Paradise Lost. John Laws Milton

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Paradise Lost - John Laws Milton


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The perilous attempt: but all sat mute,

       Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; & each

       In others count’nance red his own dismay

       Astonisht: none among the choice and prime

       Of those Heav’n-warring Champions could be found

       So hardie as to proffer or accept

       Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last

       Satan, whom now transcendent glory rais’d Above his fellows, with Monarchal pride Conscious of highest worth, unmov’d thus spake.

      O Progeny of Heav’n, Empyreal Thrones,

       With reason hath deep silence and demurr

       Seis’d us, though undismaid: long is the way

       And hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light;

       Our prison strong, this huge convex of Fire,

       Outrageous to devour, immures us round

       Ninefold, and gates of burning Adamant

       Barr’d over us prohibit all egress.

       These past, if any pass, the void profound

       Of unessential Night receives him next

       Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being

       Threatens him, plung’d in that abortive gulf.

       If thence he scape into what ever world,

       Or unknown Region, what remains him less

       Then unknown dangers and as hard escape.

       But I should ill become this Throne, O Peers,

       And this Imperial Sov’ranty, adorn’d

       With splendor, arm’d with power, if aught propos’d

       And judg’d of public moment, in the shape

       Of difficulty or danger could deterre

       Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume

       These Royalties, and not refuse to Reign,

       Refusing to accept as great a share

       Of hazard as of honour, due alike

       To him who Reigns, and so much to him due

       Of hazard more, as he above the rest

       High honourd sits? Go therfore mighty powers,

       Terror of Heav’n, though fall’n; intend at home,

       While here shall be our home, what best may ease

       The present misery, and render Hell

       More tollerable; if there be cure or charm

       To respite or deceive, or slack the pain

       Of this ill Mansion: intermit no watch

       Against a wakeful Foe, while I abroad

       Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek

       Deliverance for us all: this enterprize

       None shall partake with me. Thus saying rose

       The Monarch, and prevented all reply,

       Prudent, least from his resolution rais’d

       Others among the chief might offer now

       (Certain to be refus’d) what erst they feard;

       And so refus’d might in opinion stand

       His rivals, winning cheap the high repute

       Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they

       Dreaded not more th’ adventure then his voice

       Forbidding; and at once with him they rose;

       Thir rising all at once was as the sound

       Of Thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend

       With awful reverence prone; and as a God

       Extoll him equal to the highest in Heav’n:

       Nor fail’d they to express how much they prais’d,

       That for the general safety he despis’d

       His own: for neither do the Spirits damn’d

       Loose all thir vertue; least bad men should boast

       Thir specious deeds on earth, which glory excites,

       Or close ambition varnisht o’re with zeal.

       Thus they thir doubtful consultations dark

       Ended rejoycing in thir matchless Chief:

       As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds

       Ascending, while the North wind sleeps, o’respread

       Heav’ns chearful face, the lowring Element

       Scowls ore the dark’nd lantskip Snow, or showre;

       If chance the radiant Sun with farewell sweet

       Extend his ev’ning beam, the fields revive,

       The birds thir notes renew, and bleating herds

       Attest thir joy, that hill and valley rings.

       O shame to men! Devil with Devil damn’d

       Firm concord holds, men onely disagree

       Of Creatures rational, though under hope

       Of heavenly Grace: and God proclaiming peace,

       Yet live in hatred, enmitie, and strife

       Among themselves, and levie cruel warres,

       Wasting the Earth, each other to destroy:

       As if (which might induce us to accord)

       Man had not hellish foes anow besides,

       That day and night for his destruction waite.

      The Stygian Councel thus dissolv’d; and forth In order came the grand infernal Peers, Midst came thir mighty Paramount, and seemd Alone th’ Antagonist of Heav’n, nor less Then Hells dread Emperour with pomp Supream, And God-like imitated State; him round A Globe of fierie Seraphim inclos’d With bright imblazonrie, and horrent Arms. Then of thir Session ended they bid cry With Trumpets regal sound the great result: Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim Put to thir mouths the sounding Alchymie By Haralds voice explain’d: the hollow Abyss Heard farr and wide, and all the host of Hell With deafning shout, return’d them loud acclaim. Thence more at ease thir minds and somwhat rais’d By false presumptuous hope, the ranged powers Disband, and wandring, each his several way Pursues, as inclination or sad choice Leads him perplext, where he may likeliest find Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain The irksome hours, till his great Chief return. Part on the Plain, or in the Air sublime Upon the wing, or in swift race contend, As at th’ Olympian Games or Pythian fields; Part curb thir fierie Steeds, or shun the Goal With rapid wheels, or fronted Brigads form. As when to warn proud Cities warr appears Wag’d in the troubl’d Skie, and Armies rush To Battel in the Clouds, before each Van Pric forth the Aerie Knights, and couch thir spears Till thickest Legions close; with feats of Arms From either end of Heav’n the welkin burns. Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell Rend up both Rocks and Hills, and ride the Air In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wilde uproar. As when Alcides from Oealia Crown’d With conquest, felt th’ envenom’d robe, and tore Through pain up by the roots Thessalian Pines, And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw Into th’ Euboic Sea. Others more milde, Retreated in a silent valley, sing With notes Angelical to many a Harp Thir own Heroic deeds and hapless fall By doom of Battel; and complain that Fate Free Vertue should enthrall to Force or Chance. Thir song was partial, but the harmony (What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?) Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet (For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense,) Others apart sat on a Hill retir’d, In thoughts more elevate, and reason’d high Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate, Fixt


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