No sooner had th' Almighty ceas'd, but all
The multitude of angels, with a shout
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet,
As from bless'd voices uttering joy, heaven rung
With jubilee, and loud hosannas fill'd
Th' eternal regions. Lowly reverent
Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground With solemn adoration down they cast
Their crowns, inwove with amaranth and gold;
Immortal amaranth! a flower which once
In Paradise, fast by the tree of life,
Began to bloom; but soon for man's offence
And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life;
To heaven remov'd, where first it grew, there grows,
And where the river of bliss thro' midst of heaven
Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream:
With these, that never fade, the spirits elect
Bind their resplendent locks, inwreath'd with beams,
Now in loose garlands thick thrown off, the bright
Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone,
Impurpled with celestial roses smil'd.
Then crown'd again, their golden harps they took,
Harps ever tun'd, that, glittering by their side, 306
Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet
Of charming symphony they introduce
Their sacred song, and waken raptures high;
No voice exempt; no voice but well could join 370
Melodious part, such concord is in heaven.
"Thee, Father," first they sung,
Immutable, immortal, infinite,
Eternal King; thee, Author of all being,
Fountain of light, thyself invisible
Amidst the glorious brightness where thou sitt'st
Thron'd inaccessible, but when thou shad'st
The full blaze of thy beams, and through a cloud,
Drawn round about thee like a radiant shrine,
Dark with excessive bright, thy skirts appear,
Yet dazzle heaven, that brightest seraphim
Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes."
Thee," next they sang, "of all creation first,
Begotten Son, divine similitude!
In whose conspicuous count'nance, without cloud 385 Made visible, th' almighty Father shines,
Whom else no creature can behold: on thee
Impress'd, th' effulgence of his glory abides,
Transfus'd on thee his ample Spirit rests.
He heaven of heavens, and all the powers therein,
By thee created, and by thee threw down
Th' aspiring dominations: thou that day
Thy Father's dreadful thunder did not spare,
Nor stop the flaming chariot-wheels, that shook
Heaven's everlasting frame, while o'er the necks 395
Thou drov'st warring angels disarray'd.
Back from pursuit thy powers with loud acclaim
Thee only extol'd, Son of thy Father's might,
'To execute fierce vengeance on his foes.
Not so on man: him thro' their malice fallen,
Father of mercy and grace! thou didst not doom
So strictly, but much more to pity incline:
No sooner did thy dear and only Son
Perceive thee purpos'd not to doom frail man
So strictly, but much more to pity incline,
He, to appease thy wrath, and end the strife
Of mercy and justice in thy face discern'd,
Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat
Second to thee, offer'd himself to die
For man's offence. O unexampled love'
Love no where to be found less than divine!
Hail, Son of God, Saviour of men! Thy name
Shall be the copious matter of my song
Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise
Forget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin."
Thus they in heaven, above the starry sphere,
Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent.
Meanwhile upon the firm opacous globe
Of this round world, whose first convex divides
The luminous inferior orbs, enclos'd
From Chaos, and th' inroad of darkness old,
Satan alighted walks. A globe far off
It seem'd, now seems a boundless continent,
Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of nigh
Starless expos'd, and ever-threat'ning storms
Of Chaos blust'ring round, inclement shy,
Save on that side from which the wall of heaven,
Though distant far, some small reflection gains
Or glimmering air, less vex'd with tempest loud:
Here walk'd the fiend at large in spacious field. - 430
As when a vulture, on Imaus bred.
Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds,
Dislodging from a region scarce of prey,
To gorge the flesh of lambs, or yeanling kids
Or hills where flocks are fed, flies tow'rds the springs Of Ganges, or Hydaspes, Indian streams;
But in his way lights on the barren plains
Of Sericana, where Chineses drive
With sails of wind their cany wagons light:
So on this windy sea of land, the fiend
Walk'd up and down alone, bent on his prey;
Alone, for other creature in this place,
Living or lifeless, to be found was none;
None yet; but store hereafter from the earth
Up hither like ærial vapours flew,
Of all things transitory and vain, when sin
With vanity had fill'd the works of men:
Both all things vain, and all who in vain things
Built their fond hopes of glory or lasting fame,
Or happiness in this or th' other life:
All who have their reward on earth, the fruits
Of painful superstition and blind zeal,
Nought seeking but the praise of men, here find
Fit retribution, empty as their deeds:
All th' unaccomplish'd works of nature's hand, 455
Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mix'd,
Dissolv'd on earth, fleet hither, and in vain,
Till final dissolution, wander here:
Not in the neighb'ring moon, as some have dream'd;
Those argent fields more likely habitants,
Translated saints or middle spirits hold,
Betwixt the angelical and human kind.
