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His dark materials to create more worlds ;
Into this wild abyss the wary Fiend
Stood on the brink of Hell and look'd a while,
Pond'ring his voyage; for no narrow frith
He had to cross. Nor was his ear less peal'd
With noises loud and ruinous (to compare

920

Great things with small) than when Bellona storms,

With all her battering engines bent to raze

Some capital city'; or less than if this frame

Of Heaven were falling, and these elements
In mutiny had from her axle torn

925

The steadfast earth. At last his sail-broad vans

He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke

Uplifted spurns the ground thence many a league,
As in a cloudy chair, ascending rides

Audacious; but, that seat soon failing, meets

930

A vast vacuity: all unawares,

Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb down he drops

Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour

Down had been falling, had not by ill chance

935

The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud,
Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him
As many miles aloft: that fury stay'd, ♫

Quench'd in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea

Nor good dry land, nigh founder'd, on he fares,
Treading the crude consistence, half on foot,
Half flying behoves him now both oar and sail.
As when a gryphon through the wilderness

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With winged course, o'er hill or moory dale,

Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth V

Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd

915

The guarded gold so eagerly the Fiend

O'er bog, or steep, thro' strait, rough, dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies :

At length a universal hubbub wild

Of stunning sounds and voices all confus'd,ient

950,

Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear
With loudest vehemence: thither he plies,
Undaunted to meet there whatever power

Or spirit of the nethermost abyss

955

Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask

Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies

Bordering on light; when strait behold the throne

Of Chaos, and his dark pavillion spread

Wide on the wasteful deep; with him enthron'd,

960

Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things,
The consort of his reign; and by them stood
Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name

Of Demogorgon; Rumour next, and Chance,

965

And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroil'd,

And Discord, with a thousand various mouths.

T'whom Satan, turning boldly thus. "Ye Powers

And Spirts of this nethermost abyss,

Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy,

970

With purpose to explore or to disturb

The secrets of your realm, but by constraint

Wand'ring this darksome desert, as my way

Lies through your spacious empire up to light,

Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek

What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds

975

Confine with Heaven; or, if some other place

From your dominion won, the ethereal King

Possesses lately, thither to arrive

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I travel this profound; direct my course;
Directed, no mean recompense it brings
To your behoof, if I that region lost,
All usurpation thence expell'd, reduce
To her original darkness and your sway,
(Which is my present journey) and once more
Erect the standard there of ancient Night;
Yours be th' advantage all, mine the revenge."
Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old,
With falt'ring speech and visage incompos'd,

980

985

990

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995

Answer'd. "I know thee, stranger, who thou art,

That mighty leading Angel, who of late

Made head against Heav'n's King, tho' overthrown.
I saw and heard, for such a numerous host

Fled not in silence through the frighted deep
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,

Confusion worse confounded; and Heav'n gates
Pour'd out by millions her victorious bands,
Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here
Keep residence ; if all I can will serve
That little which is left so to defend,

Encroach'd on still through your intestine broils,
Weak'ning the sceptre of old Night: first Hell
Your dungeon stretching far and wide beneath;
Now lately Heav'n and Earth, another world,
Hung o'er my realm, linked in a golden chain
To that side Heav'n from whence your legions fell:
If that way be your walk, you have not far;
So much the nearer danger; go, and speed;
Havoc and spoil and ruin are my gain."

He ceas'd; and Satan stay'd not to reply,
But, glad that now his sea should find a shore,
With fresh alacrity and force renew'd,
Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire,
Into the wild expanse, and through the shock
Of fighting elements, on all sides round
Environ'd wins his way; harder beset, 9
And more endanger'd, than when Argo pass'd
Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks; o
Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunn'd
Charybdis, and by th' other whirlpool steer'd.

So he with difficulty' and labour hard

Mov'd on, with difficulty' and labour he;

But he, once past, soon after, when man fell,
(Strange alteration!) Sin and Death amain,
Following his track (such was the will of Heaven)
Pav'd after him a broad and beaten
way

1000

1005

1010

1015

1020

1025

Over the dark abyss, whose boiling gulf
Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length,
From Hell continu'd, reaching the utmost orb
Of this frail world; by which the Spi'rits perverse
With easy intercourse pass to and fro

To tempt or punish mortals, except whom
God and good Angels guard with special grace.
But now at last the sacred influence

ease,

Of light appears, and from the walls of Heaven
Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night
A glimmering dawn: here Nature first begins
Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire,
As from her outmost works a broken foe,
With tumult less and with less hostile din;
That Satan with less toil, and now with
Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light,
And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds
Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn;
Or in the emptier waste, resembling air,
Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold
Far off th' empyreal Heav'n, extended wide
In circuit, undetermin'd square or round,
With opal tow ́rs and battlements adorn'd
Of living sapphire, once his native seat;
And fast by hanging in a golden chain
This pendent world, in bigness as a star
Of smallest magnitude close by the moon.

1030

1035

1040

Voiles mats

1045

1050

Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge,
Accurs'd, and in a cursed hour, he hies.

1055

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

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