Listening  to  what  unshorn  Apollo  sings 

To  the  touch  of  golden  wires,  while  Hebe  brings 

Immortal  nectar  to  her  kingly  sire : 

Then  passing  through  the  spheres  of  watchful  fire, 

And  misty  regions  of  wide  air  next  under. 

And  hills  of  snow,  and  lofts  of  piled  thunder, 

May  tell  at  length  \\ovj  green-eyed  Neptune  raves. 

In  Heaven's  defiance  mustering  all  his  waves ; 

Then  sing  of  secret  things  that  came  to  pass 

When  beldam  Nature  in  her  cradle  was ; 

And  last  of  kings  and  queens  and  heroes  old, 

Such  as  the  wise  Demodocus  ^  once  told, 

In  solemn  songs  at  King  Alcinous'  feast, 

1  Milton  alludes  to  the  affected  phraseology  of  the  period,  called  Euphuism,  which  origi- 
nated in  Lily's  Euphuei  and  his  England,  a  book  intended  to  refine  the  English  language. 
Scott  has  given  us  a  lively  picture  of  this  affected  jargon  in  his  Sir  Piercie  Shafton  in  the 
Monastery;  see  p.  449. 

2  A  Greek  bard.    See  Odyssey,  Book  VIII. 

29 


^ 


4 


-^ 

450  EARLY  POEMS. 

While  sad  Ulysses'  soul,  and  all  the  rest, 

Are  held  with  his  melodious  harmony, 

In  willing  chains  and  sweet  captivity. 

But  fie,  my  wandering  Muse,  how  thou  dost  stray! 

Expectance  calls  thee  now  another  way, 

Thou  know'st  it  must  be  now  thy  only  bent 

To  keep  in  compass  of  thy  predicament : 

Then  quick  about  thy  purposed  business  come, 

That  to  the  next  I  may  resign  my  room. 

Then  Ens^  is  represented  as  father  of  the  Predicaments 2  his  ten  sons,  whereof  the  eldest 
stood  for  Substance  with  his  canons,  which  Ens,  thus  speaking,  explains  : — 

Good  luck  befriend  thee,  Son  ;  for  at  thy  birth 

The  fairy  ladies  danced  upon  the  hearth  ; 

Thy  drowsy  nurse  hath  sworn  she  did  them  spy 

Come  tripping  to  the  room  where  thou  didst  lie. 

And  sweetly  singing  round  about  thy  bed 

Strow  all  their  blessings  on  thy  sleeping  head. 

She  heard  them  give  thee  this,  that  thou  should'st  still 

From  eyes  of  mortals  walk  invisible : 

Yet  there  is  something  that  doth  force  my  fear, 

For  once  it  was  my  dismal  hap  to  hear 

A  sibyl  old,  bow-bent  with  crooked  age. 

That  far  events  full  wisely  could  presage, 

And  in  time's  long  and  dark  prospective  glass 

Foresaw  what  future  days  should  bring  to  pass  ; 

Your  son,  said  she  (nor  can  you  it  prevent), 

Shall  subject  be  to  many  an  Accident.^ 

O'er  all  his  brethren  he  shall  reign  as  king, 

1  Ens,  a  term  in  metaptiysics  signifying  entity,  being  existence.  In  this  mask  it  is  per- 
sonified, as  are  also  Substance,  Quantity,  Quality,  and  relation.  "This  affectation,"  says 
Warton,  "will  appear  more  excusable  in  Milton,  if  we  recollect  that  everything  in  the  Masks 
of  this  age  appeared  in  a  bodily  shape." 

2  A  predicament  is  a  category  in  logic  ;  that  is,  a  series  of  all  the  predicates  or  attributes 
contained  under  a  genus.  The  logic  of  Aristotle  comprised  ten  categories  :  Substance, 
Quantity.  Quality,  Relation,  Action,  Passion,  Time,  Place,  Situation  and  Habit.  These 
were  personified  in  the  Mask. 

3  A  pun  on  the  logical  accidens. — Warton. 

%_ ^ -^ 


^ 


^ 


EARLY  POEMS,  451 

Yet  every  one  shall  make  him  underling, 

And  those  that  cannot  live  from  him  asunder 

Ungratefully  shall  strive  to  keep  him  under, 

In  worth  and  excellence  he  shall  out-go  them, 

Yet  being  above  them,  he  shall  be  below  them ; 

From  others  he  shall  stand  in  need  of  nothing, 

Yet  on  his  brothers  shall  depend  for  clothing. 

To  find  a  foe  it  shall  not  be  his  hap, 

And  peace  shall  lull  him  in  her  flowery  lap  ; 

Yet  shall  he  live  in  strife,  and  at  his  door 

Devouring  war  shall  never  cease  to  roar ; 

Yea  it  shall  be  his  natural  property 

To  harbor  those  that  are  at  enmity. 

What  power,  what  force,  what  mighty  spell,  if  not 

Your  learned  hands,  can  loose  this  Gordian  knot. 

The  next  Quantity  and  Quality  spake  in  prose  ;   then  Relation  was  called  by  his  name. 

Rivers,  arise ;  whether  thou  be  the  son 

Of  utmost  Tweed,  or  Ouse,  or  gulphy  Don, 

Or  Trent,  who  like  some  earth-born  giant  spreads 

His  thirty  arms^  along  the  indented  meads. 

Or  sullen  Mole  that  runneth  underneath,^ 

Or  Severn  swift,  guilty  of  maiden's  death,^ 

Or  rocky  Avon,  or  of  sedgy  Lee, 

Or  coaly  Tine,  or  ancient  hallow'd  Dee, 

Or  Humber  loud  that  keeps  the  Scythian's  name,'* 

Or  Medway  smooth,  or  royal  tower'd  Thame. 

The  rest  was  prose. 

1  It  is  said  that  there  were  thirty  sorts  of  fish  in  this  river,  and  thirty  religious  houses  on 
its  banks. 

2  At  Mickleham,  near  Dorking,  the  River  Mole,  in  hot  summers,  sinks  through  its  sands, 
and  finds  a  subterranean  channel.  In  winter,  and  when  heavy  rains  fall,  it  keeps  its  usual 
bed. 

3  Sabrina,     See  Comus,  verse  827. 

■*  Humber  was  a  Scythian  king,  said  to  have  been  drowned^  in  this  river  by  Locrine ,  three 
hundred  years  before  the  Romans  landed  in  Britain. 


^- ■■ ^ 


s- ^ 


Odes. 


ON  THE  MORNING  OF  CHRIST'S  NATIVITY. 

1629. 
I. 

This  is  the  month,  and  this  the  happy  morn, 
Wherein  the  Son  of  heaven's  eternal  king, 
Of  wedded  Maid,  and  Virj^^in  Mother  born, 
Our  great  redemption  from  above  did  bring ; 
For  so  the  holy  sages  ^  once  did  sing, 

That  He  our  deadly  forfeit  should  release, 
And  with  His  Father  work  us  a  perpetual  peace. 

II. 
That  glorious  form,  that  light  unsufferable, 
And  that  far-beaming  blaze  of  majesty, 
Wherewith  He  wont  at  heaven's  high  council  table 
To  sit  the  midst  of  Trinal  Unity, 
He  laid  aside;  and  here  with  us  to  be, 

Forsook  the  courts  of  everlasting  day. 
And  chose  with  us  a  darksome  house  of  mortal  clay. 

III. 
Say,  heavenly  Muse,  shall  not  thy  sacred  vein 
Afford  a  present  to  the  Infant  God? 
Hast  thou  no  verse,  no  hymn,  or  solemn  strain, 
To  welcome  Him  to  this  His  new  abode, 
Now  while  the  heaven  by  the  sun's  team  untrod. 

Hath  took  no  print  of  the  approaching  light, 
And  all  the  spangled  host  keep  watch  in  squadrons  bright  ? 

1  The  prophets.  •  , 

452 

^ : — ^ 


^ : ^ 

EARLY  POEMS,  453 

IV. 

See  how  from  far  upon  the  eastern  road 
The  star-led  wizards  ^  haste  with  odors  sweet : 
O  run  prevent  them  with  thy  humble  ode, 
And  lay  it  lowly  at  His  blessed  feet ; 
Have  thou  the  honor  first  thy  Lord  to  greet, 

And  join  thy  voice  unto  the  Angel  quire, 
From  out  His  secret  altar  touch'd  with  hallow'd  fire. 


THE  HYMN. 
I. 

It  was  the  winter  wild, 
While  the  heaven-born  child 

All  meanly  wrapt  in  the  rude  manger  lies ; 
Nature  in  awe  to  Him 
Had  dofft  her  gaudy  trim, 

With  her  great  Master  so  to  sympathize : 
It  was  no  season  then  for  her 
To  wanton  with  the  sun,  her  lusty  paramour. 

II. 

Only  with  speeches  fair 
She  woos  the  gentle  air 

To  hide  her  guilty  front  with  innocent  snow, 
And  on  her  naked  shame, 
Pollute  with  sinful  blame, 

The  saintly  veil  of  maiden  white  to  throw, 
Confounded  that  her  Maker's  eyes 
Should  look  so  near  upon  her  foul  deformities. 

1  The  Magi.      The  word  "wizard"    meant  simply  wise    men  and   is   used   in   Sir  John 
Cheke's  translation  of  St.  Matthew's  Gospel. 


^. __- ^ 

454  EARLY  POEMS, 

III. 
But  He  her  fears  to  cease, 
Sent  down  the  meek-eyed  Peace  ; 

She,  crown'd  with  olives  green,  came  softly  sliding 
Down  through  the  turning  sphere 
His  ready  harbinger, 

With  turtle  wing  the  amorous  clouds  dividing; 
And  waving  wide  her  myrtle  wand, 
She  strikes  auniversal  peace  through  sea  and  land. 

IV. 

Nor  war,  or  battle's  sound 
Was  heard  the  world  around  : 

The  idle  spear  and  shield  were  high  up  hung. 
The  hooked  chariot  stood 
Unstain'd  with  hostile  blood. 

The  trumpet  spake  not  to  the  armed  throng, 
And  kings  sat  still  with  awful  eye, 
As  if  they  surely  knew  their  sovereign  Lord  was  by. 

v. 

But  peaceful  was  the  night 
Wherein  the  Prince  of  light 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began : 
The  winds  with  wonder  whist  ^ 
Smoothly  the  waters  kist, 

Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean, 
Who  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave. 
While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave. 

VI. 

The  stars  with  deep  amaze 
Stand  fix'd  in  steadfast  gaze. 

Bending  one  way  their  precious  influence, 
And  will  not  take  their  flight, 

1  Silent,  or  hushed. 

^ ^ -4 


A   ,                                                                                                     .    n 

^ 

J 

^ 

J 

EARLY  POEMS.                                   455 

For  all  the  morning  light, 

Or  Lucifer  that  often  warn'd  them  thence ; 
But  in  their  glimmering  orbs  did  glow, 
Until  their  Lord  Himself  bespake,  and  bid  them  go. 

VII. 

And  though  the  shady  gloom 
Had  given  day  her  room, 

The  sun  himself  withheld  his  wonted  speed, 
And  hid  his  head  for  shame, 
As  his  inferior  flame 

The  new  enlighten'd  world  no  more  should  need ; 
He  saw  a  greater  sun  appear 
Than  his  bright  throne,  or  burning  axletree  could  bear. 

viir. 
The  shepherds  on  the  lawn, 
Or  e'er  the  point  of  dawn. 

Sat  simply  chatting  in  a  rustic  row  ; 
Full  little  thought  they  then 
That  the  mighty  Pan^ 

Was  kindly  come  to  live  with  them  below ; 
Perhaps  their  loves,  or  else  their  sheep, 
Was  all  that  did  their  silly  thoughts  so  busy  keep. 

V 

IX. 

When  such  music  sweet 
Their  hearts  and  ears  did  greet. 

As  never  was  by  mortal  finger  strook. 
Divinely-warbled  voice 
Answering  the  stringed  noise. 

As  all  their  souls  in  blissful  rapture  took  : 

The  air  such  pleasure  loth  to  lose. 

With  thousand  echoes  still  prolongs  each  heavenly  close. 

"> 

1  God  of  shepherds. 

n 

> 

r 

\j  •                                                                               ■  ^  1 

^ 


456 


EARLY  POEMS. 


Nature  that  heard  such  sound, 
Beneath  the  hollow  round 

Of  Cynthia's  seat,  the  airy  region  thrilling, 
Now  was  almost  won 
To  think  her  part  was  done. 

And  that  her  reign  had  here  its  last  fulfilling; 
She  knew  such  harmony  alone 
Could  hold  all  heaven  and  earth  in  happier  union. 

XI. 

At  last  surrounds  their  sight, 
A  globe  of  circular  light, 

That  with  long  beams  the  shamefaced  night  array'd ; 
The  helmed  Cherubim, 
And  sworded  Seraphim, 

Are  seen  in  glittering  ranks  with  wings  display'd. 
Harping  in  loud  and  solemn  quire, 
With  unexpressive  notes  to  Heaven's  new-born  Heir. 

XII. 

Such  music  (as  'tis  said) 
Before  was  never  made, 

But  when  of  old  the  sons  of  morning  sung, 
While  the  Creator  great 
His  constellations  set, 

And  the  well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hung. 
And  cast  the  dark  foundations  deep, 
And  bid  the  weltering  waves  their  oozy  channel  keep. 

XIII. 

Ring  out,  ye  crystal  spheres. 
Once  bless  our  human  ears, 

If  ye  have  power  to  touch  our  senses  so ; 
And  let  your  silver  chime 


4> 


-^ 


f-- 


* 


EARLY  POEMS.  457 

Move  in  melodious  time. 

And  let  the  base  of  heaven's  deep  organ  blow ; 
And  with  your  ninefold  harmony, 
Make  up  full  consort  to  the  angelic  symphony. 

XIV. 

For  if  such  holy  song 
Inwrap  our  fancy  long, 

Time  will  run  back,  and  fetch  the  age  of  gold, 
And  speckled  Vanity 
Will  sicken  soon  and  die, 

And  leprous  Sin  will  melt  from  earthly  mould  ; 
And  Hell  itself  will  pass  away, 
And  leave  her  dolorous  mansions  to  the  peering  day. 

XV. 

Yea  Truth  and  Justice  then 
Will  down  return  to  men, 

Orb'd  in  a  rainbow ;  and,  like  glories  wearing, 
Mercy  will  sit  between, 
Throned  in  celestial  sheen. 

With  radiant  feet  the  tissued  clouds  down  steering : 
And  heaven,  as  at  some  festival 
Will  open  wide  the  gates  of  her  high  palace  hall. 

XVI. 

But  wisest  Fate  says  No, 
This  must  not  yet  be  so, 

The  babe  yet  lies  in  smiling  infancy, 
That  on  the  bitter  cross 
Must  redeem  our  loss  ; 

So  both  Himself  and  us  to  glorify; 
Yet  first  to  those  ychain'd  in  sleep, 
The  wakeful  trump  of  doom  must  thunder  through  the  deep; 


^ — — — ^ -^ 

458  EARLY  POEMS. 

XVII. 

With  such  a  horrid  clang, 
As  on  mount  Sinai  rang, 

While  the  red  fire,  and  smouldering  clouds  out  brake : 
The  aged  earth  aghast, 
With  terror  of  that  blast, 

Shall  from  the  surface  to  the  centre  shake ; 
When  at  the  world's  last  session. 
The  dreadful  Judge  in  middle  air  shall  spread  His  throne. 

XVIII. 

And  then  at  last  our  bliss 
Full  and  perfect  is, 

But  now  begins  ;  for  from  this  happy  day 
The  old  Dragon  under  ground 
In  straiter  limits  bound, 

Not  half  so  far  casts  his  usurped  sway. 
And  wroth  to  see  his  kingdom  fail. 
Swinges  the  scaly  horror  of  his  folded  tail. 

XIX. 

The  oracles  are  dumb, 
No  voice  or  hideous  hum 

Runs  through  the  arched  roof  in  words  deceiving, 
Apollo  from  his  shrine 
Can  no  more  divine. 

With  hollow  shriek  the  steep  of  Delphos  leaving. 
No  nightly  trance  or  breathed  spell 
Inspires  the  pale-eyed  priest  from  the  prophetic  cell. 

XX. 

The  lonely  mountains  o'er. 
And  the  resounding  shore, 

A  voice  of  weeping^  heard  and  loud  lament; 
From  haunted  spring,  and  dale 

,  1  Alluding  to  the  voice  said  to  have  been  heard  by  mariners  at  sea,  crying,  "The  great 

Pan  is  dead."    The  story  is  told  by  Plutarch. 


^ — -^ 

EARLY  POEMS.  459 

Edg^d  with  poplar  pale, 

The  partings  genius  is  with  sighing  sent ; 
With  flower-inwoven  tresses  torn 
The  Nymphs  in  tvvihght  shade  of  tangled  thickets  mourn. 

XXI. 

In  consecrated  earth, 
And  on  the  holy  hearth, 

The  Lars/  and  Lemures^  moan  with  midnight  plaint; 
In  urns,  and  altars  round, 
A  drear  and  dying  sound 

Affrights  the  Flamens  at  their  service  quaint ; 
And  the  chill  marble  seems  to  sweat, 
While  each  peculiar  Power  foregoes  his  wonted  seat. 

XXII. 

Peor  and  Baalim 

Forsake  their  temples  dim, 

With  that  twice  batter'd  God  of  Palestine  f 
And  mooned  Ashtaroth, 
Heaven's  queen  and  mother  both,* 

Now  sits  not  girt  with  tapers'  holy  shine; 
The  Lybic  Hammon  shrinks  his  horn, 
In  vain  the  Tyrian  maids  their  wounded  Thammuz^  mourn. 

XXII  I. 

And  sullen  Moloch  fled,^ 
Hath  left  in  shadows  dread 

His  burning  idol  all  of  blackest  hue; 
In  vain  with  cymbals  ring 
They  call  the  grisly  king, 

In  dismal  dance  about  the  furnace  blue : 
The  brutish  Gods  of  Nile  as  fast, 
Isis  and  Orus,  and  the  dog  Anubis  haste. 


1  Household  gods.  2  Ghosts.  s  Dagon. 

*  She  was  called  "Regina  coeli"'  and  "Mater  Deum." — Newton. 

6  Adonis.      He  was  killed  by  a  wild  boar  on  Mount  Lebanon,  and  was  worshipped  once 
a  year  by  the  Syrian  women.  6  The  god  of  the  Ammonites. 

^fe- -^ 


a- — — — ^ 

460  EARLY  POEMS, 

XXIV. 

Nor  is  Osiris^  seen 

In  Memphian  grove  or  green, 

Trampling  the  unshovver'd  grass  with  lowings  loud: 
Nor  can  he  be  at  rest 
Within  his  sacred  chest, 

Nought  but  profoundest  hell  can  be  his  shroud ; 
In  vain  with  timbrell'd  anthems  dark 
The  sable-stoled  sorcerers  bear  his  worshipp'd  ark. 

XXV. 

He  feels  from  Juda's  land 
The  dreaded  Infant's  hand, 

The  rays  of  Bethlehem  blind  his  dusky  eyn  ; 
Nor  all  the  Gods  beside. 
Longer  dare  abide. 

Not  Typhon  huge  ending  in  snaky  twine  : 
Our  Babe,  to  show  His  Godhead  true, 
Can  in  His  swaddling  bands  control  the  damned  crew. 

XXVI. 

So  when  the  sun  in  bed, 
Curtain'd  with  cloudy  red, 

Pillows  his  chin  upon  an  orient  wave, 
The  flocking  shadows  pale 
Troop  to  the  infernal  jail, 

Each  fetter'd  ghost  slips  to  his  several  grave ; 
And  the  yellow-skirted  Fayes 
Fly  after  the  night-steeds,  leaving  their  moon-loved  maze. 

XXVII. 

But  see  the  Virgin  blest 
Hath  laid  her  Babe  to  rest. 

Time  is  our  tedious  song  should  here  have  ending  ; 
Heaven's  youngest  teemed  star 


1  The  Egyptian  ox-god. 

(^ ^ 


^ ' — -67 

EARLY  POEMS.  461 

Hath  fix'd  her  poUsh'd  car, 

Her  sleeping  Lord  with  handmaid  lamp  attending  ; 
And  all  about  the  courtly  stable 
Bright-harness'd  Angels  sit  in  order  serviceable. 

UPON  THE  CIRCUMCISION. 

Ye  flaming  Powers,  and  wingdd  Warriors  bright, 
That  erst  with  music,  and  triumphant  song, 
First  heard  by  happy  watchful  shepherds'  ear. 
So  sweetly  sung  your  joy  the  clouds  along 
Through  the  soft  silence  of  the  listening  night; 
Now  mourn,  and  if  sad  share  with  us  to  bear 
Your  fiery  essence  can  distil  no  tear, 
Burn  in  your  sighs,  and  borrow 
Seas  wept  from  our  deep  sorrow : 
He  who  with  all  heaven's  heraldry  whilere 
Enter'd  the  world,  now  bleeds  to  give  us  ease; 
Alas,  how  soon  our  sin 

Sore  doth  begin 

His  infancy  to  seize  ! 
O  more  exceeding  love,  or  law  more  just  ? 
Just  law  indeed,  but  more  exceeding  love! 
For  we  by  rightful  doom  remediless 
Were  lost  in  death,  till  He  that  dwelt  above 
High  throned  in  secret  bliss,  for  us  frail  dust 
Emptied  His  glory,  ev'n  to  nakedness ; 
And  that  great  covenant  which  we  still  transgress 
Entirely  satisfied, 
And  the  full  wrath  beside 
Of  vengeful  justice  bore  for  our  excess. 
And  seals  obedience  first,  with  wounding  smart, 
This  day,  but  O  ere  long, 
Huge  pangs  and  strong 

Will  pierce  more  near  his  heart. 

^ _^ 


^ ^ 

462  EARLY  POEMS. 


THE  PASSION. 


1629. 


Erewhile  of  music,  and  ethereal  mirth, 
Wherewith  the  stage  of  air  and  earth  did  ring, 
And  joyous  news  of  heav'nly  Infant's  birth, 
My  Muse  with  Angels  did  divide  to  sing; 
But  headlong  joy  is  ever  on  the  wing, 

In  wintry  solstice  like  the  shorten'd  light 
Soon  swallow'd  up  in  dark  and  long  out-living  night. 

II. 
For  now  to  sorrow  must  I  tune  my  song, 
And  set  my  harp  to  notes  of  saddest  woe. 
Which  on  our  dearest  Lord  did  seize  ere  long, 
Dangers,  and  snares,  and  wrongs,  and  worse  than  so, 
Which  He  for  us  did  freely  undergo  : 

Most  perfect  Hero,  tried  in  heaviest  plight 
Of  labors  huge  and  hard,  too  hard  for  human  wight! 

III. 
He  Sov'reign  Priest  stooping  His  regal  head. 
That  dropp'd  with  odorous  oil  down  His  fair  eyes, 
Poor  fleshly  tabernacle  entered, 
His  starry  front  low-roof'd  beneath  the  skies  : 
O  what  a  mask  was  there,  what  a  disguise  ! 

Yet  more;  the  stroke  of  death  He  must  abide. 
Then  lies  Him  meekly  down  fast  by  His  brethren's  side. 

IV. 

These  latest  scenes  confine  my  roving  verse, 
To  this  horizon  is  my  Phoebus  bound ; 
His  god-like  acts,  and  His  temptations  fierce. 
And  former  sufferings  other  where  are  found  ; 
Loud  o'er  the  rest  Cremona's  trump  ^  doth  sound  ; 

Me  softer  airs  befit,  and  softer  strings 
Of  lute,  or  viol  still,  more  apt  for  mournful  things. 

1  Hieronymus  Vida's  Ckristiad,  a  fine  Latin  poem.    Vida  dwelt  at  Cremona. 

0^ ^ ^ 


s- 


EARLY  POEMS.  463 

V. 
Befriend  me,  Night,  best  patroness  of  grief, 
Over  the  pole  thy  thickest  mantle  throw, 
And  work  my  flatter'd  fancy  to  belief, 
That  Heaven  and  Earth  are  color'd  with  my  woe ; 
My  sorrows  are  too  dark  for  day  to  know : 

The  leaves  should  all  be  black  whereon  I  write, 
And  letters  where  my  tears  have  wash'd  a  wannish  white. 

VI. 

See,  see  the  chariot,  and  those  rushing  wheels, 
That  whirl'd  the  prophet  up  at  Chebar  flood ;^ 
My  spirit  some  transporting  Cherub  feels. 
To  bear  me  where  the  tow'rs  of  Salem  stood, 
Once  glorious  tow'rs,  now  sunk  in  guiltless  blood : 

There  doth  my  soul  in  holy  vision  sit 
In  pensive  trance,  and  anguish,  and  ecstatic  fit. 

VII. 

Mine  eye  hath  found  that  sad  sepulchral  rock 
That  was  the  casket  of  Heav'n's  richest  store, 
And  here  though  grief  my  feeble  hands  up  lock. 
Yet  on  the  soften'd  quarry  would  I  score 
My  plaining  verse  as  lively  as  before  ; 

For  sure  so  well  instructed  are  my  tears, 
That  they  would  fitly  fall  in  order'd  characters. 

VIII. 

Or  should  I  thence  hurried  on  viewless  wing, 
Take  up  a  weeping  on  the  mountains  wild, 
The  gentle  neighborhood  of  grove  and  spring 
Would  soon  unbosom  all  their  echoes  mild. 
And  I  (for  grief  is  easily  beguiled) 

Might  think  th'  infection  of  my  sorrows  loud 
Had  hit  a  race  of  mourners  on  some  pregnant  cloud. 

This  subject  the  Auihor  finding  to  be  above  the  years  he  had,  \fvhen  he  wrote  it,  and 
nothing  satisfied  with  what  was  begun,  left  it  unfinished. 

1  Ezek.  i.  15. 

^ -^ 


^ ^ 

464  EARLY  POEMS. 

ON   TIME.^ 
Fly  envious  Time  till  thou  run  out  thy  race, 
Call  on  the  lazy  leaden-stepping  hours, 
Whose  speed  is  but  the  heavy  plummet's  pace  ; 
And  glut  thyself  with  what  thy  womb  devours, 
Which  is  no  more  than  what  is  false  and  vain, 
And  merely  mortal  dross ; 
So  little  is  our  loss, 
So  little  is  thy  gain. 

For  when  as  each  thing  bad  thou  hast  intomb'd, 
And  last  of  all  thy  greedy  self  consumed, 
Then  long  Eternity  shall  greet  our  bliss 
With  an  individual  kiss; 
And  joy  shall  overtake  us  as  a  flood, 
When  everything  that  is  sincerely  good 
And  perfectly  divine, 

With  truth,  and  peace,  and  love,  shall  ever  shine 
About  the  supreme  throne 
Of  Him,  to  whose  happy-making  sight  alone 
When  once  our  heav'nly-guidcd  soul  shall. climb, 
Then  all  this  earthly  grossness  quit, 
Attired  with  stars,  we  shall  for  ever  sit. 

Triumphing  over  Death,  and  Chance,  and  thee, 
O  Time. 

AT  A  SOLEMN  MUSIC. 
Blest  pair  of  Sirens,  pledges  of  heav'n's  joy, 
Sphere-born  harmonious  sisters,  Voice  and  Verse, 
Wed  your  divine  sounds,  and  mix'd  pow'r  employ 
Dead  things  with  inbreath'd  sense  able  to  pierce ; 
And  to  our  high-raised  phantasy  present 
That  undisturbed  song  of  pure  concent, 

1  In  Milton's  MS.  written  with  his  own  hand, — "On  Time.    To  be  set  on  a  clock-case.''— 
WarTON. 

^ ^ 


s- 


^ 


^ 

EARLY  POEMS.  465 

Aye  sung  before  the  sapphire-color'd  throne 

To  Him  that  sits  thereon, 

With  saintly  shout,  and  solemn  jubilee, 

Where  the  bright  Seraphim  in  burning  row 

Their  loud  uplifted  angel-trumpets  blow, 

And  the  cherubic  host  in  thousand  quires 

Touch  their  immortal  harps  of  golden  wires 

With  those  just  Spirits  that  wear  victorious  palms, 

Hymns  devout  and  holy  psalms 

Singing  everlastingly: 

That  we  on  earth  with  undiscording  voice 

May  rightly  answer  that  melodious  noise; 

As  once  we  did,  till  disproportion'd  sin 

Jarr'd  against  nature's  chime,  and  with  harsh  din 

Broke  the  fair  music  that  all  creatures  made 

To  their  great  Lord,  whose  love  their  motion  sway'd 

In  perfect  diapason,  whilst  they  stood 

In  first  obedience,  and  their  state  of  good. 

O  may  we  soon  again  renew  that  song, 

And  keep  in  tune  with  Heav'n,  till  God  ere  long 

To  his  celestial  concert  us  unite, 

To  live  with  Him,  and  sing  in  endless  morn  of  light. 

— ^ ..O.cif.o- ^_ 


SONG.     ON  MAY  MORNING. 
Now  the  bright  morning  star,  day's  harbinger. 
Comes  dancmg  from  the  east,  and  leads  with  her 
The  flow'ry  May,  who  from  her  green  lap  throws 
The  yellow  cowslip,  and  the  pale  primrose. 
Hail,  bounteous  May,  that  dost  inspire 
Mirth  and  youth,  and  warm  desire  ; ' 
Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing, 
Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing. 
Thus  we  salute  thee  with  our  early  song, 
And  welcome  thee,  and  wish  thee  long. 


30 


4 


#- — '■ -<b, 

466  EARLY  POEMS. 

AN   EPITAPH    ON  THE   MARCHIONESS  OF 
WINCHESTER.^ 

This  rich  marble  doth  inter 

The  honor'd  wife  of  Winchester, 

A  Viscount's  daughter,  an  Earl's  heir, 

Besides  what  her  virtues  fair 

Added  to  her  noble  birth, 

More  than  she  could  own  from  earth. 

Summers  three  times  eight  save  one 

She  had  told;  alas!  too  soon, 

After  so  short  time  of  breath, 

To  house  with  darkness,  and  with  death. 

Yet  had  the  number  of  her  days 

Been  as  complete  as  was  her  praise, 

Nature  and  Fate  had  had  no  strife 

In  giving  limit  to  her  life. 

Her  high  birth,  and  her  graces  sweet 

Quickly  found  a  lover  meet; 

The  virgin  choir  for  her  request 

The  god  that  sits  at  marriage  feast ; 

He  at  their  invoking  came, 

But  with  a  scarce  well-lighted  flame; 

And  in  his  garland  as  he  stood. 

Ye  might  discern  a  cypress  bud.^ 

Once  had  the  early  matrons  run 

To  greet  her  of  a  lovely  son, 

And  now  with  second  hope  she  goes 

And  calls  Lucina  to  her  throes; 

But  whether  by  mischance  or  blame 

1  This  lady  was  the  wife  of  John,  Marquis  of  Winchesf^r,  one  of  the  noblest  and  most 
devoted  of  the  adherents  of  Charles  I.  His  house  at  Basing,  in  Hants,  stood  a  two-years' 
siege  by  the  rebels,  and  was  finally  levelled  to  the  ground  by  them.  Lord  Winchester  died 
in  1674.  On  his  monument  is  an  epitaph  by  Dryden.  "  It  is  remarkable,"  says  Warton, 
"  that  both  husband  and  wife  should  have  severally  received  the  honor  of  an  epitaph  from 
two  such  poets  as  Milton  and  Dryden.  2  An  emblem  of  Death. 

^ ^ 


a 6b 

EARLY  POEMS,  4^7 

Atropos^  for  Lucina  came; 

And  with  remorseless  cruelty 

Spoil'd  at  once  both  fruit  and  tree  : 

The  hapless  babe  before  his  birth 

Had  burial,  yet  not  laid  in  earth, 

And  the  languish'd  mother's  womb 

Was  not  long  a  living  tomb. 

So  have  I  seen  some  tender  slip. 

Saved  with  care  from  winter's  nip, 

The  pride  of  her  carnation  train, 

Pluck'd  up  by  some  unheedy  swain, 

Who  only  thought  to  crop  the  flower 

New  shot  up  from  vernal  shower; 

But  the  fair  blossom  hangs  the  head 

Side-ways,  as  on  a  dying  bed, 

And  those  pearls  of  dew  she  wears 

Prove  to  be  presaging  tears. 

Which  the  sad  morn  had  let  fall 

On  her  hastening  funeral. 

Gentle  Lady,  may  thy  grave 

Peace  and  quiet  ever  have  ; 

After  this  thy  travail  sore 

Sweet  rest  seize  thee  evermore, 

That  to  give  the  world  increase, 

Shorten'd  hast  thy  own  life's  lease. 

Here,  besides  the  sorrowing 

That  thy  noble  house  doth  bring, 

Here  be  tears  of  perfect  moan 

Wept  for  thee  in  Helicon, 

And  some  flowers,  and  some  bays, 

For  thy  hearse,  to  strew  the  ways, 

Sent  thee  from  the  banks  of  Came, 

Devoted  to  thy  virtuous  name ; 

Whilst  thou,  bright  Saint,  high  sitt'st'in  glory, 

1  One  of  the  Fates, 

\ 

^ —4^ 


468  EARL  V  POEMS. 

Next  her,  much  like  to  thee  in  story, 
That  fair  Syrian  shepherdess/ 
Who  after  years  of  barrenness, 
The  highly  favor'd  Joseph  bore 
To  him  that  served  for  her  before, 
And  at  her  next  birth  much  like  thee 
Through  pangs  fled  to  felicity, 
Far  within  the  bosom  bright 
Of  blazing  Majesty  and  Light: 
There  with  thee,  new  welcome  Saint, 
Like  fortunes  may  her  soul  acquaint, 
With  thee  there  clad  in  radiant  sheen, 
No  Marchioness,  but  now  a  Queen. 

•<^ •lO-fJ-Oi' ^ 

AN  EPITAPH  ON  THE  ADMIRABLE  DRAMATIC  POET 
W.  SHAKESPEARE.2  1630. 

What  needs  my  Shakespeare  for  his  honor'd  bones. 
The  labor  of  an  age  in  piled  stones  ? 
Or  that  his  hallow'd  reliques  should  be  hid 
Under  a  star-y-pointing  pyramid  ? 
Dear  son  of  memory,  great  heir  of  fame, 
What  need'st  thou  such  weak  witness  of  thy  .name  ? 
Thou  in  our  wonder  and  astonishment 
Hast  built  thyself  a  live-long  monument. 
For  whilst  to  the  shame  of  slow-endeavoring  art 
Thy  easy  numbers  flow,  and  that  each  heart 
Hath  from  the  leaves  of  thy  unvalued  book 
Those  Delphic  lines  with  deep  impression  took. 
Then  thou  our  fancy  of  itself  bereaving, 
Dost  make  us  marble  with  too  much  conceiving  ; 
And  so  sepulchred  in  such  pomp  dost  lie. 
That  kings  for  such  a  tomb  would  wish  to  die. 

• . — ■ 

1  Rachel,  the  wife  of  Jacob. 

2  This  Epitaph  was  prefixed  to  the  folio  edition  of  Shakespeare,  1632,  but  without  Milton's 
name.    It  is  the  first  of  his  poems  which  was  published. 


•9- 


^ 


f-- 


^ 


EARLY  POEMS.  469 

ON  THE  UNIVERSITY  CARRIER. 

Who  sickened  in  the  time  of  his  vacancy,  being  forbid  to  go  to  London, 
by  reason  of  the  Plague. 

Here  lies  old  Hobson  ;^  Death  hath  broke  his  girt, 

And  here,  alas,  hath  laid  him  in  the  dirt ; 

Or  else  the  ways  being  foul,  twenty  to  one, 

He's  here  stuck  in  a  slough,  and  overthrown. 

'Twas  such  a  shifter,  that  if  truth  were  known, 

Death  was  half  glad  when  he  had  got  him  down ; 

For  he  had  any  time  this  ten  years  full. 

Dodged  with  him  betwixt  Cambridge  and  the  Bull. 

And  surely  death  could  never  have  prevail'd, 

Had  not  his  weekly  course  of  carriage  fail'd ; 

But  lately  finding  him  so  long  at  home, 

And  thinking  now  his  journey's  end  was  come, 

And  that  he  had  ta'en   up  his  latest  inn. 

In  the  kind  office  of  a  chamberlin 

Show'd  him  his  room  where  he  must  lodge  that  night, 

Pull'd  off  his  boots,  and  took  away  the  light : 

If  any  ask  for  him,  it  shall  be  said, 

Hobson  has  supp'd,  and's  newly  gone  to  bed. 

ANOTHER  ON  THE  SAME. 
Here  lieth  one,  who  did  most  truly  prove 
That  he  could  never  die  while  he  could  move : 
So  hung  his  destiny,  never  to  rot 
While  he  might  still  jog  on  and  keep  his  trot, 
Made  of  sphere-metal  never  to  decay 
Until  his  revolution  was  at  stay. 
Time  numbers  motion,  yet  (without  a  crime 


1  This  carrier  gave  rise  to  the  old  proverb  of  "Hobson-s  choice  :  this  or  none,"  by  always 
obliging  the  person  who  hired  a  horse  of  him  to  take  the  one  standing  next  to  the  stable- 
door  "SO  every  customer  should  have  an  equal  chance  of  being  well  served,  and  every  horse 
be  used  in  its  turn."— See  Spectator,  No.  509. 


^ 


^ 


a- -a? 

470  EARLY  POEMS. 

'Gainst  old  truth)  motion  number'd  out  his  time : 

And  like  an  engine  moved  with  wheel  and  weight, 

His  principles  being  ceased,  he  ended  straight. 

Rest  that  gives  all  men  life,  gave  him  his  death, 

And  too  much  breathing  put  him  out  of  breath  ; 

Nor  were  it  contradiction  to  affirm 

Too  long  vacation  hasten'd  on  his  term. 

Merely  to  drive  the  time  away  he  sicken'd, 

Fainted,  and  died,  nor  would  with  ale  be  quicken'd  ; 

"Nay,"  quoth  he,  on  his  swooning  bed  out-stretch'd, 

"If  I  mayn't  carry,  sure  I'll  ne'er  be  fetch'd. 

But  vow,  though  the  cross  doctors  all  stood  hearers, 

For  one  carrier  put  down  to  make  six  bearers." 

Ease  was  his  chief  disease,  and  to  judge  right, 

He  died  for  heaviness,  that  his  cart  wentligh^: 

His  leisure  told  him  that  his  time  was  come, 

And  lack  of  load  made  his  life  burdensome. 

That  even  to  his  last  breath  (there  be  that  say't) 

As  he  were  press'd  to  death,  he  cried  "  more  weight;" 

But  had  his  doings  lasted  as  they  were, 

He  had  been  an  immortal  carrier. 

Obedient  to  the  moon  he  spent  his  date 

In  course  reciprocal,  and  had  his  fate 

Link'd  to  the  mutual  flowing  of  the  seas, 

Yet  (strange  to  think)  his  wain  was  his  increase : 

His  letters  are  deliver'd  all  and  gone, 

Only  remains  this  superscription. 


<^ ^ 


f— ^ 

EARLY  POEMS.  471 

L'ALLEGRO.i 

Hence,  loathed  Melancholy. 

Of  Cerberus^  and  blackest  Midnight  born, 
In  Stygian  cave  forlorn, 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes,  and  shrieks,  and  sights  unholy, 
Find  out  some  uncouth  cell. 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings, 
And  the  night  raven  sings  ; 

There  under  ebon  shades,  and  low  brow'd  rocks, 
As  ragged  as  thy  locks, 

In  dark  Cimmerian  desert^  ever  dwell. 
But  come  thou  Goddess  fair  and  free, 
In  heaven  y-clep'd  Euphrosyne, 
And  by  men,  heart-easing  Mirth, 
Whom  lovely  Venus  at  a  birth 
With  two  sister  Graces  more, 
To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore ; 
Or  whether  (as  some  sager  sing) 
The  frolic  wind  that  breathes  the  spring, 
Zephyr  with  Aurora  playing. 
As  he  met  her  once  a  Maying; 
There  on  beds  of  violets  blue. 
And  fresh-blown  roses  wash'd  in  dew, 
Fill'd  her  with  thee  a  daughter  fair. 
So  buxom,  blithe,  and  debonair. 

Haste  thee.  Nymph,  and  bring  with  thee 
Jest,  and  youthful  Jollity, 
Quips,  and  Cranks,  and  wanton  Whiles, 
Nods,  and  Becks,  and  wreathed  Smiles, 
Such  as  hang  on  Hebe's  cheek, 
And  love  to  live  in  dimple  sleek ; 


1  These  two  Poems — L' Allegro  and  //  Penseroso — are  supposed  to  have  been  written  in 
Milton's  youth,  but  were  first  published  in  1648. 

2  The  three-headed  dog  which  kept  the  gate  of  Hell. 

3  The  Cimmerians  were  proverbial  for  dwelling  in  dark  caves. 

'^ ^ 


^ 


^ 


472 


EARLY  POEMS. 

Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 
And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides. 
Come,  and  trip  it  as  you  go, 
On  the  light  fantastic  toe ; 
And  in  thy  right  hand  lead  with  thee 
The  mountain  nymph,  sweet  Liberty ; 
And  if  I  give  thee  honor  due, 
Mirth,  admit  me  of  thy  crew, 
To  live  with  her,  and  live  with  thee, 
In  unreproved  pleasures  free; 
To  hear  the  lark  begin  his  flight, 
And  singing  startle  the  dull  night, 
From  his  watch-tower  in  the  skies, 
Till  the  dappled  dawn  doth  rise ; 
Then  to  come  in  spite  of  sorrow, 
And  at  my  window  bid  good-morrow. 
Through  the  sweet-briar  or  the  vine, 
Or  the  twisted  eglantine : 
While  the  cock  with  lively  din 
Scatters  the  rear  of  darkness  thin. 
And  to  the  stack,  or  the  barn-door. 
Stoutly  struts  his  dames  before  : 
Oft  listening  how  the  hounds  and  horn 
Cheerly  rouse  the  slumbering  morn, 
From  the  side  of  some  hoar  hill. 
Through  the  high  wood  echoing  shrill : 
Some  time  walking,  not  unseen, 
By  hedge-row  elms,  on  hillocks  green. 
Right  against  the  eastern  gate, 
Where  the  great  sun  begins  his  state, 
Robed  in  flames,  and  amber  light, 
The  clouds  in  thousand  liveries  dight ; 
While  the  ploughman  near  at  hand 
Whistles  o'er  the  furrowed  land, 
And  the  milkmaid  singeth  blithe, 
And  the  mower  whets  his  scythe, 


c^ ^ 4" 


^ 


EARLY  POEMS.  473 

And  every  shepherd  tells  his  tale 

Under  the  hawthorn  in  the  dale. 

Straight  mine  eye  hath  caught  new  pleasures 

Whilst  the  landscape  round  it  measures; 

Russet  lawns  and  fallows  gray, 

Where  the  nibbling  flocks  do  stray, 

Mountains,  on  whose  barren  breast 

The  lab'ring  clouds  do  often  rest; 

Meadows  trim  with  daisies  pied 

Shallow  brooks,  and  rivers  wide, 

Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 

Bosom'd  high  in  tufted  trees, 

Where  perhaps  some  Beauty  lies, 

The  Cynosure^   of  neighb'ring  eyes. 

Hard  by,  a  cottage-chimney  smokes. 

From  betwixt  two  aged  oaks. 

Where  Corydon  and  Thyrsis  met, 

Are  at  their  savory  dinner  set. 

Of  herbs,  and  other  country  messes. 

Which  the  neat  handed  Phillis  dresses  ; 

And  then  in  haste  the  bower  she  leaves, 

With  Thestylis  to  bind  the  sheaves; 

Or,  if  the  earlier  season  lead, 

To  the  tann'd  haycock  in  the  mead. 

Sometimes  with  secure  delight 

The  upland  hamlets  will  invite. 

When  the  merry  bells  ring  round, 

And  the  jocund  rebecks"  sound 

To  many  a  youth,  and  many  a  maid. 

Dancing  in  the  chequer'd  shade  ; 

And  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play, 

On  a  sunshine  holiday, 

Till  the  live-long  daylight  fail ; 

I  The  Pole  star — alluding  to  its  magnetic  attraction.      The  magnetic  needle  always  points 
to  it.     "Your  eyes  are  lodestars,  '  is  said  by  Shakespeare. 
-  .\  rebeck  was  a  fiddle  with  three  strings. 


1 


■^ 


CT-^ ^ 

I         474  EARLY  POEMS, . 

Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale/ 
With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 
How  fairy  Mab*the  junkets  eat; 
She  was  pinch'd,  and  pull'd,  she  said. 
And  he  by  friar's  lanthorn^  led, 
Tells  how  the  drudging  Goblin  sweat, 
To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set, 
When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn. 
His  shadowy  flail  hath  thresh'd  the  corn. 
That  ten  day-lab'rers  could  not  end  ; 
Then  lies  him  down  the  lubber  fiend,' 
And  stretch'd  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 
Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength. 
And  crop-full  out  of  doors  he  flings, 
Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 
Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep, 
By  whispering  winds  soon  lull'd  asleep. 
Tower'd  cities  please  us  then, 
And  the  busy  hum  of  men, 
Where  throngs  of  knights  and  barons  bold 
In  weeds  of  peace  high  triumphs  hold. 
With  store  of  ladies,  whose  bright  eyes 
Rain  influence,  and  judge  the  prize 
'Of  wit,  or  arms,  while  both  contend 
To  win  her  grace,  whom  all  commend. 
There  let  Hymen  oft  appear 
In  saffron  robe,  with  taper  clear, 
And  pomp,  and  feast,  and  revelry, 
With  mask  and  antique  pageantry, 
Such  sights  as  youthful  poets  dream 
On  summer  eves  by  haunted  stream. 
Then  to  the  well-trod  stage  anon. 


1  The  gossip's  bowl,  called  "Lamb's  wool."  ^  Will-o'-the-Wisp. 

»  Puck  ;  the  Pixie,  in  Devonshire — the  Kobold  of  Germany — supposed  to  do  household 
work  at  night  for  the  maids,  who  in  return,  left  him  a  bowl  of  cream. 


