Pass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regard From Paneas, the fount of Jordan's flood, To Beërsaba, where the Holy Land Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shore; So wide the opening seem'd, where bounds were
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 limbec to his native form. What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run Potable gold, when with one virtuous touch The arch-chymic Sun, so far from us remote, Produces, with terrestrial humour mix'd, Here in the dark so many precious things Of colour glorious, and effect so rare ? Here matter new to gaze the Devil met Undazzled; far and wide his eye commands; For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sun-shine, as when his beams at noon Culminate from th' equator, as they now Shot upward still direct, whence no way round Shadow from body opaque can fall; and the air,
To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave. Satan from hence, now on the lower stair, That scal'd 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 seiz'd, though after Heaven seen, The spirit malign, but much more envy seiz'd, At sight of all this world beheld so fair. Round he surveys (and well might, where he To objects distant far, whereby he soon
So high above the circling canopy
Of night's extended shade) from eastern point Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears Andromeda far off Atlantic seas
Beyond the horizon; then from pole to pole He views in breadth, and without longer pause Down right into the world's first region throws His flight precipitant, and winds with ease Through the pure marble air his oblique way Amongst innumerable stars, that shone Stars distant, but nigh hand seem'd other worlds; Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles, Like those Hesperian gardens fam'd of old, Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales, Thrice happy isles; but who dwelt happy there He staid not to inquire: above them all The golden Sun, in splendour likest Heaven, Allur'd 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 wonderously was set his station bright. There lands the fiend, a spot like which perhaps Astronomer in the Sun's lucent orb
Through his glaz'd optic tube yet never saw. The place he found beyond expression bright, Compar'd 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 Imagin'd rather oft than elsewhere seen,
No where so clear, sharpen'd his visual ray
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 em- ploy'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 wandering flight To Paradise, the happy seat of Man,
His journey's end and our beginning woe. But first he casts to change his proper shape, Which else might work him danger or delay: And now a stripling cherub he appears, Not of the prime, yet such as in his face Youth smil'd celestial, and to every limb Suitable grace diffus'd, so well he feign'd: Under a coronet his flowing hair
In curls on either cheek play'd; wings he wore, Of many a colour'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, Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd, Admonish'd by his ear, and straight was known The arch-angel Uriel, one of the seven
Who in God's presence, nearest to his throne, Stand ready at command, and are his eyes That run through all the Heavens, or down to the Earth
Bear his swift errands over moist and dry, O'er sea and land: him Satan thus accosts. "Uriel, for thou of those seven spirits that stand
In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright, The first art wont his great authentic will Interpreter through highest Heaven to bring, Where all his sons thy embassy attend; And here art likeliest by supreme decree Like honour to obtain, and as his eye To visit oft this new creation round; Unspeakable desire to see, and know All these his wonderous works, but chiefly Man, His chief delight and favour, him for whom
All these his works so wonderous he ordain'd, Hath brought me from the quires of cherubim Alone thus wandering. Brightest seraph, tell In which of all these shining orbs hath Man His fixed seat, or 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 unperceiv'd; For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone,
By his permissive will, through Heaven and 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 be-
Uriel, though regent of the Sun, and held The sharpest-sighted spirit of all in Heaven; Who to the fraudulent impostor 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 Heaven: For wonderful indeed are all his works, Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all Had in remembrance always with delight; But what created mind can comprehend Their number, or the wisdom infinite
That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep?
I saw when at his word the formless mass, This world's material mould, came to a heap: Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood rul'd, stood vast infinitude confin'd; 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 etherial quintessence of Heaven Flew upward, spirited with various forms, That roll'd orbicular, and turn'd to stars Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move; Each had his place appointed, each his course; The rest in circuit walls this universe.
Look downward on that globe, whose hither side With light from hence, though but reflected, [light
That place is Earth, the seat of Man; that His day, which else, as the other hemisphere,
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 honour due and reverence none neglects, Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth be- neath, [cess, Down from the ecliptic, sped with hop'd suc- Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel; Nor staid, till on Niphates' top he lights.
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 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 know, ledge was forbidden them to eat of, under penalty of death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing them to transgress: then leaves them a while to know further of Meanwhile their state by soine other means.
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 after by his furious gestures in the mount. promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel, drawing forth his bands of night-watch to walk the round of Paradise, appoints two strong angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve, sleeping; there they find him at the ear of Eve tempting herin a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers; prepares resistance; but, hindered by a sign from Heaven, flies out of Para dise.