Hither, of ill-join'd sons and daughters born,
First from the ancient world those giants came,
With many a vain exploit, though then renown'd ·
The builders next of Babel on the plain
Of Sennaar, and still with vain design
New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build :
Others came single; he who, to be deem'd
A god, leap'd fondly into Etna's flames,
Empedocles; and he who, to enjoy
Plato's Elysium, leap'd into the sea,
Cleombrotus, and many more too long,
Embryos, and idiots, eremites, and friars,
White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery
Here pilgrims roam, that stray'd so far to seek
In Golgotha him dead, who lives in heaven;
And they who, to be sure of Paradise,
Dying put on the weeds of Dominic,
Or in Franciscan think to pass disguis'd,
They pass the planets seven, and pass the fix'd,
And that chrystalline sphere whose balance weighs
The trepidation talk'd, and that first-mov'd:
And now Saint Peter at heaven's wicket seems
To wait them with his keys, and now at foot
Of heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when lo!
A violent cross wind from either coast
Blows them transverse, ten thousand leagues awry
Into the devious air; then might ye see
Cowls, hoods, and habits, with their wearers, tost
And flutter'd into rags; then reliques, beads,
Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls,
The sport of winds: all these, up-whirl'd aloft.
Fly o'er the backside of the world far off,
Into a Limbo large and broad, since call'd
The Paradise of Fools, to few unknown
Long after now unpeopled, and untrod.
All this dark globe the fiend found as he pass'd,
And long he wander'd, till at last a gleam
Of dawning light turn'd thither-ward in haste
His travelld steps: far distant he descries,
Ascending by degrees magnificent
Up to the wall of heaven, a structure high,
At top whereof, but far more rich, appear'd
The work as of a kingly palace gate,
With frontispiece of diamond, and gold
Embellish'd; thick with sparkling orient gems
The portal shone, inimitable on earth,
By model, or by shading pencil drawn.
The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw
Angels ascending and descending, bands
Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled
To Padan-aram, in the field of Luz,
Dreaming by night under the open sky,
And waking cried, "This is the gate of heaven.' 515
Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood
There always, but drawn up to heaven sometimes
Viewless; and underneath a bright sea flow'd
Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon
Who after came from earth, sailing arriv'd,
Wafted by angels, or flew o'er the lake
Wrapp'd in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds.
The stairs were then let down, whether to dare
The hand by easy ascent, or aggravate
His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss:
Direct against which open'd from hencath,
Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise,
A passage down to th' earth, a passage wide,
Wider by far than that of after-times
Over mount Sion, and, though that were large, 530 Over the promis'd Land to God so dear,
By which, to visit oft those happy tribes,
On high behests his angels to and fro
Pass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regard,
From Paneas, the fount of Jordan's flood,
To Beersaba, where the Holy Land
Borders on Egypt and th' Arabian shore;
So wide the opening seem'd, where bounds were set
To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave.
Satan from hence, now on the lower stair,
That scal'd by steps of gold to heaven gate,
Looks down with wonder at the sudden view
Of all this world at once.
As when a scout,
Through dark and desert ways with peril gone
All night, at last, by break of cheerful dawn,
Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill,
Which to his eye discovers unaware
The goodly prospect of some foreign land
First seen, or some renown'd metropolis,
With glist'ring spires and pinnacles adorn'd,
Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams
Such wonder seiz'd, though after heaven seen,
The spirit malign; but much more envy seiz'd
At sight of all this world beheld so fair.
Round he surveys (and well might where he stood So high above the circling canopy
Of night's extended shade) from eastern point
Of Libra, to the fleecy star, that bears
Andromeda far off Atlantic seas,
Beyond th' horizon: then from pole to pole
He views in breadth; and without longer pause
Down right into the world's first region throws
His flight precipitant, and winds with ease,
Through the pure marble air his oblique way,
Amongst innumerable stars, that shone,
Stars distant, but nigh hand seem'd other world's:
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