-e 


^ e^ 

EARLY  POEMS.  475 

If  Jonson's  learned  sock  be  on. 

Or  sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child, 

Warble  his  native  wood-notes  wild. 

And  ever  against  eating  cares, 
Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs, 
Married  to  immortal  verse, 
Such  as  the  meeting  soul  may  pierce, 
In  notes,  with  many  a  winding  bout  ^ 
Of  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out, 
With  wanton  heed  and  giddy  cunning, 
The  melting  voice  through  mazes  running, 
Untwisting  all  the  chains  that  tie 
The  hidden  soul  of  harmony; 
That  Orpheus  self  may  heave  his  head 
From  golden  slumber  on  a  bed 
Of  heap'd  Elysian  flowers,  and  hear 
Such  strains  as  would  have  won  the  ear 
Of  Pluto,  to  have  quite  set  free, 
His  half  regdin'd  Eurydice. 

These  delights  if  thou  canst  give. 
Mirth,  with  thee  I  mean  to  live. 

— ^ .•CK-^j'-Oi- ^— 

XL  PENSEROSO. 
Hence,  vain  deluding  joys, 

The  brood  of  folly  without  father  bred, 
How  little  you  bestead, 

Or  fill  the  fixed  mind  with  all  your  toys  ? 
Dwell  in  some  idle  brain, 

And  fancies  fond  with  gaudy  shapes  possess, 
As  thick  and  numberless 

As  the  gay  motes  that  people  the  sunbeams. 
Or  likest  hovering  dreams 

The  fickle  pensioners^  of  Morpheus'  train. 


1  Turn. 

2  Followers.  The  term  was  used  first  in  this  sense  by  a  band  of  courtiers,  who  were  en- 
rolled by  Queen  Elizabeth  under  that  title.  They  were  young  nobles  of  the  highest  fashion 
of  the  period. 


^ 


^ 


476  EARLY  POEMS. 

But  hail  thou  Goddess,  sage  and  holy. 

Hail  divinest  Melancholy, 
Whose  saintly  visage  is  too  bright 
To  hit  the  sense  of  human  sight, 
And  therefore  to  our  weaker  view 
O'crlaid  with  black,  staid  Wisdom's  hue; 
Black,  but  such  as  in  esteem 
Prince  Memnon's^   sister  might  beseem, 
Or  that  starr'd  Ethiop  queen ^  that  strove 
To  set  her  beauty's  praise  above 
The  Sea- Nymphs,  and  their  powers  offended  : 
Yet  thou  art  higher  far  descended; 
Thee  bright-hair'd  Vesta,^  long  of  yore, 
To  solitary  Saturn  bore; 
His  daughter  she  (in  Saturn's  reign, 
Such  mixture  was  not  held  a  stain). 
Oft  in  glimmering  bow'rs  and  glades 
He  met  her,  and  in  secret  shades 
Of  woody  Ida's  inmost  grove. 
While  yet  there  was  no  fear  of  Jove. 
Come,  pensive  Nun,  devout  and  pure, 
Sober,  steadfast,  and  demure. 
All  in  a  robe  of  darkest  grain, 
Flowing  with  majestic  train, 
And  sable  stole*  of  cyprus  lawn. 
Over  thy  decent  shoulders  drawn. 
Come,  but  keep  thy  wonted  state, 

1  Memnon  was  King  of  Ethiopia,  an  ally  of  the  Trojans.     He  was  slain  by  Achilles. 

2  Cassiopeia,  wife  of  Cepheus,  King  of  Ethiopia.  She  boasted  of  being  more  beautiful 
than  the  Nereids,  who,  in  anger,  persuaded  Neptune  to  send  a  sea-monster  to  devour  the 
Ethiopians.  Andromeda,  her  daughter,  was  exposed  to  it,  but  was  saved  by  Perseus.  Cas- 
siopeia had  a  constellation  named  after  her;  i.e.,  Cassiopeia's  chair.  Hence,  Milton  says 
"slarr'd  Ethiop  queen." 

3  The  goddess  of  fire.  "The  meaning  of  Milton's  allegory,"  says  Warton,  "is,  that 
Melancholy  is  the  daughter  of  Genius,  which  is  typified  by  the  'bright-haired  goddess  of 
eternal  fire."  Saturn,  the  father,  is  the  god  of  saturnine  dispositions,  of  pensive  and  gloomy 
minds." 

*  Stole,  a  veil  which  covered  the  head  and  shoulders,  worn  by  Roman  matrons. 

4^ -. -^ 


^ 


EARLY  POEMS.  477 

With  even  step  and  musing  gait, 
And  looks  commercing  with  the  skies. 
Thy  rapt  soul  sitting  in  thine  eyes: 

There  held  in  holy  passion  still, 

Forget  thyself  to  marble,  till 

With  a  sad  leaden  downward  cast, 

Thou  fix  them  on  the  earth  as  fast  : 

And  join  with  thee  calm  Peace,  and  Quiet, 

Spare  Fast,  that  oft  with  Gods  doth  diet, 

And  hears  the  Muses  in  a  ring 

Aye  round  about  Jove's  altar  sing  : 

And  add  to  these  retired  Leisure, 

That  in  trim  gardens  takes  his  pleasure ; 

But  first,  and  chiefest,  with  thee  bring. 

Him  that  yon  soars  on  golden  wing. 

Guiding  the  fiery-wheeled  throne. 

The  Cherub  Contemplation  ; 

And  the  mute  Silence  hist  along, 

'Less  Philomel  will  deign  a  song. 

In  her  sweetest,  saddest  plight. 

Smoothing  the  rugged  brow  of  night. 

While  Cynthia  checks  her  dragon  yoke, 

Gently  o'er  the  accustomed  oak  ; 

Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly. 

Most  musical,  most  melancholy  ! 
Thee,  chauntress,    oft  the  woods  among 
I  woo,  to  hear  thy  even-song ; 
And  missing  thee,  I  walk  unseen 
On  the  dry  smooth-shaven  green, 
To  behold  the  wandering  moon,     • 
Riding  near  her  highest  noon, 
Like  one  that  had  been  led  astray 
Through  the  heav'n's  wide  pathless  way  j 
And  oft,  as  if  her  head  she  bow'd, 
Stooping  through  a  fleecy  cloud. 
Oft  on  a  plat  of  rising  ground. 


f ^ 

478  EARLY  POEMS, 

I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 

Over  some  wide  water'd  shore, 

Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar; 

Or  if  the  air  will  not  permit, 

Some  still  removed  place  will  fit, 

Where  glowing  embers  through  the  room 

Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom  ; 

Far  from  all  resort  of  mirth, 

Save  the  cricket  on  the  hearth, 

Or  the  bellman's  drowsy  charm. 

To  bless  the  doors  from  nightly  harm : 

Or  let  my  lamp  at  midnight  hour 

Be  seen  in  some  high  lonely  tower. 

Where  I  may  oft  out-watch  the  Bear,^ 

With  thrice-great  Hermes,^  or  unsphere 

The  spirit  of  Plato,  to  unfold 

What  worlds,  or  what  vast  regions  hold 

The  immortal  mind,  that  hath  forsook 

Her  mansion  in  this  fleshly  nook  : 

And  of  those  Demons*  that  are  found 

In  fire,  air,  flood,  or  under  ground. 

Whose  power  hath  a  true  consent 

With  planet,  or  with  element. 

Sometimes  let  gorgeous  tragedy 

In  sceptred  pall  come  sweeping  by 

Presenting  Thebes,  or  Pelops'  line,* 

Or  the  tale  of  Troy  divine. 

Or  what  (though  rare)  of  later  age 

Ennobled  hath  the  buskin'd  stage. 

But,  O  sad  Virgin, "that  thy  power 

1  Ursa  Major.     This  constellation  never  sets. 

■'=  Trismegistus,  i.e.,  "the  thrice-grand."  He  was  an  Egyptian  priest  and  astronomer, 
who  instructed  his  countrymen  in  the  sciences.  Tiie  works,  translated  and  published  as  his, 
are  said  to  be  apocryphal. 

*  Plato  believed  that  the  elements  were  peopled  with  spirits. 

*  The  story  of  Thebes,  of  CEdipus  and  his  sons,  and  the  horrid  tradition  of  Pelops,  were 
the  subjects  of  the  great  Greek  tragedies. 

'^ ^ 


s ^ — ^ 


EARLY  POEMS.  479 


Misht  raise  Musaeus^  from  his  bower, 

Or  bid  the  soul  of  Orpheus  sing 

Such  notes  as  warbled  to  the  string, 

Drew  iron  tears  down  Pluto's  cheek, 

And  made  Hell  grant  what  love  did  seek,* 

Or  call  up  him'^  that  left  half  told 

The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold, 

Of  Camball,  and  of  Algarsife, 

And  who  had  Canace  to  wife. 

That  own'd  the  virtuous  ring  and  glass, 

And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass, 

On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride ; 

And  if  aught  else  great  bards  beside* 

In  sage  and  solemn  tunes  have  sung, 

Of  turneys  and  of  trophies  hung, 

Of  forests  and  enchantments  drear, 

Where  more  is  meant  than  meets  the  ear. 

Thus  Night  oft  see  me  in  thy  pale  career, 

Till  civil  suited  Morn  appear. 

Not  trick'd  and  frounced'^  as  she  was  wont 

With  the  Attic  boy''  to  hunt, 

But  kerchef 'd  in  a  comely  cloud, 

While  rocking  winds  are  piping  loud, 

Or  usher'd  with  a  shower  still, 

When  the  gust  hath  blown  his  fill. 

Ending  on  the  rustling  leaves. 

With  minute  drops  from  off  the  eaves. 

And  when  the  sun  begins  to  fling 


1  Museus  and  Orpheus  are  mentioned  together  in  Plato's  "Republic"  as  two  of  the  gen- 
uine Greek  poets. — T.  Warton. 

2  Pluto,  charmed  by  the  music  of  Orpheus,  restored  to  hinl  his  dead  wife,  Eurydice. 

3  Chaucer.     "The  Squire's  Tale"  is  alluded  to. 
*  Alluding  to  Spenser's  "Fairie  Queen." 

5  "Frounced"  meant  an  excessive  or  affected  dressing  of  the  hair.     "It  is  from  the  French 
froncer,  to  curl.'" — T.  WARTON.      "Tricked"  means  "dressed  out." 

6  Cephalus.      Aurora,  the  goddess  of  the  morning,  fell  m  love  with  him.— OviD,  Met. 
VII.  701. 


^ 


480  EARLY  POEMS. 

His  flaring  beams,  me,  Goddess,  bring, 

To  arched  walks  of  twilight  groves, 

And  shadows  brown  that  Sylvan  loves 

Of  pine  or  monumental  oak, 

Where  the  rude  axe  with  heaved  stroke 

Was  never  heard  the  Nymphs  to  daunt, 

Or  fright  them  from  their  hallo w'd  haunt. 

There  in  close  covert  by  some  brook, 

Where  no  profaner  eye  may  look, 

Hide  me  from  day's  garish'^  eye. 

While  the  bee  with  honied  thigh. 

That  at  her  flow'ry  work  doth  sing, 

And  the  waters  murmuring 

With  such  consort  as  they  keep, 

Entice  the  dewy-feather'd  sleep ; 

And  let  some  strange  mysterious  dream 

Wave  at  his  wings  in  airy  stream 

Of  lively  portraiture  display'd, 

Softly  on  my  eyelids  laid. 

And  as  I  wake,  sweet  music  breathe 

Above,  about,  or  underneath, 

Sent  by  some  Spirit  to  mortals  good. 

Or  the  unseen  Genius  of  the  wood. 

But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 

To  walk  the  studious  cloisters  pale,'' 

And  love  the  high  embowed  roof. 

With  antic  pillars  massy  proof, 

And  storied  windows  richly  dight, 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light : 

There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow. 

To  the  full  voiced  choir  below. 

In  service  high  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear, 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies. 


1  Gaudy.         "  Warton  conjectures  that  the  right  reading  is  cloister  s pale,  i.e.  enclosure. 


a ^ 

EARLY  POEMS.  481 

And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyes. 
And  may  at  last  my  weary  age 
Find  out  the  peaceful  hermitage, 
The  hairy  gown  and  mossy  cell. 
Where  I  may  sit  and  rightly  spell 
Of  every  star  that  heav'n  doth  show. 
And  ev'ry  herb  that  sips  the  dew  ; 
Till  old  experience  do  attain 
To  something  like  prophetic  strain. 
These  pleasures  Melancholy  give, 
And  I  with  thee  will  choose  to  live. 

.<gog> K>-5>o. <a§>- 

ARCADES. 

Part  of  an  entertainment  presented  to  the  Countess  Dowager  of  Derby, i  at  Harefield,  by 
some  noble  persons  of  her  family,  who  appear  on  the  scene  in  pastoral  habit,  moving 
toward  the  seat  of  state,  with  this  song  : — 

Song  I. 
Look,  nymphs,  and  shepherds  look. 
What  sudden  blaze  of  majesty 
Is  that  which  we  from  hence  descry. 
Too  divine  to  be  mistook  : 

This,  this  is  she 
To  whom  our  views  and  wishes  bend : 
Here  our  solemn  search  hath  end. 
Fame,  that  her  high  worth  to  raise, 
Seem'd  erst  so  lavish  and  profuse. 
We  may  justly  now  accuse 
Of  detraction  from  her  praise. 

Less  than  half  we  find  express'd, 

Envy  bid  conceal  the  rest. 

1  Alice  Spenser,  daughter  of  Sir  John  Spenser,  of  Althorpe.  Milton  lived  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Harefield,  which  was  near  Uxbridge.  His  father  lived  at  Horton,  near  Colnebrook, 
and  held  his  house  under  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater.  Lady  Derby  was  a  generous  patroness 
of  poets,     Spenser  was  related  to  her  family. 

c^ ^ ^ 


^ ■ -<b 

482  EARLY  POEMS. 

Mark  what  radiant  state  she  spreads, 
In  circle  round  her  shining  throne, 
Shooting  her  beams  like  silver  threads  ; 
This,  this  is  she  alone. 

Sitting  like  a  Goddess  bright, 

In  the  centre  of  her  light. 
Might  she  the  wise  Latona  be, 
Or  the  towered  Cybele, 
Mother  of  a  hundred  Gods  ? 
Juno  dares  not  give  her  odds  ; 

Who  had  thought  this  clime  had  held 

A  deity  so  unparallel'd  ? 

As  they  come  forward,  the  Genius  of  the  Wood  appears,  and,  turning  toward  them,  speaks. 

Gen.  Stay,  gentle  Swains,  for  though  in  this  disguise, 

I  see  bright  honor  sparkle  through  your  eyes ; 

Of  famous  Arcady  ye  are,  and  sprung 

Of  that  renowned  flood,  so  often  sung, 

Divine  Alpheus,  who  by  secret  sluice 

Stole  under  seas  to  meet  his  Arethuse  ;^ 

And  ye,  the  breathing  roses  of  the  wood, 

Fair  silver  buskin 'd  Nymphs,  as  great  and  good, 

I  know  this  quest  of  yours,  and  free  intent 

Was  all  in  honor  and  devotion  meant 

To  the  great  mistress  of  yon  princely  shrine. 

Whom  with  low  rev'rence  I  adore  as  mine. 

And  with  all  helpful  service  will  comply 

To  further  this  night's  glad  solemnity ; 

And  lead  ye  where  ye  may  more  near  behold 

What  shallow  searching  Fame  has  left  untold 

Which  I  full  oft  amidst  these  shades  alone 

Have  sat  to  wonder  at,  and  gaze  upon : 

For  know,  by  lot  from  Jove  I  am  the  Power 


1  A  river  of  Arcadia,  which  sinks  into  the  earth,  passes  under  the  sea,  without  mixing  its 
waters  with  the  salt  waves,  and  rises  near  Syracuse,  in  Sicily,  where  it  joins  the  Arethusa, 
and  flows  conj ointly  with  that  stream  to  the  sea.    See  Shelley's  exquisite  poem ,  •  'Arethusa." 


4- 


EARLY  POEMS.  483 

Of  this  fair  wood,  and  live  in  oaken  bovver, 

To  nurse  the  saplings  tall,  and  curl  the  grove 

With  ringlets  quaint,  and  wanton  windings  wove; 

And  all  my  plants  I  save  from  nightly  ill 

Of  noisome  winds,  and  blasting  vapors  chill: 

And  from  the  boughs  brush  off  the  evil  dew, 

And  heal  the  harms  of  thwarting  thunder  blue, 

Or  what  the  cross  dire-looking  planet  smites, 

Or  hurtful  worm  with  canker'd  venom  bites. 

When  ev'ning  gray  doth  rise,  I  fetch  my  round 

Over  the  mount,  and  all  this  hallow'd  ground  ; 

And  early,  ere  the  odorous  breath  of  morn 

Awakes  the  slumb'ring  leaves,  or  tassell'd  horn 

Shakes  the  high  thicket,  haste  I  all  about, 

Number  my  ranks,  and  visit  every  sprout 

With  puissant  words  and  murmurs  made  to  bless; 

But  else,  in  deep  of  night,  when  drowsiness 

Hath  lock'd  up  mortal  sense,  then  listen  I 

To  the  celestial  Sirens'  harmony, 

That  sit  upon  the  nine  infolded  spheres,^ 

And  sing  to  those  that  hold  the  vital  shears, 

And  turn  the  adamantine  spindle  round, ^ 

On  which  the  fate  of  Gods  and  men  is  wound. 

Such  sweet  compulsion  doth  in  music  lie, 

To  lull  the  daughters  of  Necessity 

And  keep  unsteady  nature  to  her  law. 

And  the  low  world  in  measured  motion  draw 

After  the  heav'nly  tune,  which  none  can  hear 

Of  human  mould,  with  gross  unpurged  ear; 

1  The  Muses. 

2  This  is  Plato's  system.  Fate,  or  Necessity,  holds  a  spindle  of  adamant;  and  with  her 
three  daughters — Lachesis,  Clotho,  and  Atropos  (the  Fates) — who  handle  the  vital  web 
wound  round  about  the  spindle,  she  conducts  or  turns  the  heavenly  bodies.  Nine  Muses, 
or  .Sirens,  sit  on  the  summit  of  the  spheres,  which,  in  their  revolutions,  produce  the  most 
ravishing  musical  harmony.  To  this' harmony  the  three  daughters  of  Necessity  perpetually 
sing  in  correspondent  tones.  In  the  meantime,  the  adamantine  spindle,  which  is  placed  on 
the  lap  of  Necessity     ....     is  also  revolved.— T.  Warton. 

4- -^ 


s~ -^ 


484  EARLY  POEMS. 

And  yet  such  music  worthiest  were  to  blaze 
The  peerless  height  of  her  immortal  praise, 
Whose  lustre  leads  us,  and  for  her  most  fit, 
If  my  inferior  hand  or  voice  could  hit 
Inimitable  sounds  :  yet  as  we  go, 
Whate'er  the  skill  of  lesser  Gods  can  show, 
I  will  assay,  her  worth  to  celebrate. 
And  so  attend  ye  toward  her  glitt'ring  state; 
Where  ye  may  all  that  are  of  noble  stem 
Approach,  and  kiss  her  sacred  vesture's  hem. 

Song  II. 

O'er  the  smooth  enamell'd  green, 
Where  no  print  of  step  hath  been. 

Follow  me  as  I  sing, 

And  touch  the  warbled  string, 
Under  the  shady  roof 
Of  branching  elm  star-proof. 

Follow  me, 
I  will  bring  you  where  she  sits. 
Clad  in  splendor  as  befits 

Her  deity. 
Such  a  rural  Queen 
All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 

Song  III. 

Nymphs  and  Shepherds  dance  no  more 

By  sandy  Ladon's^  lilied  banks. 
On  old  Lycaeus  or  Cyllene  hoar 

Trip  no  more  in  twilight  ranks, 
Though  Erymanth  your  loss  deplore, 

A  better  soil  shall  give  ye  thanks. 
From  the  stony  Maenalus 
Bring  your  flocks,  and  live  with  us ; 

1  A  beautiful  river  of  Arcadia. 


i- 


4 


EARLY  POEMS.  485 


Here  ye  shall  have  greater  grace, 
To  serve  the  lady  of  this  place; 
Though  Syrinx  your  Pan's  mistress  were, 
Yet  Syrinx  well  might  wait  on  her. 
Such  a  rural  Queen 
All  Arcadia  hath  not  seen. 


^ k^ 


s- 


486  COMUS. 


COMUS,  A  MASK.  1634. 

Presented  at  Ludlow  Castle  before  John,  Earl  of  Bridgewater,  then  President  of  Wales. 
"Comus  was  su^'gested  to  the  Poet  by  the  fact  that  the  two  sons  and  the  daughter  of  the 
Earl  of  Bridgewater,  on  their  return  from  a  visit  to  some  relations  in  Herefordshire,  were 
benighted  in  Haywood  Forest ;  and  the  Lady  Alice  was,  for  a  short  time,  lost.  The  Mask 
was  written  for  the  Michaelmas  festivities  of  1634,  and  acted  by  Lord  Bridgewater's  chil- 
dren. The  music  composed  for  it  was  by  Henry  Lawes,  who  performed  in  it  the  part  of 
the  Spirit  or  Thyrsis.  He  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Lawes,  a  Vicar-Choral  of  Salisbury 
Cathedral,  and  was  at  first  a  chorister  himself.  He  became  finally  one  of  the  Court  musicians 
to  Charles  L  Masks  and  music  fled  before  the  stern  gloom  of  the  Commonwealth,  and 
Lawes  was  compelled  to  gain  his  living  by  teaching  the  lute.  His  greatest  friends  during 
this  period  of  difficulty  and  poverty  were  the  Ladies  Alice  and  Mary  Egerton.  He  lived  to 
the  Restoration,  and  composed  the  Coronation  Anthem  for  Charles  II.  "Comus"  was 
first  published  by  Lawes,  without  Milton's  name,  in  1637,  with  a  dedication  to  Lord  Brack- 
ley.  Masks  were  the  fashion  of  the  age;  and  Milton  was  probably  called  on  by  Lord 
Bridgewater  to  produce  one,  because  he  had  already  written  the  "Arcades''  for  Lady 
Bridgewater's  mother.  Lady  Derby,  at  Harefield,  in  Middlesex, 

THE  PERSONS. 

First  Brother. 

Second  Brother. 

Sabrina,  the  Nymph. 


The  attendant  Spirit,  afterwards  in  the  habit 
Comus,  with  his  crew.  [of  Thyrsis. 

The  Lady, 


THE  CHIEF   PERSONS   WHO   PRESENTED   WERE — 

The  Lord  Brackley.  |  Mr.  Thomas  Egerton,  his  brother. 

The  Lady  Alice  Egerton. 

The  First  Scene  discovers  a  Wild  Wood. 

The  attendant  Spirit  1  descends  or  enters. 

Before  the  starry  threshold  of  Jove's  court 

My  mansion  is,  where  those  immortal  shapes 

Of  bright  aerial  spirits  live  insphered 

In  regions  mild  of  calm  and  serene  air, 

Above  the  smoke  and  stir  of  this  dim  spot, 

Which  men  call  Earth,  and  with  low-thought6d  care 

Confined,  and  pester'd  ^  in  this  pinfold  here, 

Strive  to  keep  up  a  frail  and  feverish  being, 

Unmindful  of  the  crown  that  virtue  gives, 

After  this  mortal  change  to  her  true  servants. 

Amongst  the  enthroned  Gods  on  sainted  seats, 

1  The  spirit  is  called  "Dcemon"  in  the  Cambridge  MS.— WartON. 

2  Crowded;  from  pesia,  a  crowd. 


^ ^ ep 

COMUS.  A^7 

Yet  some  there  be  that  by  due  steps  aspire 
To  lay  their  just  hands  on  that  golden  key, 
That  opes  the  palace  of  eternity ; 
To  such  my  errand  is;  and  but  for  such, 
I  would  not  soil  these  pure  ambrosial  weeds 
With  the  rank  vapors  of  this  sin-worn  mould. 
But  to  my  task.     Neptune,  besides  the  sway 
Of  every  salt  flood,  and  each  ebbing  stream 
Took  in  by  lot  'twixt  high  and  nether  Jove 
Imperial  rule  of  all  the  sea-girt  isles, 
That  like  to  rich  and  various  gems  inlay 
The  unadorned  bosom  of  the  deep  ; 
Which  he,  to  grace  his  tributary  Gods, 
By  course  commits  to  sev'ral  government, 
And  gives  them  leave  to  wear  their  sapphire  crowns, 
And  wield  their  little  tridents  :  but  this  Isle, 
The  greatest  and  the  best  of  all  the  main. 
He  quarters  to  his  blue-hair'd  deities; 
And  all  this  tract  that  fronts  the  falling  sun 
A  noble  Peer  of  mickle  trust  and  power 
Has  in  his  charge  with  temper'd  awe  to  guide 
An  old  and  haughty  nation  proud  in  arms  •} 
Where  his  fair  offspring,  nursed  in  princely  lore, 
Are  coming  to  attend  their  father's  state, 
And  new-intrusted  sceptre  ;  but  their  way 
Lies  through  the  perplex'd  paths  of  this  drear  wood. 
The  nodding  horror  of  whose  shady  brows 
Threats  the  forlorn  and  wand'ring  passenger; 
And  here  their  tender  age  might  suffer  peril. 
But  that  by  quick  command  from  sov'reign  Jove 
I  was  dispatch'd  for  their  defence  and  guard ; 
And  listen  why,  for  I  will  tell  you  now 
What  never  yet  was  heard  in  tale  or  song, 
From  old  or  modern  bard,  in  hall  or  bower. 


1  The  Welsh. 


<^ -4^ 


^ -^ 

488  COMUS. 

Bacchus,  that  first  from  out  the  purple  grape 
Crush'd  the  sweet  poison  of  misused  wine,    • 
After  the  Tuscan  mariners  transform'd, 
Coasting  the  Tyrrhene  shore,  as  the  winds  listed, 
On  Circe's  island  fell :  who  knows  not  Circe, 
The  daughter  of  the  sun,  whose  charmed  cup 
Whoever  tasted,  lost  his  upright  shape, 
And  downward  fell  into  a  grovelling  swine  ? 
This  Nymph  that  gazed  upon  his  clustering  locks, 
With  ivy  berries  wreath'd,  and  his  blithe  youth, 
Had  by  him,  ere  he  parted  thence,  a  son. 
Much  like  his  father,  but  his  mother  more. 
Whom  therefore  she  brought  up,  and'Comus^  named : 
Who  ripe,  and  frolic  of  his  full  grown  age. 
Roving  the  Cel:ic  and  Iberian  fields. 
At  last  betakes  him  to  this  ominous  wood. 
And  in  thick  shelter  of  black  shades  imbower'd 
Excels  his  mother  at  her  mighty  art, 
Offering  to  ev'ry  weary  traveller 
His  orient  liquor  in  a  crystal  glass. 
To  quench  the  drouth  of  Phoebus,  which  as  they  taste, 
(For  most  do  taste  through  fond  intemperate  thirst) 
Soon  as  the  potion  works,  their  human  countenance. 
The  express  resemblance  of  the  Gods,  is  changed 
Into  some  brutish  form  of  wolf,  or  bear, 
Or  ounce,  or  tiger,  hog,  or  bearded  goat, 
All  other  parts  remaining  as  they  were  ; 
And  they,  so  perfect  is  their  misery, 
Not  once  perceive  their  foul  disfigurement. 
But  boast  themselves  more  comely  than  before. 
And  all  their  friends  and  native  home  forget. 
To  roll  with  pleasure  in  a  sensual  sty. 
Therefore,  when  any  favor'd  of  high  Jove 


1  Comus  was  the  god  of  good  cheer.      He  had  appeared  as  a  dramatic  personage  in  one 
of  Jonson's  Masks  before  the  Court,  1619. 


^ 


<b 


COMUS.  489 

Chances  to  pass  through  this  adventurous  glade, 

Swift  as  the  sparkle  of  a  glancing  star 

I  shoot  from  heaven,  to  give  him  safe  convoy, 

As  now  I  do:   But  first  I  must  put  off 

These  my  sky  robes  spun  out  of  Iris'  woof, 

And  take  the  weeds  and  likeness  of  a  swain, 

That  to  the  service  of  this  house  belongs. 

Who  with  his  soft  pipe,  and  smooth  dittied  song, 

Well  knows  to  still  the  wild  winds  when  they  roar. 

And  hush  the  waving  woods,  nor  of  less  faith. 

And  in  this  office  of  his  mountain  watch, 

Likeliest,  and  nearest  to  the  present  aid 

Of  this  occasion.     But  I  hear  the  tread 

Of  hateful  steps,  I  must  be  viewless  now. 

Comus  enters  with  a  charming-rod  in  one  hand,  his  glass  in  the  other  ;  with  him  a  rout  of 
monsters,  headed  like  sundry  sorts  of  wild  beasts,  but  otherwise  like  men  and  women, 
their  apparel  glistening;  they  come  in  making  a  riotous  and  unruly  noise,  with  torches  in 
their  hands. 

CoMUS.     The  star  that  bids  the  shepherd  fold, 
Now  the  top  of  heaven  doth  hold ; 
And  the  gilded  car  of  day  • 
His  glowing  axle  doth  allay 
In  the  steep  Atlantic  stream  ; 
And  the  slope  sun  his  upward  beam 
Shoots  against  the  dusky  pole. 
Pacing  toward  the  other  goal 
Of  his  chamber  in  the  east. 
Meanwhile  welcome  Joy,  and  Feast, 
Midnight  Shout  and  Revelry, 
Tipsy  Dance  and  Jollity. 
Braid  your  locks  with  rosy  twine, 
Dropping  odors,  dropping  wine. 
Rigor  now  is  gone  to  bed, 
And  Advice  with  scrupulous  head, 
Strict  Age,  and  sour  Severity, 
With  their  grave  saws  in  slumber  lie. 


^ 


490  COMUS. 

We  that  are  of  purer  fire 

Imitate  the  starry  quire, 

Who  in  their  nightly  watchful  spheres 

Lead  in  swift  round  the  months  and  years. 

The  sounds  and  seas,  with  all  their  finny  drove. 

Now  to  the  moon  in  wavering  morrice  ^  move  ; 

And  on  the  tawny  sands  and  shelves 

Trip  the  pert  fairies  and  the  dapper  elves. 

By  dimpled  brook,  and  fountain  brim, 

The  wood-nymphs  deck'd  with  daisies  trim, 

Their  merry  wakes  and  pastimes  keep  ; 

What  hath  night  to  do  with  sleep  ?  1 

Night  hath  better  sweets  to  prove,  i 

Venus  now  wakes,  and  wakens  Love. 

Come  let  us  our  rites  begin, 

'Tis  only  day-light  that  makes  sin. 

Which  these  dun  shades  will  ne'er  report. 

Hail  Goddess  of  nocturnal  sport, 

Dark-veil'd  Cotytto,"  t'  whom  the  secret  flame 

Of  midnight  torches  burns  ;  mysterious  dame, 

That  ne'r  art  call'd,  but  when  the  dragon  womb 

Of  Stygian  darkness  spets  her  thickest  gloom. 

And  makes  one  blot  of  all  the  air ; 

Stay  thy  cloudy  ebon  chair, 

Wherein  thou  rid'st  with  Hecat,  and  befriend 

Us  thy  vow'd  priests,  till  utmost  end 

Of  all  thy  dues  be  done,  and  none  left  out. 

Ere  the  babbling  eastern  scout. 

The  nice  morn,  on  the  Indian  steep 

From  her  cabin'd  loophole  peep, 

And  to  the  tell-tale  sun  descry 

Our  conceal'd  solemnity. 


1  The  morice,  or  Moorish  dance,  long  a  great  favorite  with  our  ancestors.       It  was  intro- 
duced by  John  of  Gaunt,  it  is  said,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  on  his  return  from  Spain. 

2  The  goddess  of  wantonness,  worshipped  by  the  ancient  Greeks  at  night. 


h  •                                                                                         ^ 

c 

J 

^ 

'J 

COMUS.                                        491 

Come,  knit  hands,  and  beat  the  ground 

In  a  hght  fantastic  round. 

The  Measure. 

Break  off,  break  off,  I  feel  the  different  pace 

Of  some  chaste  footing  near  about  this  ground 

Run  to  your  shrouds,  within  these  brakes  and  trees  ; 

Our  number  may  affright:   Some  virgin  sure 

(For  so  I  can  distinguish  by  mine  art) 

Benighted  in  these  woods.     Now  to  my  charms, 

And  to  my  wily  trains ;   I  shall  ere  long 

Be  well-stock'd  with  as  fair  a  herd  as  grazed 

About  my  mother  Circe.     Thus  I  hurl 

My  dazzling  spells  into  the  spungy  air, 

Of  power  to  cheat  the  eye  with  blear  illusion. 

And  give  it  false  presentments,  lest  the  place 

And  my  quaint  habits  breed  astonishment, 

And  put  the  damsel  to  suspicious  flight, 

Which  must  not  be,  for  that's  against  my  course: 

I,  under  fair  pretence  of  friendly  ends. 

And  well-placed  words  of  glozing  courtesy 

'      - 

Baited  with  reasons  not  unplausible. 

"Wind  me  into  the  easy-hearted  man, 

And  hug  him  into  snares.     When  once  her  eye 

Hath  met  the  virtue  of  this  magic  dust, 

I  shall  appear  some  harmless  villager. 

Whom  thrift  keeps  up  about  his  country  gear. 

But  here  she  comes,  I  fairly^  step  aside. 

And  hearken,  if  I  may,  her  business  here. 

The  Lady  enters. 

Lady.  This  way  the  noise  was,  if  mine  ear  be  true. 

My  best  guide  now ;  methought  it  was  the  sound 

- 

Of  riot  and  ill-managed  merriment. 

1  Softly. 

q 

^ 

r 

^ 

^    '                                                                                                                 •    VJ    1 

a- ^ 

492  COMUS. 

Such  as  the  jocund  flute,  or  gamesome  pipe 
Stirs  up  among  the  loose  unletter'd  hinds, 
When  for  their  teeming  flocks,  and  granges  full. 
In  wanton  dance,  they  praise  the  bounteous  Pan, 
And  thank  the  Gods  amiss.     I  should  be  loath 
To  meet  the  rudeness,  and  swill'd  insolence 
Of  such  late  vvassailers  ;  yet  O  where  else 
Shall  I  inform  my  unacquainted  feet 
In  the  blind  mazes  of  this  tangled  wood  ? 
My  Brothers,  when  they  saw  m-e  wearied  out 
With  this  long  way,  resolving  here  to  lodge 
Under  the  spreading  favor  of  these  pines, 
Stepp'd,  as  they  said,  to  the  next  thicket  side 
To  bring  me  berries,  or  such  cooling  fruit 
As  the  kind  hospitable  woods  provide. 
They  left  me  then,  when  the  gray-hooded  Even, 
Like  a  sad  votarist  in  palmer's  weed, 
Rose  from  the  hindmost  wheels  of  Phoebus'  wain. 
But  where  they  arc,  and  why  they  came;  not  back. 
Is  now  the  labor  of  my  thoughts  ;  'tis  likeliest 
They  had  engaged  their  wandering  steps  too  far ; 
And  envious  darkness,  ere  they  could  return. 
Had  stole  them  from  me :  else,  O  thievish  Night, 
Why  shouldst  thou,  but  for  some  felonious  end, 
In  thy  dark  lantern  thus  close  up  the  stars. 
That  nature  hung  in  heaven,  and  fiU'd  their  lamps 
With  everlasting  oil,  to  give  due  light 
To  the  misled  and  lonely  traveller  ? 
This  is  the  place,  as  well  as  I  may  guess, 
Whence  even  now  the  tumult  of  loud  mirth 
Was  rife,  and  perfect  in  my  listening  ear, 
Yet  nought  but  single  darkness  do  I  find. 
What  might  this  be  ?     A  thousand  fantasies 
Begin  to  throng  into  my  memory, 
Of  calling  shapes,  and  beckoning  shadows  dire, 
And  airy  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names 


^ -^ 

COMUS.  493 

On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildernesses. 
These  thoughts  may  startle  well,  but  not  astound 
The  "virtuous  mind,  that  ever  walks  attended 
By  a  strong-siding-  champion.  Conscience. — 

0  welcome  pure-eyed  Faith,  white-handed  Hope, 
Thou  hov'ring  Angel,  girt  with  golden  wings, 
And  thou,  unblemish'd  form  of  Chastity ! 

1  see  ye  visibly,  and  now  believe 
That  He,  the  Supreme  Good,  to  whom  all  things  ill 
Are  but  as  slavish  officers  of  vengeance, 
Would  send  a  glistening  guardian,  if  need  were, 
To  keep  my  life  and  honor  unassail'd. 
Was  I  deceived,  or  did  a  sable  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night  ? 
I  did  not  err,  there  does  a  sable  cloud 
Turn  forth  her  silver  lining  on  the  night, 
And  casts  a  gleam  over  this  tufted  grove : 
I  cannot  halloo  to  my  Brothers,  but 
Such  noise  as  I  can  make  to  be  heard  farthest 
I'll  venture,  for  my  new  enliven'd  spirits 
Prompt  me ;  and  they  perhaps  are  not  far  off. 

Song. 

Sweet  Echo,  sweetest  nymph,  that  livest  unseen 

Within  thv  airy  shell, 
By  slow  Meander's  margent  green, 
And  in  the  violet  embroider'd  vale. 

Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale 
Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  well; 
Canst  thou  not  tell  me  of  a  gentler  pair 

That  likest  thy  Narcissus  are  ? 

O,  if  thou  have 
Hid  them  in  some  flowery  cave, 

Tell  me  but  where. 
Sweet  queen  of  parly,  daughter  of  the  sphere! 

d^ ^ 


494  COMUS. 

So  mayst  thou  be  translated  to  the  skies, 
And  give  resounding  grace  to  all  heav'n's  harmonies. 

Enter  Comus. 

Com.     Can  any  mortal  mixture  of  earth's  mould 
Breathe  such  divine  enchanting  ravishment? 
Sure  something  holy  lodges  in  that  breast, 
And  with  these  raptures  moves  the  vocal  air 
To  testify  his  hidden  residence: 
How  sweetly  did  they  float  upon  the  wings 
Of  silence,  through  the  empty-vaulted  night. 
At  every  fall  smoothing  the  raven  down 
Of  darkness  till  it  smiled  !  I  have  oft  heard 
My  mother  Circe  with  the  Sirens  three, 
Amidst  the  flowery-kirtled  Naiades, 
Culling  their  potent  herbs,  and  baleful  drugs, 
Who  as  they  sung,  would  take  the  prison'd  soul, 
And  lap  it  in  Elysium  ;  Scylla  wept, 
And  chid  her  barking  waves  into  attention, 
And  fell  Charybdis  murmur'd  soft  applause 
Yet  they  in  pleasing  slumber  lull'd  the  sense, 
And  in  sweet  madness  robb'd  it  of  itself; 
But  such  a  sacred,  and  home-felt  delight, 
Such  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss 
I  never  heard  till  now.     I'll  speak  to  her. 
And  she  shall  be  my  queen.     Hail,  foreign  wonder! 
Whom  certain  these  rough  shades  did  never  breed. 
Unless  the  goddess  that  in  rural  shrine 
Dwell'st  here  with  Pan,  or  Silvan,  by  blest  song 
Forbidding  every  bleak  unkindly  fog 
To  touch  the  prosperous  growth  of  this  tall  wood. 

Lad.   Nay,  gentle  Shepherd,  ill  is  lost  that  praise 
That  is  address'd  to  unattending  ears ; 
Not  any  boast  of  skill,  but  extreme  shift 
How  to  regain  my  sever'd  company, 
Compell'd  me  to  awake  the  courteous  Echo 

<^ ^ ^ 


COMUS,  495 

To  give  mo  answer  from  her  mossy  couch. 

Com.  What  chance,  good  Lady,  hath  bereft  you  thus  ? 

Lad.  Dim  darkness,  and  this  leafy  labyrinth. 

Com.  Could  that  divide  you  from  near-ushering  guides? 

Lad.  They  left  me  weary  on  a  grassy  turf 

Com.  By  falsehood,  or  discourtesy,  or  wh}'  ? 

Lad.  To  seek  in  the  valley  some  cool  friendly  spring. 

Com.  And  left  your  fair  side  all  unguarded.  Lady  ? 

Lad.  They  were  but  twain,  and  purposed  quick  return. 

Com.  Perhaps  forestalling  night  prevented  them. 

Lad.  How  easy  my  misfortune  is  to  hit! 

Com.  Imports  their  loss,  beside  the  present  need? 

Lad.  No  less  than  if  I  should  my  Brothers  lose. 

Com.  Were  they  of  manly  prime,  or  youthful  bloom? 

Lad.  As  smooth  as  Hebe's  their  unrazor'd  lips. 

Com.  Two  such  I  saw,  what  time  the  labor'd  ox 
In  his  loose  traces  from  the  furrow  came, 
And  the  swink'd'    hedger  at  his  supper  sat ; 
I  saw  them  under  a  green  mantling  vine 
That  crawls  along  the  side  of  yon  small  hill, 
Plucking  ripe  clusters  from  the  tender  shoots; 
Their  port  was  more  than  human,  as  they  stood : 
I  took  it  for  a  faery  vision 
Of  some  gay  creatures  of  the  element, 
That  in  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  live, 
A^nd  play  i'  th'  plighted  clouds.     I  was  awe-struck, 
And  as  I  pass'd,  I  worshipp'd ;   if  those  you  seek, 
It  were  a  journey  like  the  path  to  heav'n, 
To  help  you  find  them. 

Lad.  Gentle  Villager, 
What  readiest  way  would  bring  me  to  that  place  ? 

Com.  Due  west  it  rises  from  this  shrubby  point. 

Lad.  To  find  that  out,  good  Shepherd,  I  suppose. 
In  such  a  scant  allowance  of  star-light, 

1  Wearied  with  toil.  , 


^ -^ 

496  COMUS. 

Would  overtask  the  best  land-pilot's  art, 
Without  the  sure  guess  of  well-practised  feet, 

Com.  I  know  each  lane,  and  every  alley  green, 
Dingle  or  bushy  dell  of  this  wild  wood, 
And  every  bosky  bourn  from  side  to  side, 
My  daily  walks  and  ancient  neighborhood  ; 
And  if  your  stray  attendants  be  yet  lodged 
Or  shroud  within  these  limits,  I  shall  know 
Ere  morrow  wake,  or  the  low-roosted  lark 
From  her  thatch'd  pallet  rouse;  if  otherwise 
I  can  conduct  you.  Lady,  to  a  low 
But  loyal  cottage,  where  you  may  be  safe 
Till  further  quest. 

Lad.  Shepherd,  I  take  thy  word, 
And  trust  thy  honest  offer'd  courtesy, 
Which  oft  is  sooner  found  in  lowly  sheds 
With  smoky  rafters,  than  in  tap'stry  halls 
And  courts  of  princes,  where  it  first  was  named. 
And  yet  is  most  pretended  :  in  a  place 
Less  v/arranted  than  this,  or  less  secure 
I  cannot  be,  that  I  should  fear  to  change  it. 
Eye  me,  blest  Providence,  and  square  my  trial 
To  my  proportion'd  strength.     Shepherd,  lead  on. 

Enter  the  two  Brothers. 

I  Br.  Unmuffle,  ye  faint  stars,  and  thou,  fair  moon, 
That  wont'st  to  love  the  traveller's  benizon. 
Stoop  thy  pale  visage  through  an  amber  cloud, 
And  disinherit  Chaos,  that  reigns  here 
In  double  night  of  darkness  and  of  shades  ; 
Or  if  your  influence  be  quite  damm'd  up 
With  black  usurping  mists,  some  gentle  taper. 
Though  a  rush  candle,  from  the  wicker-hole 
Of  some  clay  habitation,  visit  us 
With  thy  long-levell'd  rule  of  streaming  light ; 

^ ^ ^ 


COMUS.  497  '. 

And  thou  shalt  be  our  star  of  Arcady, 

Or  Tyrian  Cynosure.' 
2  Br.  Or  if  our  eyes 

Be  barr'd  that  happiness,  might  we  but  hear 

The  folded  flocks  penn'd  in  their  wattled  cotes, 

Or  sound  of  past'ral  reed,  with  oaten  stops, 

Or  whistle  from  the  lodge,  or  village  cock 

Count  the  night  watches  to  his  feathery  dames, 

'Twould  be  some  solace  yet,  some  little  cheering 

In  this  close  dungeon  of  innumerous  boughs. 

But  O  that  hapless  virgin,  our  lost  Sister, 

Where  may  she  wander  now,  whither  betake  her 

From  the  chill  dew,  among  rude  burs  and  thistles  ? 

Perhaps  some  cold  bank  is  her  bolster  now, 

Or  'gainst  the  rugged  bark  of  some  broad  elm 

Leans  her  unpillow'd  head,  fraught  with  sad  fears. 

What,  if  in  wild  amazement  and  affright. 

Or,  while  we  speak,  within  the  direful  grasp 

Of  savage  hunger,  or  of  savage  heat  ? 

I  Br.  Peace,  Brother,  be  not  over-exquisite 
To  cast  the  fashion  of  uncertain  evils  ; 

For  grant  they  be  so,  while  they  rest  unknown, 

What  need  a  man  forestall  his  date  of  grief. 

And  run  to  meet  what  he  would  most  avoid  ? 

Or  if  they  be  but  false  alarms  of  fear, 

How  bitter  is  such  self-delusion  ! 

I  do  not  think  my  Sister  so  to  seek. 

Or  so  unprincipled  in  virtue's  book. 

And  the  sweet  peace  that  goodness  bosoms  ever, 

As  that  the  single  want  of  light  and  noise 

(Not  being  in  danger,  as  I  trust  she  is  not) 

Could  stir  the  constant  mood  of  her  calm  thoughts. 


1  Our  Greater  or  Lesser  Bear  star.  Calisto,  the  daughter  of  Lycaon,  King  of  Acadia, 
was  changed  into  the  Greater  Bear,  called  also  Helice,  and  her  son  Areas  into  the  Lesser, 
called  also  Cynosura,  (seep.  28,)  by  observing  of  which  the  Tyrians  and  Sidonians  steered 
their  course,  as  the  Greek  mariners  did  by  the  other.— Newton. 

