And such I held thee; but this question asked Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain? Who would not, finding way, break loose from Hell, Though thither doomed? Thou wouldst thyself, no doubt,
And boldly venture to whatever place
Farthest from pain, where thou mightst 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.
His will who bound us?
And wilt object
Let him surer bar
His iron gates, if he intends our stay
In that dark durance. Thus much what was asked: 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 Heaven 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 wrauth, 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 answered, frowning.
"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 volleyed 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 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 Heaven, 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 to 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 ingaged, Your military obedience, to dissolve Allegiance to the acknowledged Power Supreme? And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem Patron of liberty, who more than thou
Once fawned, and cringed, and servilely adored Heaven's awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hope To dispossess him, and thyself to reign? But mark what I areed thee now: Avaunt!
Fly thither whence thou fledd'st. If from this hour Within these hallowed limits thou appear,
Back to the Infernal Pit I drag thee chained, And seal thee so as henceforth not to scorn The facile gates of Hell too slightly barred." So threatened he; but Satan to no threats Gave heed, but waxing more in rage, replied:— "Then, when I am thy captive, talk of chains, Proud limitary 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 Heaven star-paved." While thus he spake, the angelic squadron bright Turned fiery red, sharpening 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, alarmed, Collecting all his might, dilated stood,
Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved:
His stature reached the sky, and on his crest Sat Horror plumed; nor wanted in his grasp What seemed both spear and shield.
Might have ensued; nor only Paradise, In this commotion, but the starry cope
Of Heaven perhaps, or all the Elements
At least, had gone to wrack, disturbed and torn With violence of this conflict, had not soon The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray, Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seen Betwixt Astræa and the Scorpion sign,
Wherein all things created first he weighed, 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 kicked 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 Heaven 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 weighed, and shown how light, how weak
If thou resist." The Fiend looked up, and knew His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled Murmuring; and with him fled the shades of Night.
THE ARGUMENT.-Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; he likes it not, yet comforts her: they come forth to their day labours: their morning hymn at the door of their bower. God, to render Man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of 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 the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep Was aerie light, from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapours 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 unwakened 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 enamoured, and beheld Beauty which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces; then, with voice Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whispered thus:-" Awake, My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's 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 myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How Nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet."
Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye On Adam; whom imbracing, 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 passed) have dreamed, If dreamed, not, as I oft am wont, of thee, Works of day past, 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 called 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-laboured song; now reigns Full-orbed the moon, and, with more pleasing light, Shadowy sets off the face of things-in vain, If none regard. Heaven wakes with all his eyes; Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire, In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment
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