What in an age they with incessant toil And hands innumerable scarce perform. Nigh on the plain, in many cells prepared, That underneath had veins of liquid fire Sluiced from the lake, a second multitude With wondrous art founded the massy ore, Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross, A third as soon had form'd within the ground A various mould, and from the boiling cells, By strange conveyance, fill'd each hollow nook; As in an organ, from one blast of wind,
To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes. Anon, out of the earth a fabric huge
Rose like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple, where pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid
With golden architrave; nor did there want Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven: The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon, Nor great Alcairo, such magnificence Equall'd in all their glories, to enshrine
Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat
Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxury. The ascending pile
Stood fix'd her stately height; and straight the doors, Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide Within her ample spaces, o'er the smooth And level pavement; from the arched roof Pendent by subtle magic, many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naptha and asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky. The hasty multitude Admiring enter'd; and the work some praise, And some the architect: his hand was known In heaven by many a tower'd structure high, Where sceptered angels held their residence, And sat as princes; whom the supreme King Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright. Nor was his name unheard or unadored In ancient Greece, and in Ausonian land. Men call'd him Mulciber; and how he fell From heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o'er the crystal battlements: from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun Dropp'd from the zenith like a falling star, On Lemnos th' Ægean isle: thus they relate, Erring; for he with his rebellious route
Fell long before; nor aught avail'd him now ['scape To have built in heaven high towers; nor did he By all his engines, but was headlong sent With his industrious crew to build in hell.
Meanwhile, the winged heralds, by command Of sovereign power, with awful ceremony
And trumpet's sound, throughout the host proclaim A solemn council, forthwith to be held
At Pandemonium, the high capital
Of Satan and his peers: their summons call'd From every band and squared regiment
By place or choice the worthiest; they anon, With hundreds and with thousands trooping came, Attended all access was throng'd: the gates And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall (Though like a cover'd field, where champions bold Wont ride in arm'd, and at the soldan's chair Defied the best of panim chivalry
To mortal combat, or career with lance), Thick swarm'd both on the ground and in the air Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees In spring-time, when the sun with Taurus rides, Pour forth their populous youth about the hive In clusters! they among fresh dews and flowers Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, The suburb of their straw-built citadel, New rubb'd with balm, expatiate and confer Their state affairs: so thick the aëry crowd Swarm'd and were straiten'd; till, the signal given, Behold a wonder! They but now who seem'd In bigness to surpass earth's giant sons, Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room Throng numberless, like that pygmean race Beyond the Indian mount; or faery elves, Whose midnight revels, by a forest side Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while over head the moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth
Wheels her pale course; they, on their mirth Intent, with jocund music charm his ear: At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds; Thus incorporeal spirits to smallest forms
Reduc'd their shapes immense, and were at large, Though without number still, amidst the hall Of that infernal court. But far within, And in their own dimensions, like themselves, The great seraphic lords and cherubim In close recess and secret conclave sat ; A thousand demigods on golden seats Frequent and full. After short silence then, And summons read, the great consult began.
The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of heaven: some advise it, others dissuade: a third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much inferior, to themselves, about this time to be created. Their doubt, who shall be sent on this difficult search; Satan their chief undertakes alone the voyage, is honoured and applauded. The counsel thus ended, the rest betake them several ways, and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to hell-gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them; by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between hell and heaven; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought.
HIGH on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat, by merit raised
To that bad eminence; and, from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
Vain war with Heaven; and, by success untaught, His proud immaginations thus display'd:
'Powers and dominions, deities of heaven; For since no deep within her gulf can hold Immortal vigour, though oppress'd and fall'n, I give not heaven for lost. From this descent
Celestial virtues rising, will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate,
Me though just right, and the fix'd laws of heav'n, Did first create your leader; next, free choice, With what besides, in council or in fight, Hath been achieved of merit; yet this loss, Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more Establish'd in a safe unenvied throne, Yielded with full consent. The happier state In heaven, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim, Your bulwark, and condemns to greater share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none sure will claim in hell Precedence, none whose portion is so small Of present pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more. With this advantage then To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, More than can be in heaven, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old. Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assured us; and, by what best way, Whether of open war, or covert guile,
We now debate; who can advise may speak?' He ceased and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair : His trust was with the Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength; and rather than be less Cared not to be at all; with that care lost Went all his fear of God, or hell, or worse He reck'd not: and these words thereafter spake : My sentence is for open war of wiles,
More unexpert, I boast not; them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now. For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place Accept this dark, opprobrious den of shame, The prison of this tyranny who reigns By our delay? No, let us rather choose,
Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once, O'er heaven's high towers to force resistless way Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine he shall hear Infernal thunder; and for lightning, see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels; and his throne itself Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps The way seems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then; The event is fear'd; should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction; if there be in hell
Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned In this abhorred deep to utter woe;
Where pain of unextinguishable fire
Must exercise us without hope of end,
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge
Inexorable, and the torturing hour,
Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thou We should be quite abolish'd, and expire.
What fear we then? what doubt we to incense His utmost ire? which, to the height enraged, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential; happier far Than miserable to have eternal being: Or, if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.'
He ended frowning, and his look denounced
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