Paradise Lost, John Milton [bts book recommendations .txt] 📗

organs of her fancy, and with them forge Illusions, as he list, phantasms and dreams; Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint The animal spirits, that from pure blood arise Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise At least distempered, discontented thoughts, Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires, Blown up with high conceits ingendering pride.

Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear Touched lightly; for no falshood can endure Touch of celestial temper, but returns Of force to its own likeness: Up he starts Discovered and surprised. As when a spark Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid Fit for the tun some magazine to store Against a rumoured war, the smutty grain, With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air; So started up in his own shape the Fiend.

Back stept those two fair Angels, half amazed So sudden to behold the grisly king; Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon.

Which of those rebel Spirits adjudged to Hell Comest thou, escaped thy prison? and, transformed, Why sat’st thou like an enemy in wait, Here watching at the head of these that sleep?

Know ye not then said Satan, filled with scorn, Know ye not me? ye knew me once no mate For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar: Not to know me argues yourselves unknown, The lowest of your throng; or, if ye know, Why ask ye, and superfluous begin

Your message, like to end as much in vain?

To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn.

Think not, revolted Spirit, thy shape the same, Or undiminished brightness to be known, As when thou stoodest in Heaven upright and pure; That glory then, when thou no more wast good, Departed from thee; and thou resemblest now Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foul.

But come, for thou, be sure, shalt give account To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep This place inviolable, and these from harm.

So spake the Cherub; and his grave rebuke, Severe in youthful beauty, added grace Invincible: Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely; saw, and pined His loss; but chiefly to find here observed His lustre visibly impaired; yet seemed Undaunted. If I must contend, said he, Best with the best, the sender, not the sent, Or all at once; more glory will be won, Or less be lost. Thy fear, said Zephon bold, Will save us trial what the least can do Single against thee wicked, and thence weak.

The Fiend replied not, overcome with rage; But, like a proud steed reined, went haughty on, Champing his iron curb: To strive or fly He held it vain; awe from above had quelled His heart, not else dismayed. Now drew they nigh The western point, where those half-rounding guards Just met, and closing stood in squadron joined, A waiting next command. To whom their Chief, Gabriel, from the front thus called aloud.

O friends! I hear the tread of nimble feet Hasting this way, and now by glimpse discern Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade; And with them comes a third of regal port, But faded splendour wan; who by his gait And fierce demeanour seems the Prince of Hell, Not likely to part hence without contest; Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours.

He scarce had ended, when those two approached, And brief related whom they brought, where found, How busied, in what form and posture couched.

To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake.

Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescribed To thy transgressions, and disturbed the charge Of others, who approve not to transgress By thy example, but have power and right To question thy bold entrance on this place; Employed, it seems, to violate sleep, and those Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss!

To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow.

Gabriel? thou hadst in Heaven the esteem of wise, 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 knowest only good, But evil hast not tried: and wilt object His will who bounds us! 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 wrath, Which thou incurrest 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? 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 stern.

Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, Insulting Angel! well thou knowest I stood Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid The blasting vollied 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 warriour Angel soon replied.

To say and straight unsay, pretending first Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, Argues no leader but a liear 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 engaged, 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 servily adored Heaven’s awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hope To dispossess him, and thyself to reign?

But mark what I arreed thee now, Avant; Fly neither whence thou fledst! 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, Us’d to the yoke, drawest his triumphant wheels In progress through the road of Heaven star-paved.

While thus he spake, the angelick 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 plowman doubting stands, Left on the threshing floor his hopeless 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 Horrour plumed; nor wanted in his grasp What seemed both spear and shield: Now dreadful deeds 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 Astrea 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 knowest 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.