Jehovah, who, in one night, when he pass'd
From Egypt marching, equalled, with one stroke,
Both her first-born, and all her bleating gods.
Belial came last, than whom a Spirit more lewd
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 fill'd
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:
The Ionian Gods, of Javan's issue, held

Gods, yet confess'd later than Heaven and Earth,
Their boasted parents: Titan, Heaven's first-born,
With his enormous brood, and birth-right 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 cliff,

Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds
Of Doric land; or, who with Saturn old,
Fled over Adria to the Hesperian fields,
And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles. [looks
All these, and more, came flocking; but with
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 fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears.
Then straight commands, that, at the warlike sound
Of trumpets loud, and clarions, be uprear'd
His mighty standard. That proud honour claim'd
Azazel as his right, a Cherub tall,

Who forthwith, from the glittering staff, unfurl'd
The imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,
Shone, like a meteor, streaming to the wind,
With gems and golden lustre rich imblazed,
Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
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 colours 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; such as raised
To height of noblest temper heroes old,
Arming to battle; and, instead of rage,
Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved
With dread of death, to flight or foul retreat;
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 order'd 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 battalion views; their order due;
Their visages and stature, as of Gods:
Their number last he sums. And now his heart
Distends with pride, and, hardening in his strength,
Glories: for never, since created man

Met such 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 the 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;
And all, who since, baptized or infidel,
Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban,
Damasco, or Morocco, 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 tower: his form had yet not lost
All her original brightness; nor appear'd
Less than Archangel ruin'd, and the 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 the Archangel: 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 Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung, For his revolt: yet faithful how they stood, Their glory wither'd: as when Heaven's fire Hath scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain pines, With singed top, their stately growth, though bare, Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared To speak; whereat, their doubled ranks they bend, From wing to wing, and half enclose him round, With all his peers: attention held them mute. Thrice he essay'd, and thrice, in spite of scorn, 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 the Almighty; and that strife Was not inglorious, though the 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 Heaven, shall fail to re-ascend, Self-raised, and re-possess their native seat? For me, be witness all the host of Heaven, If counsels different, or danger shunn'd By me, have lost our hopes. But he, who reigns Monarch in Heaven, till then, as one secure, Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, Consent or custom, and his regal state,