Night would invade; but there the neighbouring O FOR that warning voice, which he, who (So call that opposite fair star) her aid
Timely interposes, and her monthly round
Still ending, still renewing, through mid Heaven, Th' Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, Came furious down to be reveng'd 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 'scap'd, Haply so 'scap'd his mortal snare for now Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down, The tempter ere the accuser of mankind, To wreak on innocent frail man his loss Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell: Yet, not rejoicing in his speed, though bold Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast, Begins his dire attempt; which nigh the birth Now rolling boils in his tumultuous breast, And like a devilish engine back recoils Upon himself; horrour and doubt distract [stir His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom The Hell within him; for within him Hell He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell One step, no more than from himself, can fly By change of place: now conscience wakes despair,
That slumber'd; wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must
Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view Lay pleasant, his griev'd look he fixed sad; Sometimes towards Heaven, and the full-blazing Sun,
Which now sat high in his meridian tower: 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, O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King:
Ah wherefore! he deserv'd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise, The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd 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 receiv'd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharg'd; what burthen then? O had his powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel, I had stood Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition. Yet why not? some other power As great might have aspir'd, and me, though
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
But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all? Be then his love accurs'd, since love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay, curs'd be thou; since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven. O, then, at last relent: is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue The Omnipotent. Ay me! they little know Now dearly 1 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 advanc'd, 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 height recall high thoughts, how soon [recant What feign'd submission swore? Ease would Vows made in pain, as violent and void. For never can true reconcilement grow, Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so
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, instead Of us out-cast, exil'd, 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 Heaven's King I hold, By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; As Man ere long, and this new world, shall know." [face
Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envy, and despair; Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'd Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld.
For heavenly 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 practis'd falsehood under saintly show, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge : Yet not enough had practis'd to deceive Uriel once warn'd; whose eye pursued him down The way he went, and on the Assyrian mount Saw him disfigur'd, more than could befall Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce He mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone,
As he suppos'd, all unobserv'd, 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 champaign head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access denied ; and over-head up grew Insuperable height 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 neighbouring 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 colours mix'd: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams 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 inspires 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 odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the blest; with such delay Well pleas'd they slack their course, and many a league
Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles: So entertain'd those odorous sweets the fiend, Who came their bane: though with them better pleas'd
Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume
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 liv'd; nor on the virtue thought Of that life-giving plant, but only us'd For prospect, what well us'd 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 expos'd, In narrow room, Nature's whole wealth, yea
A Heaven 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 castward to the royal towers 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 caus'd 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 chang'd his course, but through the shaggy bill
Pass'd underneath ingulf'd; for God had thrown That mountain as his garden-mould high rais'd 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,
That drove him, though enamour'd, from the Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm
Of Tobit's son, and with a vengeance sent From Media post to Egypt, there fast bound.
Now to the ascent of that steep savage hill Satan had journey'd on, pensive and slow; But further way found none, so thick entwin'd, As one continued brake, the undergrowth Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplex'd All path of man or beast that pass'd that way. One gate there only was, and that look'd east On the other side which when the arch-felon
Due entrance he disdain'd; and, in contempt, At one slight bound high over-leap'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, Leaps 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 lew'd hirelings climb.
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 errour under pendent shades Fan nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers 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 unpierc'd shade Imbrown'd the noontide bowers: thus was this
A happy rural seat 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 interpos'd, Or palmy hillock; or the flowery lap Of some irriguous valley spread her store, Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose: Another side, umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, q'er which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; mean while 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 quire 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 the eternal Spring. Not that fair field Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers, Herself a fairer flower by gloomy Dis 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 inspir'd 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 Lybian 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 suppos'd True Paradise under the Ethiop line By Nilus' head, enclos'd 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 honour clad In naked 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 plac'd,) 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 declar'd Absolute rule; and hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering, 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 wav'd, As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd, 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, honour dishonourable, 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 God 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.
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, Declin'd, was hasting now with prone career To the ocean isles, and in the ascending scale Of Heaven the stars 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! what do mine eyes with grief behold!
Into our room of bliss thus high advanc'd Creatures of other mould, Earth-born perhaps, Not spirits, yet to heavenly 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 inore your taste is now of joy; Happy, but for so happy ill secur'd Long to continue, and this high seat your Heaven Ill fenc'd for Heaven to keep out such a foe As now is enter'd; yet no purpos'd foe To you, whom I could pity thus forlorn, Though I unpitied : league with you I seek, And mutual amity, so strait, 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 offspring; 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
« 上一頁繼續 » |