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sound

      Th’ infernal dores, and on thir hinges grate

      Harsh Thunder, that the lowest bottom shook

      Of Erebus. She op’nd, but to shut

      Excel’d her power; the Gates wide op’n stood,

      That with extended wings a Bannerd Host

      Under spread Ensigns marching might pass through

      With Horse and Chariots rankt in loose array;

      So wide they stood, and like a Furnace mouth

      Cast forth redounding smoak and ruddy flame.

      Before thir eyes in sudden view appear

      The secrets of the hoarie deep, a dark

      Illimitable Ocean without bound,

      Without dimension, where length, breadth, and highth,

      And time and place are lost; where eldest Night

      And Chaos, Ancestors of Nature, hold

      Eternal Anarchie, amidst the noise

      Of endless warrs, and by confusion stand.

      For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four Champions fierce

      Strive here for Maistrie, and to Battel bring

      Thir embryon Atoms; they around the flag

      Of each his faction, in thir several Clanns,

      Light-arm’d or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow,

      Swarm populous, unnumber’d as the Sands

      Of Barca or Cyrene’s torrid soil,

      Levied to side with warring Winds, and poise

      Thir lighter wings. To whom these most adhere,

      Hee rules a moment; Chaos Umpire sits,

      And by decision more imbroiles the fray

      By which he Reigns: next him high Arbiter

      Chance governs all. Into this wilde Abyss,

      The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave,

      Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire,

      But all these in thir pregnant causes mixt

      Confus’dly, and which thus must ever fight,

      Unless th’ Almighty Maker them ordain

      His dark materials to create more Worlds,

      Into this wild Abyss the warie fiend

      Stood on the brink of Hell and look’d a while,

      Pondering his Voyage: for no narrow frith

      He had to cross. Nor was his eare less peal’d

      With noises loud and ruinous (to compare

      Great things with small) then when Bellona storms,

      With all her battering Engines bent to rase

      Som Capital City, or less then if this frame

      Of Heav’n were falling, and these Elements

      In mutinie had from her Axle torn

      The stedfast Earth. At last his Sail-broad Vannes

      He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoak

      Uplifted spurns the ground, thence many a League

      As in a cloudy Chair ascending rides

      Audacious, but that seat soon failing, meets

      A vast vacuitie: all unawares

      Fluttring his pennons vain plumb down he drops

      Ten thousand fadom deep, and to this hour

      Down had been falling, had not by ill chance

      The strong rebuff of som tumultuous cloud

      Instinct with Fire and Nitre hurried him

      As many miles aloft: that furie stay’d,

      Quencht in a Boggie Syrtis, neither Sea,

      Nor good dry Land: nigh founderd on he fares,

      Treading the on consistence, half on foot,

      Half both behoves him now both Oare and Saile.

      As when a Gryfon through the Wilderness

      With winged course ore Hill or moarie Dale,

      Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stelth

      Had from his wakeful custody purloind

      The guarded Gold: So eagerly the fiend

      Ore bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,

      With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way,

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

      At length a universal hubbub wilde

      Of stunning sounds and voices all confus’d

      Born through the hollow dark assaults his eare

      With loudest vehemence: thither he plyes,

      Undaunted to meet there what ever power

      Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss

      Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask

      Which way the neerest coast of darkness lyes

      Bordering on light; when strait behold the Throne

      Of Chaos, and his dark Pavilion spread

      Wide on the wasteful Deep; with him Enthron’d

      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; Rumor next and Chance,

      And Tumult and Confusion all imbroild,

      And Discord with a thousand various mouths.

       With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way, And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flyes

      T’ whom Satan turning boldly, thus. Ye Powers

      And Spirits of this nethermost Abyss,

      Chaos and ancient Night, I come no Spie,

      With purpose to explore or to disturb

      The secrets of Realm, but by constraint

      Wandring this darksome desart, 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 gloomie bounds

      Confine with Heav’n; or if som other place

      From your Dominion won, th’ Ethereal King

      Possesses lately, thither to arrive

      I travel this profound, direct my course;

      Directed, no mean recompence 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 Standerd there of ancient Night;

      Yours be th’ advantage all, mine the revenge.

      Thus

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