^ ^ ^ 


498  COMUS. 

And  put  them  into  misbecoming  plight. 
Virtue  could  see  to  do  what  virtue  would 
By  her  own  radiant  light,  though  sun  and  moon 
Were  in  the  flat  sea  sunk.     And  Wisdom's  self 
.     Oft  seeks  to  sweet  retired  solitude, 

Where  with  her  best  nurse  Contemplation 

She  plumes  her  feathers,  and  lets  grow  her  wings, 

That  in  the  various  bustle  of  resort 

Were  all-to  ruffled,  and  sometimes  impair'd. 

He  that  has  light  within  his  own  clear  breast. 

May  sit  i'  th'  centre,  and  enjoy  bright  day  : 

But  he  that  hides  a  dark  soul,  and  foul  thoughts, 

Benighted  walks  under  the  mid-day  sun; 

Himself  is  his  own  dungeon. 

2  Br.  'Tis  most  true, 
That  musing  meditation  most  affects 
The  pensive  secrecy  of  desert  cell, 
Far  from  the  cheerful  haunt  of  men  and  herds, 
And  sits  as  safe  as  in  a  senate  house ; 
For  who  would  rob  a  hermit  of  his  weeds. 
His  few  books,  or  his  beads,  or  maple  dish, 
Or  do  his  gray  hairs  any  violence? 
But  beauty,  like  the  fair  Hesperian  tree 
Laden  with  blooming  gold,  had  need  the  guard 
Of  dragon  watch  with  unenchanted  eye. 
To  save  her  blossoms,  and  defend  her  fruit 
From  the  rash  hand  of  bold  incontinence. 
You  may  as  well  spread  out  the  unsunn'd  heaps 
Of  miser's  treasure  by  an  outlaw's  den. 
And  tell  me  it  is  safe,  as  bid  me  hope 
Danger  will  wink  on  opportunity, 
And  let  a  single  helpless  maiden  pass 
Uninjured  in  this  wild  surrounding  waste. 
Of  night,  or  loneliness,  it  recks  me  not; 
I  fear  the  dread  events  that  dog  them  both, 
Lest  some  ill-greeting  touch  attempt  the  person 

i^ ^ 


^ : -^ 

COMUS.  499 

Of  our  unowned  Sister. 

1  Br.  I  do  not,  Brother, 
Infer,  as  if  I  thought  my  Sister's  state 
Secure  without  all  doubts,  or  controversy; 
Yet  where  an  equal  poise  of  hope  and  fear 
Does  arbitrate  the  event,  my  nature  is 
That  I  incline  to  hope,  rather  than  fear, 
And  gladly  banish  squint  suspicion. 
My  Sister  is  not  so  defenceless  left, 
As  you  imagine;  she  has  a  hidden  strength, 
Which  you  remember  not. 

2  Br.  What  hidden  strength, 
Unless  the  strength  of  Heav'n,  if  you  mean  that? 

I  Br.  I  mean  that  too,  but  yet  a  hidden  strength, 
Which,  if  Heav'n  gave  it,  may  be  term'd  her  own  ; 
'Tis  chastity,  my  Brother,  chastity : 
She  that  has  that,  is  clad  in  complete  steel, 
And  like  a  quiver'd  Nymph  with  arrows  keen 
May  trace  huge  forests,  and  unharbor'd  heaths. 
Infamous  hills,  and  sandy  perilous  wilds, 
Where  through  the  sacred  rays  of  chastity. 
No  savage  fierce,  bandit,  or  mountaineer 
Will  dare  to  soil  her  virgin  purity: 
Yea  tliere,  where  very  desolation  dwells, 
By  grots,  and  caverns  shagg'd  with  horrid  shades. 
She  may  pass  on  with  unblench'd  majesty, 
Be  it  not  done  in  pride,  or  in  presumption. 
Some  say  no  evil  thing  that  walks  by  night, 
In  fog,  or  fire,  by  lake,  or  moorish  fen, 
Blue  meagre  hag,  or  stubborn  unlaid  ghost, 
That  breaks  his  magic  chains  at  curfew  time, 
No  goblin,  or  swart  faery  of  the  mine. 
Hath  hurtful  power  o'er  true  virginity. 
Do  ye  believe  me  yet,  or  shall  I  call 
Antiquity  from  the  old  schools  of  Greece 
To  testify  the  arms  of  chastity  ? 

%- ^ 


s- ^ ^ 


500 


COM[/S. 

Hence  had  the  huntress  Dian  her  dread  bow, 

Fair  silver-shafted  queen,  for  ever  chaste, 

Wherewith  she  tamed  the  brinded  honess 

And  spotted  mountain  pard,  but  set  at  nought 

The  frivolous  bolt  of  Cupid;  Gods  and  men 

Fear'd  her  stern  frown,  and  she  was  queen  o'  th'  woods. 

What  was  that  snaky-headed  Gorgon  shield, 

That  wise  Minerva  wore,  unconquer'd  virgin. 

Wherewith  she  freezed  her  foes  to  congeal'd  stone, 

But  rigid  looks  of  chaste  austerity, 

And  noble  grace  that  dash'd  brute  violence 

With  sudden  adoration  and  blank  awe  ? 

So  dear  to  heav'n  is  saintly  chastity. 

That  when  a  soul  is  found  sincerely  so, 

A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her, 

Driving  far  off  each  thing  of  sin  and  guilt. 

And  in  clear  dream,  and  solemn  vision. 

Tell  her  of  things  that  no  gross  ear  can  hear. 

Till  oft  converse  with  heav'nly  habitants 

Begin  to  cast  a  beam  on  the  outward  shape, 

The  unpolluted  temple  of  the  mind, 

And  turns  it  by  degrees  to  the  soul's  essence, 

Till  all  be  made  immortal :  but  when  lust. 

By  unchaste  looks,  loose  gestures,  and  foul  talk, 

But  most  by  lewd  and  lavish  act  of  sin. 

Lets  in  defilement  to  the  inward  parts. 

The  soul  grows  clotted  by  contagion, 

Imbodies,  and  imbrutcs,  till  she  quite  lose 

The  divine  property  of  her  first  being. 

Such  are  those  thick  and  gloomy  shadows  damp 

Oft  seen  in  charnel  vaults,  and  sepulchres, 

Lingering  and  sitting  by  a  new-made  grave, 

As  loth  to  leave  the  body  that  it  loved. 

And  link'd  itself  by  carnal  sensuality 

To  a  degenerate  and  degraded  state. 

2  Br.  How  charming  is  divine  philosophy ! 


4 


^ 


COMUS.  501 

Not  harsh  and  crabbed,  as  dull  fools  suppose, 
But  musical,  as  is  Apollo's  lute, 
And  a  perpetual  feast  of  nectar'd  sweets, 
Where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns. 

1  Br.  List,  list,  I  hear 

Some  far  off  halloo  break  the  silent  air. 

2  Br.  Methought  so  too  :  what  should  it  be  ? 

1  Br.  For  certain 

Either  some  one  like  us  night-founder'd  here, 
Or  else  some  neighbor  woodman,  or,  at  worst, 
Some  roving  robber  calling  to  his  fellows. 

2  Br.  Heav'n  keep  my  Sister.     Again,  again,  and  near; 
Best  draw,  and  stand  upon  our  guard. 

1  Br.  I'll  halloo  ; 

If  he  be  friendly,  he  comes  well ;  if  not. 
Defence  is  a  good  cause  and  Heav'n  be  for  us. 

Enter  the  attendant  Spirit,  habited  like  a  shepherd. 

That  halloo  I  should  know,  what  are  you  ?  speak ; 
Come  not  too  near,  you  fall  on  iron  stakes  else. 

Spir.  What  voice  is  that  ?  my  young  Lord  ?  speak  again. 

2  Br.  O  brother,  'tis  my  father's  shepherd,  sure. 

I  Br.  Thyrsis  ?     Whose  artful  strains  have  oft  delay'd 
The  huddling  brook  to  hear  his  madrigal,^ 
And  sweeten'd  every  muskrose  of  the  dale. 
How  camest  thou  here,  good  swain  ?  hath  any  ram 
Slipt  from  the  fold,  or  young  kid  lost  his  dam. 
Or  straggling  wether  the  pent  flock  forsook  ? 
How  could'st  thou  find  this  dark  sequestr'd  nook  ? 

Spir.  O  my  lov'd  master's  heir,  and  his  next  joy, 
I  came  not  here  on  such  a  trivial  toy 
As  a  stray'd  ewe,  or  to  pursue  the  stealth 
Of  pilfering  wolf;    not  all  the  fleecy  wealth 
That  doth  enrich  these  downs  is  worth  a  thoueht 


1  A  compliment  to  Lawes. 


^- ^ 

502  COMUS. 

To  this  my  errand,  and  the  care  it  brought. 
But,  O  my  my  virgin  Lady,  where  is  she  ? 
How  chance  she  is  not  in  your  company? 

I  Br.  To  tell  thee  sadly,^  Shepherd,  without  blame. 
Or  our  neglect,  we  lost  her  as  we  came. 

Spir.  Aye  me  unhappy !    then  my  fears  are  true. 

I  Br.  What  fears,  good  Thyrsis  ?     Prithee  briefly  show. 

Spir.  I'll  tell  ye;   'tis  not  vain  or  fabulous, 
Though  so  esteem'd  by  shallow  ignorance, 
What  the  sage  poets,  taught  by  the  heav'nly  Muse, 
Storied  of  old,  in  high  immortal  verse, 
Of  dire  chimeras,  and  enchanted  isles, 
And  rifted  rocks  whose  entrance  leads  to  Hell ; 
For  such  there  be,  but  unbelief  is  blind. 

Within  the  navel  of  this  hideous  wood. 
Immured  in  cypress  shades  a  sorcerer  dwells. 
Of  Bacchus  and  of  Circe  born,  great  Comus. 
Deep  skill'd  in  all  his  mother's  witcheries, 
And  here  to  every  thirsty  wanderer 
By  sly  enticement  gives  his  baneful  cup. 
With  many  murmurs  mix'd,  whose  pleasing  poison 
The  visage  quite  transforms  of  him  that  drinks, 
And  the  inglorious  likeness  of  a  beast 
Fixes  instead,  unmoulding  reason's  mintage 
Character'd  in  the  face :  this  I  have  learnt 
Tending  my  flocks  hard  by  i'  th'  hilly  crofts, 
That  brow  this  bottom-glade,  whence,  night  by  night, 
He  and  his  monstrous  rout  are  heard  to  howl, 
Like  stabled  wolves,  or  tigers  at  their  prey. 
Doing  abhorred  rites  to  Hecate  • 
In  their  obscured  haunts  of  inmost  bowers. 
Yet  have  they  many  bates  and  guileful  spells, 
To  inveigle  and  invite  the  unwary  sense 
Of  them  that  pass  unweeting  by  the  way. 

1  Soberly,  seriously. — Newton. 

^ ■ -^ 


^ ^ -^ 

COMUS.  503 

This  ev'ning  late,  by  then  the  chewing  flocks 

Had  ta'en  their  supper  on  the  savory  herb 

Of  knot-grass  dew-besprent,  and  were  in  fold, 

I  sat  me  down  to  watch  upon  a  bank 

With  ivy  canopied,  and  interwove 

With  flaunting  honey-suckle,  and  began. 

Wrapt  in  a  pleasing  fit  of  melancholy, 

To  meditate  my  rural  minstrelsy. 

Till  fancy  had  her  fill,  but  ere  a  close, 

The  wonted  roar  was  up  amidst  the  woods. 

And  fiU'd  the  air  with  barbarous  dissonance ; 

At  which  I  ceased,  and  listen'd  them  a  while, 

Till  an  unusual  stop  of  sudden  silence 

Gave  respite  to  the  drowsy  frighted  steeds. 

That  draw  the  litter  of  close-curtain'd  sleep  ; 

At  last  a  soft  and  solemn-breathing  sound 

Rose  like  a  steam  of  rich  distill'd  perfumes, 

And  stole  upon  the  air,  that  even  Silence 

Was  took  ere  she  was  ware,  and  wish'd  she  might 

Deny  her  nature,  and  be  never  more, 

Still  to  be  so  displaced.     I  was  all  ear, 

And  took  in  strains  that  might  create  a  soul 

Under  the  ribs  of  death :  but  O  ere  long 

Too  well  I  did  perceive  it  was  the  voice 

Of  my  most  honor'd  Lady,  your  dear  Sister. 

Amazed  I  stood,  harrow'd  with  grief  and  fear. 

And  O  poor  hapless  nightingale  thought  I, 

How  sweet  thou  sing'st,  how  near  the  deadly  snare! 

Then  down  the  lawns  I  ran  with  headlong  haste, 

Through  paths  and  turnings  often  trod  by  day. 

Till  guided  by  mine  ear  I  found  the  place, 

Where  that  damn'd  wizard,  hid  in  sly  disguise, 

(For  so  by  certain  signs  I  knew)  had  met 

Already,  ere  my  best  speed  could  prevent 

The  aidless  innocent  Lady  his  wish'd  prey. 

Who  gently  ask'd  if  he  had  seen  such  two. 


s- 


^ 


504  COMUS. 

Supposing  him  some  neighbor  villager. 
Longer  I  durst  not  stay,  but  soon  I  guess'd 
Ye  were  the  two  she  meant;  with  that  I  sprung 
Into  swift  flight,  till  I  had  found  you  here, 
But  further  know  I  not. 

2  Br.  O  night  and  shades, 
How  are  ye  join'd  with  Hell  in  triple  knot, 
Against  the  unarm'd  weakness  of  one  virgin, 
Alone  and  helpless !     Is  this  the  confidence 
You  gave  me,  Brother? 

I  Br.  Yes,  and  keep  it  still, 
Lean  on  it  safely;  not  a  period 
Shall  be  unsaid  for  me  :  against  the  threats 
Of  malice  or  of  sorcer}/,  or  that  power 
Which  erring  men  call  Chance,  this  I  hold  firm. 
Virtue  may  be  assail'd,  but  never  hurt, 
Surprised  by  unjust  force,  but  not  enthrall'd  ; 
Yea  even  that  which  niischief  meant  most  harm, 
Shall  in  the  happy  trial  prove  most  glory: 
But  evil  on  itself  shall  back  recoil, 
And  mix  no  more  with  goodness,  when  at  last 
Gather'd  like  scum,  and  settled  to  itself, 
It  shall  be  in  eternal  restless  change 
Self-fed,  and  self-consumed:  if  this  fail, 
The  pillar'd  firmament  is  rottenness. 
And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble.     But  come,  let's  on. 
Against  the  opposing  will  and  arm  of  heaven 
May  never  this  just  sword  be  lifted  up  ; 
But  for  that  damn'd  magician,  let  him  be  girt 
With  all  the  grisly  legions  that  troop 
Under  the  sooty  flag  of  Acheron, 
Harpies  and  Hydras,  or  all  the  monstrous  forms 
'Twixt  Africa  and  Ind,  I'll  find  him  out, 
And  force  him  to  return  his  purchase  back,       ^ 
Or  drag  him  by  the  curls  to  a  foul  death, 
Cursed  as  his  life. 


4> 


4 


COMUS,  505 

Spir.  Alas  !  good  vent'rous  youth, 
I  love  thy  courage  yet,  and  bold  emprise; 
But  here  thy  sword  can  do  thee  little  stead, 
Far  other  arms  and  other  weapons  must 
Be  those  that  quell  the  might  of  hellish  charms: 
He  with  his  bare  wand  can  unthread  thy  joints, 
And  crumble  all  thy  sinews. 

I  Br.  Why  prithee,  Shepherd, 
How  durst  thou  then  thyself  approach  so  near, 
As  to  make  this  relation  ? 

Spir.  Care  and  utmost  shifts 
How  to  secure  the  Lady  from  surprisal. 
Brought  to  my  mind  a  certain  shepherd  lad, 
Of  small  regard  to  see  to,  yet  well  skill'd 
In  every  virtuous  plant  and  healing  herb, 
That  spreads  her  verdant  leaf  to  the  morning  ray : 
He  loved  me  well,  and  oft  would  beg  me  sing, 
Which  when  I  did,  he  on  the  tender  grass 
Would  sit,  and  hearken  e'en  to  ecstasy, 
And  in  requital  ope  his  leathern  scrip. 
And  show  me  simples  of  a  thousand  names, 
Telling  their  strange  and  vigorous  faculties : 
Amongst  the  rest  a  small  unsightly  root. 
But  of  divine  effect,  he  cull'd  me  out ; 
The  leaf  was  darkish,  and  had  prickles  on  it, 
But  in  another  country,  as  he  said, 
Bore  a  bright  golden  flower,  but  not  in  this  soil : 
Unknown,  and  like  esteem'd,  and  the  dull  swain 
Treads  on  it  daily  with  his  clouted  ^  shoon, 
And  yet  more  med'cinal  is  it  than  that  moly 
That  Hermes  once  to  wise  Ulysses  gave ; 
He  call'd  it  haemony,  and  gave  it  me, 
■    And  bad  me  keep  it  as  of  sovereign  use 

'Gainst  all  enchantments,  mildew,  blast,  or  damp, 


1  Clouts  are  thin  and  narrow  plates  of  iron,  affixed  with  hobnails  to  the  shoes  of  rustics. — 
T.  Warton. 


^ -^ 

506  COMUS. 

Or  ghastly  furies*  apparition. 

I  pursed  it  up,  but  little  reck'ning  made, 

Till  now  that  this  extremity  compell'd  : 

But  now  I  find  it  true ;  for  by  this  means 

I  knew  the  foul  enchanter  though  disguised, 

Enter'd  the  very  lime-twigs  of  his  spells, 

And  yet  came  off:  if  you  have  this  about  you, 

(As  I  will  give  you  when  we  go)  you  may 

Boldly  assault  the  necromancer's  hall ; 

Where  if  he  be,  with  dauntless  hardihood, 

And  brandish'd  blade  rush  on  him,  break  his  glass. 

And  shed  the  luscious  liquor  on  the  ground. 

But  seize  his  wand ;  though  he  and  his  cursed  crew 

Fierce  sign  of  battle  make,  and  menace  high, 

Or  like  the  sons  of  Vulcan  vomit  smoke. 

Yet  will  they  soon  retire,  if  he  but  shrink. 

I  Br.  Thyrsis,  lead  on  apace,  I'll  follow  thee. 
And  some  good  Angel  bear  a  shield  before  us. 

The  Scene  changes  to  a  stately  palace,  set  out  with  all  manner  of  deliciousness ;  soft  music, 
tables  spread  with  all  dainties.  Comus  appears  with  his  rabble,  and  the  Lady  set  in  an 
enchanted  chair,  to  whom  he  offers  his  glass,  which  she  puts  by,  and  goes  about  to  rise. 

Com.  Nay,  Lady,  sit ;  if  I  but  wave  this  wand, 
Your  nerves  are  all  chain'd  up  in  alabaster, 
And  you  a  statue,  or  as  Daphne  was 
Root-bound,  that  fled  Apollo. 

Lad.  Fool,  do  not  boast, 
Thou  canst  not  touch  the  freedom  of  my  mind 
With  all  thy  charms,  although  this  corporal  rind 
Thou  hast  immanacled,  while  Heaven  sees  good. 

Com.  Why  are  you  vext,  Lady  ?  why  do  you  frown  ? 
Here  dwell  no  frowns,  nor  anger ;  from  these  gates 
Sorrow  flies  far :  See,  here  be  all  the  pleasures 
That  fancy  can  beget  on  youthful  thoughts, 
When  the  fresh  blood  grows  lively,  and  returns 
Brisk  as  the  April  buds  in  primrose-season. 
And  first  behold  this  cordial  julep  here, 


COMUS.  507 

That  flames,  and  dances  in  his  crystal  bounds, 

With  spirits  of  balm,  and  fragrant  syrups  mix'd. 

Not  that  Nepenthes,^  which  the  wife  of  Thone 

In  Egypt  gave  to  Jove-born  Helena, 

Is  of  such  power  to  stir  up  joy  as  this, 

To  life  so  friendly,  or  so  cool  to  thirst. 

Why  should  you  be  so  cruel  to  yourself. 

And  to  those  dainty  limbs  which  Nature  lent 

For  gentle  usage,  and  soft  delicacy  ? 

But  you  invert  the  covenants  of  her  trust, 

And  harshly  deal,  like  an  ill  borrower. 

With  that  which  you  received  on  other  terms  ; 

Scorning  the  unexempt  condition 

By  which  all  mortal  frailty  must  subsist, 

Refreshment  after  toil,  ease  after  pain. 

That  have  been  tired  all  day  without  repast, 

And  timely  rest  have  wanted  ;  but,  fair  Virgin, 

This  will  restore  all  soon. 

Lad.  'Twill  not,  false  traitor, 
'Twill  not  restore  the  truth  and  honesty 
That  thou  hast  banish'd  from  thy  tongue  with  lies. 
Was  this  the  Cottage,  and  the  safe  abode 
Thou  toldst  me  of?     What  grim  aspects  are  these, 
These  ugly-headed  monsters  ?     Mercy  guard  me  ! 
Hence  with  thy  brew'd  enchantments,  foul  deceiver  ; 
Hast  thou  betray'd  my  credulous  innocence 
With  visor'd  falsehood  and  base  forgery  ? 
And  would'st  thou  seek  agair^  to  trap  me  here 
With  liquorish  baits  fit  to  ensnare  a  brute  ? 
Were  it  a  draught  for  Juno  when  she  banquets, 
I  would  not  taste  thy  treasonous  offer ;  none 
But  such  as  are  good  men  can  give  good  things. 
And  that  which  is  not  good,  is  not  delicious 
To  a  well-govern'd  and  wise  appetite. 

1  See  Pope's  Odyssey,  IV.  301.     Probably  opium. 

^^- -^ 


^ -€7 

■ 
508  COMUS. 

Com.  O  foolishness  of  men  !  that  lend  their  ears 
To  those  budge  ^  doctors  of  the  Stoic  fur, 
And  fetch  their  precepts  from  the  Cynic  tub, 
Praising  the  lean  and  sallow  Abstinence. 
Wherefore  did  nature  pour  her  bounties  forth, 
With  such  a  full  and  unwithdrawing  hand, 
Covering  the  earth  with  odors,  fruits,  and  flocks, 
Thronging  the  seas  with  spawn  innumerable, 
But  all  to  please,  and  sate  the  curious  taste? 
And  set  to  work  millions  of  spinning  worms. 
That  in  their  green  shops  weave  the  smooth-hair'd  silk 
To  deck  her  sons ;  and  that  no  corner  might 
Be  vacant  of  her  plenty,  in  her  own  loins 
She  hutch'd^  the  all-worshipp'd  ore,  and  precious  gems, 
To  store  her  children  with  :  if  all  the  world 
Should  in  a  pet  of  temp'rance  feed  on  pulse, 
Drink  the  clear  stream,  and  nothing  wear  but  frieze. 
The  All-giver  would  be  unthank'd,  would  be  unpraised, 
Not  half  his  riches  known,  and  yet  despised ; 
And  we  should  serve  him  as  a  grudging  master. 
As  a  penurious  niggard  of  his  wealth  ; 
And  live  like  Nature's  bastards,  not  her  sons. 
Who  would  be  quite  surcharg'd  with  her  own  weight, 
And  strangled  with  her  waste  fertility ; 
Th'  earth  cumber'd,  and  the  wing'd  air  dark'd  with  plumes, 
The  herds  would  over-multitude  their  lords. 
The  sea  o'erfraught  would  swell,  and  th'  unsought  diamonds 
Would  so  emblaze  the  forehead  of  the  deep. 
And  so  bestud  with  stars,  that  they  below 
Would  grow  inured  to  light,  and  come  at  last 
To  gaze  upon  the  sun  with  shameless  brows. 
List,  Lady,  be  not  coy,  and  be  not  cozen'd 
With  that  same  vaunted  name  Virginity. 
Beauty  is  Nature's  coin,  must  not  be  hoarded 

1  Budge  is  lamb's  fur,  formerly  an  ornament  of  scholastic  habits.  ''■  Hoarded. 


COMUS.  509 

But  must  be  current,  and  the  good  thereof 

Consists  in  mutual  and  partaken  bliss, 

Unsavory  in  th'  enjoyment  of  itself; 

If  you  let  slip  time,  like  a  neglected  rose 

It  withers  on  the  stalk  with  languish'd  head. 

Beauty  is  Nature's  brag,  and  must  be  shown 

In  courts,  at  feasts,  and  high  solemnities, 

Where  most  may  wonder  at  the  workmanship ; 

It  is  for  homely  featureif  to  keep  home, 

They  had  their  name  thence ;  coarse  complexions, 

And  cheeks  of  sorry  grain,  will  serve  to  ply 

The  sampler,  and  to  tease  the  huswife's  wool. 

What  need  a  vermeil- tinctured  lip  for  that, 

Love-darting  eyes,  or  tresses  like  the  morn  ? 

There  was  another  meaning  in  these  gifts, 

Think  what,  and  be  advised,  you  are  but  young  yet. 

Lad.  I  had  not  thought  to  have  unlockt  my  lips 
In  this  unhallow'd  air,  but  that  this  juggler 
Would  think  to  charm  my  judgment,  as  mine  eyes, 
Obtruding  false  rules  prank'd  in  reason's  garb. 
I  hate  when  vice  can  bolt  her  arguments, 
And  virtue  has  no  tongue  to  check  her  pride. 
Impostor,  do  not  charge  most  innocent  Nature, 
As  if  she  would  her  children  should  be  riotous 
With  her  abundance  ;  she,  good  cateress. 
Means  her  provision  only  to  the  good. 
That  live  according  to  her  sober  laws. 
And  holy  dictate  of  spare  temperance : 
If  every  just  man,  that  now  pines  with  want, 
Had  but  a  moderate  and  beseeming  share 
Of  that  which  lewdly-pamper'd  luxury 
Now  heaps  upon  some  few  with  vast  excess, 
Nature's  full  blessings  would  be  well  dispensed 
In  unsuperfluous  even  proportion, 
And  she  no  whit  incumber'd  with  her  store; 
And  then  the  giver  would  be  better  thank'd, 

d^ ^ ^ 


f- ^ -^ 

510  COMUS, 

His  praise  due  paid ;  for  swinish  gluttony 

Ne'er  looks  to  heav'n  amidst  his  gorgeous  feast, 

But  with  besotted  base  ingratitude 

Crams,  and  blasphemes  his  feeder.     Shall  I  go  on  ? 

Or  have  I  said  enough  ?     To  him  that  dares 

Arm  his  profane  tongue  with  contemptuous  words 

Against  the  sun-clad  power  of  Chastity, 

Fain  would  I  something  say,  yet  to  what  end  ? 

Thou  hast  nor  ear,  nor  soul  to  apprehend 

The  sublime  notion,  and  high  mystery, 

That  must  be  utter'd  to  unfold  the  sage 

And  serious  doctrine  of  Virginity, 

And  thou  art  worthy  that  thou  shouldst  not  know 

More  happiness  than  this  thy  present  lot. 

Enjoy  your  dear  wit,  and  gay  rhetoric, 

That  hath  so  well  been  taught  her  dazzling  fence. 

Thou  art  not  fit  to  hear  thyself  convinced  ; 

Yet  should  I  try,  the  uncontrolled  worth 

Of  this  pure  cause  would  kindle  my  rapt  spirits 

To  such  a  flame  of  sacred  vehemence, 

That  dumb  things  would  be  moved  to  sympathize, 

And  the  brute  earth  would  lend  her  nerves,  and  shake, 

Till  all  thy  magic  structures  rear'd  so  high, 

Were  shatter'd  into  heaps  o'er  thy  false  head. 

Com.  She  fables  not,  I  feel  that  I  do  fear 
Her  words  set  off  by  some  superior  power  : 
And  though  not  mortal,  yet  a  cold  shudd'ring  dew 
Dips  me  all  o'er,  as  when  the  wrath  of  Jove 
Speaks  thunder,  and  the  chains  of  Erebus, 
To  some  of  Saturn's  crew.     I  must  dissemble. 
And  try  her  yet  more  strongly.     Come,  no  more, 
This  is  mere  moral  babble,  and  direct 
Against  the  canon-laws  of  our  foundation  ; 
I  must  not  suffer  this,  yet  'tis  but  the  lees 
And  settlings  of  a  melancholy  blood  : 
But  this  will  cure  all  straight,  one  sip  of  this 

4)  ■ ^ 


s ^ -<b 


511 


COMC/S. 

Will  bathe  the  drooping  spirits  in  delight, 
Beyond  the  bliss  of  dreams.     Be  wise,  and  taste. — 

The  Brothers  rush  in  with  swords  drawn,  wrest  his  glass  out  of  his  hand,  and  break  it  against 
the  ground  ;  his  rout  make  sign  of  resistance,  but  are  all  driven  in.  The  attendant  Spirit 
comes  in. 

Spir.  What,  have  you  let  the  false  enchanter  'scape  ? 
O  ye  mistook,  ye  should  have  snatch'd  his  wand, 
And  bound  him  fast;  without  his  rod  reversed, 
And  backward  mutters  of  dissevering  power. 
We  cannot  free  the  Lady  that  sits  here 
In  stony  fetters  fix'd,  and  motionless  : 
Yet  stay,  be  not  disturb'd  :  now  I  bethink  me. 
Some  other  means  I  have  which  may  be  used, 
Which  once  of  Meliboeus  old  I  learnt, 
The  soothest  shepherd  that  e'er  piped  on  plains. 

There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 
That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream, 
Sabrina  is  her  name,  a  virgin  pure ; 
Whilome  she  was  the  daughter  of  Locrine, 
That  had  the  sceptre  from  his  father  Brute. 
She,  guiltless  damsel,  flying  the  mad  pursuit 
Of  her  enraged  stepdame  Guendolen, 
Commended  her  fair  innocence  to  the  flood, 
That  stay'd  her  flight  with  his  cross-flowing  course. 
The  water  nymphs  that  in  the  bottom  play'd, 
Held  up  their  pearled  wrists,  and  took  her  in, 
Bearing  her  straight  to  aged  Nereus'  hall, 
Who  piteous  of  her  woes  rear'd  her  lank  head, 
And  gave  her  to  his  daughters  to  imbathe 
In  nectar'd  lavers  strow'd  with  asphodel. 
And  through  the  porch  and  inlet  of  each  sense 
Dropp'd  in  ambrosial  oils,  till  she  revived, 
And  underwent  a  quick  immortal  change. 
Made  Goddess  of  the  river :  still  she  retains 
Her  maiden  gentleness,  and  oft  at  eve 
Visits  the  herds  along  the  twilight  meadows, 

^ ^ 


-^ 


512  COMUS. 

Helping  all  urchin  blasts,  and  ill-luck  signs 

That  the  shrewd  meddling  elf  delights  to  make, 

Which  she  with  precious  vial'd  liquors  heals. 

For  which  the  shepherds  at  their  festivals 

Carol  her  goodness  loud  in  rustic  lays, 

And  throw  sweet  garland  wreaths  into  her  stream 

Of  pansies,  pinks,  and  gaudy  daffodils. 

And,  as  the  old  swain  said,  she  can  unlock 

The  clasping  charm,  and  thaw  the  numbing  spell, 

If  she  be  right  invoked  in  warbled  song, 

For  maidenhood  she  loves,  and  will  be  swift 

To  aid  a  virgin,  such  as  was  herself, 

In  hard-besetting  need  ;  this  will  I  try. 

And  add  the  power  of  some  adjuring  verse. 

Song. 
Sabrina  fair. 

Listen  where  thou  art  sitting 
Under  the  glassy,  cool,  translucent  wave, 

In  twisted  braids  of  lilies  knitting 
The  loose  train  of  thy  amber-dropping  hair  j 

Listen  for  dear  honor's  sake, 

Goddess  of  the  silver  lake, 
Listen  and  save. 
Listen  and  appear  to  us 
In  name  of  great  Oceanus, 
By  the  earth-shaking  Neptune's  mace, 
And  Tethys"  grave  majestic  pace. 
By  hoary  Nereus'  wrinkled  look. 
And  the  Carpathian  wisard's  hook'' 
By  scaly  Triton's*  winding  shell. 


1  The  wife  of  Oceanus. 

*  Proteus,  who  had  a  cave  in  Carpathus,  an  island  of  the  Mediterranean.      He   was   a 
wizard,  a  prophet,  and  Neptune's  shepherd,  and  therefore  held  a  crook. 

*  Neptune's  trumpeter. 


^ 


COMUS.  513 

And  old  soothsaying  Glaucus'^  spell, 
By  Leucothea's^  lovely  hands, 
And  her  son  that  rules  the  strands,^ 
By  Thetis'^  tinsel-slipper'd  feet, 
And  the  songs  of  Sirens  sweet. 
By  dead  Parthenope's  dear  tomb, 
And  fair  Ligea's  golden  comb'^ 
Wherewith  she  sits  on  diamond  rocks, 
Sleeking  her  soft  alluring  locks. 
By  all  the  nymphs  that  nightly  dance 
Upon  thy  streams  with  wily  glance. 
Rise,  rise,  and  heave  thy  rosy  head 
From  thy  coral-paven  bed. 
And  bridle  in  thy  headlong  wave. 
Till  thou  our  summons  answer'd  have. 

Listen  and  save. 

Sabrina  rises,  attended  by  water-nymphs,  and  sings. 

By  the  rushy-fringed  bank, 

Where  grows  the  willow  and  the  osier  dank, 

My  sliding  chariot  stays, 
Thick  set  with  agate,  and  the  azure  sheen 
Of  turkis  blue,  and  emerald  green, 

That  in  the  channel  strays  ; 
Whilst  from  off  the  waters  fleet, 
Thus  I  set  my  printless  feet 
O'er  the  cowslip's  velvet  head, 

That  bends  not  as  I  tread ; 
Gentle  Swain,  at  thy  request 

I  am  here. 

1  Glaucus,  an  excellent  diver,  was  made  a  sea-god.  He  was  a  prophet,  and  is  said  to 
have  taught  Apollo  to  prophesy. 

2  Leucothea,  i.e.,  the  white  goddess.  She  was  Ino,  who,  flying  from  her  mad  husband, 
Alhamas,  cast  herself  and  her  child  into  the  sea.  Neptune,  at  the  entreaty  of  Venus,  changed 
both  into  sea-deities,  and  gave  her  the  new  name  of  Leucothia. 

3  Palsemon,  the  infant  in  her  arms  when  she  sprang  into  the  sea. 
*  A  sea-goddess,  called  by  Homer,  silver-footed. 

6  Parthenope  and  Ligea  were  two  of  the  Syrens. 

33 


^ 


^ 


<^ 


5 14  COMUS. 

Sp.  Goddess  dear, 
We  implore  thy  pow'rful  hand 
To  undo  the  charmed  band 
Of  true  virgin  here  distrest. 
Through  the  force  and  through  the  wile 
Of  unblest  enchanter  vile. 

Sabr.  Shepherd,  'tis  my  office  best 
To  help  insnared  chastity : 
Brightest  Lady,  look  on  me  ; 
Thus  I  sprinkle  on  thy  breast 
Drops  that  from  my  fountain  pure 
I  have  kept  of  precious  cure, 
Thrice  upon  thy  finger's  tip, 
Thrice  upon  thy  rubied  lip; 
Next  this  marble  venom'd  seat, 
Smear'd  with  gums  of  glutinous  heat, 
I  touch  with  chaste  palms  moist  and  cold: 
Now  the  spell  hath  lost  his  hold; 
And  I  must  haste  ere  morning  hour 
To  wait  in  Amphitrite's  bower. 

Sabrina  descends,  and  the.  Lady  rises  out  of  her  seat 

Sp.  Virgin,  daughter  of  Locrine 
Sprung  of  old  Anchises'  line,^ 
May  thy  brimmed  waves  for  this 
Their  full  tribute  never  miss 
From  a  thousand  petty  rills, 
That  tumble  down  the  snowy  hills : 
Summer  drouth,  or  singed  air 
Never  scorch  thy  tresses  fair. 
Nor  wet  October's  torrent  flood 
Thy  molten  crystal  fill  with  mud ; 
May  thy  billows  roll  ash()re 
The  beryl,  and  the  golden  ore  ; 
May  thy  lofty  head  be  crown'd 

1  Locrine  was  the  son  of  Brutus,  the  great-grandson  of  Eneas. 

(^ — — ^ 


a ^ 

COMUS.  515 

With  many  a  tow'r  and  terrace  round, 
And  here  and  there  thy  banks  upon 
With  groves  of  myrrh  and  cinnamon. 

Come,  Lady,  while  Heav'n  lends  us  grace. 
Let  us  fly  this  cursed  place, 
Lest  the  sorcerer  us  entice 
With  some  other  new  device. 
Not  a  waste,  or  needless  sound. 
Till  we  come  to  holier  ground; 
I  shall  be  your  faithful  guide 
Through  this  gloomy  covert  wide, 
And  not  many  furlongs  thence 
Ls  your  Father's  residence, 
Where  this  night  are  met  in  state 
Many  a  friend  to  gratulate 
His  wish'd  presence,  and  beside 
All  the  swains  that  there  abide. 
With  jigs  and  rural  dance  resort; 
We  shall  catch  them  at  their  sport, 
And  our  sudden  coming  there 
Will  double  all  their  mirth  and  cheer ; 
Come,  let  us  haste,  the  stars  grow  high. 
But  night  sits  monarch  yet  in  the  mid  sky. 

The  Scene  changes,  presenting  l^udlow  town  and   the  President's   castle  ;    then  come    in 
country  dancers,  after  them  the  attendant  Spirit,  with  the  two  Brothers,  and  the  Lady. 

Song. 
Sp.  Back,  Shepherds,  back,  enough  your  play, 
Till  ne.xt  sunshine  holiday  ; 
Here  be  without  duck  or  nod 
Other  trippings  to  be  trod 
Of  lighter  toes,  and  such  court  guise 
As  Mercury  did  first  devise, 
With  the  mincing  Dryades, 
On  the  lawns,  and  on  the  leas. 

This  second  Song  presents  them  to  their  Father  and  Mother. 

Noble  Lord,  and  Lady  bright. 


■^ 


^ 


s- — -^ 


516 


COMUS. 

I  have  brought  ye  new  delight, 
Here  behold  so  goodly  grown 
Three  fair  branches  of  your  own ; 
Heav'n  hath  timely  tried  their  youth, 
Their  faith,  their  patience,  and  their  truth, 
And  sent  them  here  through  hard  assays 
With  a  crown  of  deathless  praise, 
To  triumph  in  victorious  dance 
O'er  sensual  folly,  and  intemperance. 

The  dances  ended,  the  Spirit  epiloguises. 

Sp.  To  the  ocean  now  I  fly, 
And  those  happy  climes  that  lie 
Where  day  never  shuts  his  eye, 
Up  in  the  broad  fields  of  the  sky 
There  I  suck  the  liquid  air 
All  amidst  the  gardens  fair, 
Of  Hesperus,  and  his  daughters  three 
That  sing  about  the  golden  tree  :^ 
Along  the  crisped  shades  and  bowers 
Revels  the  spruce  and  jocund  Spring, 
The  Graces,  and  the  rosy-bosom'd  Hours, 
Thither  all  their  bounties  bring  ; 
There  eternal  Summer  dwells. 
And  west-winds,  with  musky  wing, 
About  the  cedarn  alleys  fling 
Nard  and  cassia's  balmy  smells. 
Iris  there  with  humid  bow 
Waters  the  odorous  banks,  that  blow 
Flowers  of  more  mingled  hue. 
Than  her  purfled  scarf  can  show, 
And  drenches  with  Elysian  dew 
(List  mortals,  if  your  ears  be  true) 


1  The  daughters  of  Hesperus,  the  brother  of  Atlas,  had  gardens    or    orchards,  which 
produced  apples  of  gold. 

ci^ : -^ 


^ 


COMUS.  517 


Beds  of  hyacinth  and  roses, 
Where  young  Adonis  oft  reposes, 
Waxing  well  of  his  deep  wound 
In  slumber  soft,  and  on  the  ground 
Sadly  sits  th'  Assyrian  queen  ;^ 
But  far  above  in  spangled  sheen 
Celestial  Cupid  her  famed  son  advanced, 
Holds  his  dear  Psyche  sweet  intranced, 
After  her  wand'ring  labors  long, 
Till  free  consent  the  Gods  among 
Make  her  his  eternal  bride, 
And  from  her  fair  unspotted  side 
Two  blissful  twins  are  to  be  born. 
Youth  and  Joy ;  so  Jove  hath  sworn. 
But  now  my  task  is  smoothly  done, 
I  can  fly,  or  I  can  run 
Quickly  to  the  green  earth's  end, 
Where  the  bow'd  welkin  slow  doth  bend. 
And  from  thence  can  soar  as  soon 
To  the  corners  of  the  moon. 

Mortals,  that  would  follow  me. 
Love  Virtue,  she  alone  is  free, 
She  can  teach  ye  how  to  climb 
Higher  than  the  sphery  chime  : 
Or,  if  Virtue  feeble  were, 
Heav'n  itself  would  stoop  to  her. 


1  Venus;  so  called  because  she  was  worshipped  by  the  Assyrians.   See  Ovid,  Met.  IX.  636. 


^ ^ 


s- ^ ^ 


LYCIDAS.  1637. 

In  this  Monody  the  author  bewails  a  learned  friend,^  unfortunately  drowned  in  his  pas- 
sage from  Chester  on  the  Irish  seas,  1637  ;  and  by  occasion  foretells  the  ruin  of  our  corrupted 
clergy,  then  in  their  height. 

Yet  once  more,  O  ye  laurels,  and  once  more 

Ye  myrtles  brown,  with  ivy  never  sere, 

I  come  to  pluck  your  berries  harsh  and  crude. 

And  with  forced  fingers  rude, 

Shatter  your  leaves  before  the  mellowing  year. 

Bitter  constraint,  and  sad  occasion  dear. 

Compels  me  to  disturb  your  season  due: 

For  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime. 

Young  Lycidas,  and  hath   not  left  his  peer : 

Who  would  not  sing  for  Lycidas  ?     He  knew 

Himself  to  sing,  and  build  the  lofty  rhyme. 

He  must  not  float  upon  his  watery  bier 

Unwept,  and  welter  to  the  parching  wind. 

Without  the  meed  of  some  inelodious  tear. 

Begin  then.  Sisters  of  the  sacred  well, 

That  from  beneath  the  seat  of  Jove  doth  spring. 

Begin,  and  somewhat  loudly  sweep  the  string. 

Hence  with  denial  vain,  and  coy  excuse. 

So  may  some  gentle  Muse 

With  lucky  words  favor  my  destined  urn, 

And  as  he  passes  turn, 

And  bid  fair  peace  be  to  my  sable  shroud. 


1  Edward  King,  the  friend  of  Milton,  whose  early  death  is  bewailed  in  this  poem,  was  the 
son  of  Sir  John  King,  Secretary  for  Ireland  under  Elizabeth,  James  I..' Charles  I.  On  his 
voyage  to  Ireland,  to  visit  his  family,  his  ship  struck  on  a  rock  on  the  English  coast, 
and  he  perished  in  the  sea.  He  was  distinguished  for  his  piety  and  talents,  and  was  a  fellow 
of  Christ  Church,  Cambridge. 


LVCIDAS.  519 

For  we  were  nursed  upon  the  self-same  hill/ 
Fed  the  same  flock  by  fountain,  shade,  and  rill. 

Together  both,  ere  the  high  lawns  appear'd 
Under  the  opening  eyelids  of  the  morn,^ 
We  drove  a  field,  and  both  together  heard 
What  time  the  gray- fly  winds  her  sultry  horn,' 
Batt'ning  our  flocks  with  the  fresh  dews  of  night, 
Oft  till  the  star  that  rose,  at  evening,  bright. 
Toward  heav'n's  descent  had  sloped  his  west'ring  wheel. 
Meanwhile  the  rural  ditties  were  not  mute, 
Temper'd  to  the  oaten  flute, 

Rough  Satyrs  danced,  and  Fauns  with  cloven  heel 
From  the  glad  sound  would  not  be  absent  long, 
And  old  Damoetas^  loved  to  hear  our  song. 

But,  O  the  heavy  change,  now  thou  art  gone. 
Now  thou  art  gone,  and  never  must  return  ! 
Thee,  Shepherd,  thee  the  woods,  and  desert  caves 
With  wild  thyme  and  the  gadding  vine  o'ergrown. 
And  all  their  echoes  mourn. 
The  willows,  and  the  hazel  copses  green, 
Shall  now  no  more  be  seen. 
Fanning  their  joyous  leaves  to  thy  soft  lays. 
As  killing  as  the  canker  to  the  rose, 
Or  taint-worm  to  the  weanling  herds  that  graze, 
Or  frost  to  flow'rs,  that  their  gay  wardrobe  wear, 
When  first  the  white-thorn  blows  ; 
Such,  Lycidas,  thy  loss  to  Shepherd's  ear. 

Where  were  ye.  Nymphs,  when  the  remorseless  deep 
Closed  o'er  the  head  of  your  loved  Lycidas  ? 
For  neither  were  ye  playing  on  the  steep. 
Where  your  old  Bards,  the  famous  Druids,  lie,^ 

1  King  was  at  Cambridge  with  Milton. 

2  See  marginal  reading  of  "Neither  let  it  see  the  dawning  of  the  day."  Job  iii.  9. 
.  3  The  trumpet-fly.     Its  hum  is  loudest  at  noon. 

*  Probably  their  tutor,  Dr.  Chappel. 

5  The  Druids'  sepulchres  were  at  Kerig-y-Druidion,  in  the  mountains  of  Denbighshire. 

^ & 


^ 


520  LYCIDAS. 

Nor  on  the  shaggy  top  of  Mona  high,^ 

Nor  yet  where  Dcva  spreads  her  wizard  stream  •? 

Ay  me  !  I  fondly  dream  ! 

Had  ye  been  there,  for  what  could  that  have  done  ? 

What  could  the  Muse  herself  that  Orpheus  bore,^ 

The  Muse  herself  for  her  enchanting  son, 

Whom  universal  nature  did  lament, 

When  by  the  rout  that  made  the  hideous  roar/ 

His  gory  visage  down  the  stream  was  sent, 

Down  the  swift  Hebrus  to  the  Lesbian  shore  ? 

