volied Thunder made all speedAnd seconded thy else not dreaded Spear.
But still thy words at random, as before,
Argue thy inexperience what behooves
From hard assaies and ill successes past
A faithful Leader, not to hazard all
Through wayes of danger by himself untri’d.
I therefore, I alone first undertook
To wing the desolate Abyss, and spie
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 Aire;
Though for possession put to try once more
What thou and thy gay Legions dare against;
Whose easier business were to serve thir Lord
High up in Heav’n, with songs to hymne his Throne,
And practis’d distances to cringe, not fight.
To whom the warriour Angel soon repli’d.
To say and strait unsay, pretending first
Wise to flie pain, professing next the Spie,
Argues no Leader, but a lyar trac’t,
Satan, and couldst thou faithful add? O name, O sacred name of faithfulness profan’d! Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew? Armie of Fiends, fit body to fit head; Was this your discipline and faith ingag’d, Your military obedience, to dissolve Allegeance to th’ acknowledg’d Power supream? And thou sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem Patron of liberty, who more then thou Once fawn’d, and cring’d, and servilly ador’d Heav’ns awful Monarch? wherefore but in hope To dispossess him, and thy self to reigne? But mark what I arreede thee now, avant; Flie thither whence thou fledst: if from this houre Within these hallowd limits thou appeer, Back to th’ infernal pit I drag thee chaind, And Seale thee so, as henceforth not to scorne The facil gates of hell too slightly barrd.
So threatn’d hee, but Satan to no threats Gave heed, but waxing more in rage repli’d.
Then when I am thy captive talk of chaines,
Proud limitarie Cherube, but ere then
Farr heavier load thy self expect to feel
From my prevailing arme, though Heavens King
Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy Compeers,
Us’d to the yoak, draw’st his triumphant wheels
In progress through the rode of Heav’n Star-pav’d.
While thus he spake, th’ Angelic Squadron bright
Turnd fierie red, sharpning in mooned hornes
Thir Phalanx, and began to hemm 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 Swayes them; the careful Plowman doubting stands Least on the threshing floore his hopeful sheaves Prove chaff. On th’ other side Satan allarm’d Collecting all his might dilated stood, Like Teneriff or Atlas unremov’d: His stature reacht the Skie, and on his Crest Sat horror Plum’d; nor wanted in his graspe What seemd both Spear and Shield: now dreadful deeds Might have ensu’d, nor onely Paradise In this commotion, but the Starrie Cope Of Heav’n perhaps, or all the Elements At least had gon to rack, disturbd and torne 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 Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion signe, Wherein all things created first he weighd, The pendulous round Earth with ballanc’t Aire In counterpoise, now ponders all events, Battels and Realms: in these he put two weights The sequel each of parting and of fight; The latter quick up flew, and kickt the beam; Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the Fiend.
Satan, I know thy strength, and thou knowst mine, Neither our own but giv’n; what follie then To boast what Arms can doe, since thine no more Then Heav’n permits, nor mine, though doubld now To trample thee as mire: for proof look up, And read thy Lot in yon celestial Sign Where thou art weigh’d, & shown how light, how weak, If thou resist. The Fiend lookt up and knew His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.
THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
PARADISE LOST
BOOK V.
Now Morn her rosie steps in th’ Eastern Clime
Advancing, sow’d the Earth with Orient Pearle,
When Adam wak’t, so customd, for his sleep Was Aerie light, from pure digestion bred, And temperat vapors bland, which th’ only sound Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora’s fan, Lightly dispers’d, and the shrill Matin Song Of Birds on every bough; so much the more His wonder was to find unwak’nd Eve With Tresses discompos’d, and glowing Cheek, As through unquiet rest: he on his side Leaning half-rais’d, with looks of cordial Love Hung over her enamour’d, and beheld Beautie, which whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar Graces; then with voice Milde, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whisperd thus. Awake My fairest, my espous’d, my latest found, Heav’ns last best gift, my ever new delight, Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us, we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tended Plants, how blows the Citron Grove, What drops the Myrrhe, & what the balmie Reed, How Nature paints her colours, how the Bee Sits on the Bloom extracting liquid sweet.
Such whispering wak’d her, but with startl’d eye
On Adam, whom imbracing, thus she spake.
O Sole in whom my thoughts find all repose,
My Glorie, my Perfection, glad I see
Thy face, and Morn return’d, 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’t, or morrows next designe,
But of offence and trouble, which my mind
Knew never till this irksom night; methought
Close at mine ear one call’d me forth to walk
With gentle voice, I thought it thine; it said,
Why sleepst thou Eve? now is the pleasant time, The cool, the silent, save
