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In this perfidious fraud, contagion spread
Both of thy crime and punishment: henceforth
No more be troubled how to quit the yoke
Of God's Messiah: those indulgent laws
Will not be now vouchsaf'd: other decrees
Against thee are gone forth without recall;
That golden sceptre, which thou didst reject,
Is now an iron rod to bruise and break

Thy disobedience. Well thou didst advise;
Yet not for thy advice or threats I fly
These wicked tents devoted, lest the wrath
Impendent, raging into sudden flame,
Distinguish not: for soon expect to feel
His thunder on thy head, devouring fire.

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Then who created thee lamenting learn,

When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know.'

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To swerve from truth, or change his constant mind,

Tho' single. From amidst them forth he pass'd,

Long way thro' hostile scorn, which he sustain'd
Superior, nor of violence fear'd ought;

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And with retorted scorn his back he turn'd

On those proud tow'rs to swift destruction doom'd."

END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK VI.

ARGUMENT.

Raphael continues to relate how Michael and Gabriel were sent forth to battle against Satan and his Angels. The first fight described. Satan and his Powers retire under night. He calls a council, invents devilish engines, which in the second day's fight put Michael and his Angels to some disorder; but they at length, pulling up mountains, overwhelmed both the force and machines of Satan. Yet the tumult not so ending, God on the third day sends Messiah his Son, for whom he had reserved the glory of that victory he, in the power of his Father, coming to the place, and causing all his legions to stand still on either side, with his chariot and thunder driving into the midst of his enemies, pursues them, unable to resist, towards the wall of Heaven which opening, they cap down with horror and confusion into the place of punishment prepared for them in the deep. Messiah returns with triumph to his Father.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK VI.

"ALL night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heav'n's wide champain held his way;
Wak'd by the circling hours, with rosy hand
Unbarr'd the gates of light. There is a cave
Within the mount of God, fast by his throne,

Where light and darkness in perpetual round

till morn,

Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heaven Grateful vicissitude, like day and night;

Light issues forth, and at the other door

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To veil the Heav'n, though darkness there might well
Seem twilight here: and now went forth the morn,
Such as in highest Heav'n, array'd in gold
Empyreal; from before her vanish'd night,

Shot thro' with orient beams; when all the plain,
Cover'd with thick embattl'd squadrons bright,
Chariots and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view.
War he perceiv'd, war in procinct, and found
Already known, what he for news had thought
To have reported: gladly then he mix'd
Among those friendly Pow'rs, who him receiv'd
With joy and acclamations loud, that one,
That of so many myriads fall'n, yet one
Return'd not lost. On to the sacred hill

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They led him high applauded, and present

Before the seat supreme; from whence a voice

From midst a golden cloud thus mild was heard.

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