Alas  !  what  boots  it  with  incessant  care 
To  tend  the  homely  slighted  shepherd's  trade. 
And  strictly  meditate  the  thankless  Muse  ? 
Were  it  not  better  done  as  others  use. 
To  sport  with  Amaryllis  in  the  shade. 
Or  with  the  tangles  of  Nesera's  hair  ? 
Fame  is  the  spur  that  the  clear  spirit  doth  raise 
(That  last  infirmity  of  noble  mind) 
To  scorn  delights,  and  live  laborious  days; 
But  the  fair  guerdon  when  we  hope  to  find, 
And  think  to  burst  out  into  sudden  blaze. 
Comes  the  blind  Fury  with  the  abhorred  shears, 
And  slits  the  thin-spun  life.     "  But  not  the  praise," 
Phoebus  replied,  and  touch'd  my  trembling  ears ; 
"  Fame  is  no  plant  that  grows  on  mortal  soil. 
Nor  in  the  glist'ring  foil 

Set  off  to  th'  world,  nor  in  broad  rumor  lies  ; 
But  lives  and  spreads  aloft  by  those  pure  eyes, 
And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove  ; 
As  he  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed, 
Of  so  much  fame  in  heav'n  expect  thy  meed." 


1  The  Isle  of  Anglesea. 

2  The  Dee,  said  by  Spenser  to  be  the  haunt  of  magicians.      These  places  were  all  near 
the  Irish  Sea,  where  I^ycidas  embarked  for  Ireland. 

3  (Jalliope  was  the  mother  of  Orpheus. 
*  The  Bacchanalians. 


-4^ 


a -^ 

LYCIDAS.  521 

O  fountain  Arethuse/  and  thou  honor'd  flood, 
Smooth-sliding  Mincius,"  crown'd  with  vocal  reeds, 
That  strain  I  heard  was  of  a  higher  mood : 
But  now  my  oat  proceeds, 
And  listens  to  the  Herald  of  the  Sea 
That  came  in  Neptune's  plea ; 
He  ask'd  the  waves,  and  ask'd  the  felon  winds, 
What  hard  mishap  hath  doom'd  this  gentle  swain  ? 
And  question'd  every  gust  of  rugged  wings 
That  blows  from  off  each  beaked  promontory  : 
They  knew  not  of  his  story. 
And  sage  Hippotades  their  answer  brings,^ 
That  not  a  blast  was  from  his  dungeon  stray'd, 
The  air  was  calm,  and  on  the  level  brine 
Sleek  Panope  with  all  her  sisters  play'd. 
It  was  that  fatal  and  perfidious  bark, 
Built  in  th'  eclipse,  and  rigg'd  with  curses  dark 
That  sunk  so  low  that  sacred  head  of  thine. 

Next  Camus,^  reverend  sire,  went  footing  slow, 
His  mantle  hairy,  and  his  bonnet  sedge. 
Inwrought  with  figures  dim,  and  on  the  edge 
Like  to  that  sanguine  flow'r  inscribed  with  woe.® 
Ah  !  "Who  hath  reft  (quoth  he)  my  dearest  pledge  ? 
Last  came,  and  last  did  go. 
The  pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake. 
Two  massy  keys  he  bore  of  metals  twain," 
(The  golden  opes,  the  iron  shuts  amain) 
He  shook  his  mitred  locks,  and  stern  bespake, 
How  well  could  I  have  spared  for  thee,  young  swain,^ 
Enow  of  such  as  for  their  bellies'  sake 
Creep,  and  intrude,  and  climb  into  the  fold ! 

1  In  Sicily.  2  Near  Mantua. 

3  Eolus  (the  East  Wind)  was  the  son  of  Hippotades.      ■*  The  Cam. 

5  The  Hyacinth  ;  supposed  to  bear  the  letters  Ai-Ai,  put  on  it  by  Apollo  in  memory  of  his 
grief  for  Hyacinthus. 

6  "The  pilot  of  the  Galilean  lake"  is  St.  Peter, 
T  King  intended  to  take  orders  in  the  Church  of  England. 


^- ^ 

522  LYCIDAS. 

Of  other  care  they  little  reckoning  make, 

Than  how  to  scramble  at  the  shearer's  feast, 

And  shove  away  the  worthy  bidden  guest ; 

Blind  mouths !  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to  hold 

A  sheep-hook,  or  have  learn'd  aught  else  the  least 

That  to  the  faithful  herdman's  art  belongs  ! 

What  recks  it  them  ?     What  need  they  ?    They  are  sped  ; 

And  when  they  list,  their  lean  and  flashy  songs 

Grate  on  their  scrannel  ^  pipes  of  wretched  straw  ; 

The  hungry  sheep  look  up,  and  are  not  fed, 

But  swoln  with  wind,  and  the  rank  mist  they  draw, 

Rot  inwardly,  and  foul  contagion  spread ; 

Besides  what  the  grim  wolf  with  privy  paw 

Daily  devours  apace,  and  nothing  said  ; 

But  that  two-handed  engine  at  the  door 

Stands  ready  to  smite  once,  and  smite  no  more. 

Return,  Alpheus,  the  dread  voice  is  past, 
That  shrunk  thy  streams ;  return,  Sicilian  Muse, 
And  call  the  vales,  and  bid  them  hither  cast 
Their  bells,  and  flow'rets  of  a  thousand  hues. 
Ye  valleys  low,  where  the  mild  whispers  use 
Of  shades,  and  wanton  winds,  and  gushing  brooks, 
On  whose  fresh  lap  the  swart-star  sparely  looks  : 
Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamell'd  eyes, 
That  on  the  green  turf  suck  the  honied  showers, 
And  purple  all  the  ground  with  vernal  flowers. 
Bring  the  rathe  primrose  that  forsaken  dies, 
The  tufted  crow-toe,  and  pale  jessamine, 
The  white  pink,  and  the  pansy  freak'd  with  jet, 
The  glowing  violet. 

The  musk-rose,  and  the  well-attired  woodbine, 
With  cowslips  wan  that  hang  the  pensive  head, 
And  every  flower  that  sad  embroidery  wears  : 
Bid  amaranthus  all  his  beauty  shed, 
And  daffadillies  fill  their  cups  with  tears. 


I  ••Thin,  lean,  meagre. '—T.  Warton. 

^ ' ^ 


a -^ 

LYCIDAS.  523 

To  strow  the  laureate  hearse  where  Lycid  lies. 

For  so  to  interpose  a  little  ease, 

Let  our  frail  thoughts  dally  with  false  surmise. 

Ay  me!  Whilst  thee  the  shores,  and  sounding  seas 

Wash  far  away,  where'er  thy  bones  are  hurl'd. 

Whether  beyond  the  stormy  Hebrides, 

Where  thou  perhaps  under  the  whelming  tide, 

Visit'st  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  woild; 

Or  whether  thou  to  our  moist  vows  denied, 

Sleep'st  by  the  fable  of  Bellerus  old/ 

Where  the  great  vision  of  the  guarded  mount  ^ 

Looks  toward  Namancos^  and  Bayona's  hold  : 

Look  homeward  Angel  now,  and  melt  with  ruth. 

And,  O  ye  dolphins,  waft  the  hapless  youth. 

Weep  no  more,  woful  Shepherds,  weep  no  more, 
For  Lycidas  your  sorrow  is  not  dead. 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor ; 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed. 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky; 
So  Lycidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high, 
Thro'  the  dear  might  of  Him  that  walk'd  the  waves. 
Where  other  groves,  and  other  streams  along, 
With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves, 
And  hears  the  unexpressive  nuptial  song, 
In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  above, 
In  solemn  troops,  and  sweet  societies. 
That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move, 
And  wipe  the  tears  for  ever  from  his  eyes. 
Now,  Lycidas,  the  shepherds  weep  no  more ; 

'  1  Bellerus,  a  Cornish  giant,  from  Bellerium. 
"i  Mount  St.  Michael,  near  the  Land's  End,  Cornwall. 

3  In  an  Atlas  of  1623 1  and  in  a  map  of  Gallicia,  near  Cape  Finisterre,  is  marked  a  place 
called  Namancos.     In  this  map,  also,  is  marked  the  Castle  of  Bayona. 


^ -^ 

524  LYCIDAS. 

Henceforth  thou  art  the  genius  of  the  shore, 
In  thy  large  recompense,  and  shalt  be  good 
To  all  that  wander  in  that  perilous  flood. 

Thus  sang  the  uncouth  swain  to  the  oaks  and  rills, 
While  the  still  morn  went  out  with  sandals  gray, 
He  touch'd  the  tender  stops  of  various  quills, 
With  eager  thought  warbling  his  doric  lay : 
And  now  the  sun  had  stretch'd  out  all  the  hills. 
And  now  was  dropp'd  into  the  western  bay ; 
At  last  he  rose,  and  twitch'd  his  mantle  blue : 
To-morrow  to  fresh  woods,  and  pastures  new. 


(^ ^ 


S Op 


SONNETS. 


I. 

TO  THE  NIGHTINGALE. 

O  Nightingale,  that  on  yon  bloomy  spray 
Warblest  at  eve,  when  all  the  woods  are  still, 
Thou  with  fresh  hope  the  lover's  heart  dost  fill, 
While  the  jolly  hours  lead  on  propitious  May. 

Thy  liquid  notes  that  close  the  eye  of  day. 
First  heard  before  the  shallow  cuckoo's  bill, 
Portend  success  in  love.'    O  if  Jove's  will 
Have  link'd  that  amorous  power  to  thy  soft  lay, 

Now  timely  sing,  ere  the  rude  bird  of  hate 

Foretell  my  hopeless  doom,  in  some  grove  nigh  ; 
As  thou  from  year  to  year  hast  sung  too  late 

For  my  relief,  yet  hadst  no  reason  why. 

Whether  the  Muse,  or  Love  call  thee  his  mate, 
Both  them  I  serve,  and  of  their  train  am  I. 

II. 

ON   HIS  HAVING  ARRIVED  AT  THE  AGE  OF 

TWENTY-THREE.^  163 1. 

How  soon  hath  Time,  the  subtle  thief  of  youth, 
Stol'n  on  his  wing  my  three  and  twentieth  year ! 

1  A  superstition,  which  originated  in  Chaucer's  "Cuckowe  and  Nightingale. 
"  But  as  I  lay  this  othir  night  waking, 

I  thought  how  lovers  had  a  tokining. 
And  among  'hem  it  was  a  commerne  tale 
That  it  were  gode  to  here  the  Nightingale 
Moche  rathir  than  the  leude  Cuckowe  singe." 

Cuckowe  and  Nightingale.     Stanza  lo. 

2  This  sonnet  was  written  at  Cambridge,  and  sent  in  a  letter  to  a  friend. 

(525) 

0^ _^ 


526  SONNETS. 

My  hasting  days  fly  on  with  full  career, 

But  my  late  spring  no  bud  or  blossom  shovv'th. 

Perhaps  my  semblance  might  deceive  the  truth, 
That  I  to  manhood  am  arrived  so  near ; 
And  inward  ripeness  doth  much  less  appear, 
That  some  more  timely-happy  spirits  endu'th. 

Yet  be  it  less  or  more,  or  soon  or  slow. 
It  shall  be  still  in  strictest  measure  even, 
To  that  same  lot,  however  mean  or  high, 

Toward  which  Time  leads  me,  and  the  will  of  Heaven. 
All  is,  if  I  have  grace  to  use  it  so, 
As  ever  in  my  great  Task-master's  eye. 

III. 

Donna  leggiadra,  il  cui  be]  nome  onora 
L'  erbosa  val  di  Reno  e  il  nobil  varco, 
Bene  e  colui  d'  ogni  valore  scarco 
Qual  tuo  spirto  gentil  non  innamora, 

Che  dolcemente  mostrasi  di  fuora, 
De'  sui  atti  soavi  giammai  parco, 
E  i  don',  che  son  d'  amor  saette  ed  arco, 
La  onde  1'  alta  tua  virtii  s'  infiora. 

Quando  tu  vaga  parli,  o  lieta  canti, 
Che  mover  possa  duro  alpestre  legno, 
Guardi  ciascun  agli  occhi  ed  agli  orecchi 

L'entrata,  chi  di  te  si  truova  indegno; 
Grazia  sola  di  su  gli  vaglia,  innanti 
Che  '1  disio  amoroso  al  cuor  s'  invecchi. 

IV. 

Qual  in  colle  aspro,  all'  imbrunir  di  sera, 
L  'avezza  giovinetta  pastorella 
Va  bagnando  1'  erbetta  strana  e  bella 
Che  mal  si  spande  a  disusata  spera 


c^ ^ 


SONNETS.  527 

Fuor  di  sua  natia  alma  primavera, 

Cosi  Amor  meco  insu  la  lingua  snella 

Desta  il  fior  novo  di  strania  favella, 

Mentre  io  di  te,  vezzosamente  altera, 
Canto,  dal  mio  buon  popol  non  inteso, 

E  '1  bel  Tamigi  cangio  col  bell'  Arno. 

Amor  lo  volse,  ed  io  all'  altrui  peso 
Seppi  ch'  Amor  cosa  mai  volse  indarno. 

Deh !  foss'  il  mio  cuor  lento  e  '1  duro  seno 

A  chi  pianta  dal  ciel  si  buon  terreno. 


CANZONE. 

RiDONSi  donne  e  giovani  amorosi 
M'  accostandosi  attorno,  e  '  Perche  scrivi, 
Perche  tu  scrivi  in  lingua  ignota  e  strana 
Verseggiando  d'  amor,  e  come  t'  osi  ? 
Dinne,  se  la  tua  speme  sia  mai  vana, 
E  de'  pensieri  lo  miglior  t'  arrivi  ! ' 
Cosi  mi  van  burlando :  '  altri  rivi, 
Altri  lidi  t'  aspettan,  ed  altre  onde, 
Nelle  cui  verdi  sponde 
Spuntati  ad  or  ad  or  alia  tua  chioma 
L'  immortal  guiderdon  d'  eterne  frondf. 
Perche  alle  spalle  tue  soverchia  soma  ?  ' 
Canzon,  dirotti,  e  tu  per  me  rispondi : 
'  Dice  mia  Donna,  e  '1  suo  dir  6  il  mio  cuore, 
"  Questa  e  lingua  di  cui  si  vanta  Amore."  ' 

V. 

DiODATi  (e  te  '1  diro  con  maraviglia), 
Quel  ritroso  io,  ch'  amor  spreggiar  solea 
E  de'  suoi  lacci  spesso  mi  ridea, 
Gia  caddi,  ov'  uom  dabben  talor  s'  impiglia- 


^ 


^ 


<b 


528  SONNETS. 

Ne  treccie  d'  oro  ne  guancia  vermiglia 
M'  abbaglian  si,  ma  sotto  nova  idea 
Pellegrina  bellezza  che  '1  cuor  bea, 
Portamenti  alti  onesti,  e  nelle  ciglia 

Quel  sereno  fulgor  d'  amabil  nero, 
Parole  adorne  di  lingua  piij  d'una, 
E  '1  cantar  che  di  mezzo  1'  emispero 

Traviar  ben  puo  la  faticosa  Luna  ; 

E  degli  occhi  suoi  avventa  si  gran  fuoco 
Che  r  incerar  gli  orecchi  mi  fia  poco. 

VI. 

Per  certo  i  bei  vostr'  occhi,  Donna  mia, 
Esser  non  puo  che  non  sian  lo  mio  sole ; 
Si  mi  percuoton  forte,  come  ei  suole 
Per  1'  arene  di  Libia  chi  s'  invia, 

Mentre  un  caldo  vapor  (ne  senti  pria) 
Da  quel  lato  si  spinge  ove  mi  duole, 
Che  forse  amanti  nelle  lor  parole 
Chiaman  sospir;  io  non  so  che  si  sia. 

Parte  rinchiusa  e  turbida  si  cela 

Scossomi  il  petto,  e  poi  n'  uscendo  poco 
Quivi  d'  attorno  o  s'  agghiaccia  o  s'  ingiela; 

Ma  quanto  agli  occhi  giunge  a  trovar  loco 
Tutte  le  notti  a  me  suol  far  piovose, 
Finchd  mia  alba  rivien  colma  di  rose. 


^ 


VII. 

GiovANE,  piano,  e  semplicetto  amante, 
Poich6  fuggir  me  stesso  in  dubbio  sono, 
Madonna,  a  voi  del  mio  cuor  1'  umil  dono 
Faro  divoto.     Io  certo  a  prove  tante 

L'  ebbi  fedele,  intrepido,  costante, 

Di  pensieri  leggiadro,  accorto,  e  buono. 
Quando  rugge  il  gran  mondo,  e  scocca  il  tuono, 
S'  arma  di  se,  e  d'  intero  diamante, 


^ 


^- 


SONNETS.  529 

Tanto  del  forse  e  d'  invidia  sicuro, 

Di  timori,  e  speranze  al  popol  use 

Quanto  d'  ingegno,  e  d'  alto  valor  vago, 
E  di  cetra  sonora,  e  delle  Muse. 
Sol  troverete  in  tal  parte  men  duro 
Ove  Amor  mise  1'  insanabil  ago. 

VIII. 

WHEN  THE  A5SAULT  WAS  INTENDED  TO 
THE  CITY} 

1642. 

Captain  or  Colonel,  or  Knight  in  Arms, 

Whose  chance  on  these  defenceless  doors  may  seize, 

If  deed  of  honor  did  thee  ever  please, 

Guard  them,  and  him  within  protect  from  harms. 

He  can  requite  thee;  for  he  knows  the  charms 
That  call  fame  on  such  gentle  acts  as  these 
And  he  can  spread  thy  name  o'er  lands  and  seas, 
Whatever  clime  the  sun's  bright  circle  warms. 

Lift  not  thy  spear  against  the  Muses'  bower: 
The  great  Emathian  conqueror  "  bid  spare 
The  house  of  Pindarus,  when  temple  and  tow'r 

Went  to  the  ground  ;  and  the  repeated  air 
Of  sad  Electra's  poet^  had  the  pow'r 
To  save  the  Athenian  walls  from  ruin  bare. 


1  Written  when  the  King's  troops  had  arrived  at  Brentford,  and  London  expected  an  im- 
mediate attack. 

2  Alexander.  He  suffered  the  house  of  Pindar  alone  to  stand  untouched  ;  and  honored 
the  family  of  the  great  lyric  poet,  while  making  frightful  havoc  of  the  Thebans.  Milton 
claims  the  same  favor  from  the  royal  forces. 

3  Euripides.  When  Lysander  had  taken  Athens,  Plutarch  tells  us  that, — -'Some  say  he 
really  did,  in  the  Council  of  the  Allies,  propose  to  reduce  the  Athenians  to  slavery;  and 
that  Erianthus,  a  Theban  officer,  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  the  city  should  be  levelled  with 
the  ground,  and  the  spot  on  which  it  stood  turned  to  pasturage.  Afterwards,  however, 
when  the  general  officers  met  at  an  entertainment,  a  musician  of  Phocis  happened  to  begin 
a  chorus  in  the  Electra'  of  Euripides,  the  first  lines  of  which  are  these : — 

34 

^ -^ 


<b 


530  SONNETS. 


IX. 

TO  A  VIRTUOUS  YOUNG  LADY. 

Lady,  that  in  the  prime  of  earliest  youth 

Wisely  hast  shunn'd  the  broad  way  and  the  green. 

And  with  those  few  art  eminently  seen, 

That  labor  up  the  hill  of  heavenly  truth, 
The  better  part  with  Mary^  and  with  Ruth^ 

Chosen  thou  hast ;  and  they  that  overween. 

And  at  thy  growing  virtues  fret  their  spleen, 

No  anger  find  in  thee,  but  pity  and  ruth. 
Thy  care  is  fix'd,  and  zealously  attends 

To  fill  thy  odorous  lamp  with  deeds  of  light  ^ 

And  hope  that  reaps  not  shame.*     Therefore  be  sure 
Thou,  when  the  Bridegroom  with  his  feastful  friends 

Passes  to  bliss  at  the  mid-hour  of  night, 

Hast  gained  thy  entrance,  Virgin  wise  and  pure. 

X. 

TO  THE  LADY  MARGARET  LEY.^  1643. 

Daughter  to  that  good  Earl,''  once  President 
Of  England's  Council,  and  her  Treasury, 
Who  lived  in  both,  unstain'd  with  gold  or  fee, 
And  left  them  both,  more  in  himself  content, 

'Unhappy  daughter  of  the  great  Atrides,* 
Thy  straw-crowned  palace  I  approach.' 
*  Electra. 
«'  The  whole  company  were  greatly  movedat  this  incident,  and  could  not  help  reflecting  how 
barbarous  a  thing  it  would  be  to  raze  that  noble  city,  which  had  produced  so  many  great 
and  illustrious   men." — PLUTARCH,  Life  of  Lysander.      Thus  Athens  was  spared,  but  in 
cruel  mockery.      The  Spartan  collected  all  the  musicians  in  the  city,  and  puiled  down  the 
fortificatious,  and  burned  the  Athenian  ships,  to  the  sound  of  their  instruments. 

1  Luke  X.  42.  2  Ruth  i.  14. 

SMatt.  XXV.  4.  *  Rom.  V.  5. 

5  Milton  used  frequently  to  visit  this  lady,  who  married  Captain  Hobson,  of  the  Isle  of 
Wight. 

"  Earl  of  Marlborough,  Lord  High  Treasurer,  and  Lord  President  of  the  Council  to  King 
James  I.  Parliament  was  dissolved  the  loth  of  March,  1628-9  '<  he  died  on  the  14th,  but 
at  an  advanced  age. — Newton. 

■^ -^ 


s- 


^ 

SONNETS.  531 

Till  the  sad,  breaking  of  that  Parliament 

Broke  him,  as  that  dishonest  victory 

At  Chseronea,  fatal  to  liberty, 

Kill'd  with  report  that  old  man  eloquent/ 
Though  later  born  than  to  have  known  the  days 

Wherein  your  father  flourish'd,  yet  by  you. 

Madam,  methinks  I  see  him  living  yet ; 
So  well  your  words  his  noble  virtues  praise. 

That  all  both  judge  you  to  relate  them  true, 

And  to  possess  them,  honor'd  Margaret, 

XI. 

ON  THE  DETRACTION  WHICH  FOLLOWED  UPON  MY 
WRITING  CERTAIN  TREATISES. 

1645. 

A  BOOK  was  writ  of  late  call'd  Tetrachordon,- 
And  woven  close,  both  matter,  form,  and  style ; 
The  subject  new :  it  walk'd  the  town  awhile, 
Numb'ring  good  intellects ;  now  seldom  p'ored  on. 

Cries  the  stall-reader,  "  Bless  us  !     what  a  word  on 
A  title-page  is  this!"  and  some  in  file 
Stand  spelling  false,  while  one  might  walk  to  Mile- 
End  Green.     Why  is  it  harder,  Sirs,  than  Gordon, 

Colkitto,  or  Macdonnel,  or  Galasp?^ 

Those  rugged  names  to  our  like  mouths  grow  sleek, 
That  would  have  made  Quintilian  stare  and  gasp. 


1  Isocrates,  the  orator,  who  could  not  survive  the  ruin  of  his  country.  Ch.aronea  was 
gained  by  Philip  of  Macedon. 

2  Tetrachordon  means  exposition  on  the  four  chief  places  in  Scripture  which  mention  nul- 
lities in  marriage. 

•^  Colkitto  and  Macdonnel  are  one  and  the  same  person,  a  brave  officer  on  the  royal  side, 
an  Irishman  of  the  Antrim  family,  who  served  under  Montrose.  The  Macdonnels  of  that 
family  are  styled,  by  way  of  disUnction,  MacCoUcittok,  i.e.,  descendents  of  lame  Colin. 
Galasp  is  George  Gillespie,  a  Scottish  writer  against  the  Independents;  for  whom  see  Milton's 
verses  on  the  "Forcers  of  Conscience." — WART  ON. 


C^ 


--& 


^ 


4- 


■ -^ 

532  SONNETS. 

Thy  age,  like  ours,  O  Soul  of  Sir  John  Cheke/ 
Hated  not  learning  worse  than  toad  or  asp, 
When  thou  taught'st  Cambridge  and  King  Edward  Greek. 

XII, 

ON  THE  SAME. 
I  DID  but  prompt  the  age  to  quit  their  clogs 

By  the  known  rules  of  ancient  liberty, 

When  straight  a  barbarous  noise  environs  me 

Of  owls  and  cuckoos,  asses,  apes,  and  dogs  ;^ 
As  when  those  hinds  that  were  transform'd  to  frogs  ^ 

Rail'd  at  Latona's  twin-born  progeny, 

Which  after  held  the  sun  and  moon  in  fee. 

But  this  is  got  by  casting  pearl  to  hogs, 
That  bawl  for  freedom  in  their  senseless  mood, 

And  still  revolt  when  truth  would  set  them  free. 

Licence  they  mean  when  they  cry  Liberty  ; 
For  who  loves  that  must  first  be  wise  and  good : 

But  from  that  mark  how  far  they  rove  we  see, 

For  all  this  waste  of  wealth,  and  loss  of  blood/ 

XIII. 

ON  THE  NEW  FORCERS  OF  CONSCIENCE  UNDER  THE 
LONG  PARLIAMENT.  1647. 

Because  you  have  thrown  off  your  Prelate  Lord, 
And  with  stiff  vows  renounced  his  Liturgy, 
To  seize  the  widowed  whore  Plurality 
From  them  whose  sin  ye  envied,  not  abhorred, 

1  Sir  John  Cheke  has  been  already  named  in  the  notes  to  this  volume.  He  was  the  first 
Professor  of  Greek  at  Cambridge,  and  restored  the  original  pronunciation  of  it.  He  was 
tutor  to  Edward  VI. 

'•^Milton's  treatises  were  on  the  subject  of  "Divorce."  The  Presbyterian  clergy  were 
much  (and  justly)  scandalized  at  them,  and  brought  Milton  before  the  Lords  for  them  ;  but 
they  thought  the  subject  simply  speculative,  and  he  was  discharged.  He  t'lus  stigmatizes 
the  Presbyterian  clergy. 

^  See  Ovid,  Mel.  VI.  fab.  iv.  "Latona's  progeny"  where  .Apollo  and  Diana,  the  sun  god 
and  moon  goddess.  *  A  fine  moral,  coming,  too,  from  a  Republican  poet. 


4 


m; 


E> 


SONNETS.  533 

Dare  you  for  this  adjure  the  civil  sword 

To  force  our  consciences  that  Christ  set  free, 
And  ride  us  with  a  Classic  Hierarchy/ 
Taught  ye  by  mere  A.  S."    and  Rutherford?^ 

Men  whose  life,  learning,  faith,  and  pure  intent. 
Would  have  been  held  in  high  esteem  with  Paul 
Must  now  be  named  and  printed  heretics 

By  shallow  Edwards*  and  Scotch  What-d'ye-call.'^ 
But  we  do  hope  to  find  out  all  your  tricks. 
Your  plots  and  packing,  worse  than  those  of  Trent,*' 
That  so  the  Parliament 

May  with  their  wholesome  and  preventive  shears 

Clip  your  phylacteries,  though  baulk  your  ears,'' 
And  succor  our  just  fears, 

When  they  shall  read  this  clearly  in  your  charge  : 

New  Presbyter  is  but  old  Priest  writ  large.^ 

XIV. 

TO  MR.  H.  LAWES^  ON  HIS  AIRS. 

Harry,  whose  tuneful  and  well  measured  song 
First  taught  our  English  music  how  to  span 
Words  with  just  note  and  accent,  not  to  scan 

1  In  classes,  or  classical  assemblies.  The  Presbyterians  distributed  London  into  twelve 
classes ;  each  chose  two  ministers  and  four  lay  elders  to  represent  them  in  a  Provincial 
Assembly. 

-  Adam  Stuart,  a  Polemical  writer  of  the  times,  who  answered  the  "  Independents' 
Plea  for  Toleration." 

•*  Samuel  Rutherford,  one  of  the  Chief  Commissioners  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  andan 
avowed  enemy  to  the  Independents,  Milton's  sect. 

<  Thomas  Edwards,  who  wrote  against  the  Independents. 

a  Perhaps  George  Gillespie,  a  Scotch  writer  against  the  Independents.  Milton  hated  the 
Scotch,  and  ridiculed  their  names. 

*  The  Council  of  Trent. 

~  Balk,  or  bauk,  is  to  spare.  The  meaning  is,  "  Your  errors  will  be  corrected,  and  your 
ears  spared."  Our  readers  will  remember  that  the  Star  Chamber  had  inflicted  the  cruel 
punishment  of  loss  of  ears  on  Prynne. 

**  More  tyrannical  than  ot  old. 

9  The  musician  who  put  the  music  to  "Comus." 


^ 


^ 


534  SONNETS. 

With  Midas'  ears/  committing  short  and  long ;  ^ 
Thy  worth  and  skill  exempts  thee  from  the  throng, 

With  praise  enough  for  envy  to  look  wan ; 

To  after  age  thou  shalt  be  writ  the  man 

That  with  smooth  air  couldst  humor  best  our  tongue. 
Thou  honor'st  verse,  and  verse  must  send  her  wing 

To  honor  thee,  the  priest  of  Phoebus'  quire, 

That  tun'st  their  happiest  lines  in  hymn,  or  story .^ 
Dante  shall  give  fame  leave  to  set  thee  higher 

That  his  Casella,'*  whom  he  woo'd  to  sing, 

Met  in  the  milder  shades  of  Purgatory. 

XV. 

ON  THE   RELIGIOUS   MEMORY  OF   MRS.  CATHERINE 

THOMSON,-' 

MY   CHRISTIAN    FRIEND,    DECEASED    i6tH    DECEMBER,    1 646. 

When  faith  and  love,  which  parted  from  thee  never, 
Had  ripen'd  thy  just  soul  to  dwell  with  God, 
Meekly  thou  didst  resign  this  earthly  load 
Of  death,  call'd  life;  which  us  from  life  doth  sever. 

Thy  works,  and  alms,  and  all  thy  good  endeavor, 
Stay'd  not  behind,  nor  in  the  grave  were  trod  ; 
But,  as  Faith  pointed  with  her  golden  rod. 
Folio w'd  thee  up  to  joy  and  bliss  for  ever. 


1  Midas,  a  King  of  Phrygia.  He  decided  that  Pan  was  superior  in  singing  and  playing 
on  the  flute  to  Apollo ;  and,  to  punish  his  stupidity,  Apollo  changed  his  ears  into  those 
of  an  ass. 

■■'A  Latinism,  meaning  offences  against  quantity. — RICHARDSON. 

3  The  "Story  of  Ariadne,"  set  by  Lawes. — Warton. 

*  Amongs'.  the  souls  in  Purgatory,  Dante  recognizes  his  friend  Casella,  the  musician.  In 
the  course  of  an  affectionate  conversation,  Dante  asks  for  a  song  to  soothe  him,  and  Casella 
sings,  with  ravishing  sweetness,  the  poet's  second  Canzone.  See  second  cant,  of  Dante's 
"Purgatorio." 

5  When  Milton  was  first  made  Latin  Secretary  to  Cromwell,  he  lodged  at  a  Mr.  Thom- 
son's, next  to  the  "'Bull  Head"  Tavern,  Charing  Cross.  Mrs.  Thomson  is  supposed  to 
have  been  the  wife  of  his  landlord. — Newton. 


■-W 


^ 


SONNETS.  535 

Love  led  them  on  ;  and  Faith,  who  knew  them  best 
Thy  handmaids,  clad  them  o'er  with  purple  beams 
And  azure  wings,  that  up  they  flew  so  drest, 

And  speak  the  truth  of  thee  on  glorious  themes 
Before  the  Judge  ;  who  thenceforth  bid  thee  rest 
And  drink  thy  fill  of  pure  immortal  streams. 

XVI. 

ON   THE    LORD   GENERAL   FAIRFAX,  AT  THE  SIEGE 

OF  COLCHESTER.^ 

1648. 

Fairfax,  whose  name  in  arms  through  Europe  rings, 
Filling  each  mouth  with  envy  or  with  praise, 
And  all  her  jealous  monarchs  with  amaze 
And  rumors  loud  that  daunt  remotest  kings, 

Thy  firm  unshaken  virtue  ever  brings 

Victory  home,  though  new  rebellions  raise 
Their  Hydra  heads,  and  the  false  North  displays 
Her  broken  league  ^  to  imp  their  serpent  wings. 

O  yet  a  nobler  task  awaits  thy  hand, 

(For  what  can  war  but  endless  war  still  breed  ?) 
Till  truth  and  right  from  violence  be  freed, 

And  public  faith  clear'd  from  the  shameful  brand 
Of  public  fraud.     In  vain  doth  valor  bleed, 
While  Avarice  and  Rapine  share  the  land. 

xvii. 
TO  THE  LORD  GENERAL  CROMWELL,  MAY,  1652. 

ON    THE    PROPOSALS    OF    CERTAIN    MINISTERS    AT    THE   COMMITTEE    FOR 
PROPAGATION    OF    THE   GOSPEL. 

Cromwell,  our  chief  of  men,  who  through  a  cloud, 
Not  of  war  only,  but  detractions  rude, 

1  Addressed  to  Fairfax  at  the  siege  of  Colchester.  It  was  first  printed,  together  with  the 
two  following  sonnets,  and  the  two  to  Cyriack  Skinner,  at  the  end  of  Phillips's  "Life  of 
Milton  "  1694. — Warton. 

2  The  English  Parliament  held  that  the  Scotch  had  broken  their  covenant  by  marching 
iato  England,  led  by  Hamilton. 


s 

„ 

536  SONNETS. 

Guided  by  faith  and  matchless  fortitude, 

To  peace  and  truth  thy  glorious  way  hast  ploughed, 

And  on  the  neck  of  crowned  Fortune  proud 

Hast  reared  God's  trophies,  and  his  work  pursued, 
While  Darwen  stream,^  with  blood  of  Scots  imbrued, 
And  Dunbar  field,  resounds  thy  praises  loud, 

And  Worcester's  laureate^  wreath:  yet  much  remains 
To  conquer  still ;  Peace  hath  her  victories 
No  less  renowned  than  War  :  new  foes  arise, 

Threatening  to  bind  our  souls  with  secular  chains.^ 
Help  us  to  save  free  conscience  from  the  paw 
Of  hireling  wolves,  whose  Gospel  is  their  maw. 

XVIII. 

TO  SIR  HENRY  VANE  THE  YOUNGER.* 

Vane,  young  in  years,  but  in  sage  counsel  old, 
Than  whom  a  better  senator  ne'er  held 
The  helm  of  Rome,  when  gowns,  not  arms,  repelled 
The  fierce  Epirot  and  the  African  bold. 

Whether  to  settle  peace,  or  to  unfold 

The  drift  of  hollow  states^  hard  to  be  spelled; 
Then  to  advise  how  war  may  best,  upheld, 
Move  by  her  two  main  nerves,  iron  and  gold, 

In  all  her  equipage;   besides,  to  know 

Both  spiritual  power  and  civil,  what  each  means, 

What  severs  each,  thou  hast  learned,  which  few  have  done. 

The  bounds  of  either  sword  to  thee  we  owe : 
Therefore  on  thy  firm  hand  Religion  leans 
In  peace,  and  reckons  thee  her  eldest  son. 


<b 


1  A  small  river  near  Preston,  in  Lancashire,  where  Cromwell  defeated  the  Scots  under  the 
Duke  of  Hamilton,  in  August,  1648. 

•^  Dunbar  and  Worcester  were  both  fought  September  3— one  1650,  the  other  1651. 

3  He  alludes  to  the  Presbyterian  clergy.  They  tried  to  persuade  Cromwell  to  use  the 
secular  power  against  Sectaries. 

*  This  sonnet  seems  to  have  been  written  in  behalf  of  the  Independents  against  the  Presby- 
terian hierarcliy.  Vane  was  the  chief  of  the  Independents,  and  therefore  Milton's  friend. 
He  was  a  most  eccentric  character,  a  mixture  of  the  wildest  fanaticism  and  good  sense.  He 
was  beheaded  after  the  Restoration.  1662.— Warton.  ^  The  States  of  Holland. 

4}- ^ ^ 


f 


^ 


SONNETS.  537 

XIX. 

ON  THE  LATE  MASSACRE  IN  PIEDMONT.^ 
Avenge,  O  Lord,  thy  slaughtered  saints,  whose  bones 

Lie  scatter'd  on  the  Alpine  mountains  cold ; 

Even  them  who  kept  thy  truth  so  pure  of  old, 

When  all  our  fathers  worshipped  stocks  and  stones, 
Forget  not :  in  thy  book  record  their  groans 

Who  were  thy  sheep,  and  in  their  ancient  fold 

Slain  by  the  bloody  Piemontese,  that  rolled 

Mother  with  infant  down  the  rocks.     Their  moans 
The  vales  redoubled  to  the  hills,  and  they 

To  heaven.     Their  martyred  blood  and  ashes  sow 

O'er  all  the  Italian  fields,  where  still  doth  sway 
The  triple  Tyrant;^  that  from  these  may  grow 

A  hundredfold,  who  having  learnt  thy  way 

Early  may  fly  the  Babylonian  woe.^ 

XX. 

ON  HIS  BLINDNESS. 
When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days  in  this  dark  world  and  wide, 

And  that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide. 

Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 
To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 

My  true  account,  lest  he  returning  chide, 

"  Doth  God  exact  day-labor,  light  denied  ?  " 

I  fondly  ask.     But  Patience,  to  prevent 

1  In  1665  the  duke  of  Savoy  determined  to  madehis  reformed  subjects  in  Piedmont  return 
to  the  Roman  Church.  All  who  refused  compliance  with  the  sovereign's  will  vvere  massa- 
cred. Those  who  escaped,  concealed  in  their  mountain  fastnesses,  sent  to  Cromweil  (oi 
relief.  Milton's  holy  indignation  found  expression  in  this  fine  sonnet,  which  wasofgre.u 
effect.'  Cromwell  commanded  a  general  fast,  and  a  national  contribution  for  the  relief  of 
the  sufferers  ^^40, 000  were  collected.  He  then  wrote  to  the  Duke  ;  and  so  great  was  the 
terror  of  the  Lnglish  name — the  Protector  threatened  that  his  ships  should  visit  Civita  Vec- 
chia — that  the  persecution  was  stopped,  and  the  surviving  inhabitants  of  the  valleys  were 
restored  to  their  homes  and  to  freedom  of  worship. 

^  The  Pope,  ^  The  Papacy. 

4- — t^ 


s- 


538  SONNETS. 

That  murmur,  soon  replies,  "  God  doth  not  need 
Either  man's  work,  or  his  own  gifts.      Who  best 
Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  him  best.     His  state 

Is  kingly :  thousands  at  his  bidding  speed. 
And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest ; 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait." 

XXI. 

TO  MR.  LAWRENCE.' 

Lawrence,  of  virtuous  father  virtuous  son. 

Now  that  the  fields  are  dank,  and  ways  are  mire, 
Where  shall  we  sometimes  meet,  and  by  the  fire 
Help  waste  a  sullen  day,  what  may  be  won 

From  the  hard  season  gaining?     Time  will  run 
On  smoother,  till  Favonius^  re-inspire 
The  frozen  earth,  and  clothe  in  fresh  attire 
The  lily  and  rose,  that  neither  sowed  nor  spun. 

What  neat  repast  shall  feast  us,  light  and  choice, 
Of  Attic  taste,  with  wine,  whence  we  may  rise 
To  hear  the  lute  well  touched,  or  artful  voice 

Warble  immortal  notes  and  Tuscan  air  ? 

He  who  of  those  delights  can  judge,  and  spare 
To  interpose  them  oft,  is  not  unwise. 

XXII. 

TO  CYRIACK  SKINNER. 

Cyriack,  whose  grandsire^  on  the  royal  bench 
Of  British  Themis,  with  no  mean  applause, 
Pronounced  and  in  his  volumes  taught,  our  laws, 
Which  others  at  their  bar  so  often  wrench  ; 

1  Son  of  Henry  Lawrence  Member  for  Hertfordshire,  who  was  active  in  settling  the  Pro- 
tectorate on  Cromwell.  Milton's  friend  was  the  author  of  a  work  called  "Of  our  Com- 
munion and  Warre  with  Angels,"  &c.,  1646.     4to. — Todd. 

•■'  The  West  Wind. 

'  Lord  Coke.  Cyriac  Skinner  was  the  =on  of  William  Skinner  and  Bridget,  daughter  of 
Lord  Coke.  He  had  been  a  pupil  of  Milton's,  and  was  one  of  the  principal  members  of 
Harrington's  Political  Club. 


4> 


SONNETS.  539 

To-day  deep  thoughts  resolve  with  me  to  drench 

In  mirth,  that  after  no  repenting  draws ; 

Let  Euchd  rest,  and  Archimedes  pause, 

And  what  the  Swede  ^  intend,  and  what  the  French. 
To  measure  Hfe  learn  thou  betimes,  and  know 

Toward  solid  good  what  leads  the  nearest  way ; 

For  other  things  mild  Heaven  a  time  ordains, 
And  disapproves  that  care,  though  wise  in  show, 

That  with  superfluous  burden  loads  the  day, 
And,  when  God  sends  a  cheerful  hour,  refrains. 

XXIII. 

TO  THE  SAME. 
Cyriack,  this  three  years'  day  these  eyes,  though  clear. 

To  outward  view,  of  blemish  or  of  spot. 

Bereft  of  light,  their  seeing  have  forgot; 

Nor  to  their  idle  orbs  doth  sight  appear 
Of  sun,  or  moon,  or  star,  throughout  the  year. 

Or  man,  or  woman.     Yet  I  argue  not 

Against  Heaven's  hand  or  will,  nor  bate  a  jot 

Of  heart  or  hope,  but  still  bear  up  and  steer 
Right  onward.     What  supports  me,  dost  thou  ask  ? 

The  conscience,  friend,  to  have  lost  them  overplied 

In  Liberty's  defence,^  my  noble  task. 
Of  which  all  Europe  rings  from  side  to  side. 

This  thought  might  lead  me  through  the  world's  vain  mask 

Content,  though  blind,  had  1  no  better  guide.^ 


1  Charles  Gustavus,  King  of  Sweden,  was  then  at  war  with  Poland,  and  the  Frer.ch  were 
fighting  the  Spaniards  in  the  Netherlands. 

'^  When  Milton  was  engaged  to  answer  Salmasius  one  of  his  eyes  had  nearly  lost  its  sight. 
The  physicians  predicted  the  loss  ot  both,  if  he  used  them.  But  Milton  told  Du  Moulin,  ''I 
did  not  long  balance  whether  my  duty  should  be  preferred  to  my  eyes." 

■'  The  celebrated  controversy  with  Salmasius  originated  thus:  Charles  II.  employed  that 
gieit  scholar  tc  write  a  "Defence  of  Monarchy"  and  to  vindicate  his  father's  memory. 
Salmasius  was  the  greatest  scholar  of  his  age.  Grotious  only  could  compete  with  him.  ■ 
Selden  speaks  of  him  as  "most  admirable."  The  Council  of  the  Commonwealth,  there- 
fore, did  wisely  in  ordering  Milton  to  answer  him.  How  he  did  so  at  the  price  of  his  sight 
we  see  above. 

^ -4^ 


s- 


-^ 


540  SONNETS. 

XXIV. 

ON  HIS  DECEASED  WIFE.^ 

Methought  I  saw  my  late  espoused  saint 
Brought  to  me  like  Alcestis^  from  the  grave, 
Whom  Jove's  great  son  to  her  glad  husband  gave, 
Rescued  from  Death  by  force,  though  pale  and  faint. 

Mine,  as  whom  washed  from  spot  of  child-bed  taint 
Purification  in  the  Old  Law  did  save  ; 
And  such  as  yet  once  more  I  trust  to  have 
Full  sight  of  her  in  Heaven  without  restraint, 

Came  vested  all  in  white,  pure  as  her  mind. 
Her  face  was  veiled  ;  yet  to  my  fancied  sight 
Love,  sweetness,  goodness,  in  her  person  shined 

So  clear,  as  in  no  face  with  more  delight. 
But  oh  !  as  to  embrace  me  she  inclined, 
I  waked,  she  fled,  and  day  brought  back  my  night. 


1  Catherine,  the  daughter  of  Captain  Woodcock,  of  Hackney.  She  died  in  giving  birth 
to  a  daughter,  a  year  after  her  marriage.     She  was  Milton's  second  wife. 

2  Alcestis,  being  told  by  an  oracle  that  her  husband,  Admetus,  could  never  lecover  from 
a  disease  unless  a  friend  died  for  him,  willingly  laid  down  her  life  for  him.  Hercules, 
"Jove's  great  son,"  brought  her  back  from  hell. 


C^ --^ 


-^ 


TRANSLA  TIONS.  541 


Translations. 

THE  FIFTH  ODE  OF  HORACE.  LIB.  I., 

Quis  miilta  gracilis  te  puer  in  rosa. 

Rendered  almost  word  for  word,  without  rhyme,  according  to  the  Latin  measure,  as  near 

as  the  language  will  permit. 

What  slender  youth,  bedewed  with  liquid  odors, 
Courts  thee  on  roses  in  some  pleasant  cave, 

Pyrrha?     For  whom  bind'st  thou 

In  wreaths  thy  golden  hair, 
Plain  in  thy  neatness  ?     Oh,  how  oft  shall  he 
On  faith  and  changed  gods  complain,  and  seas 

Rough  with  black  winds  and  storms 

Unwonted  shall  admire, 
Who  now  enjoys  thee  credulous,  all  gold; 
Who  always  vacant,  always  amiable, 

Hopes  thee,  of  flattering  gales 

Unmindful !     Hapless  they 
To  whom  thou  untried  seem'st  fair  !  Me,  in  my  vowed 
Picture,  the  sacred  wall  declares  to  have  hung 

My  dank  and  dropping  weeds 

To  the  stern  God  of  Sea. 

[As  Milton  inserts  the  original  with  his  translation,  as  if  to  challenge  comparison,  it  is  right 
that  we  should  do  so  too.] 

AD  PYRRHAM.       ODE  V. 

Horatius  ex  Pyrrhas  illecebris  tanquam  e  naufragio  enataverat,  cujus  amore  irretitos  affirmat 

esse  miseros. 

