And th' instant stroke of death denounc'd, that day Remov'd far off; then pitying how they stood 211 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 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 reassum'd
In glory as of old; to him appeas'd
All, tho' all-knowing, what had pass'd with Man Recounted, mixing intercession sweet.
Mean while ere thus was sinn'd and judg'd 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 Pow'rful at greatest distance to unite With secret amity things of like kind By secretest conveyance. Thou my Inseparable must with me along :
For Death from Sin no pow'r 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 pow'r and mine Not unagreeable, to found a path
Over this main from Hell to that new world 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 savour 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, lur'd With scent of living carcases design'd For death, the foilowing 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 pow'r (their pow'r 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 two polar winds, blowing adverse Upon the Cronian sea, together drive
Mountains of ice, that stop th' imagin'd way 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 rigour 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, 301 Or length prodigious, joining to the wall Immoveable 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 compar'd, 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 joi',
310 And scourg'd with many a stroke th' indignant
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 empyréan Heaven And of this World, and on the left hand Hell With long reach interpos'd; three several ways In sight, to each of these three places led. And now their way to Earth they had descry'd, To Faradise 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:
Disguis'd he came, but those his children dear 330 Their parent soon discern'd, though in disguise. He after Eve seduc'd, 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, terrify'd 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 list'ning 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 wond'rous pontifice, unhop'd Met who to meet him came, his offspring dear. Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight Of that stupendous bridge his joy increas'd. 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; For I no sooner in my heart divin'd,
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