Quis  multa  gracilis  te  puer  in  rosa 
Perfusus  liquidis  urget  odoribus 
Grato,  Pyrrha,  sub  antro  ? 


% 


^ 


542  TRANSLATIONS. 

Cui  flavam  religas  comam 
Simplex  munditie?     Heu,  quoties  fidem 
Mutatosque  Deos  flebit,  et  aspera 
Nigris  aequora  ventis 
Emirabitur  insolens, 
Qui  nunc  te  fruitur  credulus  aurea ; 
Qui  semper  vacuam,  semper  amabilem, 
Sperat,  nescius  aurae 

Fallacis!     Miseri  quibus 
Intentata  nites.     Me  tabula  sacer 
Votiva  paries  indicat  uvida 
Suspendisse  potenti 
Vestimenta  maris  Deo. 

-C30E:- ►o-yV^' <33g>- 

Apnl.   1648.— J.  M. 

Nine  of  the  Psalms  done  into  Metre  ;   wherein  all,  but  what  is  in  a  different  character,  are 

the  very  words  of  the  Text,  translated  from  the  original. 

PSALM  LXXX. 

1  Thou  Shepherd  that  dost  Israel  keep, 
Give  ear  in  time  of  need. 

Who  leadest  like  a  flock  of  sheep 

Thy  loved  Joseph's  seed, 
That  sitt'st  between  the  Cherubs  bright, 

Betivcen  their  wings  outspread ; 
Shine  forth,  and  from  thy  cloud  give  light, 

And  on  our  foes  thy  dread. 

2  In  Ephraim's  view  and  Benjamin's, 
And  in  Manasseh's  sight, 

Awake '  thy  strength,  come,  and  be  seen 
To  save  us  by  thy  might. 

3  Turn  us  again  ;  thy  grace  divine 
To  us,  O  God,  vouchsafe  ; 

Cause  thou  thy  face  on  us  to  shine, 
And  then  wc  shall  be  safe. 


i  Gnorera. 


^ 


s-- 


TRANSLATIONS.  543 

4  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  how  long  wilt  thou, 

How  long  wilt  thou  declare 
Thy  '  smoking  wrath,  and  angry  brow, 
Against  thy  people's  prayer  ? 

5  Thou  feed'st  them  with  the  bread  of  tears; 

Their  bread  with  tears  they  eat; 
And  mak'st  them  largely  ^  drink  the  tears 
Wherewith  their  cheeks  are  wet. 

6  A  strife  thou  mak'st  us  and  a  prey 

To  every  neighbor  foe  ; 
Among  themselves  they^  laugh,  they  ^  play. 
And  ^  flouts  at  us  they  throw. 

7  Return  us,  and  thy  grace  divine, 

O  God  of  Hosts,  vouchsafe  ; 
Cause  thou  thy  face  on  us  to  shine, 
And  then  we  shall  be  safe. 

8  A  Vine  from  Egypt  thou  hast  brought, 

Tliy  free  love  made  it  thine. 
And  drov'st  out  nations  proud  and  haut^ 
To  plant  this  lovely  Vine. 

9  Thou  didst  prepare  for  it  a  place, 

And  root  it  deep  and  fast, 

That  it  began  to  grow  apace. 

And  filled  the  land  at  last. 

10  With  \iQr  green  shade  that  covered  all 

The  hills  were  overspread ; 
Her  boughs  as  Jngh  as  cedars  tall 
Advanced  their  lofty  head. 

1 1  Her  branches  on  the  western  side 

Down  to  the  sea  she  sent. 

And  upward  to  that  river  wide 

Her  other  branches  zvent. 

12  Why  hast  thou  laid  her  hedges  low, 

And  broken  down  her  fence, 

1  Gnashanta.  2  Shalish.  3  Jiignagu. 


4 


^ 


<b 


544 


TRANSLATIONS. 

That  all  may  pluck  her,  as  they  go, 
IVtt/i  rjidest  violence? 

13  The  tJiskedhoaLV  out  of  the  wood 

Upturns  it  by  the  roots  ; 
Wild  beast  there  browse,  and  make  their  food 
Her  grapes  and  tender  shoots. 

14  Return  now,  God  of  Hosts;  look  down 

From  Heaven,  thy  seat  divine  ; 
Behold  Jis,  but  without  a/roivn, 
And  visit  this  thy  Vine. 

15  Visit  tnis  Vine,  which  thy  right  hand 

Hath  set,  and  planted  long, 
And  the  young  branch,  that  for  thyself 
Thou  hast  made  firm  and  strong. 

16  But  now  it  is  consumed  with  fire, 

And  cut  zuith  axes  down  ; 
They  perish  at  thy  dreadful  ire, 
At  thy  rebuke  and  frown. 

17  Upon  the  Man  of  thy  right  hand 

Let  thy  good  hand  be  laid  ; 
Upon  the  Son  of  Man,  whom  thou 
Strong  for  thyself  hast  made. 

18  So  shall  we  not  go  back  from  thee 

To  ivays  of  sin  and  shame  ; 
Quicken  us  thou  ;  then  gladly  we 
Shall  call  upon  thy  Name. 

19  Return  us,  and  thy  grace  divine, 

Lord  God  of  Hosts,  vouchsafe  : 
Cause  thou  thy  face  on  us  to  shine, 
And  then  we  shall  be  safe. 

PSALM  LXXXL 
I  To  God  our  strength  sing  loud  and  clear ; 
Sing  loud  to  God  our  King ; 
To  Jacob's  God,  that  all  may  hear, 
Loud  acclamations  ring. 


<^ 


-^ 


f^ 


^. 


TRANSLATIONS. 

2  Prepare  a  hymn,  prepare  a  song ; 

The  timbrel  hither  bring  ; 
The  cheerful  psaltery  bring  along, 
And  harp  ivith  pleasant  string. 

3  BIoM^,  as  is  wo7it,  in  the  new  moon, 

With  trumpets'  lofty  sound. 
The  appointed  time,  the  day  whereon 
Our  solemn  feast  comes  roimd. 

4  This  was  a  statute  given  of  old 

For  Israel  to  observe, 
A  law  of  Jacob's  God  to  hold. 

From  whence  they  might  not  swerve. 

5  This  he  a  testimony  ordained 

In  Joseph,  not  to  change, 
When  as  he  passed  through  Egypt-land 
The  tongue  I  heard  was  strange. 

6  From  burden,  and  from  slavish  toil, 

I  set  his  shoulder  free; 
His  hands  from  pots,  and  miry  soil. 
Delivered  were  by  me. 

7  When  trouble  did  thee  sore  assail, 

On  me  then  didst  thou  call, 
And  I  to  free  thee  did  not  fail. 

And  led  thee  ant  of  thrall. 
I  answered  thee  in  ^  thunder  deep. 

With  clouds  encompassed  round  ; 
I  tried  thee  at  the  water  steep 

Of  Meriba  renowned. 

8  Hear,  O  my  people,  heaj-ken  well: 

I  testify  to  thee. 
Thou  ancient  stock  ^Israel, 
If  thou  wilt  list  to  me: 

9  Throughout  the  land  of  thy  abode 

No  alien  God  shall  be, 


54: 


^ 


546  TRANSLATIONS. 

Nor  shalt  thou  to  a  foreign  god 
In  honor  bend  thy  knee. 

10  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God,  which  brought 

Thee  out  of  Egypt-land  ; 
Ask  large  enough,  and  I,  besought. 
Will  grant  thy  full  demand. 

1 1  And  yet  my  people  would  not  hcar^ 

Nor  hearken  to  my  voice  ; 
And  Israel,  ivJioin  I  loved  so  deary 
Misliked  me  for  his  choice. 

12  Then  did  I  leave  them  to  their  will, 

And  to  their  wandering  mind  ; 
Their  own  conceits  they  followed  still 
Their  own  devices  blind. 

1 3  Oh  that  my  people  would  be  zvise. 

To  serve  me  all  their  days  ! 

And  oh  that  Israel  would  advise 

To  walk  my  righteous  ways  ! 

14  Then  would  I  soon  bring  down  their  foes. 

That  7101V  so  proudly  rise. 
And  turn  my  hand  against  all  those 
That  are  their  enemies. 

15  Who  hate  the  Lord  should  then  be  Jain 

To  bow  to  him  and  bend  ; 
But  they,  his  people,  should  remain  ; 
Their  time  should  have  no  end. 

16  And  he  would  feed  them/r^;;^  the  shock 

With  flour  of  finest  wheat, 

And  satisfy  them  from  the  rock 

With  honey /<?r  their  meat. 

PSALM  LXXXII. 

I   God  in  the  '  great  ^  assembly  stands 
Of  kings^and  lordly  states  ; 
^  Among  the  gods  ^  on  both  his  hands 

1  Bagnadath-el.  ^  Bekerev. 


4 


^tr- 


^ 


TRANSLATIONS.  547 

He  judges  and  debates. 

2  How  long  will  ye  ^  pervert  the  right 
With  ^  judgment  false  and  wrong, 

Favoring  the  wicked  dj  your  might, 
Who  tlience  grozv  bold  and  strong  ? 

3  "  Regard  the  ^  weak  and  fatherless  ; 
^  Despatch  the '  poor  man's  cause ; 

And  ^  raise  the  man  in  deep  distress 
By  ^  just  and  equal  laws. 

4  Defend  the  poor  and  desolate, 
And  rescue  from  the  hands 

Of  wicked  men  the  low  estate 
Of  him  that  help  demands. 

5  They  know  not,  nor  will  understand  ; 
In  darkness  they  walk  on ; 

The  earth's  foundations  all  are  *  moved, 
And*  out  of  order  gone. 

6  I  said  that  ye  were  gods,  yea  all 
The  sons  of  God  Most  High  ; 

7  But  ye  shall  die  like  men,  and  fall 
As  other  princes  die. 

Rise,  God  ;  ^judge  thou  the  earth  in  might; 

This  zvicked  earth  ^  redress  ; 
For  thou  art  he  who  shalt  by  right 

The  nations  all  possess. 

PSALM    LXXXIII. 

1  Be  not  thou  silent  now  at  length; 
O  God  hold  not  thy  peace: 

Sit  thou  not  still,  O  God  of  strength  ; 
We  cry  and  do  not  cease, 

2  For  lo!  thy  furious  foes  nozv  ^  swell, 
And  "  storm  outrageously  ; 

And  they  that  hate  thee,  proud  and  felly 

1  Tishphetu  gnavel.  2  Shiphtudal.  '  Hatzdiku. 

*  Jimmotu.  5  Shiphta.  6  Jehemajun. 

4> ^ 


^ 


^ 


548  TRANSLATIONS. 

Exalt  their  heads  full  high. 

3  Against  thy  people  they  '  contrive 

^  Their  plots  and  counsels  (leer.  ; 

^  Them  to  ensnare  they  chiefly  strive 

^  Whom  thou  dost  hide  and  keep. 

4  "Come,  let  us  cut  them  off,"  say  they, 

"  Till  they  no  nation  be  ; 
That  Israel's  name  for  ever  may 
Be  lost  in  memory." 

5  For  they  consult ''  with  all  their  might. 

And  all  as  one  in  mind 
Themselves  against  thee  they  unite, 
And  in  firm  union  hind. 

6  The  tents  of  Kdom,  and  the  brood 

Of  scornful  Ishmael, 
Moab,  with  them  of  Hagar's  blood, 
That  in  the  desert  dzvcll, 

7  Gebal  and  Ammon  there  conspire^ 

And  hatefid  Amalec, 
The  Philistines,  and  they  of  Tyre. 
Whose  bounds  the  sea  doth  check. 

8  With  them  great  Ashur  also  bands. 

And  doth  confirm  the  knot ; 
All  these  have  lent  their  armed  hands 
To  aid  the  sons  of  Lot. 

9  Do  to  them  as  to  Pvlidian  bold, 

That  wasted  all  the  coast ; 
To  Sisera,  and  as  is  told 

Thou  didst  to  Jabin's  fiost. 
When  at  the  brook  of  Kishon  old 
They  were  repulsed  and  slain, 
10  At  Endor  quite  cut  off,  and  rolled 
As  dung  upon  the  plain. 


Jagnarimu. 
'  Tsephuneca. 


2  Sod. 


3  Jithjagnatsu  gnal. 
*  Lev  jachdau. 


<# 


4 


^ 


TRANSLATIONS.  549 

11  As  Zeb  and  Oreb  evil  sped, 

So  let  their  princes  speed  ; 
,       As  Zeba  and  Zalmunna  bicd. 
So  let  their  princes  bleed. 

1 2  For  they  amidst  their  pride  have  said, 

"  By  right  now  shall  we  seize 
God's  houses,  and  zvill  noiv  invade 
^  Their  stately  palaces." 

13  My  God,  oh  make  them  as  a  wheel ; 

No  quiet  let  thevi  find ; 
Giddy  and  restless  let  them  reel^ 
Like  stubble  from  the  wind. 

14  As,  when  an  aged  wood  takes  fire 

Which  on  a  sudden  strays., 
The  greedy  flame  runs  higher  and  higher, 
Till  all  the  mountains  blaze  ; 

15  So  with  thy  whirlwind  them  pursue, 

And  with  thy  tempest  chase  ; 

16  ^And  till  they^  yield  the  honor  due. 

Lord,  fill  with  shame  their  face. 

17  Ashamed  and  troubled  let  them  be, 

Troubled  and  shamed  for  ever, 
Ever  confounded,  and  so  die 
With  shame,  and  scape  it  never. 

18  Then  shall  they  know  that  thou,  whose  name 

Jehovah  is,  alone 
Art  the  Most  High,  and  thou  the  same 
O'er  all  the  earth  art  One. 

PSALM    LXXXIV. 
I   How  lovely  are  thy  dwellings  fair  ! 

O  Lord  of  Hosts  how  dear  * 

The  pleasant  tabernacles  are 
JVhere  thou  dost  dwell  so  near  I 

1  t^eoth  Elohim  bears  both.  2  They  seek  thy  name :  Hcb, 


^ 


^ -O:, 


cr7 

550  TRANSLATIONS. 

2  My  soul  doth  long  and  almost  die 
Thy  courts,  O  Lord,  to  see ; 

My  heart  and  flesh  aloud  do  cry, 
O  living  God,  for  thee. 

3  There  even  the  spa.\  row,  freed /rom  wrong. 
Hath  found  a  house  of  rest  ; 

The  swallow  there,  to  lay  her  young. 
Hath  built  her  brooding  nest ; 

Even  by  thy  altars,  Lord  of  Hosts, 
They  find  their  safe  abode  ; 

And  home  they  fly  from  found  the  coasts 
Toward  thee,  my  King,  my  God. 

4  Happy  who  in  thy  house  reside, 
Where  thee  they  ever  praise ! 

5  Happy  whose  strength  in  thee  doth  bide. 
And  in  their  hearts  thy  ways  1 

6  They  pass  through  Baca's  thirsty  vale, 
That  dty  and  barren  ground^ 

As  through  a  fruitful  watery  dale 
Where  springs  and  showers  abound. 

7  They  journey  on  from  strength  to  strength 
With  Joy  and  gladsome  cheer. 

Till  all  before  our  God  at  length 
In  Si  on  do  appear. 

8  Lord  God  of  Hosts,  hear  noiu  my  prayer, 
O  Jacob's  God,  give  ear  : 

9  Thou,  God,  our  shield,  look  on  the  face 
Of  thy  anointed  dear. 

10  For  one  day  in  thy  courts  to  be 

Is  better  and  more  blest 
Than  in  the  joys  of  vanity 

A  thousand  days  at  best 
I  in  the  temple  of  my  God 

Had  rather  keep  a  door 
Than  dwell  in  tents  arid  rich  abode 

With  sin  for  evermore. 


^ 


h   .                                                                                                    '  1   ' 

^ 

J 

^^ 

TRANSLATIONS. 

551            \ 

1 1  For  God,  the  Lord,  both  sun  and  shield, 

i 

Gives  grace  and  glory  brigJit ; 

No  good  from  them  shall  be  withheld 

i 

Whose  ways  are  just  and  right. 

12  Lord  God  of  Hosts  that  reig7i^st  on  high. 

That  man  is  tndy  blest 

Who  o)ily  on  thee  doth  rely, 

And  in  thee  only  rest. 

PSALM  LXXXV. 

I  Thy  land  to  favor  graciously 

1 

Thou  hast  not,  Lord,  been  slack ; 

Thou  hast  from  hard  captivity 

Returned  Jacob  back. 

2  The  iniquity  thou  didst  forgive 

That  wrought  thy  people  woe, 

1 

And  all  their  sin  tfutt  did  thee  grieve 

Hast  hid  where  none  shall  know. 

3  Thine  anger  all  thou  hadst  removed. 

And  calmly  didst  return 

From  thy  '  fierce  wrath,  which  we  had  proved 

Far  worse  than  fire  to  burn. 

4  God  of  our  saving  health  and  peace, 

■ 

Turn  us,  and  us  restore; 

Thine  indignation  cause  to  cease 

Toward  us,  and  chide  no  more. 

5  Wilt  thou  be  angry  without  end, 

For  ever  angry  thus  ? 

Wilt  thou  thy  frowning  ire  extend 

From  age  to  age  on  us  ? 

6  Wilt  thou  not^  turn  and  hear  our  voice. 

And  thus  again  ^  revive. 

That  so  thy  people  may  rejoice. 

\ 

By  thee  preserved  alive  ? 

I  Heb.:  The  burning  heat  of  thy  wrath.                    2  Heb.:  Turn  to  quicken  us. 

1- 

r 

::i 

V                                                                                                 •■  vj 

s ^ 

552  TRANSLATIONS. 

7  Cause  us  to  see  thy  goodness,  Lord  ; 
To  us  thy  mercy  shew  ; 

Thy  saving  health  to  us  afford, 
And  life  m  us  reneiv. 

8  And  now  what  God  the  Lord  will  speak 
I  will  go  straight  and  hear, 

For  to  his  people  he  speaks  peace. 

And  to  his  sdiints  full  dear  ; 
To  his  dear  saints  he  will  speak  peace ; 

But  let  them  never  more 
Return  to  folly,  but  surcease 

To  trespass  as  before. 

9  Surely  to  such  as  do  him  fear 
Salvation  is  at  hand. 

And  glory  shall  ere  long  appear 
To  dwell  within  our  land. 

10  Mercy  and  Truth,  that  long  were  missed, 
^ovi  joyfully  are  met; 

Sweet  Peace  and  Righteousness  have  kissed. 
And  hand  in  hand  are  set. 

1 1  Truth  from  the  earth  like  to  a  flower 
Shall  bud  and  blossom  then  ; 

And  Justice  from  her  heavenly  bower 
Look  down  on  mortal  men. 

12  The  Lord  will  also  then  bestow 
Whatever  thing  is  good;  n 

Our  land  shall  forth  in  plenty  throw 
Her  fruits  to  be  our  food. 

13  Before  him  Righteousness  shall  go, 
His  royal  harbinger  : 

Then^  will  he  come,  and  not  be  slow; 
His  footsteps  cannot  err. 

^  Beb.:  He  will  set  his  steps  to  the  way. 


4^- 


a ^ 

TRANSLATIONS.  553 

PSALM  LXXXVI. 

1  Thy  gracious  ear,  O  Lord,  incline ; 

0  hear  me,  /  thee  pray; 
For  I  am  poor  and  almost  pine 

With  need  and  sad  decay. 

2  Preserve  my  soul ;  for  'I  have  trod 
Thy  ways,  and  love  the  just; 

Save  thoa  thy  servant,  O  my  God, 
Who  still  in  thee  doth  trust. 

3  Pity  me,  Lord,  for  daily  thee 

1  call ;     4  Oh  make  rejoice 
Thy  servant's  soul  !  for,  Lord,  to  thee 

I  lift  my  soul  and  voice. 

5  For  thou  art  good ;  thou,  Lord,  art  prone 
To  pardon  ;  thou  to  all 

Art  full  of  mercy,  thou  alone^ 
To  them  that  on  thee  call. 

6  Unto  my  supplication,  Lord, 
Give  ear,  and  to  the  cry 

Of  my  incessant  prayers  afford  :    ; 

Thy  hearing  graciously.  >    1 

7  I  in  the  day  of  my  distress  • 
Will  call  on  thee y^r  aid ; 

For  thou  wilt  grant  va^free  access^ 
And  answer  what  I  prayed. 

8  Like  thee  among  the  gods  is  none, 

0  Lord  ;  nor  any  works 
Of  all  that  other  gods  have  done 

Like  to  thy  glorious  works. 

9  The  nations  all  whom  thou  hast  made 
Shall  come,  a7id  all  shall  frame 

To  bow  them  low  before  thee.  Lord, 
And  glorify  thy  name. 

1  Heb.:  I  am  good,  loving,  a  doer  of  good  and  holy  things. 

^ 


^ ^ 

554  TRANSLATIONS. 


10  For  great  thou  art,  and  wonders  great 

By  thy  strong  hand  are  done ; 
Thou  zu  thy  everlasting  seat 
Remainest  God  alone. 

1 1  Teach  me,  O  Lord,  thy  way  most  rigJit^ 

I  in  thy  truth  will  bide ; 
To  fear  thy  name  my  heart  unite ; 
So  shall  it  never  slide. 

12  Thee  will  I  praise,  O  Lord  my  God, 

Thee  honor  and  adore 
With  my  whole  heart,  and  blaze  abroad 
Thy  name  for  evermore. 

13  For  great  thy  mercy  is  toward  me. 

And  thou  hast  freed  my  soul, 
Ev'n  from  the  lowest  hell  set  free, 
From  deepest  darTzness  fold. 

14  O  God,  the  proud  against  me  rise, 

And  violent  men  are  met 
To  seek  my  life,  and  in  their  eyes 
No  fear  of  thee  have  set. 

15  But  thou.  Lord,  art  the  God  most  mild, 

Readiest  thy  grace  to  shew, 
Slow  to  be  angry,  and  art  styled 
Most  merciful,  most  true. 

16  Oh  turn  to  me  thy  face  at  length, 

And  me  have  mercy  on  ; 
Unto  thy  servant  give  thy  strength, 
And  save  thy  handmaid's  son. 

17  Some  sign  of  good  to  me  afford. 

And  let  my  foes  then  see. 
And  be  ashamed,  because  thou,  Lord, 
Dost  help  and  comfort  me. 

PSALM  LXXXVIL 
I  Among  the  holy  mountains  high 
Is  his  foundation  fast ; 


4> 


TRANSLATIONS.  555 

There  seated  in  his  sanctuary. 
His  temple  there  is  placed. 

2  Sion'sy^zr  gates  the  Lord  loves  more 

Than  all  the  dwellings y^/r 
Of  Jacob's  land  though  there  be  store. 
And  all  within  his  care. 

3  City  of  God,  most  glorious  things 

Of  thee  abroad  are  spoke. 
I  mention  Egypt,  where  prond  kings 
Did  our  forefathers  yoke  ; 

4  I  mention  Babel  to  my  friends, 

Philistia/}///  of  scorn, 
And  Tyre,  with  Ethiop's  utmost  ends.  .* 
Lo !  this  man  there  was  born. 

5  But  twice  that  praise  shall  in  our  ear 

Be  said  of  Sion /^j/.- 
This  and  this  man  was  born  in  her; 
High  God  shall  fix  her  fast. 

6  The  Lord  shall  write  it  in  a  scroll. 

That  ne'er  shall  be  out-worn, 
When  he  the  nations  doth  enroll, 
That  this  man  there  was  born. 

7  Both  they  who  sing  and  they  who  dance 

With  sacred  songs  are  there  ; 
In  thee/zT^//  brooks  and  soft  streams  glattce^ 
And  all  my  fountains  clear. 

PSALM    LXXXVin. 

1  Lord  God,  that  dost  me  save  and  keep, 

All  day  to  thee  I  cry, 
And  all  night  long  before  thee  weep., 
Before  thee  prostrate  lie. 

2  Into  thy  presence  let  my  prayer, 

With  sighs  devout,  asceyid ; 
And  to  my  cries  that  ceaseless  are^ 
Thine  ear  with  favor  bend. 


^ 


<b 


556  TRANSLATIONS. 

3  For,  cloyed  with  woes  and  trouble  store, 

Surcharged  my  soul  doth  lie  ; 
My  life,  at  death's  iinchccrfiil  door. 
Unto  the  grave  draws  nigh. 

4  Reckoned  I  am  with  them  that  pass 

Down  to  the  dismal  pit ; 

I  am  a  ^man  but  weak,  alas  ! 

And  for  that  name  unfit, 

5  From  life  discharged  and  parted  quite 

Among  the  dead  to  sleep, 
And  like  the  slain  in  bloody  Jight 

That  in' the  grave  lie  deep; 
Whom  thou  rememberest  no  more, 

Dost  never  more  regard  : 
Them,  from  thy  hand  delivered  o'er. 

Death's  hideous  Jioiise  liath  barred. 

6  Thou,  in  the  lowest  pit  pro/ou;id, 

Hast  set  me  all  forlorn. 
Where  thickest  darkness  hovers  roimd, 
In  horrid  deeps  to  mourn. 

7  Thy  wrath, //"^w  ivhich  no  shelter  saves., 

Full  sore  doth  press  on  me  ; 
^Thou  break'st  upon  me  all  thy  waves, 
^And  all  thy  waves  break  me. 

8  Thou  dost  my  friends  from  me  estrange, 

And  mak'st  me  odious. 
Me  to  them  odious, /£?r  they  cliange. 
And  I  here  pent  up  thus. 

9  Through  sorrow  and  affliction  great 

Mine  eye  grows  dim  and  dead ; 
Lord  all  the  day  I  thee  entreat. 
My  hands  to  thee  I  spread. 
10  Wilt  thou  do  wonders  on  the  dead  ? 
Shall  the  deceased  arise 


1  Heb.:  A  man  without  manly  strength. 


*  The  Hebrew  bears  both. 


^ 


-P 


^ 


^ 


TRANSLATIONS.  557 


And  praise  ^etfrom  their  loathsome  bed 
With  pale  and  hollow  eyes  ? 
•    1 1  Shall  they  thy  loving  kindness  tell 
On  whom  the  grave  hath  hold? 
Or  they  who  in  perdition  dwell 
Thy  faithfulness  Jinfold? 
1 2  In  darkness  can  thy  mighty  hand 
Or  wondrous  acts  be  known  ? 
Thy  justice  in  \he  gloomy  land 
Of  dark  oblivion  ? 
13  But  I  to  thee,  O  Lord,  do  cry 
Ere  yet  my  life  be  speyit ; 
And  up  to  thee  my  prayer  doth  hie 
Each  morn,  and  thee  prevent. 

14  Why  wilt  thou,  Lord,  my  soul  forsake 
And  hide  thy  face  from  me, 

15  That  am  already  bruised,  and^  shake 
With  terror  sent  from  thee ; 

Bruised  and  afflicted,  and  so  low 

As  ready  to  expire, 
While  I  thy  terrors  undergo, 

Astonished  with  thine  ire  ? 

16  Thy  fierce  wrath  over  me  doth  flow; 
Thy  threatenings  cut  me  through  : 

17  All  day  they  round  about  me  go  ; 
Like  waves  they  me  pursue. 

18  Lover  and  friend  thou  hast  removed, 
And  severed  from  me  far : 

Theyyfy  me  7iow  whom  I  have  loved. 
And  as  in  darkness  are. 

PSALM    L 
Done  into  verse  1653. 
Blest  is  the  man  who  hath  not  walked  astray 
In  counsel  of  the  wicked,  and  i'  the  way 

1  Heb,\  Pros  concussione. 

<^ -A 


^ -^ 

558  TRANSLATIONS. 

Of  sinners  hath  not  stood,  and  in  the  seat 
Of  scorners  hath  not  sat;  but  in  the  great 
Jehovah's  Law  is  ever  his  dehght, 
And  in  his  law  he  studies  day  and  night. 
He  shall  be  as  a  tree  which  planted  grows 
By  watery  streams,  and  in  his  season  knows 
To  yield  his  fruit ;  and  his  leaf  shall  not  fall; 
And  what  he  takes  in  hand  shall  prosper  all. 
Not  so  the  wicked ;  but,  as  chaff  which  fanned 
The  wind  drives,  so  the -wicked  shall  not  stand 
In  judgment,  or  abide  their  trial  then, 
Nor  sinners  in  the  assembly  of  just  men. 
For  the  Lord  knows  the  upright  way  of  the  just 
And  the  way  of  bad  men  to  ruin  must. 

PSALM  II. 
Done  A  ugnst  8 ,  1653. —  Terzetti. 
Why  do  the  Gentiles  tumult,  and  the  nations 

Muse  a  vain  thing,  the  kings  of  the  earth  upstand 

With  power,  and  princes  in  their  congregations 
Lay  deep  their  plots  together  through  each  land 

Against  the  Lord  and  his  Messiah  dear  ? 

"  Let  us  break  off,"  say  they,  "  by  strength  cf  hand, 
Their  bonds,  and  cast  from  us,  no  more  to  wear, 

Their  twisted  cords."     He  who  in  heaven  doth  dwell 

Shall  laugh;  the  Lord  shall  scoff  them,  then  severe 
Speak  to  them  in  his  wrath,  and  in  his  fell 

And  fierce  ire  trouble  them.     "  But  I,"  saith  he, 

"  Anointed  have  my  King  (though  ye  rebel) 
On  Sion  my  holy  hill."     A  firm  decree 

I  will  declare  :  the  Lord  to  me  hath  said, 

"  Thou  art  my  Son  ;  I  have  begotten  thee 
This  day  ;  ask  of  me,  and  the  grant  is  made : 

As  thy  possession  I  on  thee  bestow 

The  Heathen,  and,  as  thy  conquest  to  be  swayed. 
Earth's  utmost  bounds:  them  shalt  thou  bring  full  low 

With  iron  sceptre  bruised,  and  them  disperse 

<^ e 


^ 


TRANSLATIONS.  559 

Like  to  a  potter's  vessel  shivered  so." 
And  now  be  wise  at  length,  ye  kings  averse  ; 

Be  taught,  ye  judges  of  the  earth;  with  fear 

Jehovah  serve,  and  let  your  joy  converse 
With  trembling;  kiss  the  Son,  lest  he  appear 

In  anger,  and  ye  perish  in  the  way, 

If  once  his  wrath  take  fire,  like  fuel  sere. 
Happy  all  those  who  have  in  him  their  stay. 

PSALM  III. 

August  9,  1653. 
When  he  fled  from  Absalom. 
Lord,  how  many  are  my  foes  ! 
How  many  those 
That  in  arms  against  me  rise  ! 

Many  are  they 
That  of  my  life  distrustfully  thus  say, 
"  No  help  for  him  in  God  there  lies." 
But  thou.  Lord,  art  my  shield,  my  glory ; 
Thee,  through  my  story, 
The  exalter  of  my  head  I  count : 

Aloud  I  cried 
Unto  Jehovah  ;  he  full  soon  replied, 
And  heard  me  from  his  holy  mount. 
I  lay  and  slept ;  I  \vaked  again  : 
For  my  sustain 
Was  the  Lord.     Of  many  millions 

The  populous  rout 
I  fear  not,  though,  encamping  round  about, 
They  pitch  against  me  their  pavilions. 
Rise,  Lord  ;  save  me.  my  God  !  for  thou 
Hast  smote  ere  now 
On  the  cheek-bone  all  my  foes, 

Of  men  abhorred 
Hast  broke  the  teeth.    This  help  was  from  the  Lord ; 
Thy  blessing  on  thy  people  flows. 


'^ 


560  TRANSLATIONS. 

PSALM  IV 
August  10,  1653. 

Answer  me  when  I  call, 

God  of  my  righteousness ; 

In  straights  and  in  distress 

Thou  didst  me  disenthrall 

And  set  at  large ;  now  spare, 
Now  pity  me,  and  hear  my  earnest  prayer. 

Great  ones  how  long  will  ye 

My  glory  have  in  scorn  ? 

How  long  be  thus  forborne 

Still  to  love  vanity? 

To  love,  to  seek,  to  prize 
Things  false  and  vain,  and  nothing  else  but  lies  ? 

Yet  know  the  Lord  hath  chose, 

Chose  to  himself  apart, 

The  good  and  meek  of  heart 

(For  whom  to  choose  he  knows); 

Jehovah  from  on  high 
Will  hear  my  voice  what  time  to  him  I  cry. 

Be  awed,  and  do  not  sin ; 

Speak  to  your  hearts  alone 

Upon  your  beds,  each  one, 

And  be  at  peace  within. 

Offer  the  offerings  just 
Of  righteousness,  and  iif  Jehovah  trust. 

Many  there  be  that  say 

"  Who  yet  will  show  us  good  ?" 

Talking  like  this  world's  brood ; 

But,  Lord,  thus  let  me  pray  : 

On  us  lift  up  the  light. 
Lift  up  the  favor,  of  thy  count'nance  bright. 

Into  my  heart  more  joy 

And  gladness  thou  hast  put 

Than  when  a  year  of  glut 

Their  stores  doth  over-cloy, 

^ — ^ 


^ — ^ -^ 

TRANSLATIONS.  S^i 

And  from  their  plenteous  grounds 
With  vast  increase  their  corn  and  wine  abounds. 

In  peace  at  once  will  I 

Both  lay  me  down  and  sleep ; 

For  thou  alone  dost  keep 

Me  safe  where'er  I  lie : 

As  in  a  rocky  cell 
Thou,  Lord,  alone  in  safety  mak'st  me  dwell. 

PSALM  V. 
August  12,  1653. 
Jehovah,  to  my  words  give  ear, 

My  meditation  weigh  ; 
The  voice  of  my  complaining  hear, 
My  king  and  God,  for  unto  thee  I  pray. 
Jehovah,  thou  my  early  voice 

Shalt  in  the  morning  hear  ; 
r  th'  morning  I  to  thee  with  choice 
Will  rank  my  prayers,  and  watch  till  thou  appear. 
For  thou  art  not  a  God  that  takes 

In  wickedness  delight ; 
Evil  with  thee  no  biding  makes  ; 
Fools  or  mad  men  stand  not  within  thy  sight. 
All  workers  of  iniquity 

Thou  hat'st;  and  them  unblest 
Thou  wilt  destroy  that  speak  a  lie  ; 
The  bloody  and  guileful  man  God  doth  detest. 
But  I  will  in  thy  mercies  dear, 

Thy  numerous  mercies,  go 
Into  thy  house  ;  I,  in  thy  fear, 
Will  towards  thy  holy  temple  worship  low. 
Lord,  lead  me  in  thy  righteousness. 

Lead  me,  because  of  those 
That  do  observe  if  I  transgress  ; 
Set  thy  ways  right  before  where  my  step  goes. 
For  in  his  faltering  mouth  unstable 

36 

^ ^ ^ 


^ 


<b 


562  TRANSLATIONS. 

No  word  is  firm  or  sooth  ;^ 
Their  inside,  troubles  miserable; 
An  open  grave  their  throat,  their  tongue  they  smooth. 
God,  find  them  guilty ;  let  them  fall 
By  their  own  counsels  quelled ; 
Push  them  in  their  rebellions  all 
Still  on ;  for  against  thee  they  have  rebelled. 
Then  all  who  trust  in  thee  shall  bring 
Their  joy,  while  thou  from  blame 
Defend'st  them  :  they  shall  ever  sing. 
And  shall  triumph  in  thee,  who  love  thy  name. 
For  thou,  Jehovah,  wilt  be  found 
To  bless  the  just  man  still : 
As  with  a  shield  thou  wilt  surround 
Him  with  thy  lasting  favor  and  good  will. 

PSALM  VI. 

AiigJist  13,  1653. 
Lord,  in  thy  anger  do  not  reprehend  me, 

Nor  in  thy  hot  displeasure  me  correct; 

Pity  me.  Lord,  for  I  am  much  deject. 
And  very  weak  and  faint ;  heal  and  amend  me  : 
For  all  my  bones,  that  even  with  anguish  ache, 

Are  troubled  ;  yea,  my  soul  is  troubled  sore ; 

And  thou,  O  Lord,  how  long?     Turn,  Lord  ;  restore 
My  soul :  oh,  save  me,  for  thy  goodness  sake  ! 
For  in  death  no  remembrance  is  of  thee ; 

Who  in  the  grave  can  celebrate  thy  praise  ? 

Wearied  I  am  with  sighing  out  my  days; 
Nightly  my  couch  I  make  a  kind  of  sea ; 
My  bed  I  water  .with  my  tears ;  mine  eye 

Through  grief  consumes,  is  waxen  old  and  dark 

r  the  midst  of  all  mine  enemies  that  mark. 
Depart,  all  ye  that  work  iniquity, 
Depart  from  me  ;  for  the  voice  of  my  weeping 

1  True. 


c^ 


4 


A- 


^ 


— ' ^ 

TRANSLATIONS.  563 

The  Lord  hath  heard ;  the  Lord  hath  heard  my  prayer ; 

My  supplication  with  acceptance  fair 
The  Lord  will  own,  and  have  me  in  his  keeping. 
Mine  enemies  shall  all  be  blank,  and  dashed 

With  much  confusion;  then,  grown  red  with  shame, 

They  shall  return  in  haste  the  way  they  came, 
And  in  a  moment  shall  be  quite  abashed. 

PSALM  vn. 

August  14,  1653. 
Upon  the  words  of  Chush  the  Benjamite  against  him. 
Lord,  my  God,  to  thee  I  fly  ; 
Save  me,  and  secure  me  under 
Thy  protection  while  I  cry  ; 
Lest,  as  a  lion  (and  no  wonder), 
He  hastes  to  fear  my  soul  asunder, 
Tearing  and  no  rescue  nigh. 

Lord,  my  God,  if  I  have  thought 

Or  done  this  ;  if  wickedness 

Be  in  my  hands  ;  if  I  have  wrought 

Til  to  him  that  meant  me  peace; 

Or  to  him  have  rendered  less, 

And  not  freed  my  foe  for  naught  ; 

Let  the  enemy  pursue  my  soul, 

And  overtake  it ;  let  him  tread 

My  life  down  to  the  earth,  and  roll 

In  the  dust  my  glory  dead, 

In  the  dust,  and  there  outspread 

Lodge  it  with  dishonor  foul. 

Rise,  Jehovah,  in  thine  ire  ; 

Rouse  thyself  amidst  the  rage 

Of  my  foes  that  urge  like  fire; 

And  wake  for  me,  their  fury  assuage; 

Judgment  here  thou  didst  engage 

And  command,  which  I  desire. 


4 


,^- -^ 

564  TRANSLATIONS. 

So  the  assemblies  of  each  nation 
Will  surround  thee,  seeking  right : 
Thence  to  thy  glorious  habitation 
Return  on  high,  and  in  their  sight, 
Jehovah  judgeth  most  upright 
All  people  from  the  world's  foundatioii. 

Judge  me,  Lord;  be  judge  in  this 
According  to  my  righteousness, 
And  the  innocence  which  is 
Upon  me :  cause  at  length  to  cease 
Of  evil  men  the  wickedness, 
And  their  power  that  do  amiss. 

But  the  just  establish  fast, 

Since  thou  art  the  just  God  that  tries 

Hearts  and  reins.     On  God  is  cast 

My  defence,  and  in  him  lies  ; 

In  him  who,  both  just  and  wise, 

Saves  the  upright  of  heart  at  last. 

God  is  a  just  judge  and  severe. 

And  God  is  every  day  offended  ; 

If  the  unjust  will  not  forbear. 

His  sword  he  whets ;  his  brow  hath  bended 

Already,  and  for  him  intended 

The  tools  of  de:.th  that  waits  him  near. 

(His  arrows  purposely  made  he 
For  them  that  persecute.)     Behold 
He  travails  big  with  vanity  ; 
Trouble  he  hath  conceived  of  old 
As  in  a  womb,  and  from  that  mould 
Hath  at  length  brought  forth  a  lie. 

He  digg'd  a  pit,  and  delved  it  deep, 

And  fell  into  the  pit  he  made  : 

His  mischief  that  due  course  doth  keep, 

c^ \ — ^ 


J^                                                                                          ^^ 

c 

J 

V 

J 

TRANSLATIONS.                                 5 

Turns  on  his  head :  and  his  ill  trade 
Of  violence  will  undelayed 

65 

Fall  on  his  crown  with  ruin  steep. 

1 

Then  will  I  Jehovah's  praise 

1 

According  to  his  justice  raise, 

i 

And  sing  the  Name  and  Deity 

I 

Of  Jehovah  the  Most  High. 

j 

PSALM  VIII. 

i 
i 
I 

August  14,  1653. 

1 

0  Jehovah  our  Lord,  how  wondrous  great 

j 

And  glorious  is  thy  name  through  all  the  earth, 

So  as  above  the  heavens  thy  praise  to  set ! 

Out  of  the  tender  mouths  of  latest  bcarth, 

Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  thou 

Hast  founded  strength,  because  of  all  thy  foes, 

To  stint  the  enemy,  and  slack  the  avenger's  brow, 

1 

That  bends  his  rage  thy  providence  to  oppose. 

i 

When  I  behold  thy  heavens,  thy  fingers'  art, 

The  moon  and  stars,  which  thou  so  bright  hast  set 

In  the  pure  firmament,  then  saith  my  heart, 

. 

Oh,  what  is  man  that  thou  rememberest  )'et 

And  think'st  upon  him,  or  of  man  begot 

i 
i 

That  him  thou  visit'st,  and  of  him  art  found  ? 

Scarce  to  be  less  than  gods  thou  mad'st  his  lot; 

With  honor  and  with  state  thou  hast  him  crowned. 

O'er  the  works  of  thy  hand  thou  mad'st  him  lord ; 

Thou  hast  put  all  under  his  lordly  feet, 

All  flocks  and  herds,  by  thy  commanding  word, 

All  beasts  that  in  the  field  or  forest  meet, 

Fowl  of  the  heavens,  and  fish  that  through  the  wet 

Sea-paths  in  shoals  do  slide,  and  know  no  dearth. 

0  Jehovah  our  Lord,  how  wondrous  great 

And  glorious  is  thy  name  through  all  the  Earth  ! 

c 

^  . 

r 

:^ 

V                                                                                                V.1 

566  TRANSLATIONS. 

SCRAPS  FROM  THE  PROS?:  WRITINGS. 

FROM   "OF  REFORMATION  TOUCHING  CHURCH  DIS- 
CIPLINE IN  ENGLAND,"  1641. 

[Dante,  Inferno^  xix.  115.] 

Ah.  Constantine,  of  how  much  ill  was  cause, 
Not  thy  conversion,  but  those  rich  domains 
That  the  first  wealthy  Pope  received  of  thee  ! 

[Petrarch,  Sonnet  107.] 

Founded  in  chaste  and  humble  poverty, 

'Gainst,  them  that  raised  thee  dost  thou  lift  thy  horn, 

Impudent  whore  ?     Where  hast  thou  placed  thy  hope  ? 

In  thy  adulterers,  or  thy  ill-got  wealth  ? 

Another  Constantine  comes  not  in  haste. 

[Ariosto,  Orl.  Fur.  xxxiv.  Stanz.  80.] 

Then  passed  he  to  a  flowery  mountain  green. 
Which  once  smelt  sweet,  now  stinks  as  odiously : 
This  was  that  gift  (if  you  the  truth  will  have) 
That  Constantine  to  good  Sylvestro  gave. 

FROM  THE  APOLOGY  FOR  SMECTYMNUUS,  1642. 

[Horace,  Sat.  i.  i,  24.] 

Laughing  to  teach  the  truth 
What  hinders  ?  as  some  teachers  give  to  boys 
Junkets  and  knacks,  that  they  may  Icarn  apace. 

[Horace,  Sat.  i.  10,  14.] 

■Joking  decides  great  things 
Stronglicr  and  better  oft  than  earnest  can. 

[Sophocles,  Electra,  624.] 
'Tis  you  that  say  it,  not  I.     You  do  the  deeds, 


And  your  ungodly  deeds  find  me  the  words. 


-^ 


^ ^ -^ 

TRANSLA  TIONS.  5  67 

FROM  AREOPAGITICA,  1644. 
[Euripides,  Siippliccs,  438] 
This  is  true  Liberty,  when  freeborn  men, 
Having  to  advise  the  public,  may  speak  free  : 
Which  he  who  can  and  will  deserves  high  praise  : 
Who  neither  can  nor  will  may  hold  his  peace. 
What  can  be  juster  in  a  state  than  this  ? 

FROM  TETRACHORDON,  1645. 
[Horace,  Epist.  i.  16,  40.] 
Whom  do  we  count  a  good  man  ?     Whom  but  he 
Who  keeps  the  laws  and  statutes  of  the  senate, 
Who  judges  in  great  suits  and  controversies, 
Whose  witness  and  opinion  wins  the  cause  ? 
But  his  own  house,  and  the  whole  neighborhood, 
Sees  his  foul  inside  through  his  whited  skin. 

FROM  "THE  TENURE  OF  KINGS  AND  MAGISTRATES." 

1649. 
[Seneca,  Her.  Fur.  922.] 
There  can  be  slain 
No  sacrifice  to  God  more  acceptable 
Than  an  unjust  and  wicked  king. 

FROM  THE  HISTORY  OF  BRITAIN,  1670. 

[In  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  the  story  is  that  Brutus  the  Trojan,  wandering  through  the 
Mediterranean,  and  uncertain  whither  to  go,  arrived  at  a  dispeopled  island  called  Leo- 
gecia,  where  he  found,  in  a  ruined  city,  a  temple  and  oracle  of  Diana.  H2  consulted  the 
oracle  in  certain  Greek  verses,  of  which  Geoffrey  gives  a  version  in  Latin  elegiacs  ;  and 
Milton  translates  these.] 

Goddess  of  Shades  and  Huntress,  who  at  will 
Walk'st  on  the  rolling  sphere,  and  through  the  deep, 
•  On  thy  third  reign,  the  Earth,  look  now,  and  tell 
What  land,  what  seat  of  rest  thou  bidd'st  me  seek, 
What  certain  seat,  where  I  may  worship  thee 
For  aye,  with  temples  vowed,  and  virgin  quires. 

^ ^ 


^ ^ Qp 

568  TRANSLATIONS. 

[Sleeping  before  the  altar  of  the  Goddess,  Brutus  rer:eived  from  her,  in  vision,  an  answer  to 
the  above  in  Greek.  Geoffrey  quotes  the  traditional  version  of  the  same  in  Latin  elegiacs, 
which  Milton  thus  translates.] 

Brutus,  far  to  the  west,  in  the  ocean  wide, 
Beyond  the  realm  of  Gayl,  a  land  there  lies, 
Sea-girt  it  lies,  where  giants  dwelt  of  old; 
Now  void,  it  fits  thy  people.     Thither  ben*d 
Thy  course ;  there  shalt  thou  find  a  lasting  seat; 
There  to  thy  sons  another  Troy  shall  rise, 
And  kings  be  born  of  thee,  whose  dreaded  might 
Shall  awe  the  world,  and  conquer  nations  bold. 


^ ^ 


s-- ^-€7 


PART  II. 
THE  LATIN  POEMS. 

Separate  Title-Page  in  Eaition  of  1645  : — "Joannis  Miltoni  Londinensis  Poemata. 
Quorum  pleraque  intra  annum  retails  vigesimum  conscripsit.  Nunc  primum  edita. 
Londini,  Typis  R.  R.  Prostant  ad  Insignia  Principis,  in  Coemelerio  D.  Pauli,  apud 
Humphredum  Moseley,      1645." 

Separnte  Title-Page  in  Edition  of  1673  : — Same  as  above,  word  for  word,  as  far  as  to 
"Londini,"  inclusively;  after  which  the  rest  runs  thus;  "  ExcudebatW.  R.  anno  1673." 


[569T 

a^ ^ 


^ 


570 


LATIN  POEMS, 


^ 


Latin  Poems. 


[DE  AUCTORE  TESTIMONIA.] 

H(PC  qu<^  sequtintiir  de  Aiithore  tcstimonia,  iametsiipse  intelligebat  non  tarn 
de  se  quam  supra  se  esse  dicta,  eo  qicod prcrccaro  ingtnio  vin,  nee  non  amici,  ita 
fere  solent  laudare  lit  omnia  suis  potius  virtutibus  quam  veritati  congriientia 
nitnis  cupide  affinganf,  noluit  tamen  horicm  egregiam  in  se  voliintatcm  ncn  esse 
notam,  cum  alii  prcescrtim  ut  id  facer  et  magnopere  suaderent.  Duni  eni7n  niviia; 
laudis  invidiam  totis  ab  se  viribus  amolitur,  sibique  quod  plus  cequo  est  ran 
attributum  esse  mainilt,  judicium  interim  hominum  cordatorum  atque  illustrium 
quin  sujnmo  sibi  honori  ducat  ncgare  no7i  potest. 

JOANNES     BAPTISTA    MANSUS,    MARCHIO    VILLENSIS     NEAPOLITANUS,     AD 
JOANNEM    MILTONIUM    ANGLUM. 

Ut  mens,  forma,  decor,  facies,  mos,  si  pietas  sic, 
Non  Anglus,  verum  hercle  Angelus  ipse,  fores. 

AD  JOANNEM  MILIONEM  ANGLUM,  TRIPLICI  POESEOS  LAUREA  CORONAN- 
DUM,  GRyECA  NIMIRUM,  LATINA,  ATQUE  HETRUSCA,  EPIGRAMMA  JOANNIS 
SALSILLI    ROMANI. 

Cede,  Meles  ;  cedat  depressa  Mincius  urna  ; 

Sebetus  Tassum  desinat  usque  loqui  ; 
At  Thamesis  victor  cunctis  ferat  altior  undas ; 

Nam  per  te,  Milto,  par  tribus  unus  crit. 

AD   JOANNEM    MILTONUM, 

Graecia  Maeonidem,  jactet  sibi  Roma  Maronem  ; 
Anglia  Miltonum  jactat  utrique  parem. 

Selvaggi. 


^ 


4 


LATIN  POEMS.  571 

AL   SIGNOR    GIO.    MILTONI,    NOBILE    INGLESE. 
OUE. 

Ergimi  all'  Etra  o  Clio, 

Perche  di  stelle  intrecciero  corona  ! 

Non  piu  del  biondo  Dio 

La  fronde  eterna  in  Pindo,  e  in  Elicona  : 

Diensi  a  merto  maggior  maggiori  i  fregi, 

A  celeste  virtu  celesti  pregi. 

Non  puo  del  Tempo  edace 
Rimaner  preda  eterno  alto  valore  ; 
Non  puo  r  obblio  rapace 
Furar  dalle  memorie  eccelso  onore. 
Suir  arco  di  mia  cetra  un  dardo  forte 
Virtu  m'  adatti,  e  feriro  la  Morte. 

Deir  Ocean  profondo 

Cinta  dagli  ampi  gorghi  Anglia  risiede 

Separata  dal  mondo, 

Pero  che  il  suo  valor  1'  umano  eccede  : 

Questa  feconda  sa  produrre  Eroi, 

Ch'  lianno  a  ragion  del  sovruman  tra  noi. 

Alia  virtu  sbandita 

Danno  nei  petti  lor  fido  ricetto, 

Quella  gli  e  sol  gradita, 

Perche  in  lei  san  trovar  gioia  e  diletto  ; 

Ridillo  tu,  Giovanni,  e  niostra  in  tanto, 

Con  tua  vera  virtu,  vero  il  mio  Canto. 

Lungi  dal  patrio  lido 

Spinse  Zeusi  1'  industre  ardente  brama ; 

Ch'  udio  d'  Elena  il  grido 

Con  aurea  tromba  rimbombar  la  fama, 

E  per  poterla  effigiare  al  paro 

Dalle  piu  belle  Idee  trasse  il  piu  raro. 


^ — ~ -^ 

572  LATIN  POEMS. 

Cosi  r  ape  ingegnosa 

Trae  con  industria  il  suo  liquor  pregiato 

Dal  giglio  e  dalla  rosa, 

E  quanti  vaghi  fieri  ornano  il  prato  ; 

Formano  un  dolce  suon  diverse  corde, 

Fan  varic  voci  melodia  concorde. 

Di  bella  gloria  amante 

Milton,  dal  Ciel  natio,  per  varie  parti 

Le  peregrine  piante 

Volgesti  a  ricercar  scienze  ed  arti; 

Dell  Gallo  rcgnator  vedesti  i  Regni, 

E  deir  Italia  ancor  gl'  Eroi  piu  degni. 

Fabro  quasi  divino, 

Sol  virtu  rintracciando,  il  tuo  pensiero 

Vide  in  ogni  confino 

Chi  di  nobil  valor  calca  il  sentiero  ; 

L'  ottimo  dal  miglior  dopo  scegliea 

Per  fabbricar  d'  ogni  virtu  1'  Idea. 

Quanti  nacquero  in  Flora, 

0  in  lei  del  parlar  Tosco  appreser  1'  arte. 
La  cui  memoria  onora 
II  mondo  fatta  eterna  in  dotte  carte, 
Volesti  ricercar  per  tuo  tesoro, 
E  parlasti  con  lor  nell'  opre  loro. 

Neir  altera  Babelle 

Pel  te  il  parlar  confuse  Giove  in  vano, 

Che  per  varie  favelle 

Di  se  stessa  trofeo  cadde  sul  piano: 

Ch'  ode,  oltr'  all'  Anglia,  il  suo  piu  degno  idioma, 

Spagna,  Francia,  Toscana,  e  Grecia,  e  Roma. 

1  piu  profondi  arcani 

Ch'  occulta  la  Natura,  e  in  cielo  e  in  terra, 
Ch'  a  Ingegni  sovrumani 


4 


-e 


a- 


^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  $73 


Troppo  avara  talor  gli  chiude,  e  serra, 
Chiaramente  conosci,  e  giungi  al  fine 
Delia  moral  virtude  al  gran  confine. 

Non  batta  il  Tempo  1'  ale, 

Fermisi  immoto,  e  in  un  ferminsi  gli  anni, 

Che  di  virtu  immortale 

Scorron  di  troppo  ingiuriosi  ai  danni ; 

Che  s'  opre  degne  di  poema  e  storia 

Furon  gia,  1'  hai  presenti  alia  memoria. 

Dammi  tua  dolce  Cetra, 

Se  vuoi  ch'  io  dica  del  tuo  dolce  canto, 

Ch'  inalzandoti  all'  Etra 

Di  farti  uomo  celeste  ottiene  il  vanto ; 

II  Tamigi  il  dira,  che  gli  e  concesso 

Per  te,  suo  cigno,  pareggiar  Permesso, 

Io,  che  in  riva  dell'  Arno 

Tento  spiegar  tuo  merto  alto  c  preclaro, 

So  che  fatico  indarno, 

E  ad  ammirar,  non  a  lodarlo  imparo  ; 

Freno  dunque  la  lingua,  e  ascolto  il  core, 

Che  ti  prende  a  lodar  con  Io  stupore. 

Del  Sig.  Antonio  Francini, 
Gentiluomo  Fiorentino. 

JOANNI    MILTONI,    LONDINENSI, 

Juveni  patria,  virtutibus,  eximio  : 

Viro  qui  multa  peregrinatione,  studio  cuncta,  orbis  terrarum  loca 
perspexit,  ut,  novus  Ulysses,  omnia  ubique  ab  omnibus  apprehend- 
eret: 

Polyglotto,  in  cujus  ore  linguae  jam  deperditae  sic  reviviscunt 
ut  idiomata  omnia  sint  in  ejus  laudibus  infacunda ;  et  jure  ea  per- 
callet  ut  admirationes  et  plausus  populorum  ab  propria  sapientia 
excitatos  intelligat : 

<^ ____ L^. ^ 


^ -{jp 

574  LATIN  POEMS. 

Illi,  cujus  animi  dotes  corporisque  sensus  ad  admirationem  com- 
movent,  et  per  ipsam  motumcuiqueauferunt;  cujus  opera  ad  plausus 
hortantur,  sed  venustate  vocem  laudatoribus  adimunt: 

Cui  in  Memoria  totus  orbis  ;  in  Intellectu  sapientia;  in  Voluntate 
ardor  gloriae  ;  in  Ore  eloquentia  ;  harmonicos  caelestium  sphcaerarum 
sonitus  Astronornia  duce  audienti ;  characteres  mirabilium  Naturse 
per  quos  Dei  magnitudo  describitur  magistra  Philosophia  legenti ; 
antiquitatum  latebras,  vetustatis  excidia.eruditionis  ambages,  comite 
assidua  Autorum  lectione.  'exquirenti,  restauranti,  percurrcnti ' 

(At  cur  nitor  in  arduum  ?) : 
Illi  in  cujus  virtutibus  evulgandis  ora  Fama;  non   sufficiant,    nee 
hominum  stupor  in  laudandis  satis  est,  Reverentiae  et  Amoris  ergo 
hoc  jjus  mentis  debitum  admirationis  tributum  offert 

Carolus  Datus,  Patricius  Florentinus, 
Tanto  homini  servus,  tanta;  virtutis  amator. 

ELEGIARUM    LIBER. 

ELEGIA  PRIMA. 
Ad  Carolum  Diodatum. 
Taxdem,  chare,  tuae  mihi  pervenere  tabellae, 

Pertulit  et  voces  nuncia  charta  tuas; 
Pertulit  occidua  Dev£e  Cestrensis  ab  ora 

Vergivium  prono  qua  petit  amne  salum. 
Multum,  crede,  juvat  terras  aluisse  remotas 

Pectus  amans  nostri,  tamque  fidele  caput, 
Quodque  mihi  lepidum  tellus  longinqua  sodalem 

Debet,  at  unde  brevi  reddere  jussa  velit 
Me  tenet  urbs  reflua  quam  Thamesis  alluit  unda, 

Mcque  ncc  invitum  patria  dulcis  habct. 
Jam  nee  arundiferum  mihi  cura  reviserc  Camum, 

Nee  dudum  vetiti  me  laris  angit  amor. 
Nuda  nee  arva  placent,  umbrasque  negantia  molles  ; 

Quam  male  Phoebicolis  convenit  ille  locus ! 
Nee  duri  libet  usque  minas  perferre  Magistri, 

Caeteraque  ingenio  non  subeunda  meo. 

^ ^ 


a ^ ~^ 

LATIN  POEMS.  575 

Si  sit  hoc  exilium,  patrios  adiisse  penates, 

Et  vacuum  curis  otia  grata  sequi, 
Non  ego  vel  profugi  nomen  sortemve  recuso, 

Laetus  et  exilii  conditione  fruor. 
O  utinam  vates  nunquam  graviora  tulisset 

Ille  Tomitano  flebilis  exul  agro ; 
Non  tunc  lonio  quicquam  cessisset  Homero, 

Neve  foret  victo  laus  tibi  prima,  Maro. 
Tempora  nam  licet  hie  placidis  dare  hbera  Musis, 

Et  totum  rapiunt  me,  mea  vita,  libri. 
Exclpit  hinc  fessum  sinuosi  pompa  theatri, 

Et  vocat  ad  plausus  garrula  scena  suos. 
Seu  catus  auditur  senior,  seu  prodigus  haeres, 

Seu  procus,  aut  posita  casside  miles  adest, 
Sive  decennali  fcecundus  lite  patronus 

Detonat  inculto  barbara  verba  foro  ; 
Sa;pe  vafer  gnato  succurrit  servus  amanti, 

Et  nasum  rigidi  fallit  ubique  patris; 
Ssepe  novos  illic  virgo  mirata  calorcs 

Quid  sit  amor  nescit,  dum  quoque  nescit  amat  % 
Sive  cruentatum  furiosa  Tragcedia  sceptrum 

Quassat,  et  effusis  crinibus  ora  rotat; 
Et  dolet,  et  specto,  juvat  et  spectasse  dolendo  ; 

Interdum  et  lacrymis  dulcis  amaror  inest: 
Seu  puer  infelix  indelibata  reliquit 

Gaudia,  et  abrupto  flendus  amore  cadit ; 
Seu  ferus  e  tenebris  iterat  Styga  criminis  ultor, 
•  Conscia  funereo  pectora  torre  movens  ; 
Seu  moeret  Pelopeia  domus,  seu  nobilis  Hi, 

Aut  luit  incestos  aula  Creontis  avos. 
Sed  neque  sub  tecto  semper  nee  in  urbe  latemus, 

Irrita  nee  nobis  tem.pora  veris  eunt. 
Nos  quoque  lucus  habet  vicina  consitus  ulmo, 

Atque  suburbani  nobilis  umbra  loci. 
Saepius  hie,  blandas  spirantia  sidera  flammas, 

Virgineos  videas  preeteriisse  choros. 
Ah  quoties  dignae  stupui  miracula  formae 

Quae  possit  senium  vel  reparare  Jovis  1 


^ 


^ ^ ■ Q, 

576  LATIN  POEMS. 

Ah  quoties  vidi  superantia  lumina  gemmas, 

Atque  faces  quotquot  volvit  uterque  polus  ; 
Collaque  bis  vivi  Pelopis  quse  brachia  vincant, 

Quaeque  fliut  puro  nectare  tincta  via, 
Et  decus  eximium  frontis,  trcmulosque  capillos, 

Aurea  quse  fallax  retia  tendit  Amor; 
Pellacesque  gcnas,  ad  quas  hyacinthina  sordet 

Purpura,  et  ipse  tui  floris,  Adoni,  rubor! 
Cedite  laudatse  toties  Heroides  olim, 

Et  quaecunque  vagum  cepit  arnica  Jovem  ; 
Cedite  Achaemeni£e  turrita  fronte  puellae, 

Et  quot  Susa  colunt,  Memnoniamque  Ninon; 
Vos  etiam  Danaae  fasces  submittite  Nymphae, 

Et  vos  Iliacae,  Romuleaeque  nurus  ; 
Nee  Pompeianas  Tarpeia  Musa  columnas 

Jactet,  et  Ausoniis  plena  theatra  stolis. 
Gloria  virginibus  debetur  prima  Britannis  ; 

Extera  sat  tibi  sit  foemina  posse  scqui. 
Tuque  urbs  Dardaniis,  Londinum,  structa  colonis, 

Turrigerum  late  conspicienda  caput, 
Tu  nimium  felix  intra  tua  moenia  claudis 

Quicquid  formosi  pendulus  orbis  habet. 
Non  tibi  tot  caelo  scintillant  astra  screno, 

Endymioneae  turba  ministra  deae, 
Quot  tibi  conspicuae  formaque  auroque  puellas 

Per  medias  radiant  turba  videnda  vias. 
Creditur  hue  geminis  venisse  invecta  columbis 

Alma  pharctrigero  milite  cincta  Venus, 
Huic  Cnidon,  et  riguas  Simoentis  flumine  valles, 

Huic  Paphon,  et  roseam  posthabitura  Cypron. 
Ast  ego,  dum  pueri  sinit  indulgentia  caeci, 

Mcenia  quam  subito  linquere  fausta  paro  ; 
Et  vitare  procul  malefidse  infamia  Circes 

Atria,  divini  Molyos  usus  ope. 
Stat  quoque  juncosas  Cami  remeare  paludes, 

Atque  iterum  raucae  murmur  adire  Scholae. 
Interea  fidi  parvuni  cape  munus  amici, 

Paucaque  in  altcrnos  verba  coacta  modes. 

^ — ^ 


i> 


LATIN  POEMS.  577 

ELEGIA  SECUNDA. 

Anno  ataiis  17. 

In  obitum  Pr.ecoms  Academici  Cantabrigiensis. 

Te,  qui  conspicuus  baculo  fulgcnte  solebas 

Palladium  toties  ore  ciere  gregem, 
Ultima  praeconum  prseconem  te  quoque  saeva 

Mors  rapit,  officio  nee  favet  ipsa  suo. 
Candidiora  lieet  fuerint  tibi  tempora  plumis 

Sub  quibus  accipimus  delituisse  Jovem, 
O  dignus  tamen  Hsemonio  juvenescere  succo, 

Dignus  in  ^sonios  vivere  posse  dies, 
Dignus  quern  Stygiis  mcdica  revocaret  ab  undis 

Arte  Coronides,  saspe  rogante  dea. 
Tu  si  jussus  eras  acies  accire  togatas, 

Et  celer  a  Phcebo  nuntius  ire  tuo, 
Talis  in  Iliaca  stabat  Cyllenius  aula 

Alipes,  aetherca  missus  ab  arce  Patris  ; 
Talis  et  Eurybates  ante  ora  furentis  Achillei 

Rettulit  Atrida;  jussa  scvera  ducis. 
Magna  scpulchrorum  regina,  satellcs  Averni, 

Saeva  nimis  Musis,  Palladi  saeva  nimis, 
Quin  illos  rapias  qui  pondus  inutile  terrae  ? 

Turba  quidem  est  telis  ista  pctenda  tuis. 
Vestibus  hunc  igitur  pullis,  Academia,  luge, 

Et  madeant  lacrymis  nigra  feretra  tuis. 
Fundat  et  ipsa  modos  querebunda  Elegeia  tristcs, 

Personet  et  totis  naenia  moesta  scholis. 

ELEGIA  TERTIA. 

Anno  ataiis  1 7. 

In  obitum  Pr.esulis  Wintoniensis. 

McESTUS  eram,  et  tacitus,  nullo  comitante,  sedebam, 

Haerebantque  animo  tristia  plura  meo  : 
Protinus  en  subiit  funestae  cladis  imago 

Fecit  in  Angliaco  quam  Libitina  solo ; 

37 

(^ . .    (^ 


<b 


578  LATIN  POEMS. 

Dum  procerum  ingressa  est  splendentes  marmorc  turrcs 

Dira  sepulchrali  Mors  metuenda  face, 
Pulsavitque  auro  gravidos  et  jaspide  muros, 

Nee  metuit  satrapum  sternere  falce  gregcs. 
Tunc  memini  clarique  ducis,  fratrisque  verendi, 

Intempestivis  ossa  cremata  rogis  ; 
Et  memini  Heroum  quos  vidit  ad  Kthera  raptos, 

Flevit  et  amissos  Bclgia  tota  duces. 
At  te  praecipue  luxi,  dignissime  Pra^sul, 

Wintonia^que  olim  gloria  magna  tuae ; 
Delicui  fletu,  et  tristi  sic  ore  querebar  : 

"  Mors  fera,  Tartareo  diva  secunda  Jovi, 
Nonnc  satis  quod  syh'a  tuas  persentiat  iras, 

Et  quod  in  hcrbosos  jus  tibi  detur  agros, 
Quodque  afflata  tuo  marcescant  lilia  tabo, 

Et  crocus,  et  pulchrae  Cypridi  sacra  rosa  ? 
Nee  sinis  ut  semper  fluvio  contermina  quercus 

Miretur  lapsus  praetereuntis  aqua; ; 
Et  tibi  succumbit  liquido  quae  plurima  caelo 

Evehitur  pennis,  quamlibet  augur,  avis, 
Et  quae  mille  nigris  errant  animalia  sylvis, 

Et  quod  alunt  mutum  Proteos  antra  pecus. 
Invida,  tanta  tibi  cum  sit  concessa  potestas. 

Quid  juvat  humana  tingere  caede  manus  ? 
Nobileque  in  pectus  ccrtas  acuisse  sagittas, 

Semideamque  animam  sede  fugasse  sua?" 
Talia  dum  lacrymans  alto  sub  pectore  volvo, 

Roscidus  occiduis  Hesperus  exit  aquis, 
Et  Tartessiaco  submerserat  a^quore  currum 

Phoebus,  ab  E60  littore  mensus  iter. 
Nee  mora  ;  membra  cavo  posui  refovenda  cubili  ; 

Condiderant  oculos  noxque  soporque  meos, 
Cum  mihi  visus  eram  lato  spatiarier  agro  ; 

Hcu  !  nequit  ingenium  visa  referie  meum. 
Illie  punicea  radiabant  omnia  luce, 

Ut  matutino  cum  juga  sole  rubent; 


^ 


^ 


' -^ 

LATIN  POEMS.  579 

Ac  veluti  cum  pandit  opes  Thaumantia  proles 

Vestitu  nituit  multicolore  solum  ; 
Non  dea  tam  variis  ornavit  floribus  hortos 

Alcinoi  Zephyro  Chloris  amata  levi. 
Flumina  vernantes  lambunt  argentea  campos  ; 

Ditior  Hesperio  flavet  arena  Tago  ; 
Serpit  odoriferas  per  opes  levis  aura  Favoni, 

Aura  sub  innumeris  humida  nata  rosis  : 
Talis  in  extremis  terrai  Gangetidis  oris 

Luciferi  regis  fingitur  esse  domus. 
Ipse  racemiferis  dum  densas  vitibus  umbras 

Et  pellucentes  miror  ubique  locos, 
Ecce  mihi  subito  Pr^esul  Wintonius  astat ! 

Sidereum  nitido  fulsit  in  ore  jubar; 
Vestis  ad  auratos  dcfluxit  Candida  talos; 

Infula  divinum  cinexerat  alba  caput. 
Dumque  senex  tali  incedit  venerandus  amictu, 

Intremuit  la;to  florca  terra  sono  ; 
Agmina  gemmatis  plaudunt  cslestia  pcnnis  ; 

Pura  triumphali  personat  sethra  tuba. 
Quisque  novum  amplexu  comitem  cantuque  salutat, 

Hosque  aliquis  placido  misitab  ore  sonos  : 
"  Nate,  veni,  et  patrii  fclix  cape  gaudia  regni ; 

Semper  abhinc  duro,  nate,  labore  vaca." 
Dixit,  et  aligerje  tetigerunt  nablia  turmai  ; 
At  mihi  cum  tenebris  aurea  pulsa  quies  ; 
Flebam  turbatos  Cephaleia  pellice  somnos. 
Talia  contingant  somnia  sa^pe  mihi ! 

ELEGIA  OUARTA. 

A7ino  cc tails  i  S. 

Ad  THOMAM  JUNTUM,  Pr^ceptorem  suum,  apud  Mercatores 

Anglicos  Hamburg.e  agentes  Pastoris  munere  fungentem. 

CuRRE  per  immensum  subito,  mea  littera,  pontum  ; 

I,  pete  Teutonicos  lasve  per  aequor  agros  ; 

"" \ — ^ 


^ -Qp 

580  LATIN  POEMS. 

Segnes  rumpe  moras,  et  nil,  precor,  obstet  eunti, 

Et  festinantis  nil  remoretur  iter.  , 

Ipse  ego  Sicanio  frc-enantem  carcere  ventos 

iEolon,  et  virides  sollicitabo  Deos, 
Cseruleamque  suis  comitatam  Dorida  Nymphis, 

Ut  tibi  dent  placidam  per  sua  rcgna  viam 
At  tu,  si  poteris,  celercs  tibi  sume  jiigales, 
Vecta  quibus  Colchis  fugit  ab  ore  viri  ; 
Aut  queis  Triptolemus  Scythicas  devenit  in  oras, 

Gratus  Eleusina  missus  ab  urbe  puer. 
Atque,  ubi  Germanas  flavere  videbis  arenas, 

Ditis  ad  Hamburgse  mcenia  flecte  gradum, 
Dicitur  occiso  quae  ducere  nomen  ab  Hama. 

Cimbrica  quern  fertur  clava  dedisse  neci. 
Vivit  ibi  antiquae  clarus  pietatis  honore 

Praesul,  Christicholas  pascere  doctus  oves  ; 
Ille  quidem  est  animae  plusquam  pars  altera  nostras ; 

Dimidio  vitas  vivere  cogor  ego. 
Hei  mihi,  quot  pelagi,  quot  montes  interjecti, 

Me  faciunt  alia  parte  carere  mei ! 
Charior  ille  mihi  quam  tu,  doctissime  Graium, 

Cliniadi,  proncpos  qui  Telamonis  crat; 
Quamque  Stagirites  generoso  magnus  alumno. 

Quern  peperit  Lybico  Chaonis  alma  Jovi, 
Qualis  Amyntorides,  qualis  Philyreius  Heros 

Myrmidonum  regi,  talis  et  ille  mihi. 
Primus  ego  Aonios  illo  praeeunte  recessus 

Lustrabam,  et  bifidi  sacra  vireta  jugi, 
Pieriosque  hausi  latices,  Clioque  favente 

Castalio  sparsi  laeta  ter  ora  mero. 
Flammeus  at  signum  ter  viderat  arietis  iEthon 

Induxitque  auro  lanea  terga  novo, 
Bisque  novo  terram  sparsisti,  Chlori,  senilem 
Graminc,  bisque  tuas  abstulit  Auster  opes  ; 
Necdum  ejus  licuit  mihi  lumina  pascere  vultu, 
Aut  linguae  dukes  aure  bibisse  sonos. 

^ ^ 


f-^ ^ Qp 

LATIN  POEAIS,  581 

Vade  igitur,  cursuque  Eurum  praeverte  sonorum  ; 

Quam  sit  opus  monitis  res  docet,  ipsa  vides. 
Invenies  dulci  cum  conjuge  forte  sedeiiteni, 

Mulcentem  gremio  pignora  chara  suo  ; 
Forsitan  aut  veterum  praelarga  volumina  Patruni 

Versantem,  aut  veri  Biblia  sacra  Dei, 
Caelestive  animas  saturantem  rore  tencllas, 

Grande  salutiferae  religionis  opus. 
Utque  solet,  multani  sit  dicere  cura  salutem, 

Dicere  quam  decuit,  si  modo  adesset,  herum. 
Haec  quoque,  pauluin  oculos  in  humum  defixa  modestos. 

Verba  verecundo  sis  memor  ore  loqui: 
"  Haec  tibi,  si  teneris  vacat  inter  prailia  Musis, 

Mittit  ab  Angliaco  littore  fida  manus. 
Accipe  sinceram,  quamvis  sit  sera,  salutem  ; 

Fiat  et  hoc  ipso  gratior  ilia  tibi. 
Sera  quidem,  sed  vera  fuit,  quam  casta  recepit 

Icaris  a  lento  Penelopeia  viro. 
Ast  ego  quid  volui  manifestum  tollere  crimen, 

Ipse  quod  ex  omni  parte  levare  nequit? 
Arguitur  tardus  merito,  moxamque  fatetur, 

Et  pudct  officium  deseruisse  suum. 
Tu  modo  da  veniam  fasso,  veniamque  roganti-, 

Crimina  diminui  quse  patuere  solent. 
Non  ferus  in  pavidos   rictus  diducit  hiantcs, 

Vulnifico  pronos  nee  rapit  ungue  lee. 
Saepe  sarissiferi  crudelia  pectora  Thracis 
Supplicis  ad  nicestas  delicuere  preces; 
Extensaeque  manus  avertunt  fulminis  ictus, 

Placat  et  iratos  hostia  parva  Deos. 
Jamque  diu  scripsisse  tibi  fuit  impetus  illi, 
Neve  moras  ultra  ducere  passus  Amor; 
Nam  vaga  Fama  refert,  heu  nuntia  vera  malorum  ! 

In  tibi  finitimis  bella  tumere  locis, 
Teque  tuamque  urbem  truculento  milite  cingi, 
Et  jam  Saxonicos  arma  parasse  duces. 
J 

^ ^ 


<tr^ 

582  *  LATIN  POEMS. 

Te  circum  lat6  campos  populatur  Enyo, 

Et  sata  carne  virum  jam  cruor  arva  rigat. 
Germanisque  suum  concessit  Thracia  Martem; 

IIluc  Odrysios  Mars  pater  egit  equos; 
Pefpetuoque  comans  jam  deflorescit  oliv^a  ; 

Fugit  et  aerlsonam  Diva  perosa  tubam, 
Fugit,  io !  terris,  et  jam  non  ultima  Virgo 

Creditor  ad  superas  justa  volasse  domos. 
Te  tamen  interea  belli  circumsonat  horror, 

Vivis  ct  ignoto  solus  inopsque  solo  ; 
Et,  tibi  quam  patrii  non  exhibuerc  penates, 

Sede  peregrina  qu^sris  egenus  opem. 
Patria,  dura  parens,  et  saxis  ssevior  albis 

Spumea  quae  pulsat  littoris  unda  tui, 
Siccine  te  decet  innocuos  exponere  foetus, 

Siccine  in  externam  ferrea  cogis  humum, 
Et  sinis  ut  terris  qu£e:-ant  alimcnta  remotis 

Quos  tibi  prospiciens  miscrat  ipse  Deus, 
Et  qui  la^ta  fcrunt  de  cjeIo  nuntia,  quique 

Quas  via  post  cinercs  ducat  ad  astra  docent  ? 
Digna.quidcm  Stygiis  quae  vivas  clausa  tenebris, 

^Elternaque  animse  digna  perire  fame  ! 
Haud  aliter  vates  terrae  Thesbitidis  olim 

Pressit  inassucto  devia  tesqua  pede, 
Desertasque  Arabum  salebras,  dum  regis  Achabi 

Effugit,  atque  tuas,  Sidoni  dira,  manus. 
Talis  et,  horrisono  laceratus  membra  flagello, 

Paulus  ab  ^mathia  pellitur  urbe  Cilix  ; 
Piscosseque  ipsum  Gergessse  civis  Icsum 

Finibus  ingratus  jussit  abire  suis. 
At  tu  sume  animos,  nee  spes  cadat  anxia  curis, 

Nee  tua  concutiat  decolor  ossa  metus. 
Sis  etenim  quamvis  fulgentibus  obsitus  armis, 

Intententque  tibi  millia  tela  necem, 
At  nullis  vel  inerme  latus  violabitur  armis, 

Deque  tuo  cuspis  nulla  cruore  bibet. 


^ 


4 


^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  583 


Namque  eris  ipse  Dei  radiante  sub  segide  tutus  ; 

Ille  tibi  custos,  et  pugil  ille  tibi ; 
Ille  Sionasae  qui  tot  sub  maenibus  arcis 

Assyrios  fudit  noctc  silcnfe  viros  ; 
Inque  fugam  vcrtit  quos  in  Samaritidas  oras 

Mi.sit  ab  antiquis  prisca  Damascus  agris  ; 
Terruit  et  djnsas  pavido  cum  rege  cohortes, 

Acre  dum  vacuo  buccina  clara  sonat, 
Cornea  pulvereum  dum  verberat  ungula  campum, 

Currus  arenosam  dum  quatit  actus  humum, 
Auditurque  hinnitus  equorum  ad  bclla  ruentijm,  I 

Ei:  strepitus  ferri,  murmuraque  alta  virum.  I 

Et  tu  (quod  superest  miseris)  sperare  memento, 

Et  tua  magnanimo  pectore  vince  mala; 
Nee  dubites  quandoque  frui  melioribus  annis, 

Atque  iterum  patrios  posse  videre  lares." 

ELEGIA  OUINTA. 
Anno  atatis  20. 
In  AnvENTUxM  Veris. 
In  se  perpetuo  Tempus  revolubile  gyro 

Jam  revocat  Zephyros,  vere  tepente,  novos  ; 
Induiturque  brevem  Tellus  reparata  juventam, 

Jamque  soluta  gelu  dulce  virescit  humus. 
Fallor?  an  et  nobis  reduent  in  carmina  vires, 

Ingeniumque  mihi  munere  veris  adest  ? 
Munere  veris  adest,  iterumque  vigescit  ab  illo 

(Quis  putet?)  atque  aliquod  jam  sibi  poscit  opus. 
Castalis  ante  oculos,  bifidumque  cacumen  oberrat, 

Et  mihi  Pircncn  somnia  nocte  fcrunt ; 
Concitaque  arcano  fervent  mihi  pectora  motu, 

Et  furor,  et  sonitus  me  sacer  intus  agit. 
Delius  ipse  vcnit  (video  Peneide  lauro 

Implicitos  crines),  Delius  ipse  venit. 
Jam  mihi  mens  liquidi  raptatur  in  ardua  caeli, 

Perque  vagas  nubes  corpore  liber  eo  ; 


^ 


^ 


^ 


584  LATIN  POEMS. 

Perque  umbras,  perque  antra  feror,  penetralia  vatu.ii ; 

Et  mihi  fana  patent  interora  Deum  ; 
Intuiturque  animus  toto  quid  agatur  Olympo, 

Nee  fugiunt  oculos  Tartara  ca^ca  meos. 
Quid  tarn  grande  sonat  distento  spiritus  ore  ? 

Quid  parit  hsec  rabies,  quid  sacer  iste  furor  ? 
Ver  mihi,  quod  dedit  ingenium,  cantabitur  illo  ; 

Profuerint  isto  reddita  dona  modo. 
Jam,  Philomela,  tuos,  foliis  adoperta  novellis, 

Instituis  modulos,  dum  silet  omne  nemus  : 
Urbe  ego,  tu  sylva,  simul  incipiamus  utrique, 

Et  simul  adventum  veris  uterque  canat. 
Veris,  io  !  rediere  vices  ;  celebremus  honores 

Veris,  et  hoc  subeat  Musa  perennis  opus. 
Jam  sol,  /Ethiopas  fugiens  Tithoniaque  arva, 

Flectit  ad  Arctoas  aurea  lora  plagas. 
Est  breve  noctis  iter,  brevis  est  mora  noctis  opacje, 

Horrida  cum  tenebris  exulat  ilia  suis. 
Jamque  Lycaonius  plaustrum  caeleste  Bootes 

Non  longa  sequitur  fessus  ut  ante  via; 
Nunc  etiam  solitas  circum  Jovis  atria  toto 

Excubias  agitant  sidera  rara  polo. 
Nam  dolus,  et  cjedes,  et  vis  cum  nocte  recessit. 

Neve  Giganteum  Dii  timuere  scelus. 
Forte  aliquis  scopuli  recubans  in  vertice  pastor, 

Roscida  cum  primo  solo  rubescit  humus, 
"  Hac,"  ait  "  hac  certe  caruisti  nocte  puella, 

Phoebe,  tua,  celeres  quae  retineret  cquos." 
Laeta  suas  repetit  sylvas,  pharetramque  resumit 

Cynthia  luciferas  ut  videt  alta  rotas, 
Et,  tenues  ponens  radios,  gaudere  videtur 

Officium  fieri  tarn  breve  fratris  ope. 
"  Desere,"  Phoebus  ait,  *'  thalamos,  Aurora,  seniles  ; 

Quid  juvat  effoeto  procubisse  toro  ? 
Te  manet  yEolides  viridi  venator  in  herba  ; 

Surge  ;  tuos  igncs  altus  Hymcttus  habet." 


4> 


t 


■^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  585 

Flava  verecundo  dea  crimen  in  ore  fatetur, 

Et  matutinos  ocius  urget  equos. 
Exuit  invisam  Tellus  rediviva  senectam, 

Et  cupit  amplexus,  Phoebe,  subire  tuos. 
Et  cupit,  et  digna  est;  quid  enim  formosius  ilia. 

Pandit  ut  omniferos  luxuriosa  sinus, 
Atque  Arabum  spirat  messes,  et  ab  ore  venusto 

Mitia  cum  Paphiis  fundit  amoma  rosis  ? 
Ecce,  coronatur  sacro  frons  ardua  luco, 

Cingit  ut  Idaeam  pinea  turris  Opim  ; 
Et  vario  madidos  intexit  flore  capillos, 

Floribus  et  visa  est  posse  placere  suis. 
Floribus  effuses  ut  erat  redimita  capillos, 

Tainario  placuit  diva  Sicana  Deo. 
Aspice,  Phoebe ;  tibi  faciles  hortantur  amores, 

Mellitasque  movent  flamina  verna  preces  ; 
Cinnamea  Zephyrus  leve  plaudit  odorifer  ala; 

Blanditiasque  tibi  ferre  videntur  aves. 
Nee  sine  dote  tuos  temeraria  quaerit  amores 

Terra,  nee  optatos  poscit  egena  toros  ; 
Alma  salutiferum  medicos  tibi  gramem  in  usus 

Praebet,  et  hinc  titulos  adjuvat  ipsa  tuos. 
Quod  si  te  pretium,  si  te  fulgentia  tangunt 

Munera  (muneribus  saspe  coemptus  amor), 
Ilia  tibi  ostentat  quascunque  sub  ^equore  vasto, 

Et  superinjectis  montibus,  abdit  opes. 
Ah  !  quoties,  cum  tu  clivoso  fessus  Olympo 

In  vespertinas  praecipitaris  aquas, 
"  Cur  te,"  inquit,  "  cursu  languentem,  Phoebe,  diurno 

Hesperiis  recipit  caerula  mater  aquis  ? 
Quid  tibi  cum  Tethy  ?  quid  cum  Tartesside  lympha  ? 

Dia  quid  immundo  perluis  ora  sale? 
Frigora,  Phoebe,  mea  melius  captabis  in  umbra ; 

Hue  a  des  ;  ardentes  imbue  rore  comas. 
Mollior  egelida  veniet  tibi  somnus  in  herba; 

Hue  ades,  et  gremio  luinina  pone  meo. 


^ 

586  LATIN  POEMS. 

Ouaque  jaces  circum  mulcebit  lene  susurrans 

Aura  per  humentes  corpora  fusa  rosas. 
Nee  me  (crede  mihi)  terrent  Semeleia  fata, 

Nee  Phaetonteo  fumidus  axis  equo ; 
Cum  tu,  Phoebe,  tuo  sapientius  uteris  igni, 

Hue  ades,  et  gremio  lumina  pone  meo." 
Sic  Tellus  lasciva  suos  suspirat  amores ; 

Matris  in  exemplum  csetera  turba  ruunt. 
Nunc  etenim  toto  currit  vagus  orbe  Cupido, 

Languentesque  fovet  solis  ab  igne  faces. 
Insonuere  novis  lethalia  cornua  nervis, 

Triste  micant  ferre  tela  corusca  novo. 
Jamque  vel  invictam  tentat  superasse  Dianam, 

Quaeque  sedet  sacro  Vesta  pudica  foco. 
Ipsa  senescentem  reparat  Venus  annua  formam, 

Atque  iterum  tepido  creditur  orta  mari. 
Marmoreas  juvenes  clamant  Hyvicmve  per  urbes  ; 

Littus  io  Hymen  et  cava  saxa  sonant. 
Cultior  ille  venit,  tunicaque  decentior  apta ; 

Puniceum  redolet  vestis  odora  crocum. 
Egrediturque  frequens  ad  amoeni  gaudia  veris 

Virgineos  auro  cincta  puella  sinus. 
Votum  est  cuique  suum  ;  votum  est  tamen  omnibus  unum, 

Ut  sibi  quem  cupiat  det  Cytherea  virum. 
Nunc  quoque  septena  modulatur  arundine  pastor, 

Et  sua  qu^e  jungat  carmina  Phyllis  habet. 
Navita  nocturno  placat  sua  sidera  cantu, 

Delphinasque  leves  ad  vada  summa  vocat. 
Jupiter  ipse  alto  cum  conjuge  ludit  Olympo, 

Convocat  et  famulos  ad  sua  festa  Deos. 
Nunc  etiam  Satyri,  cum  sera  crepuscula  surgunt, 

Pervolitant  celeri  florea  rura  choro, 
Sylvanusque  sua  cyparissi  fronde  revinctus,        * 

Semicaperque  Deus,  semideusque  caper. 
Quaeque  sub  arboribus  Dryades  latuere  vetustis 

Per  juga,  per  solos  expatiantur  agros. 

4>- ^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  587 

Per  sata  luxuriat  fruticetaque  Maenalius  Pan; 

Vix  Cybele  mater,  vix  sibi  tuta  Ceres  ; 
Atque  aliquam  cupidus  praedatur  Oreada  Faunus, 

Consulit  in  trcpidos  dum  sibi  nympha  pedes, 
Jamque  latet,  latitansque  cupit  male  tecta  videri, 

Et  fugit,  et  fugicns  pcrvelit  ipsa  capi. 
Dii  quoque  non  dubitant  caelo  praeponere  sylvas, 

Et  sua  quisque  sibi  numina  lucus  habet. 
Et  sua  quisque  diu  sibi  numina  lucus  habeto, 

Nee  vos  arborea,  dii,  precor,  ite  domo. 
Te  referant,  miseris  to,  Jupiter,  aurea  terris 

Ssecia!  quid  ad  nimbos,  aspera  tela  redis? 
Tu  saltern  lente  rapidos  age,  Phoebe,  jugales  * 

Qua  potes,  et  scnsim  tempera  vcris  cant: 
Brumaque  productas  tarde  fcrat  hispida  noctes, 

Ingruat  et  nostro  serior  umbra  polo ! 

ELEGIA  SEXTA. 
AD  CAROLUM  DIODATUM,  ruri  commorantem  ; 

Qui,  cum  Idibus  Decemb.  scripsisset,  et  sua  carmina  excusari  postulasset  si  solito  minus 
essent  bona,  quod  inter  lautitias  quibus  erat  ab  amicis  exceptus  hand  satis  felicem  operam 
Musis  dare  se  posse  affirmabat,  l.oc  habuit  responsum. 

MiTTO  tibi  sanam  non  pleno  ventere  salutem, 

Qua  tu  distento  forte  carere  potes. 
At  tua  quid  nostram  prolectat  Musa  camoenam. 

Nee  sinit  optatas  posse  sequi  tenebras  ? 
Carmine  scire  velis  quam  te  redamemque  colamque  ; 

Crede  mihi  vix  hoc  carmine  scire  queas. 
Nam  neque  noster  amor  modulis  includitur  arctis, 

Nee  venit  ad  claudos  integer  ipse  pedes. 
Quam  bene  solennes  cpulas,  hilaremque  Decembrim, 

Festaque  caelifugam  quae  coluere  Deum, 
Deliciasque  refers,  hiberni  gaudia  ruris, 

Haustaque  per  lepidos  Gallica  musta  focos  ! 
Quid  quereris  refugam  vino  dapibusque  poesin  ? 

Carmen  amat  Bacchum,  carmina  Bacchus  amat. 

I 

4- ^ 


<b 


588  LATIN- POEMS. 

Nee  puduit  Phoebum  virides  gestasse  corymbos, 

Atque  hederam  lauro  prseposuisse  suae. 
Sa;pius  Aoniis  clamavit  collibus  Eiice 

Mista  Thyoneo  turba  novena  choro. 
Naso  Corallseis  mala  carmina  misit  ab  agris  ; 

Non  illic  epul^,  non  sata  vitis  erat. 
Quid  nisi  vina,  rosasque,  racemiferuinque  Lya^um, 

Cantavit  brevibus  Teia  Musa  modis? 
Pindaricosque  inflat  numeros  Teumesius  Euan, 

F^t  rcdolct  sumptum  pagina  quseque  merum  ; 
Dum  gravis  cverso  currus  crepat  axe  supinus, 

Et  volat  Eleo  pulvcre  fuscus  eques. 
Quadrimoque  madens   Lyricen  Romanus  laccho 

Duke  canit  Glyceran  flavicomamque  Chloen. 
Jam  quoque  lauta  tibi  generoso  mensa  paratu 

Mentis  alit  vires,  ingeni unique  fovct. 
Massica  foecundam  despumant  pocula  venam, 

Fundis  et  ex  ipso  condita  metra  cado. 
Addimus  his  artes,  fusumque  per  intima  Phoebum 

Corda;  favent  uni  Bacchus,  AppoUo,  Ceres. 
Scilicet  haud  mirumtam  dulcia  carmina  per  te, 

Numine  composito,  tres  peperissj  Deos. 
Nunc  quoque  Thressa  tibi  caelato  barbitos  auro 

Insonat  arguta  molliter  icta  manu  ; 
Auditurque  chelys  suspensa  tapetia  circum, 

Virgineos  tremula  qua;  regat  arte  pedes. 
Ilia  tuas  saltern  teneant  spectacula  Musas, 

Et  revocent  quantum  crapula  pellit  iners. 
Crede  mihi,  dum  psallit  ebur,  comitataque  plectrum 

Irnplet  odoratos  festa  chorea  tholos, 
Percipies  taciturn  per  pectora  serpere  Phoebum, 

Quale  repentinus  permeat  ossa  calor; 
Perque  puellares  oculos  digitumque  sonantem 

Irruet  in  totos  lapsa  Thalia  sinus. 
Namque  Elegia  levis  multorum  cura  deorum  est, 

Et  vocat  ad  numeros  quemlibet  ilia  suos; 


%- 


4^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  589 

Liber  adest  elegis  Eratoque,  Ceresque,  Venusque, 

Et  cum  purpurea  matre  tenellus  Amor. 
Talibus  inde  licent  convivia  larga  poetis, 

Saepius  et  veteri  commaduisse  mero. 
At  qui  bella  refert,  et  adulto  sub  Jove  caelum, 

Heroasque  pios,  semideosque  duces, 
Et  nunc  sancta  canit  superum  consulta  deorum, 

Nunc  latrata  fero  regna  profunda  cane, 
Ille  quidem  parce,  Samii  pro  more  magistri, 

Vivat,  et  innocuos  praebeat  herba.cibos  ; 
Stet  prope  fagineo  pellucida  lympha  catillo, 

Sobriaque  e  puro  pocula  fonte  bibat. 
Additur  huic  scelerisque  vacans  et  casta  juventus, 

Et  rigidi  mores,  et  sine  labe  manus  ; 
Qualis  veste  nitens  sacra,  et  lustralibus  undis, 

Surgis  ad  infensos  augur  iture  Deos. 
Hoc  ritu  vixisse  ferunt  post  rapta  sagacem 

Lumina  Tiresian,  Ogygiumque  Linon, 
Et  lare  devoto  profugum  Calchanta,  senemque 

Orpheon  edomitis  sola  per  antra  feris  ; 
Sic  dapis  exiguus,  sic  rivi  potor  Homerus 

Dulichium  vexit  per  freta  longa  virum, 
Et  per  monstrificam  PerseiiE  Phoebados  aulam, 

Et  vada  foemineis  insidiosa  sonis, 
Perque  tuas,  rex  ime,  domos,  ubi  sanguine  nigro 

Dicitur   umbrarum  detinuisse  greges : 
Diis  etenim  sacer  est  vates,  divijmque  sacerdos, 

Spirat  et  occultum  pectus  et  era  Jovem. 
At  tu  si  quid  agam  scitabere  (si  modo  saltem 

Esse  putas  tanti  noscere  siquid  agam), 
Paciferum  canimus  caelesti  semine  regem, 

Faustaque  sacratis  saecula  pacta  libris; 
Vagitumque  Dei,  et  stabulantem  paupere  tecto 

Qui  suprema  suo  cum  patre  regna  colit ; 
Stelliparumque  polum,  modulantesque  aethere  turmas, 

Et  subito  elisos  ad  sua  fana  Deos. 


4 


^i^- 


<b 


590  LATIN  POEMS. 

Dona  quidem  dedimus  Christi  natalibus  ilia; 

Ilia  sub  auroram  lux  mihi  prima  tulit, 
Te  quoque  pressa  manentpatriis  meditata  cicutis  ; 

Tu  mihi,  cui  recitem,  judicis  instar  eris. 


ELEGIA  SEPTIMA. 
Anno  cetatis  undevigesimo. 

NoNDUM  blanda  tuas  leges,  Amathusia  noram, 

Et  Paphio  vacuum  pectus  ab  igne  fuit. 
Ssepe  cupidineas,  puerilia  tela,  sagittas, 

Atque  tuum  sprevi  maxim.e  numen,  Amor. 
"  Tu  puer  imbelles  "  dixi  "  transfige  columbas ; 

Conveniunt  tenero  mollia  bella  duci : 
Aut  de  passeribus  tumidos  age,  parve,  triumphos  ; 

Haec  sunt  militiae  digna  trophaea  tuae. 
In  genus  humanum  quid  inania  dirigis  arma? 

Non  valet  in  fortes  ista  pharetra  viros." 
Non  tulit  hoc  Cyprius  (neque  enim  Deus  ullus  ad  iras 

Promptior),  et  duplici  jam  ferus  igne  calet. 
Ver  erat,  et  summae  radians  per  culmina  villas 

Attulerat  primam  lux  tibi,  Maie,  diem  ; 
At  mihi  adhuc  refugam  quaerebant  lumina  noctem. 

Nee  matutinum  sustinuere  jubar. 
Astat  Amor  lecto,  pictis  Amor  impiger  alis ; 

Prodidit  astantem  mota  pharetra  Deum ; 
Prodidit  et  facies,  et  dulce  minantis  ocelli, 

Et  quicquid  puero  dignum  et  Amore  fuit. 
Talis  in  aeterno  juvenis  Sigeius  Olympo 

Miscet  amatori  pocula  plena  Jovi ; 
Aut,  qui  formosas  pellexit  ad  oscula  nymphas, 

Thiodamantaeus  Naiade  raptus  Hylas. 
Addideratque  iras,  sed  et  has  decuisse  putares  ; 

Addideratque  truces,  nee  sine  felle,  minas. 
Et  "  Miser  exemplo  sapuisses  tutius,"  inquit; 

"Nunc  mea  quid  possit  dextera  testis  eris. 


^ 


— 0^ 


^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  591 

Inter  et  expertos  vires  numerabere  nostras, 

Et  faciam  vero  per  tua  damna  fidem. 
Ipse  ego,  si  nescis,  strato  Pythone  superbum 

Edomui  Phcebum,  cessit  et  ille  mihi  ; 
Et,  quoties  meminit  Peneidos,  ipse  fatetur 

Certius  et  gravius  tela  nocere  mea. 
Me  nequit  adductum  curvare  peritius  arcum. 

Qui  post  terga  solet  vincere,  Parthus  eques  : 
Cydoniusque  mihi  cedit  venatoi,  et  ille 

Inscius  uxori  qui  necis  author  erat. 
Est  etiam  nobis  ingens  quoque  victus  Orion, 

Herculccneque  manus,  Herculeusque  comes. 
Jupiter  ipse  licet  sua  fulmina  torqueat  in  me, 

Haerebunt  lateri  spicula  nostra  Jovis. 
C^etera  qua;  dubitas  melius  mea  tela  docebunt, 

Et  tua  non  leviter  corda  petenda  mihi. 
Nee  te,  stulte,  tuas  poterunt  defendere  Musa?; 
Nee  tibi  Phoeba^us  porriget  anguis  opem." 
Dixit,  et,  aurato  quatiens  mucrone  sagittam, 

Evolat  in  tepidos  Cypridos  ille  sinus. 
At  mihi  risuro  tonuit  ferus  ore  minaci, 

Et  mihi  de  puero  non  metus  ullus  erat. 
Et  modo  qua  nostri  spatiantur  in  urbe  Quirites, 

Et  modo  villarum  proxima  rura  placent. 
Turba  frequens,  facieque  simillima  turba  dearum, 

Splendida  per  medias  itque  reditque  vias  ; 
Auctaque  luce  dies  gemino  fulgore  coruscat. 

Fallor  ?  an  et  radios  hinc  quoque  Phoebus  habet  ? 
Ha^c  ego  non  fugi  spectacula  grata  severus. 

Impetus  et  quo  me  fert  juvenilis  agor; 
Lumina  luminibus  male  providus  obvia  misi. 

Neve  oculos  potui  continuisse  meos. 
Unam  forte  aliis  supereminuisse  notabam  ; 

Principium  nostri  lux  erat  ilia  mali. 
Sic  Venus  optaret  mortalibus  ipsa  videri. 
Sic  regina  Deiam  conspicienda  fuit. 


^ 


4 


^ 


<b 


592  LATIN  POEMS. 

Hanc  memor  objecit  nobis  malus  illc  Cupido, 

Solus  et  hos  nobis  texuit  ante  dolos. 
Nee  procul  ipse  vafer  latuit,  multaeque  sagittal, 

Et  facis  a  tergo  grande  pependit  onus. 
Nee  mora;  nunc  ciliis  haesit,  nunc  virginis  ori, 

Insilit  hinc  labiis,  insidet  inde  genis  ; 
Et  quascunque  agilis  partes  jaculator  oberrat, 

Hei  mihi !  mille  locis  pectus  inerme  ferit. 
Protinus  insoliti  subierunt  corda  fuerores  ; 

Uror  amans  intus,  flammaque  totus  eram. 
Interea  misero  quae  jam  mihi  sola  placebat 

Ablata  est,  oculis  non  rcditura  meis; 
Ast  ego  progredior  tacite  querebundus,  et  excors, 

Et  dubius  volui  saepe  referre  pedem. 
Findor  ;  et  haec  remanet,  sequitur  pars  altera  votum 

Raptaque  tam  subito  gaudia  flere  juvat 
Sic  dolet  amissum  proles  Junonia  caslum, 

Inter  Lemniacos  pi  secipitata  focos ; 
Talis  et  abreptum  soleni  rcspexit  ad  Orcum 

Vectus  ab  attonitis  Amphiaraus  cquis. 
Quid  faciam  infelix,  et  lu  tu  victus  ?   Amores 

Nee  licet  inceptos  ponere,  neve  sequi. 
O  utinam  spectare  semel  mihi  detur  amatos 

Vultus,  et  coram  tristia  verba  loqui  ! 
Forsitan  et  duro  non  est  adamante  creata, 

Forte  nee  ad  nostras  surdeat  ilia  preces  ! 
Crede  mihi,  nullus  sic  infeliciter  arsit ; 

Ponar  in  exemplo  primus  et  unus  ego. 
Parce,  precor,  teneri  cum  sis  Deus  ales  amoris; 

Puencnt  officio  nee  tua  facta  tuo. 
Jam  tuus  O  certe  est  mihi  formidabilis  arcus, 

Nate  dea,  jaculis  nee  minus  igne  potens  : 
Et  tua  fumabunt  nostris  altaria  donis, 

Solus  et  in  Superis  tu  mihi  summus  eris. 
Deme  meos  tandem,  verum  nee  deme,  furores  ; 

Nescio  cur,  miser  est  suaviter  omnis  amans  : 


^ 


-^ 


a — ^ 

LATIN  POEMS.  593 

Tu  modo  da  facilis,  posthaec  mea  siqua  futura  est, 
Cuspis  amaturos  figat  ut  una  duos. 

H(2C  ego  mente  olim  Iccvd  stndioqiie  supino, 

Neguiiics  posui  vana  troplicea  inccB. 
Scilicet  abreptum  sic  me  mains  ivipiilit  error, 

Indocilisqiie  cBtas  prava  magistra  fuit ; 
Donee  Socraticos  7imbrosa  Acadeviia  rivos 

PrcBbuit,  adinissiim  dedocuiique  jvg  inn. 
Protinus,  extinctis  ex  illo  tempore  flaininis, 

Cineta  rigent  imdto  pec  torn  nostra  gelii ; 
Unde  suis  frigus  metuit  puer  ipse  sagittis, 

Et  Diomedeam  vim  timet  ipsa  Venus. 

[EPTGRAMMATA.] 

IN    PRODITIONEM    BOMDARDICAM. 

Cum  simul  in  regem  nuper  satrapasquc  Britannos 

Ausus  es  infandum,  perfide  Fauxc,  ncfas, 
Fallor?  an  et  mitis  voluisti  ex  parte  vidcri, 

Et  pensare  mala  cum  pietate  seel  us  ? 
Scilicet  hos  alti  missurus  ad  atria  casli, 

Sulphureo  curru  flammivolisque  rotis; 
Qualiter  ille,  feris  caput  inviolabile  Parcis, 

Liquit  lordanios  turbine  raptus  agros. 

IN    EANDEM. 

SicciNE  tentasti  cselo  donasse  lacobum, 

Quae  septemgemino  Bellua  monte  lates? 
Ni  meliora  tuum  poterit  darQ  munera  numen, 

Parce,  precor,  donis  insidiosa  tuis. 
Ille  quidem  sine  te  consortia  serus  adivit 

Astra,  nee  inferni  pulveris  usus  ope. 
Sic  potius  foedos  in  caelum  pelle  cucullos, 

Et  quot  habet  brutos  Roma  profana  Decs  : 
Namque  hac  aut  alia  nisi  quemque  adjuveris  arte, 

Crede  mihi,  caeli  vix  bene  scandet  iter. 

38 

^ ^ 


594 


LATIN  POEMS. 

IN    EANDEM, 

PuRGATOREM  animne  deiisit  lacobus  igncm, 

Et  sine  quo  superum  non  adeunda  domus. 
Frenduit  hoc  trina  monstrum  Latiale  corona, 

Movit  et  horrificum  cornua  dena  minax. 
Et  "  Nee  inultus"  ait  "  temnes  mea  sacra,  Britanne  ; 

Supplicium  spreta  religione  dabis  ; 
Et,  si  stelligcras  unquam  penetraveris  arces, 

Non  nisi  per  flammas  triste  patebit  iter." 
O  quam  funesto  cecinisti  proxima  vcro, 

Verbaque  pondcribus  vix  caritura  suis  ! 
Nam  prope  Tartareo  sublime  rotatus  ab  igni 

Ibat  ad  aethcreas,  umbra  perusta,  plagas. 

IN  EANDEM. 

QuEM  modo  Roma  suis  devovcrat  impia  diris, 
Et  Styge  damnarat,  Tsenarioquc  sinu, 

Hunc,  vice  mutata  jam  tollcre  gcstit  ad  astra, 
Et  cupit  ad  superos  cvehcre  usque  Dcos. 

IN    INVENTOREM    BOMBARD^E. 

Lapetionidem  laudavit  csca   vetustas. 

Qui  tulit  ajthercam  solis  ab  axe  facem  ; 
At  mihi  majar  erit  qui  lurida  creditur  arma 

Et  trifidum  fulmen  surripuisse  Jovi. 

AD  LEONORAM   ROM/E  canentem. 
Angelus  unicuique  suus  (sic  credite,  gentes) 

Obtigit  aethcreis  ales  ab  ordinibus. 
Quid  mirum,.  Leonora,  tibi  si  gloria  major? 

Nam  tua  prsesentem  vox  sonat  ipsa  Deum. 
Aut  Deus,  aut  vacui  certe  mens  tertia  ca^li, 

Per  tua  secreto  guttura  serpit  agens  ; 
Serpit  agens,  facilisque  docet  mortalia  corda 

Sensim  immortali  assuescere  posse  sono. 
Qu6d,  si  cuncta  quidem  Deus  est,  per  cunctaque  fusus, 

In  te  una  loquitur,  ca^tera  mutus  habet. 


■> 


.,  1 

V 

y             - 

^^^ 

LATIN  POEMS. 

595 

AD    HAND  EM. 

Altera  Torquatuni  cepit  Leonora  poetam, 

Cujus  ab  insane  cessit  amore  furens. 

Ah  miser  ille  tuo  quanto  felicius  aevo 

Perditus,  et  propter  te,  Leonora,  foret! 

' 

Et  te  Pieria  sensisset  voce  canentem 

i 

Aurea  maternas  fila  movere  lyrae! 

) 

Quamvis  DircEEO  torsisset  lumina  Pentheo 

i 

Ssevior,  aut  totus  desipuisset  iners, 

Tu  tamen  erantes  cseca  vertigine  sensus ; 

■ 

Voce  eadem  poteras  composuisse  tua  ; 

\ 
f 

Et  poteras,  aegro  spirans  sub  corde  quietem, 

I 

I 

Flexanimo  cantu  restituisse  sibi. 

AD    EANDEM, 

Credula  quid  liquidam  Sirena,  Neapoli,  jactas, 

Claraque  Parthenopes  fana  Acheloiados, 

Littoreamque  tua  defunctam  Naiada  ripa 

Corpore  Chalcidico  sacra  dedisse  rogo? 

Ilia  quidem  vivitque,  et  amoena  Tibridis  unda 

Mutavit  rauci  murmura  Pausilipi. 

Illic,  Romulidum  studiis  ornata  sccundis, 

Atque  homines  cantu  detinet  atque  Dcos. 

APOLOGUS    DE    RUSTICO   ET    HERO. 

RusTicus  ex  malo  sapidissima  poma  quotannis 

i 

Legit,  et  urbano  lecta  dedit  Domino  : 

\ 

Hie,  incredibili  fructOs  dulcedine  captus, 

Malum  ipsam  in  proprias  transtulit  areolas. 

Hactenus  ilia  ferax,  sed  longo  debilis  aevo, 

Mota  solo  assueto,  protinus  aret  iners. 

Quod  tandem  ut  patuit  Domino,  spe  lusus  inani, 

Damnavit  celeres  in  sua  damna  manus  ; 

Atque  ait,  "Heu  quanto  satius  fuit  ilia  Coloni 

(Parva  licet)  grato  dona  tulisse  animo ; 

Possem  ego  avaritiam  fifenare,  gulamque  voracem  : 

Nunc  periere  mihi  et  foetus  et  ipse  parens." 

- 

-^ 

r 

:^ 

J 

■    vj 

.i> 


•67 


^ 


/ 


596  LATIN  POEMS. 

[de  moko.] 
Galli  ex  concubitu  gravidam  tc,  Poiitia,  Mori 
Quis  bene  moratam  morigeramque  negct  ? 

AD    CHRISTINAM,   SUECORUM    REGINAM,    NOMINE    CROMWELLI. 

Bellipotens  Virgo,  Septem  regina  Trionum, 

Christina  Arctoi  lucida  Stella  poli ! 
Cernis  quas  merui  dura  sub  casside  rugas, 

Utque  senex  armis  impiger  ora  tero, 
Invia  fatorum  dum  per  vestigia  nitor, 

Exequor  et  populi  fortia  jussa  manu. 
Ast  tibi  submittit  frontem  reverentior  umbra ; 

Nee  sunt  hi  vultus  Regibus  usque  truces. 

SYLVARUM  LIBER. 

Anito  crtatis  1 7._ 
IN    OBITUM    PROCAN'CELLARII    MKDICL 

Parere  Fati  discite  legibus, 
Manusque  ParcsB  jam  date  supplices. 
Qui  pendulum  telluris  orbem 
lapeti  colitis  nepotes. 
Vos  si  relicto  Mors  vaga  Taenaro 
Semel  vocarit  flebilis,  heu  !  morar 
Tentantur  incassum  doliquc  ; 

Per  tenebras  Stygis  ire  certum  est. 
Si  destinatam  pellere  dextera 
Mortem  valeret,  non  fcrus  Hercules 
Nessi  vencnatus  cruorc 
-(Emathia  jacuisset  Q£ta ; 
Nee  fraude  turpi  Palladis  invida; 
Vidisset  occisum  Ilion  Hectora,  aut 
Quern  larva  Pelidis  peremit 
Ense  Locro,  Jove  lacrymante. 
Si  triste  Fatum  verba  Hecateia 
Fugare  possint,  Telegoni  parens 


CT 


LATIN  POEMS.  597 


Vixisset  infamis,  potentique 
yEgiali  soror  usa  virga. 
Numenque  trinum  fallere  si  queant 
Artes  mederiLum  ignotaque   gramina, 
Non  gnarus  herbarum  Machaon 
Eurypyli  cecidisset  hasta ; 
Lsesisset  et  ncc  te,  Philyreie, 
Sagitta  Echidnas  perlita  sanguine  ; 
Nee  tela  te  fulmenque  avitum, 
Ca3se  pucr  genetricis  alvo. 
Tuque,  O  alumno  major  Apolline, 
Gentis  togatas  cui  regimen  datum, 
.     Frondosa  quern  nunc  Cirrha  luget, 

Et  mediis  Helicon  in  undis, 
Jam  pr^efuisses  Palladio  gregi 
Laetus  superstes,  nee  sine  gloria  ; 
Nee   puppe  lustrasses  Charontis 
Horribiles  barathri  recessus. 
At  fila  rupit  Persephone  tua, 
Irata  cum  te  viderit  artibus 
Succoque  pollcnti  tot  atris 
Faucibus  eripuisse  Mortis. 
Colende  Prases,  membra  precor  tua 
Molli  quiescant  cespite,  et  ex  tuo 
Crescant  rosa3  calthaeque  busto, 
Purpureoque  hyacinthus  ore. 
Sit  mite  de  te  judicium  ^aci, 
Subrideatque  ^tuEea  Proserpina, 
Interque  felices  perennis 
Elysio  spatiere  campo  ! 

IN    OUIxXTUM    NOVEMBRIS. 
Anno  atatis  17, 
Jam  pius  extrema  veniens  lacobus  ab  arcto 
Teucrigenas  populos,  Liteque  patentia  regna 
Albionum  tenuit,  jamque  inviolabile  fcedus 


4^ 


\ 


f 


598  LATIN  POEMS. 

Sceptra  Caledoniis  conjunxerat  Anglica  Scotis: 
Pacificusque  novo,  felix  divesque,  scdebat 
In  solio,  occultique  doli  securus  et  hostis  : 
Cum  ferus  ignifluo  regnans  Acherontc  tyrannus, 
Eumenidum  pater,  ZEthereo  vagus  exul  Olympo, 
Forte  per  immensum  terrarum  erraverat  orbem, 
Dinumerans  sceleris  socios,  vernasque  fideles, 
Participes  regni  post  funera  mcesta  futuros. 
Hie  tempestates  medio  ciet  aere  diras  ; 
Illic  unanimes  odium  struit  inter  amicos  : 
Armat  et  invictas  in  mutua  viscera  gentes, 
Regnaque  olivifera  vertit  florentia  pace  ; 
Et  quoscunque  videt  purse  virtutis  amantes, 
Hos  cupit  adjicere  imperio,  fraudumque  magister 
Tentat  inaccessum  sceleri  corrumpere  pectus; 
Insidiasque  locat  tacitas,  cassesque  latentes 
Tendit,  ut  incautos  rapiat,  ceu  Caspia  tigris 
Insequitur  trepidam  deserta  per  avia  pr^dam 
Nocte  sub  illuni,  et  somno  nictantibus  astris. 
Talibus  infestat  populos  Summanus  et  urbes, 
Cinctus  caeruleae  fumanti  turbine  flammie. 
Jamque  fluentisonis  albentia  rupibus  arva 
Apparent,  et  terra  Deo  dilecta  marine, 
Cui  nomen  dederat  quondam  Ncptunia  proles, 
Amphitryoniaden  qui  non  dubitavit  atrocem, 
^quore  tranato,  furiali  poscere  bello, 
Ante  expugnat£B  crudelia  saecula  Trojro. 

At  simul  banc  opibusque  et  festa  pace  beatam, 
Aspicit,  et  pingues  donis  Cerealibus  agros, 
Quodque  magis  doluit,  venerantem  numina  veri 
Sancta  Dei  populum  tandem  suspiria  rupit 
Tartareos  ignes  et  luridum  olentia  sulphur ; 
Qualia  Trinacria  trux  ab  Jove  clausus  in  yEtna 
Efflat  tabifico  monstrosus  ab  ore  Typhceus. 
Ignescunt  oculi,  stridetque  adamantinus  ordo 
Dentis,  ut  armorum  fragor,  ictaque  cuspidc  cuspis; 


^ 


^ . 

LATIN  POEMS.  599 

Atque  "  Pererrato  solum  hoc  lacrymabile  mundo 
Inveni  "    dixit ;  "  gens  haec  mihi  sola  rebellis, 
Contemtrixque  jugi,  nostraque  potentior  arte. 
Ilia  tamen,  mea  si  quicquam  tentamina  possunt, 
Non  feret  hoc  impune  diu,  non  ibit  inulta." 
Hactenus;  et  piceis  iiquido  natat  aere  pennis  : 
Qua  volat,  adversi  praecursant  agmine  venti, 
Densantul  nubes,  et  crebra  tonitrua  fulgent. 

Jamque  pruinosas  velox  superaverat  Alpes, 
Et  tenet  Ausoniae  fines.     A  parte  sinistra 
Nimbifer  Apcnninus  erat,  priscique  Sabini ; 
Dextra  veneficiis  infamis  Hetruria  ;  nee  non 
Te  furtiva,  Tibris,  Thetidi  videt  oscula  dantem  : 
Hinc  Mavortigenae  consistit  in  arce  Quirini. 
Reddiderant  dubiam  jam  sera  crepuscula  lucem, 
Cum  circumgreditur  totam  Tricoronifer  urbem, 
Panificosque  Deos  portat,  scapulisque  virorum 
Evehitur  ;  praeeunt  submisso  poplite  rcgcs, 
Et  mendicantiim  series  longissima-fratrum  ; 
Cereaque  in  manibus  gestant  funalia  caeci, 
Cimmeriis  nati  in  tenebris  vitamque  trahentes. 
Templa  dein  multis  subeunt  luccntia  taedis 
(Vesper  erat  sacer  iste  Petro),  fremitusque  canentiim 
Saepe  tholos  implet  vacuos,  et  inane  locorum  : 
Qualiter  exulula^  Bromius,  Bromiique  caterva, 
Orgia  cantantes  in  Echionio  Aracyntho, 
Dum  tremit  attonitus  vitreis  Asopus  jn  undis, 
Et  procul  ipse  cava  responsat  rupe  Cithaeron. 

His  igitur  tandem  solenni  more  pcractis, 
Nox  senis  amplexus  Erebi  taciturna  reliquit, 
Prsecipitesque  impellit  equos  stimulante  flagello, 
Captum  oculis  Typhlonta,  Melanchaetemque  ferocem, 
Atque  Acherontaeo  prognatam  patre  Siopen 
Torpidam  et  hirsutis  horrentem  Phrica  capillis. 

Interea  regum  domitor,  Phlegetontius  hteres, 
Ingreditur  thalamos  (neque  enim  secretus  adulter 

4— d^ 


a- 


—A 


600  LATIN  POEMS. 

Producit  steriles  molli  sine  pelHce  noctes) ; 
At  vix  composites  somnus  claudebat  ocellos 
Cum  niger  umbrarum  dominus  rectorque  silentum, 
Praedatorque  hominum,  falsa  sub  imagine  tectus 
Astitit.     Assumptis  micuerunt  tempora  canis  ; 
Barba  sinus  promissa  tegit ;  cineracea  longo 
Syrmate  verrit  humuni  vestis;  pendetque  cucullus 
Vertice  de  raso;  et,  ne  quicquam  desit  ad  artes, 
Cannabeo  lumbos  constrinxit  fune  salaces, 
Tarda  fencstratis  figens  vestigia  calceis. 
Talis,  uti  fama  est,  vasta  Franciscus  eremo 
Tetra  vagabatur  solus  per  lustra  ferarum, 
Sylvestrique  tulit  genti  pia  verba  salutis 
Impius,  atque  lupos  domuit,  Libycosque  leones. 

Subdolus  at  tali  Serpens  velatus  amictu 
Solvit  in  has  fallax  ora  execrantia  voces : 
"  Dormis,  nate?  Etiamne  tuos  sopor  oppriniit  artus? 
Immemor  O  fidei,  pecorumque  oblite  tuorum  ! 
Duni  cathedram,  venerande,  tuam  diadcmaque  triplex 
Ridet  Hyperboreo  gens  barbara  nata  sub  axe, 
Dumque  pharetrati  spernunt  tua  jura  Britanni : 
Surge,  age  !  surge  piger,  Latius  quern  Caesar  adorat, 
Cui  reserata  patet  convexi  janua  caeli  ; 
Turgentes  nnimos  et  fastus  frange  procaces, 
Sacrilegique  sciant  tua  quid  maledictio  possit, 
Et  quid  Apostolicae  possit  custodia  clavis  ; 
Et  memor  Hesperiae  disjectam  ulciscere  classem, 
Mersaque  Iberorum  lato  vexilla  profundo, 
Sanctorumque  cruci  tot  corpora  fixa  probrosae, 
Thermodoontca  nuper  regnante  puella. 
At  tu  si  tencro  mavis  torpescere  lecto, 
'Crescentesque  ncgas  hosti  contundere  vires, 
Tyrrhenum  implebit  numeroso  milite  pontum, 
Signaque  Aventino  ponet  fulgcntia  colle ; 
Relliquias  veterum  franget,  flammisque  cremabit, 
Sacraque  calcabit  pedibus  tua  colla  profanis, 


^ 


:j 


s -^ 

LATIN  POEMS.  60 1 

Cujus  gaudebant  soleis  dare  basia  reges. 
Nee  tamen  hunc  bellis  et  aperto  Marte  lacesses  ; 
Irritus  ille  labor ;  tu  callidus  utere  fraude  : 
Quaelibet  hsereticis  disponere  retia  fas  est. 
Jamque  ad  consilium  extremis  rex  magnus  ab  oris 
Patricios  vocat,  et  procerum  de  stirpe  creatos, 
Grandoevosque  patres  trabea  canisque  verendos : 
Hos  tu  membratim  poteris  conspergere  in  auras, 
Atque  dare  in  cineres,  nitrati  pulveris  igne 
yEdibus  injecto,  qua  convenere,  sub  imis. 
Protinus  ipse  igitur  quoscunque  habet  Anglia  fides 
Propositi  factique  mone  :  quisquamne  tuorum 
Audebit  summi  non  jussa  facessere  Papze? 
Perculsosque  metu  subito,  casuque  stupentes, 
Invadat  vel  Gallus  atrox,  vel  siBvus  Iberus. 
Saecula  sic  illic  tandem  Mariana  redibunt, 
Tuque  in  bslligeros  iterum  dominaberis  Anglos. 
Et  nequid  timeas,  divos  divasque  secundas 
Accipe,  quotque  tuis  celebrantur  numina  fastis." 
Dixit,  et  adscitos  ponens  malefidus  amictus 
Fugit  ad  infandam,  regnum  illaetabile,  Lethen. 

Jam  rosea  Eoas  pandens  Tithonia  portas 
Vestit  inauratas  redeunti  lumine  terras; 
Moestaque  adhuc  nigri  deplorans  funera  nati 
Irrigat  ambrosiis  montana  cacumina  guttis; 
Cum  somnos  pepulit  stellatae  janitor  aulae, 
Nocturnos  visus  et  somnia  grata  revolvens. 

Est  locus  a3terna  septus  caligine  noctis, 
Vasta  ruinosi  quondam  fundamina  tecti, 
Nunc  torvi  spelunca  Phoni,  Prodotaeque  bilinguis, 
Effera  quos  uno  peperit  Discordia  partu. 
Hie  inter  caemcnta  jacent  pr^eruptaque  saxa 
Ossa  inhumata  virum,  et  trajecta  cadavera  ferro ; 
Hie  Dolus  intortis  semper  sedet  ater  ocellis. 
Jurgiaque,  et  stimulis  armata  Calumnia  fauces; 
Et  Furor,  atque  vise  moriendi  mille,  videntur, 

4- ^ 


6o2  LATIN  POEMS. 

Et  Timor;  exanguisque  locum  circumvolat  Horror; 

Perpetuoque  leves  per  muta  silentia  Manes 

Exululant;  tellus  et  sanguine  conscia  stagnat. 

Ipsi  etiam  pavidi  latitant  penetralibus  antri 

Et  Phonos  et  Prodotes;  nulloque  sequentc  per  antrum. 

Antrum  horrens,  scopulosum,  atrum,  feralibus  umbris, 

Diffugiunt  sontcs,  et  retro  lumina  vortunt. 

Hos  pugiles  RomjE  per  sascula  longa  fideles 

Evocat  antistes  Babylonius,  atque  ita  fatur  : 

"  Finibus  occiduis  circumfusum  incolit  a^quor 

Gens  exosa  mihi;  prudcns  Natura  negavit 

Indignam  penitus  nostro  conjungere  mundo. 

Illuc,  sic  jubeo,  celcri  contcnditc  gressu, 

Tartareoque  leves  difflentur  pulvere  in  auras 

Et  rex  et  paritcr  satrapae  scelerata  propago ; 

Et  quotquot  fidei  caluerc  cupidine  vcrae 

Consilii  socios  adhibetc,  opcrisque  ministros." 

Finierat :  rigidi  cupide  paruere  gemelli. 

Intcrea  longo  flectens  curvamine  c?elos 
Despicit  aetherea  Dominus  qui  fulgurat  arce, 
Vanaque  perversae  ridet  conamina  turbae, 
Atque  sui  causam  populi  volet  ipse  tueri. 

Esse  ferunt  spatium  qua  distat  ab  Aside  terra 
Fertilis  Europe,  et  spectat  Mareotidas  undas; 
Hie  turris  posita  est  Titanidos  ardua  Famae, 
^rea,  lata,  sonans,  rutilis  vicinior  astris 
Quam  superimpositum  vel  Athos  vel  Pelion  Ossae. 
Mille  fores  aditusque  patent,  totidemque  fenestrae, 
Amplaque  per  tenues  translucent  atria  muros. 
Excitat  hie  varios  plebs  agglomerata  susurros; 
Qualiter  instrepitant  circum  mulctralia  bombis 
Agmina  muscarum  aut  texto  per  ovilia  junco, 
Dum  Canis  a.'stivum  ca^Ii  petit  ardua  culmen. 
Ipsa  quidem  summa  sedet  ultrix  matris  in  arce : 
Auribus  innumeris  cinctum  caput  eminet  oUi, 
Quels  sonitum  exiguum  trahit,  atque  levissima  captat 


4^ 


^y 


'■ 6b 

LATIN  POEMS.  603 


Murmura,  ab  extremis  patuli  confinibus  orbis  ; 
Nee  tot,  Aristoride,  servalor  inique  juvencae 
Isidos,  immiti  volvebas  luniina  vultu, 
Lumnia  non  unquam  tacito  nutantia  somno, 
Lumina  subjectas  late  spcctantia  terras. 
Istis  ilia  solet  loca  luce  carentia  sjepe 
Perlustrare,  etiani  radianti  impervia  soli ; 
Millenisque  loquax  auditaque  visaque  Unguis 
Cuilibet  effundit  temeraria;  veraque  mendax 
Nunc  minuit  modo  confictis  sermonibus  auget. 
Sed  tamen  a  nostrO  meruisti  carmine  laudes, 
Fama,  bonum  quo  non  aliud  veracius  ullum, 
Nobis  digna  cani,  nee  tc  memorassepigebit 
Carmine  tarn  longo  ;  scrvati  scilicet  Angli 
Officiis  vaga  diva,  tuis  tibi  reddimus  aequa. 
Te  Deus  aeternos  motu  qui  temperat  igncs, 
Fulmine  praemisso,  alloquitur,  tcrraque  trcmente: 
'!  Fama,  siles  ?  an  te  latet  inipia  Papistarum 
Conjurata  cohors.in  meque  meosque  Britannos, 
Et  nova  sccptrigero  caedes  mcditata  lacobo  ?" 
Nee  plura:  ilia  statim  sensit  mandata  Tonantis, 
Et  satis  ante  fugax,  stridentes  induit  alas, 
Induit  et  variis  exilia  corpora  plumis; 
Dextra  tubam  gestat  Temesaeo  ex  sere  sonoram. 
Nee  mora;  jam  pennis  cedendes  remigat  auras, 
Atque  parum  est  cursu  celeres  praevertere  nubes; 
Jam  ventos,  jam  solis  equos,  post  terga  reliquit: 
Et  primo  Angliacas,  solito  de  more,  per  urbes 
Ambiguas  voces  incertaque  murmura  spargit ; 
Mox  arguta  dolos  et  detestabile  vulgat 
Proditionis  opus,  nee  non  facta  horrida  dictu, 
Authoresque  addit  sceleris,  nee  garrula  caecis 
Insidiis  loca  structa  silet.      Stupuere  relatis, 
Et  pariter  juvenes,  pariter  tremuere  puellae, 
Effoetique  senes  pariter,  tantasque  ruinae 
Sensus  ad  aetatem  subito  penetraverat  omnem. 


^ 


c:^ 


■tj 


-a 


604  LATIN  POEMS. 

Attamen  interea  populi  miscrescit  ab  alto 
^thereus  Pater,  ct  crudelibus  obstitit  ausis 
Papicolum.     Capti  poenas  raptantur  ad  acres: 
At  pia  thura  Deo  ct  grati  solvuntur  honorcs  ; 
Compita  laeta  focis  genialibus  omnia  fumant; 
Turba  chores  juvenilis  agit ;   Quintoquc  Novcmbris 
Nulla  dies  toto  occurrit  celebratior  anno. 

Anno  (Xtatis  17. 
IN  OBITUM    PR.ESULIS    ELIENSIS. 

Adhuc  madentes  rore  squalebant  genae, 

Et  sicca  nc^ndum  lumina 
Adhuc  liquentis  imbre  turgebant  salis 

Quern  nupcr  eftlidi  pius 
Dum"  moesta  charo  justa  persolvi  rogo 

Wintoniensis  Praesulis, 
Cum  centilinguis  Fama  (proh  !  semper  mail 

Cladisque  vera  nuntia) 
Spargit  per  urbes  divitis  Britanniae, 

Populosque  Neptuno  satos, 
Cessisse  morti  et  ferreis  Sororibus, 

Te,  generis  human!  decus, 
Qui  rex  sacrorum  ilia  fuisti  in  insula 

Qu[ie  nomen  Anguillae  tenet. 
Tunc  inquietum  pectus  ira  protinus 

Ebulliebat  fervida, 
Tumulis  potentem  stupe  devovens  deam  : 

Nee  vota  Naso  in  Ibida 
Concepit  alto  diriora  pectore; 

Graiusque  vates  parcius 
Turpem  Lycambis  execratus  est  dolum, 

Sponsamque  Neobulen  suam. 
At  ecce  !  diras  ipse  dum  fundo  graves, 

Et  imprecor  Neci  necem, 
Audisse  tales  videor  attonitus  sonos 

Leni  sub  aura,  flamine  : 


^ 


■4^ 


f 


LATIN  POEMS. 

"  Csecos  furores  pone;  pone  vitream 

Bilemque  et  irritas  minas. 
Quid  temere  violas  non  nocenda  numina, 

Subitoque  ad  iras  pcrcita? 
Non  est,  ut  arbitraris  elusus  miser, 

Mors  atia  Noctis  filia, 
Erebove  patre  creta,  sive  Erinnye, 

Vastove  nata  sub  Chao  : 
Ast  ilia,  cDslo  missa  stellate,  Dei 

Messes  ubique  colligit; 
Animasque  mole  carnea  reconditas 

In  lucem  et  auras  evocat, 
(Ut  cum  fugaces  excitant  Horge  diem, 

Themidos  Jovisque  filias) 
Et  Sempitcrni  ducit  ad  vultus  Patris, 

At  justa  raptat  impios 
Sub  regna  furvi  luctuosa  Tartari 

Sedesque  subterraneas. 
Hanc  ut  vocantem  leetus  audivi,  cito 

Foedum  reliqui  carcerem, 
Volatilesque  faustus  inter  milites 

Ad  astra  sublimis  feror, 
Vates  ut  olim  raptus  ad  ca3lum  senex, 

Auriga  currus  ignei, 
Non  me  Bootis  terruere  lucidi 

Sarraca  tarda  frigore,  aut 
Formidolosi  Scorpionis  brachia ; 

Non  ensis,  Orion,  tuus. 
Praetervoiavi  fulgidi  solis  globum  ; 

Longeque  sub  pedibus  deam 
Vidi  triformem,  dum  coercebat  suos 

Frtenis  dracones  aureis. 
Erraticorum  siderum  per  ordines, 

Per  lacteas  vehor  plagas, 
Velocitatem  siepe  miratus  novam, 

Donee  nitentes  ad  fores 


605 


^ 


<P 


a Qp 

606  LATIN  POEMS. 

Ventum  est  Olympi,  ct  regiam  crystallinam,  et 

Stratum  smaragdis  atrium. 
Sed  hie  taeebo,  nam  quis  effari  queat 

Oriundus  humano  patre 
Amoenitates  illius  loci?     Mihi 

Sat  est  in  ceternum  frui." 

NATURAM    NGN    PATI    SENIUM. 

Heu!  quam  rerpetuis  erroribus  acta  fatiscit 

Avia  mens  hominum,  tenebrisquc  immersa  profundis 

CEdipodioniam  volvit  sub  pectorc  noctem  ! 

Ouo3  vesana  suis  metiri  facta  deorum 

Audet,  et  incisas  leges  adamante  percnni 

Assimilare  suis,  nulloque  solubile  sceclo 

Consilium  Fati  perituris  alligat  horis. 

Ergonc  marcescet  sulcantibus  obsita  rugis 
Naturro  facies,  et  rerum  publica  Mater, 
Omniparum  contracta  uterum,  sterilescet  ab  k3vo  ? 
Et,  se  fassa  senem,  male  certis  passibus  ibit 
Sidereum  tremebunda  caput?     Num  tetra  vetustas 
Annorumque  ?eterna  fames,  squalorque  situsquc, 
Sidera  vexabunt?     An  et  insatiabile  Tempus 
Esuriet  Cajlum,  raoietque  in  vicera  patreni  ? 
Heu  !  potuitne  suas  imprudens  Jupiter  arccs 
Hoc  contra  munisse  nefas,  et  Temporis  isto 
Exemisse  malo,  gyrosque  dedisse  perennes  ? 
Ergo  erit  ut  quandoque,  sono  dilapsa  tremendo, 
Convex!  tabulata  ruant,  atque  obvius  ictu 
Stridat  uterque  polus,  supcraque  ut  Olympius  aula 
Decidat,  horribilisque  retecta  Gorgone  Pallas ; 
Qualis  in  yEgooam  proles  Junonia  Lemnon 
Deturbata  sacro  cecidit  de  limme  croli. 
Tu  quoque,  Phoebe,  tui  casus  imitabere  nati 
Praecipiti  curru,  subitaque  ferere  ruina 
Pronus,  et  extincta  fumabit  lampade  Nereus, 
Et  dabit  attonito  feralia  sibila  ponto. 


t: 


LA  TIN  POEMS.  607 

Tunc  ctiam  aerei  divulsis  scdibus  Haemi 
Dissultabit  apex,  imoque  allisa-barathro 
Terrebunt  Stygium  dejecta  Ceraunia  Ditem, 
In  superos  quibus  usus  erat,  fraternaque  bella. 
At  Pater  Omnipotens,  fundatis  fortius  astris, 
Consuluit  rerum  summse,  certoque  peregit 
Pondera  Fatorum  lances,  atque  ordine  summo 
Singula  perpetuum  jussit  servare  tenorcm. 
Volvitur  hinc  lapsu  Mundi  rota  prima  diurno, 
Raptat  et  ambitos  socia  vcrtiginc  cjclos. 
Tardior  baud  solito  Saturnus,  ct  accr  ut  olim 
Fulmincum  rutilat  cristata  casside  Mavors. 
Floridus  aeternum  Phoebus  juvenile  coruscat, 
Nee  fovet  eftbetas  loca  per  dcclivia  terras 
Devexo  temone  Deus  ;  scd  semper,  amica 
Luce  potens,  cadem  currit  per  signa  rotarum. 
Surgit  odoratis  pariter  forn-iosus  ab  Indis 
^thereum  pecus  albenti  qui  cogit  Olympo, 
Mane  vocans,  ct  serus  agens  in  pascua  caeli; 
Tempons  et  gemino  dispertit  regna  colore. 
Fulget,  obitque  vices  alterno  Delia  cornu, 
Caeruleumque  ignem  paribus  complectitur  ulnis. 
Nee  variant  elementa  fidem,  solitoque  fragore 
Lurida  perculsas  jaculantur  fulmina  rupes. 
Nee  per  inane  furit  leviori  murmure  Corus  ; 
Stringit  et  armiferos  aequali  horrore  Gelonos 
Trux  Aquilo,  spiratque  hiemen,  nimbospue  volutat. 
Utque  solet,  Siculi  diverberat  ima  Pelori 
Rex  maris,  et  rauca  circumstrepit  a^quora  concha 
Oceani  Tubicen,  nee  vasta  mole  minorem 
^gseona  ferunt  dorso  Balearica  cete. 
Sed  neque,  Terra,  tibi  ssecli  vigor  ille  vetusti 
Prisons  abest;  servatque  suum  Narcissus  odorem; 
Et  puer  ille  suum  tenet,  et  puer  ille,  decorum, 
Phoebe,  tuusque,  et,  Cypri,  tuus  ;  nee  ditior  olim 
Terra  datum  sceleri  celavit  montibus  aurum 


'-"ty- 


--4^ 


'^ -^ 

608  LATIN  POEMS. 

Conscia  vel  sub  aquis  gemmas.     Sic  denique  in  tevum 
Ibit  cunctarum  series  justissima  rerum  ; 
Donee  flamma  orbem  populabitur  ultima,  kite 
Circumplexa  polos  et  vasti  culmina  creU, 
Ingentique  rogo  (lagrabit  machina  Mundi. 

DE  IDEA  PLATONICA  QUEMADMODUM  ARISTOTELES  INTELLEXtT. 

DiciTE  sacroruni  prresides  nemorum  dcae, 
Tuque  O  noveni  perbeata  nu minis 
Memoria  mater,  quaeque  in  immenso  procul 
Antro  recumbis  otiosa  -^ternitas, 
Monumenta  scrvans,  et  ratas  leges  Jovis, 
Ceelique  fastos  atque  ephcmeridas  Deum, 
Quis  ille  primus  cujus  ex  imagine 
Natura  solcrs  finxit  humanum  genus, 
^ternus,  incorruptus,  a^qucevus  polo, 
Unusque  et  univcrsus,  exemplar  Dei? 
Haud  ille,  Palladis  gemellus  innubae^ 
Interna  proles  insidet  menti  Jovis  ; 
Sed,  quamlibet  natura  sit  communior, 
Tamen  seorsus  extat  ad  morem  unius, 
Et,  mira!  certo  stringitur  spatio  loci: 
Seu  sempiternus  ille  siderum  comes 
Caeli  pererrat  ordincs  decemplicis, 
Citimumve  terris  incolit  Lunae  globum  ; 
Sive,  inter  animas  corpus  adituras  sedens, 
Obliviosas  torpet  ad  Lethes  aquas  ; 
Sive  in  remota  forte  terrarum  plaga 
Incedit  ingcns  hominis  archetypus  gigas, 
Et  diis  tremendus  erigit  cclsum  caput, 
Atlanta,  major  portitore  siderum. 
Non,  cui  profundum  ccecitas  lumen  dedit, 
Dircffius  augur  v:d!t  hunc  alto  sinu; 
Non  hunc  silenti  nocte  Pleiones  nepos 
Vatum  sagaci  praepes  ostendit  choro; 
Non  hunc  saccrdos  novit  Assyrius,  licet 


^ 


s- 


LATIN  POEMS.  609 


Longos  vetusti  commemoret  atavos  Nini, 
Priscumque  Belon,  inclytumque  Osiriclem  ; 
Non  ille  trino  gloriosus  nomine 
Ter  magnus  Hermes  (ut  sit  arcani  sciens) 
Talem  reliquit  Isidis  ciiltoribus. 
At  tu,  peienne  ruris  Acadcmi  decus, 
(Ha;c  monstra  si  tu  primus  induxti  scholis) 
Jam  jam  poetas,  urbis  exules  tuas, 
Revocabis,  ipse  Tabulator  maxim  us  ; 
Aut  institutor  ipse  migrabis  foras. 

AD    PATREM. 

Nunc  mea  Pierios  cupiam  per  pectora  fontes 
Irriguas  torquere  viaSj  totumque  per  ora 
Volvere  laxatum  gemino  de  verticc  rivum  ; 
Ut,  tenues  oblita  sonos,  audacibus  alias 
Surgat  in  officium  venerandi  Musa  parentis. 
Hoc  utcunque  tibi  gratum  pater  optime,  carmen 
Exiguum  meditatur  opus;  nee  novimus  ipsi 
Aptius  a  nobis  quai  possint  niunera  donis 
Respondere  tuis,  quamvis  nee  maxima  possint 
Respondere  tuis,  ncdum  ut  par  gratia  donis 
Esse  queat  vacuis  quae  redditur  arida  verbis. 
Sed  tamen  haec  nostros  ostendit  pagina  census, 
Et  quod  habemus  opum  charta  numeravimus  ista, 
Quae  mihi  sunt  nullae  nisi  quas  dedit  aurea  Clia, 
Quas  mihi  semoto  somni  peperere  sub  antro, 
Et  nemoris  laureta  sacri,  Parnassides  umbrae. 

Nee  tu,  vatis  opus,  divinum  despice  carmen, 
Quo  nihil  aethereos  ortus  et  semina  caeli, 
Nil  magis  humanam  commendat  origine  mentem, 
Sancta  Promethes  retinens  vestigia  flammae. 
Carmen  amant  Superi,  tremebundaque  Tartara  carmen 
Imaciere  valet  divosque  ligare  profundos, 
Et  triplici  duros  Manes  adamante  coercet. 
Carmine  sepositi  retegunt  arcana  futuri 

39 

'^ -^ 


6 10  LATIN  POEMS. 

Phoebades,  et  tremulae  pallcntes  ora  Sibyllse; 
Carniina  sacrificus  sollennes  pangit  ad  aras, 
Aurea  seu  sternit  motantem  cornua  taurum, 
Seu  cum  fata  sagax  fumantibus  abdita  fibris 
Consulit,  et  tepidis  Parcam  scrutatur  in  extis. 
Nos  ctiam,  partrium  tunc  cum  repctemus  Olympum, 
^Eternceque  morse  stabunt  immobilis  sevi, 
Ibimus  auratis  per  cosli  templa  coronis, 
Dulcia  suaviloquo  sociantes  carmina  plectro, 
Astra  quibus  geminique  poli  convcxa  sonabunt. 
Spin'tus  et  rapidos  qui  circinat  igneus  orbes 
Nunc  quoque  sidereis  intercinit  ipse  choreis 
Immortale  melos  et  inenarrabile  carmen, 
Torrida  dum  rutilus  compescit  sib'Ia  Serpens, 
Demissoque  ferox  gladio  mansuescit  Orion, 
Stellarum  nee  sentit  onus  Maurusius  Atlas. 
Carmina  regale  epulas  ornare  solebant, 
Cum  nondum  luxus,  vastasque  immensa  vorago 
Nota  gulae,  et  modico  spumabat  coena  Lyaeo. 
Tum  de  more  sedens  festa  ad  convivia  vates, 
^sculea  intonsos  redimitus  ab  arbore  crines 
Heroumque  actus  miitandaque  gesta  canebat, 
Et  Chaos,  et  positi  late  fundamina  Mundi, 
Reptantesque  deos,  et  alentes  numina  glandes, 
Et  nondum  .Etnaeo  quassitum  fulmen  ab  antro. 
Denique  quid  vocis  modulamen  inane  juvabit, 
Verborum  sensusque  vacans,  numerique  loquacis  ? 
Silvestres  decet  iste  choros,  non  Orphea,  cantus, 
Qui  tenuit  fluvios,  et  quercubus  addidit  aures, 
Carmine,  non  cithara,  simulacraque  functa  canendo 
Compulit  in  lacrymas :  habet  has  a  carmine  laud. 
Nee  tu  perge,  precor,  sacras  contemnere  Musas, 
Nee  vanas  inopesque  puta,  quarum  ipse  peritus 
Munere  mille  sonos  numeros  componis  ad  aptos, 
Millibus  et  vocem  modulis  variare  canoram 
Doctus  Arionii  merito  sis  nominis  litres. 

^ -4" 


^ 


^ 

LATIN  POEMS.  6ii 


Nunc  tibi  quid  mirum  si  me  genuisse  poetam 
Contigerit,  charo  si  tarn  prope  sanguine  juncti, 
Cognatas  artes,  studiumque  affine  sequamur? 
Ipse  volens  Phcebus  se  dispertire  duobus, 
Altera  dona  mihi,  dedit  altera  dona  parenti ; 
Dividuumque  Dcum,  genitorque  puerque  tenemus. 

Tu  tamen  ut  simulcs  teneras  odisse  Camoenas, 
Non  odisse  reor.     Ncque  enim  pater,  ire  jubepas 
Qua  via  lata  patct,  qua  pronior  area  lucri, 
Certaque  condendi  fulget  spes  aurea  numnii  ; 
Nee  rapis  ad  leges,  male  Custoditaque  gentis 
Jura  ncc  insulsis  damnas  clamoribus  aures. 
Sed,  magis  excultam  cupiens  ditescere  mentem, 
Me,  procul  urbane  strepitu,  secessibus  altis 
Abductum,  Aonise  jucunda  per  otia  ripae, 
Phsebseo  lateri  comitem  sinis  ire  beatum. 
Officium  chari  taceo  commune  parentis; 
Me  poscunt  majora.     Tuo,  pater  optime,  sumptu 
Cum  mihi  Romuleae  patuit  facundia  lingua3, 
Et  Latii  veneres,  ct  qu?e  Jovis  ora  decebant 
Grandia  magniloquis  elata  vocabula  Graiis, 
Addere  suasisti  quos  jactat  Gallia  flores, 
Et  quam  degeneri  novus  Italus  ore  loquelam 
Fundit,  barbaricos  testatus  voce  tumultus, 
Qu£equ2  Palsestinus  loquitur  mysteria  vates. 
Denique  quicquid  habet  caelum,  subjectaque  ca;lo 
Terra  parens,  terra^que  et  caelo  interfluus  acr. 
Quicquid  et  unda  tegit,  pontique  agitabile  marmor. 
Per  te  nosse  licet,  per  te,  si  nosse  libebit ; 
Dimotaque  venit  spectanda  Scientia  nube, 
Nudaque  conspicuos  inclinat  ad  oscula  vultus, 
Ni  fugisse  velim,  ni  sit  libasse  molestum. 

I  nunc,  confer  opes,  quisquis  malesanus  avitas 
Austriaci  gazas  Periianaque  regna  praeoptas. 
Quae  potuit  majora  pater  tribuisse,  vel  ipse 
Jupiter,  excepto,  donasset  ut  omnia,  caelo  ? 


<^ -^7 

6i2  LATIN  POEMS. 

Non  potiora  dedit,  quamvis  et  tuta  fui'-.sent, 
Publica  qui  juveni  commisit  luniina  nato, 
Atque  Hyperionios  currus,  et  fraena  diei, 
Et  circum  undantem  radiata  luce  tiarem. 
Ergo  ego,  jam  doctx  pars  quamlibct  ima  catervse, 
Victrices  hedcras  inter  laurosque  scdcbo  ; 
Jamque  ncc  obscurus  populo  misccbor  incrti, 
Vitabuntque  oculos  vestigia  nostra  profanes. 
Este  procul  vigiles  Curae,  procul  cstc  Qucrelse, 
Invidia^que  acies  transverso  tortilis  hirquo  ; 
Sa;va  ncc  anguiferos  extende,  Calumnia,  rictus  ; 
In  me  triste  nihil,  foedissima  turba,  potestis, 
Ncc  vestri  sum  juris  ego;  securaque  tutu 3 
Pcctora  vipereo  gradiar  sublimis  ab  ictu. 

At  tibi,  chare  pater,  postquam  non  £equ:;  mercnti 
Posse  referre  datur,  nee  dona  rependeie  factis, 
Sit  memorasse  satis,  repetitaque  munera  grato 
Pcrccnsere  animo,  fida:'que  reponere  menti. 

Et  vos,  O  nostri,  juvenilia  carmina,  lusus. 
Si  modo  perpetuos  sperare  audebitis  annos, 
Et  domini  superesse  rogo,  lucemque  tueri, 
Nee  spisso  rapient  obi i via  nigra  sub  Oreo, 
Forsitan  has  laudes,  decantatumque  parentis 
Nomeiij  ad  exemplum,  sero  servabitis  ievo> 

PSALM  CXIV. 

Aij  TOTS  fxouvov  erjv  oatov  yiuo^  uif-  'In'jda' 
' Ev  8s  0zd'  lainnt  jjAya  7.pzi(ji\>  (ifxaiXzutv^ 
E}8s  y.ai  ivrf>(i~d8rjv  <f6ya8'  ippcHr^fTs  Or'i.Xa(r<Taj 
KopMTi  ztku;).rj.irj  poO'uy  6  (5'  «/>'  i(T7o<fzki^0-^ 
Ifjo^  'Itif/(ld>rj^  TZdTi  dpyuposcdia  Tzriyr^.'' 
^Ey.  <V  onza  (jy.apOiKnfftv  drztipiffta  y.hr/itrjro^ 
'ii~  y.pttn  (j<finy('>u>v7sq  iorpacpspuj  i)/  dXu>7i' 
hawTzpai  d^  aria  ~a<Tat  d'/a(Txi/>zr^(Tav  spi-vu:^ 

^ _4 


LATIN  POEMS.  613 

0}a  ~apru  aupiyyi  (fO~r^  u-u  /j.rjzipi  ap'^f-. 

Ti~rt  ffoy* ,  aha  OaXfiaaa^  ~iXu)p  (fuya<V  Ip" pwr^rro.' 

huiiari  ziXop.ivrj  poOiip;  ri  d'  up  larutftliyOrj:; 

'fpu<;  'I(ip8d'/7j  -«r«  apyupoetdia  ~f^yrf^  ; 

Ti~~^  opza  ay.apOpAilav^  d.-tipia'.a  '/.Xo'^izfrOz^ 

'ii-;  xpun  G<ppty6u)v~s'  iuTpa<ftpip  Iw  aXuiij  J 

Bato-tpai  Tt'  8'   «'«'  ufj.fis';  d^affxtpTrjffar^  ipiTzvac, 

Ola  TtapdX  ai'jpiyyi  (fiXi^  utzu  p-r^ripi  apve-; ; 

Zeizo  yata  rpiouaa  6zdv  /xsydX^  ixru-iovra, 

Fata  deov  rpsioua^  uTzarov  ai^aq  'laaa/.idao, 

"Oq  Tt  xai  Ix  ff-tXdoujv  Tturaiiuhq  ^cs  p-opriopo'^raq^ 

hpry/rfj  r'  Mcvaov  —izpr^q  d-u  daxpooiaar^q. 

PJiilosopIius  ad  Reg:in  qiiendamy  qi/ieiim  tgnoiitm  et  insontin  inter  reos  forte 
captiitn  inscius  damnaverat,  zrjv  i-}  Oa^dnp  -Dpzoo'j.zvoq  hisc  subito  misit. 

Q^iv^a^  zl  oXiar^z  p.-  Toy  iwnp.ov,    audi  r;v'  dyrJpui'yi 
Az'.'>uv  oXioq  opatravra,  (TOipmraToy  I'ffOt  xdprjyoy 
' Prfidicjq  dtpiXatit^  zu  (?'  uffrspov  auOi  yorjerzi^^ 
3Ia(/".dt(uq  d'  ap'  e'-scra  rzw  ~poq  Oupw  68oprj, 
Toto'/d^  tx  -oXioq  -sptojyup.ov  aX.xap  6Xi(F<Taq. 

In  effigiei  ejus  sculptorem. 

^ Ap.aOzl  yzypdJiOat  j(sip\  rrj^ds  p.kv  eixu/a 
^at'rjq  rdy^  ilv,  Tzpuq  sldoq  abrowukq  jSXijrwv. 
Tw  8'  ixTvnwzov  oux  i-cyvoyzsq^  (piXot^ 
FzXdzz  (puuXou  8uffp.c'/irjp.a  ^luypdcpou. 


AD    SALSILLUM    POETAM    ROMANUM    .EGROTANTEM.      SCAZONTES. 

O  MusA  gressum  quae  volens  trahis  claudum, 
Vulcanioque  tarda  gaudes  incessu, 
Nee  sentis  illud  in  loco  minus  gratum 
Quam  cum  decentes  flava  Deiope  suras 
Alternat  aureum  ante  Junonis  lectum. 
Adcsdum,  ct  haec  s'is  verba  pauca  Salsillo 
Refer,  Camcena  nostra  cui  tantum  est  cordi, 


^ 


s- 


^ 


614  LATIN  POEMS. 

Quamque  ille  inagnis  prsetulit  immerito  divis. 
Hcec  ergo  alumnus  ille  Londini  Milto, 
Diebus  hisce  qui  suum  linquens  nidum 
Polique  tractum  (pessimus  ubi  ventorum, 
Insanientis    impotensque  pulmonis, 
Pernix  anhela  sub  Jove  exercet  flabra) 
Venit  fcraces  Itali  soli  ad  glebas, 
Visum  superba  cognitas  urbes  fama, 
Virosque,  doctaeque  indolem  juventutis, 
Tibi  optat  idem  hie  fausta  multa,  Salsille, 
Habitumque  fesso  corpori  penitus  sanum; 
Cui  nunc  profunda  biiis  infestat  renes, 
Prtecordiisque  fixa  damnosum  spirat; 
Nee  id  pcpercit  impia  quod  tu  Romano 
Tarn  cultus,  ore  Lesbium  condismelos. 
O  dulce  divum  munus,  O  Salus,  Hebes 
Germana !    Tuque,  Phoebe!  morborum  terror, 
Pythone  cjeso,  sive  tu  magis  PcTan 
Libenter  audis,  hie  tuus  sacerdos  est. 
Quereeta  Fauni,  vosque  rore  vinoso 
Colles  benigni,  mitis  Evandri  sedes, 
Siquid  salubre  vallibus  frondet  vcstris, 
Levamen  segro  ferte  certatim  vati. 
Sic  ille  charis  redditus  rursiim  Musis 
Vicina  dulci  prata  mulcebit  cantu. 
Ipse  inter  atros  emirabitur  locos 
Numa,  ubi  beatum  degit  otium  neternum, 
Suam  reclivis  semper  ^geriam  spectans  ; 
Tumidusque  et  ipse  Tibris,  hinc  delinitus, 
Spci  favebit  annuce  colonorum  ; 
Nee  in  sepulchris  ibit  obsessum  reges, 
Nimium  sinistro  laxus  irruens  loro; 
Sed  fraena  melius  temperabit  undarum, 
Adusque  curvi  salsa  regna  Portumni. 


^ # 


^ ^ ^ 

LATIN  POEMS.  615 

MANSUS. 

Joannes  Baptista  Mansus,  Marchio  Villensis,  vir  ingenii  laude,  turn  literarum  studio,  nee 
non  et  bellica  virtute,  apud  Italos  clarus  in  primis  est.  Ad  quem  Torquati  Tassi  Dialogus 
extat  de  Amicitia  scriptus;  erat  enim  Tassi  amicissimus;  ab  qiio  etiam  inter  Campanias 
principes  celebratur,  in  illo  poemata  cui  titulus  Gerusalemme  Conquistata,  lib.  20. 

Fra  cavalier  magnanimi  e  cortesi 
Risplende  il  Manso 

Is  authorem,  Neapoli  commorantem,  summa  benevolentia  prosecutus  est,  multaque  ei 
detulit  humanitatis  officia.  Ad  hunc  itaque  hospes  ille,  aniequam  ab  ea  urbe  discederet, 
ut  ne  ingratum  se  ostenderet,  hoc  carmen  misit. 

H^c  quoque,  manse,  tuae  meditantur  carmina  laudi 
Fierides  ;  tibi,  Manse,  choro  notissime  Phcebi, 
Quandoquidem  ille  alium  haud  aequo  est  dignatus  honore, 
Post  Gain  cineres,  et  Meccenatis  Hetrusci. 
Tu  quoque,  si  nostras  tantuni  valet  aura  CamcEnae, 
Victrices  hederas  inter  laurosque  sedebis. 
Te  pridem  magno  felix  concordia  Tasso 
Junxit,  et  aeternis  inscripsit  nomina  chartis. 
Mox  tibi  dulciloquuni  non  inscia  Musa  Marinum 
Tradidit;  ille  tuum  dici  se  gaudct  alumnum, 
Dum  canit  Assyrios  divCim  prolixus  amores, 
Mollis  et  Ausonias  stupefecit  carmine  nymphas. 
Ille  itidem  moriens  tibi  soli,  debita  vates 
Ossa,  tibi  soli,  supremaque  vota  reliquit : 
Nee  Manes  pietas  tua  chara  fefellit  amici ; 
Vidimus  arridentem  operoso  ex  a^re  poetam. 
Nee  sitis  hoc  visum  est  in  utrumque,  et  nee  pia  cessant 
Officia  in  tumulo  ;  cupis  integros  rapere  Oreo, 
Qua  potes,  atque  avidas  Parcarum  eludere  leges  : 
Amborum  genus,  et  varia  sub  sorte  peractam 
Describis  vitam,  moresque,  et  dona  Minerva^; 
^mulus  illius  Maycalen  qui  natus  ad  altam 
Rettulit  yEolii  vitam  facundus  Homeri. 
Ergo  ego  te,  Cliijs  et  magni  nomine  Phcebi, 
Manse  patet,  jubeo  longum  salvere  per  sevum, 
Missus  Hyperboreo  juvenis  peregrinus  ab  axe. 
Nee  tu  longinquam  bonus  aspernabere  Musam, 


^ 


6i6  LATIN  POEMS. 

Quae  nuper,  gelida  vix  enutrita  sub  Arcto, 
Imprudens  Italas  ausa  est  volitare  per  ubes. 
Nos  etiam  in  nostro  modulantes  flumine  cygnos 
Credimus  obscuras  noctis  sensisse  per  umbras, 
Qua  Thamesis  late  puris  argenteus  urnis 
Oceani  glaucos  perfundit  gurgite  crinc?  ; 
Quin  et  in  has  quondam  pervcnit  Tityrus  oras. 

Scd  neque  nos  genus  incultum,  nee  inutile  Phoebo, 
Qua  plaga  septeno  mundi  sulcata  Trione 
Brumalem  patitur  longa  sub  nocte  Booten. 
Nos  etiam  colimus  Phoebum,  nos  munera  Phoebo, 
Flaventes  spicas,  et  lutca  mala  canistris, 
Halantcmque  crocum  (perhibet  nisi  vana  vetustas) 
Misimus,  et  Icctas  Druidum  de  gente  choreas. 
(Gens  Druides  antiqua  sacris  operata  deoruni, 
Heroum  laudes  imitandaque  gesta  cancbant.) 
Plinc  quaties  festo  cingunt  altaria  cantu 
Delo  in  herbosa  Graiae  de  more  puellse, 
Carminibus  lastis  momorant  Corineida  Loxo, 
Fatidicamque  Upin,  cum  flavicoma  Hecaerge, 
Nuda  Caledonio  variatas  pectora  fuco. 

Fortunate  senex!  ergo  quacunque  per  orbem 
Torquati  decus  et  nomen  celebrabitur  ingens, 
Claraque  perpetui  succrescet  fama  Marini, 
Tu  quoque  in  ora  frequcns  venies  plausumque  virorum, 
Et  parili  carpes  iter  immortale  volatu. 
Dicetur  tum  sponte  tuos  habitasse  penates 
Cynthius,  et  fam.ulas  venisse  ad  limina  Musas. 
At  non  sponte  dumom  tamen  idem  et  regis  adivit 
Rura  PhcrctiadcTE  c;t31o  fugitivus  Apollo, 
Ille  licet  magnum  Alcidcn  susccperat  hospes; 
Tantum,  ubi  clamosos  placuit  vitare  bubulcos, 
Nobile  mansueti  cessit  Chironis  in  antrum, 
Irriguos  inter  saltus  frondosaque  tecta, 
Peneium  prope  rivum  :  ibi  saepe  sub  ilice  nigra, 
Ad  citharae  strcpitum,  blanda  prece  victus  amici, 
Exilii  duros  lenibat  voce  labores. 


^ 


^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  617 


Turn  neque  ripa  suo,  barathro  nee  fixa  sub  imo 
Saxa  stetere  loco  ;  nutat  Trachinia  rupes, 
Nee  scntit  solitas,  immania  pondera,  silvas ; 
Emoteque  suis  properant  de  eollibus  orni, 
Muleenturque  novo  maculosi  carmine  lynces. 
Diis  dileete  senex  !  te  Jupiter  Equus  oportet 
Naseentem  et  miti  lustrarit  lumine  Phoebus, 
Atlantisque  nepos  ;  neque  enim  nisi  charus  ab  ortu 
Diis  superis  poterit  magno  favisse  poetje. 
Hinc  longaeva  tibi  lento  sub  flore  senectus 
Vernat,  et  vEsonios  lucratur  vivida  fuses, 
Nondum  deciduos  servans  tibi  frontis  honores, 
Ingeniumque  vigens,  et  adultum  mentis  acumen. 
O  mihi  si  mea  sors  talem  concedat  amicum, 
Phoebasos  decorasse  viros  qui  tarn  bene  norit, 
Siquando  indigenas  revocabo  in  carmina  reges, 
Arturumque  etiam  sub  tcrris  bella  moventem, 
Aut  dicam  invictas  sociali  foedere  mens^e 
Magnanimos  Heroas,  et  (O  modo  spiritus  adsit) 
Frangam  Saxonicas  Britonum  sub  Marte  phalanges ! 
Tandem,  ubi,  non  tacitae  permensus  tempora  vitae, 
Annorumque  satur,  eineri  sua  jura  relinquam, 
Ille  mihi  Iccto  madidis  astaret  ocellis  ; 
Astanti  sat  erit  si  dicam,  "  Sim  tibi  cura:;;" 
Ille  meos  artus,  liventi  morte  solutos, 
Curaret  parva  componi  molliter  urna  :" 
Forsitan  et  nostro  ducat  de  marmore  vultus, 
Neetens  aut  Paphia  myrti  aut  Parnasside  lauri 
Fronde  comas ;  et  ego  secura  pace  quiescam. 
Turn  quoque,  si  qua  fidas,  si  prai^mia  certa  bonorum. 
Ipse  ego,  ccelicolum  semotus  in  sethera  divum., 
Quo  labor  et  mens  pura  vehunt  atque  ignea  virtus, 
Secret!  ha,x  aliqua  mundi  de  parte  videbo 
(Quantum  fata  sinunt),  et  tota  mente  sereniim 
Ridens  purpureo  sufifundar  lumine  vultus, 
Et  simul  sethereo  plaudam  mihi  lastus  Ol3^mpo. 


^ 


6i8  LATIN  POEMS. 

EPITAPHIUM  DAMONIS. 

ARGUMENTUM. 
Thyrsis  et  Damon,  ejusdem  vicinioe  pastores,  eadem  studia  sequnti,  a  pueriliaamici  erant, 
ut  qui  plurimum.  TliYRSlS  animi  causii  profectus  peregre  de  obitu  Damonis  nunciiim 
accepit.  Domum  postea  reversus,  et  rem  ita  esse  comperto,  se  suamque  solitudinem  hoc 
caimine  deplorat.  Damonis  autem  sub  persona  hie  intelligiiur  Carolus  Deodatus,  ex 
urbe  Hetrurias  Luca  patcrno  genere  oriundus,  csetera  Anglus;  ingenio,  doctrinii,  clarissi- 
misque  cseteris  virtutibis,  dum  viveret,  juvenis  egregius. 

HiMERiDES  Nymphse  (nam  vos  et  Daphnin  et  Hylan, 
Et  plorata  diu  meministis  fata  Bionis) 
Dicite  Sicelicum  Thamesina  per  oppida  carmen  : 
Quas  miser  effudit  voces,  quae  murmura  Thyrsis, 
Et  quibus  assiduis  exercuit  antra  querelis, 
Fluminaque,  fontesque  vagos,  nemorumque  recessus, 
Dum  sibi  praereptum  queritur  Damona,  neque  altam 
Lectibus  exemit  noctcm,  loca  sola  pererrans. 
Et  jam  bis  viridi  surgebat  culmus  arista, 
Et  totidem  flavas  numerabant  liorrca  messes, 
Ex  quo  summa  dies  tulerat  Damona  sub  umbras, 
Nee  dum  aderat  Thyrsis  ;  pastorem  scihcet  ilium 
Dulcis  amor  Musae  Thusca  retincbat  in  urbe. 
Ast  ubi  mens  expleta  domum  pecorisque  relicti 
Cura  vocat,  simul  assueta  seditque  sub  ulmo, 
Tum  vero  amissum,  tum  denique,  sentit  amicum, 
Co^pit  et  immensum  sic  exonerare  dolorem  : — 

"  Itc  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Hei  mihi!   quae  terris,  quse  dicam  numina  ca^lo, 
Postquam  te  immiti  rapuerunt  funere,  Damon? 
Siccine  nos  linquis?  tua  sic  sine  nomine  virtus 
Ibit,  et  obscuris  numcro  sociabitur  umbris? 
At  non  illc  animas  virga  qui  dividit  aurea 
Ista  velit,  dignumque  tui  te  ducat  in  agmen, 
Ignavumque  procul  pecus  arccat  omne  silentum. 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Quicquid  erit,  certe  nisi  me  lupus  ante  videbit, 
Indeplorato  non  comminuere  sepulchro, 
Constabitque  tuus  tibi  honos,  longi^imque  vigabit 


(b 

LATIN  POEMS.  619 

Inter  pastores.     Illi  tibi  vota  secundo 
Solvere  post  Daphnin,  post  Daphnin  dicere  laudes, 
Gaudebunt,  dum  rura  Pales,  dum  Faunus  aniabit; 
Si  quid  id  est,  priscamque  fidem  coluisse,  piumque, 
Palladiasque  artes,  sociumque  habuisse  canorum. 

"  Ite  donium  inpasti  ;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni, 
Haec  tibi  certa  manent,  tibi  erunt  hsec  praemia,  Damon. 
At  mihi  quid  tandem  fiet  modo?  quis  miJii  fidus 
Haerebit  lateri  comes,  ut  tu  saepe  solebas. 
Frigoribus  duris,  ct  per  loca  freta  jjruinis, 
Aut  rapido  sub  sole,  siti  morientibus  herbis, 
Sive  opus  in  magnos  fuit  eminus  ire  leones 
Aut  avidos  terrere  lupos  pragsepibus  altis  ? 
Quis  fando  sopire  diem  cantuque  solebit  ? 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Pectora  cui  crcdam  ?  quis  me  lenire  docebit 
Mordaces  curas,  quis  longam  fallere  noctem 
Dulcibus  alloquiis,  grato  cum  sibilat  igni 
Molle  pirum,  et  nucibus  strepitat  focus,  at  malus  Auster 
Miscet  cuncta  foris,  et  desuper  intonat  ulmo  ? 

"  Ite  domum  impasti;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Aut  aestate,  dies  medio  dum  vertitur  axe, 
Cum  Pan  aesculea  somnum  capit  abditus  umbra, 
Et  repetunt  sub  aquis  sibi  nota  sedilia  Npmphae, 
Pastoresque  latent,  stertit  sub  sepe  colonus, 
Quis  mihi  blanditiasque  tuas,  quis  tum  mihi  risus, 
Cecropiosque  sales  referet,  cultosque  lepores  ? 

"  Ite  domum  impasti;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
At  jam  solus  agros,  jam  pascua  solus  oberro, 
Sicubi  ramosae  densantur  vallibus  umbras ; 
Hie  serum  expecto  ;   supra  caput  imber  et  Eurus 
Triste  sonant,  fracta^que  agitata  cepuscula  silvas. 

"  Ite  domum  impasti;   dommo  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Heu !  quam  culta  mihi  prius  arva  procacibus  herbis 
Involvuntur,  et  ipsa  situ  seges  alta  fatiscit! 
Innuba  neglecto  marcescit  et  uva  racemo, 

^ ^ 


.a—— -^ 

620  LATIN  POEMS. 

Nee  myrteta  juvant;   ovium  quoque  tasdet,  at  illse 
Mcerent,  inque  suiim  convcrtunt  ora  magistrum. 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Tityrus  ad  corylos  vocat,  Alphesiboeus  ad  ornos, 
Ad  salices  /Egon  ad  flumina  pulcher  Am.yntas  : 
'  Hie  gclidi  fontes,  hie  illita  gramina  musco, 
Hie  Zyphii,  hie  plaeidas  interstrepit  arbutus  undas.' 
Ista  eaiiunt  surdo;   frutiees  ego  naetus  abibam. 

"  Ite  domum  impasti;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Mopsus  ud  lioee,  nam  me  redeuntem  forte  notarat 
(Et  callcbat  avium  linguas  et  sidera  Mopsus), 
'  Thyrsi,  quid  hoe?'    dixit;    '  qua;  te  eoquit  improbabilis  ? 
Aut  te  perdit  amor,  aut  te  male  faseinat  astrum; 
Saturni  grave  saepe  fuit  pastoribus  astrum, 
Intimaque  obliquo  figit  praseordia  plumbo,' 

"  Ite  domum  impasti  ;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Tvlirantur  nymphae,  et '  Quid  te,  Thyrsi,  futurum  est? 
Quid  tibi  vis  ?'  aiunt :   '  non  hcec  solet  esse  juventa3 
Nubilafrons,  oculiquc  truces,  vultusque  severi : 
Ilia  choros,  lususque  leves,  et  semper  amorem 
Jure  petit ;    bis  ille  miser  qui  serus  amavit.' 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;   domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni- 
Venit  Hyas,  Dryopeque,  et  filia  Baucidis  vEgle, 
Docta  modos,  citharoeque  scicns,  sed  perdita  fastu  ; 
Vcnit  Idumanii  Chloris  vicina  fluent!  : 
Nil  me  blanditias,  nil  me  solantia  verba, 
Nil  me  si  quid  adest  movet,  aut  spes  ulla  futuri. 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni, 
Hei  mihi !  quam  similes  ludunt  per  prata  juvenci, 
Omncs  unanimi  sccum  sibi  lege  sodales  ! 
Nee  magis  hunc  alio  quisquam  seccrnit  amicum 
Dc  grege  ;  sic  densi  veniunt  ad  pabula  thoes, 
Inque  vieem  hirsuti  paribus  junguntur  onagri : 
Lex  eadem  pelagi;   deserto  in  littore  Proteus 
Agmina  phocarum  numerat :  vilisque  volucrum 
Passer  habet  semper  (juieum  sit,  et  omnia  cireum 


LATIN  POEMS.  621 

Farra  libens  volitet,  sero  sua  tecta  revisens  ; 
Quern  si  sors  letho  objecit,  seu  milvus  adunco 
Fata  tulit  rostro,  seu  stravit  arundine  fossor, 
Protinus  ille  alium  socio  petit  inde  volatu. 
Nos  durum  genus,  et  diris  exercita  fatis 
Gens,  homines,  aliena  animis,  et  pectore  discors  ; 
Vix  sibi  quisque  parem  de  millibus  invenit  unum  ; 
Aut,  si  sors  dederit  tandem  non  aspera  votis, 
Ilium  inopina  dies,  qua  non  speraveris  hora, 
Surripit,  asternum  linquens  in  snacula  damnum. 

"Ite  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni, 
Heu !  quis  me  ignotas  traxit  vagus  error  in  oras 
Ire  per  aereas  rupes,  Alpemque  nivosam  ? 
Ecquid  erat  tanti  Romam  vidisse  sepultam 
(Quamvis  ilia  foret,  qualem  dum  viseret  olim 
Tityrus  ipse  suas  et  oves  et  rura  reliquit), 
Ut  te  tam  dulci  possem  caruisse  sodale, 
Possem  tot  maria  alta,  tot  interponere  montes, 
Tot  silvas,  tot  saxa  tibi,  fluviosque  sonantes  ? 
Ah!  certe  extremum  licuisset  tangere  dextram, 
Et  bene  compositos  placide  morientis  ocellos, 
Et  dixisse  *  Vale  !   nostri  memor  ibis  ad  astra.' 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 
Quamquam  etiam  vestri  nunquam  meminisse  pigebit, 
Pastores  Thusci,  Musis  operata  juventus, 
Plic  Charis,  atque  Lepos  ;    et  Thuscus  tu  quoque  Damon, 
Antiqua  genus  unde  petis  Lucumonis  ab  urbe. 
O  ego  quantus  cram,  gclidi  cum  stratus  ad  Arni 
Murmura,  populeumque  ncmus,  qua  mollior  herba, 
Carpcre  nunc  violas,  nunc  summas  carpere  myrtos, 
Et  potui  Lycidie  certantem  audire  IMcnalcam  ! 
Ipse  etiam  tentare  ausus  sum  ;  nee  puto  multum 
Displicui ;  nam  sunt  et  apud  me  munera  vestra, 
Fiscellie,  calathique,  et  cerea  vincla  cicutas : 
Quin  et  nostra  suas  docuerunt  nomina  fagos 
Et  Datis  et  Francinus  ;    erant  ct  vocibus  ambo 


a ^ 

622  '  LATIN  POEMS. 

Et  studiis  noti,  Lydorum  sanguinis  ambo 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 

Haec  mihi  turn  leeto  dictabat  roscida  luna, 

Dum  solus  teneros  claudebum  cratibus  hoedos. 

Ah !  quoties  dixi,  cum  te  cinis  atcr  habebat, 

'  Nunc  canit,  aut  Icpori  nunc  tendit  retia  Damon  ; 

Vimina  nunc  texit  varios  sibi  quod  sit  in  usus  ;' 

Et  qua3  turn  facili  sperabam  mente  futura 

Arripui  voto  levis,  et  pr?esentia  finxi. 

'  Heus  bone!  numquid  agis?  nisi  te  quid  forte  retardat, 

Imus,  ct  arguta  paulum  rccubamus  in  umbra, 

Aut  ad  aquas  Colni,  aut  ubi  jugera  Cassibelauni  ? 

Tu  mihi  pcrcurres  medicos,  tua'gramina,  succos, 

Helleborumque,  humilesque  crocos,  foHumque  hyacinthi, 

Quasque  habet  ista  palus  herbas,  artesque  medentum.' 

Ah  !  pcrcant  herbae,  pereant  artesque  medentum, 

Gramina,  postquam  ipsi  nil  profecere  magistro ! 

Ipse  etiam — nam  nescio  quid  mihi  grande  sonabat 

Fistula — ab  undccima  jam  lux  est  altera  noctc — 

Et  turn  forte  novis  admoram  labra  cicutis : 

Dissiluere  tamen,  rupta  compage,  nee  ultra 

Ferre  graves  potuere  sonos  :  dubito  quoquc  no  sim 

Turgidulus;  tamcn  ct  referam;  vos  cedite,  sylvae. 
"  Ite  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 

Ipse  ego  Dardanias  Rutupina  per  aequora  puppes 

Dicam,  ct  Pandrasidos  regnum  vetus  Inogeni^, 

Brennumque  Arviragumque  duces,  priscumque  Belinum, 

Et  tandem  Armoricos  Britonum  sub  lege  colonos  ; 

Turn  gravidam  Arturo  fatali  fraude  logernen ; 

Mendaces  vultus,  assumptaque  Gorlois  arma, 

Merlini  dolus.     O,  mihi  tum  si  vita  supersit, 

Tu  procul  annosa  pendebis  fistula,  pinu 

Multum  oblita  mihi,  aut  patriis  mutata  Camoenis 

Brittonicum  strides  !   Quidenim?  omnia  non  licet  uni, 

Non  sperasse  uni  licet  omnia;  mi  satis  ampla 

Merces,  ct  mihi  grande  decus  (sim  ignotus  in  aevuni 

4 —^ 


f — : ' — -6b 

LATIN  POEMS.  623 

Turn  licet,  externo  penitusque  inglorius  orbi), 

Si  me  flava  comas  legat  Usa,  et  potor  Alauni, 

Vorticibusque  frequens  Abra,  et  nemus  omne  Treantse, 

Et  Thamesis  meus  ante  omnes,  et  fusca  metallis 

Tamara,  et  extremis  me  discant  Orcades  undis. 

"  Ite  domum  impasti ;  domino  jam  non  vacat,  agni. 

Hjec  tibi  servabam  lenta  sub  corticc  lauri, 

Hc^c,  et  plura  simul;   turn  qua}  mihi  procula  Mansus, 

JMansus,  Chalcidicae  non  ultima  gloria  ripse, 

Bina  dedit,  mirum  artis  opus,  mirandus  et  ipse, 

Et  circum  gemino  caelaverat  argumcnto. 

In  medio  Rubri  Maris  unda,  et  odoriferum  ver, 

Littora  longa  Arabum,  et  sudantes  balsama  sylvse 

Has  inter  Phoenix,  divina  avis,  unica  terris, 

Casrulcum  fulgens  diversicoloribus  alis, 

Auroram  vitreis  surgentem  respicit  undis  ; 

Parte  alia  polus  omnipatens,  et  magnus  Olympus  : 

Quis  putet?  hie  quoque  Amor,  pictteque  in  nube  pharetrce, 

Arma  corusca,  faces,  et  spicula  tincta  pyropo ; 

Nee  tenuesanimas,  pectusque  ignobile  vulgi, 

Hinc  ferit;  at,  circum  flammantia  lumina  torquens, 

Semper  in  erectum  spargit  sua  tela  per  orbes 

Impiger,  et  pronos  nunquam  collimat  ad  ictus: 

Hinc  mentes  ardere  sacrze,  formaeque  deorum. 

•'Tu  quoque  in  his — nee  me  fallit  spes  lubrica,  Damon— 
Tu  quoque  in  his  certe  es ;     nam  quo  tugi  dulcis  abiret 
Sanctaque  simplicitas  ?   nam  quo  tua  Candida  virtus? 
Nee  te  Lethaeo  fas  quaesivisse  sub  Oreo ; 
Nee  tibi  conveniunt  lacrymae,  nee  flebimus  ultra. 
Ite  procul,  lacrymae  ;  purum  colit  £ethera  Damon, 
^thera  purus  habet,  pluvium  pede  reppulit  arcum  ; 
Heroumque  animas  inter,  divosquc  perennes, 
^thereos  haurit  latices  et  gaudia  potat 
Ore  sacro.     Quin  tu,  cash  post  jura  recepta, 
Dexter  ades,  placidusque  fave,  quicunque  vocaris  ; 
Seu  tu  noster  eris  Damon,  sive  sequior  audis 


^ 


-4^ 


f~  "^  -^ 


624  LATIN  POEMS. 

DiODOTUS,  quo  te  divino  nomine  cuncti 
Caelicolae  norint  sylvisque  vocabcre  Damon. 
Quod  tibi  purpureus  pudor,  et  sine  labe  juventus 
Grata  fuit,  quod  nulla  tori  libata  voluptas, 
En!  etiani  tibi  virginei  servantur  honores  ! 
Ipse,  caput  nitidum  cinctus  rutilante  corona, 
Laetaque  frondentis  gestans  umbracula  palm^e, 
yEternum  perages  immortalcs  hymenaeos, 
Cantus  ubi,  choreisque  furit  lyra  mista  beatis, 
Festa  Siona^o  bacchantur  ct  Orgia  thyrso." 


Jen.  23,  1646. 
AD  JOANNEM   ROUSIUM, 

OXONIENSIS    ACADEMLE    BIBLIOTHECARIUM. 

De  libro   Poemattan  amisso,   quern  ilk  sibi  denuo  mitti  poslulabat,  ut  citm  aids  nostra  tit 
Dibllolhecd  Publica  reponerct,  Ode. 

Ode  tribus  constat  Strophis,  totidemque  Antistrophis,  una  demum  Epodo  clausis  ;  quas, 
tametsi  omnes  nee  versuum  numero  nee  certis  ubique  colis  cxacte  respondeant,  ita  tair.tn 
secuinnis,commodc:  legend!  potius  quam  ad  antiques  concinendimodos  ralionem  spectanles. 
Alioquin  hoc  genus  rectius  fortasse  dici  monostrophkum  debuerat.  Metra  partim  sunt  Kari 
ayifnv  partim  orroAeAv/ntia.  Phaleucia  qucB  sunt  spond.ieum  terlio  loco  bis  admittunt,  quod 
idem  in  secundo  loco  Catullus  ab  libitum  fecit. 

STROPHE    I. 

Gemelle  cultu  simplici  gaudcns  liber, 

Fronde  licet  gemina, 

Munditieque  nitcns  non  operosa, 

Quam  manus  attulit 

Juvenilis  olim 

Scdula,  tamen  baud  nimii  poetDB  ; 

Dum  vagus  Ausonias  nunc  per  umbras, 

Nunc  Britannica  per  vireta  lusit, 

Insons  populi,  barbitoque  devius 

Indulsit  patrio,  mox  itidcm  pectine  Daunio 

Longinquum  intonuit  melos 

Vicinis,  et  humum  vix  tetigit  pede  : 

^ ^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  625 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Quis  te,  parve  liber,  quis  te  fratribus 

Subduxit  reliquis  dolo, 

Cum  tu  missus  ab  urbe, 

Docto  jugiter  obsecrante  amico, 

Illustre  tendebas  iter 

Thamesis  ad  incunabula 

CoBrulei  patris, 

Pontes  ubi  limpidi 

Aonidum,  thyasusque  sacer, 

Orbi  notus  per  immensos 

Temporum  lapsus  redeunte  ccelo, 

Celeberquc  futurus  in  aevum  ? 

STROPHE    2. 

Modo  quis  deus,  aut  editus  deo, 

Pristinam  gentis  miseratus  indolem. 

(Si  satis  noxas  luimus  priores, 

Mollique  luxu  degener  otium) 

Tollat  nefandos  civium  tumultus, 

Almaque  revocet  studia  sanctus, 

Et  relegatas  sine  sede  Musas 

Jam  pene  totis  finibus  Angligeniam, 

Immundasque  volucres 

Unguibus  imminentes 

Figat  Apollinea  pharetra, 

Phineamque  abigat  pestem  procul  amne  Pegaseo  ? 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Quin  tu,  libelle  nuntii  licet  mala 
Fide,  vel  oscitantia, 
Semel  erraveris  agmine  fratrum, 
Seu  quis  te  teneat  specus, 
Seu  qua  te  latebra,  forsan  unde  vili 
Callo  tereris  institoris  insulsi, 
Lastare  felix ;  en!  iterum  tibi 
40 

^ ^ 


^ -Qp 

626  LATIN  POEMS. 

Spes  nova  fulget  posse  profundam 
Fugere  Lethen,  vehique  superam 
In  Jovis  aulam  remige  penna : 

STROPHE  3. 
Nam  te  Roiisius  sui 
Optat  peculi  numeroque  justo 
Sibi  poUicitum  queritur  abesse, 
Rogatque  venias  ille,  cujus  inclyta 
Sunt  data  virum  monumenta  curae  ; 
Teque  adytis  etiam  sacris 
Voluit  reponi,  quibus  et  ipse  praesidet 
^ternorum  operum  custos  fidelis, 
Qusestorque  gazae  nobilioris 
Quam  cui  proefuit  Ion, 
Clarus  Erechtheides, 
Opulenta  dei  per  templa  parentis, 
Fulvosque  tripodas,  donaque  Delphica, 
Ion  Actsea  genitus  Creusa. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Ergo  tu  visere  lucos 

Musarum  ibis  amoenos ; 

Diamque  Phoebi  rursus  ibis  in  domum 

Oxonia  quam  valle  colit, 

Delo  posthabita, 

Bifidoque  Parnassi  jugo ; 

Ibis  honestus, 

Postquam  egregiam  tu  quoque  sortem 

Nactus  abis,  dextri  prece  sollicitatus  amici. 

lUic  legeris  inter  alta  nomina 

Authorum,  Graiae  simul  et  Latinse 

Antiqua  gentis  lumina  et  verum  decus. 

EPODOS. 

Vos  tandem  baud  vacui  mei  labores, 
Quicquid  hoc  sterile  fudit  ingenium, 

^ -e 


^ 


LATIN  POEMS.  627 

Jam  sero  placidam  sperare  jubeo 

Perfunctam  invidia  requiem,  sedesque  beatas 

Quas  bonus  Hermes 

Et  tutela  dabic  solers  Roiisi, 

Quo  neque  lingua  procax  vulgi  penetrabit,  atque  longe 

Turba  legentum  prava  facesset ; 

At  ultimi  nepotes 

Et  cordatior  aetas 

Judicia  rebus  aequiora  forsitan 

Adhibebit  integro  sinu. 

Turn,  livore  sepulto, 

Si  quid  meremur  sana  posteritas  sciet, 

Roiisio  favente. 

IN  SALMASII  HUNDREDAM.  * 

Quis  expsdivit  Salmasio  suam  Hundredam.^ 
Picamque  docuit  verba  nostra  conari  ? 
Magister  artis  venter,  et  Jacobasi 
Centum  exulantis  viscera  marsupii  regis. 
Quod  si  dolosi  spes  refulserit  nummi, 
Ipse,  Antichri.sti  qui  modo  primatum  Papae 
Minatus  uno  est  dissipare  sufflatu, 
Cantabit  ultro  Cardinalitium  melos. 

IN  SALMASIUM. 
Gaudete,  scombri,  et  quicquid  est  piscium  salo. 
Qui  frigida  hieme  incolitis  algentes  freta  ! 
Vestrum  misertus  ille  Salmasius  Eques 
Bonus  amicire  nuditatem  cogitat; 
Chartaeque  largus  apparat  papyrinos 
Vobis  cucullos,  praeferentes  Claudii 
Insignia,  nomenque  et  decus,  Salmasii; 
Gestetis  ut  per  omne  cetarium  forum 
Equitis  clientes,  scriniis  mungentium 
Cubito  virorum,  et  capsulis,  gratissimos. 

THE  END. 


Lb{^r'30 


Deacidified  using  the  Bookkeeper  process. 
Neutralizing  agent:  Magnesium  Oxide 
Treatment  Date:  March  2009 

PreservationTechnologieS; 

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