Rather than human. Nor did Israel 'scape
The infection, when their borrow'd gold compos'd
The calf in Oreb; and the rebel king
Doubled that sin in Bethel, and in Dan,
Lik'ning his Maker to the grazed ox,
Jehovah! who in one night, when he pass'd
From Egypt marching, equall'd with one stroke
Both her first-born and all her bleating gods.
Belial came last, than whom a spirit more lewd 490
Fell not from heaven, or more gross to love
Vice for itself: to him no temple stood,
Or altar smok'd; yet who more oft than he
In temples, and at altars, when the priest
Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who fill'd
With lust and violence the house of God?
In courts and palaces he also reigns,
And in luxurious cities, where the noise
Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers,
And injury and outrage: and when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine:
Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night
In Gibeah, when the hospitable door
Expos'd a matron, to avoid worse rape.
These were the prime, in order and in might;
The rest were long to tell, though far renown'd,
Th' Ionian gods, of Javan's issue held
Gods, yet confess'd later than heaven and earth,
Their boasted parents. Titan, (heaven's first born,)
With his enormous brood, and birthright seiz'd 511
By younger Saturn: he from mightier Jove,
(His own and Rhea's son,) like measure found
So Jove ursurping reign'd: these first in Crete,
And Ida known; thence on the snowy top
Of cold Olympus rul'd the middle air,
Their highest heaven; or on the Delphian cliff,
Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds
Of Doric land; or who with Saturn old
Fled over Adria to th' Hesperian fields,
And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles.
All these and more came flocking, but with looks Downcast and damp; yet such wherein appear'd Obscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chief
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost 525
In loss itself; which on his count'nance cast
Like doubtful hue: but he his wonted pride
Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore
Semblance of worth, not substance, gently rais'd
Their fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears. 530
Then straight commands that at the warlike sound
Of trumpets loud, and clarions, be uprear'd
His mighty standard: that proud honour claim'd
Azazel as his right, a cherub tall;
Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'd 535
Th' imperial ensign; which, full high advanc'd,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind,
With gems and golden lustre rich emblaz'd,
Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
At which the universal host up sent
A shout that tore hell's concave; and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
All in a moment through the gloom were seen
Ten thousand banners rise into the air,
With orient colours waving with them rose
A forest huge of spears; and thronging helm
Appear'd, and serried shields in thick
Of depth immeasurable: anon they move
In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood
Of flutes, and soft recorders; such as rais'd
To height of noblest temper heroes old
Arming to battle; and instead of rage,
Deliberate valour breath'd, firm, and unmov'd
With dread of death to flight, or foul retreat;
Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage,
With solemn touches, troubled thoughts, and chase
Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain,
From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they
Breathing united force, with fixed thought
Mov'd on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'd
Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil: and now
Advanc'd in view, they stand, a horrid front
Of dreadful length, and dazzling arms, in guise
Of warriors old with order'd spear and shield, 565
Awaiting what command their mighty chief
Had to impose: he through the armed files
Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse
The whole battalion views, their order due,
Their visages and stature as of gods;
Their number last he sums. And now his heart Distends with pride, and hard'ning in his strength Glories for never since created man
Met such embodied force, as nam'd with these
Could merit more than that small infantry
Warr'd on by cranes; though all the giant brood
Of Phlegra with th' heroic race were join'd,
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each sid
Mix'd with auxiliar gods: and what resounds
In fable or romance of Uther's son,
Begirt with British and Armoric knights;
And all who since baptiz'd or'infidel,
Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban,
Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond;
Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore,
When Charlemain with all his peerage fell
By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond
Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ'd
Their dread commander: he, above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent,
Stood like a tower: his form had not yet lost
All her original brightness, nor appear'd
Less than archangel ruin'd, and th' excess
Of glory obscur'd: as when the sun new risen
Looks through the horizontal misty air,
Shorn of his beams; or from behind the moon,
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs; darken'd so, yet shone
Above them all th' archangel: but his face
Deep scars of thunder had intrench'd, and care
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows
Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride
Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but cast
Signs of remorse and passion, to behold
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather,
(Far other once beheld in bliss!) condemn'd
For ever now to have their lot in pain;
Millions of spirits, for his fault amerc'd
Of heaven, and from eternal splendours flung
For his revolt; yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory wither'd: as when heaven's fire
Hath scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain pines,
With singed top their stately growth, though bare,
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepar'd 615
To speak, whereat their doubled ranks they bend
From wing to wing, and half enclose him round
With all his peers: attention held them mute :
Thrice he assay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn,
Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth; at last 620
Words interwove with sighs found out their way.
"O myriads of immortal spirits! O powers Matchless, but with th' Almighty, and that strife Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire, As this place testifies, and this dire change, Hateful to utter: but what power of mind, Forseeing, or presaging, from the depth Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd, How such united force of gods, how such As stood like these, could ever know repulse? For who can yet believe, though after loss, That ail these puissant legions, whose exile Hath emptied heaven, shall fail to reascend Self-rais'd, and repossess their native seat? For me be witness all the host of heaven, If counsels different, or danger shunn'd By me, have lost our hopes: but he who reigns Monarch in heaven, till then as one secure Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, Consent, or custom, and his regal state Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal'd, Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. Henceforth his might we know, and know our own; So as not either to provoke, or dread
New war, provok'd. Our better part remains 645
To work in close design, by fraud or guile,
What force effected not; that he no less
At length from us may find, who overcomes
By force, hath overcome but half his foe.
Space may produce new worlds; whereof so rife 650
There went a fame in heaven, that he, ere long,
Intended to create; and therein plant
A generation, whom his choice regard
Should favour equal to the sons of heaven:
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:
For this infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss
Long under darkness cover.- -But these thoughts Full counsel must mature: Peace is despair'd, 660 For who can think submission? War then, war Open or understood, must be resolv'd."
He spake and to confirm his words out flew Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty cherubim: the sudden blaze Far round illumin'd hell; highly they rag'd Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war, Hurling defiance toward the vault of heaven.
There stood a hill not far, whose grisly top Belch'd fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire Shone with a glassy scurf; (undoubted sign That in his womb was hid metallic ore,
The work of sulphur,) thither wing'd with speed
A numerous brigade hasten'd: as when bands 675
Of pioneers, with spade and pickaxe arm'd,
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field,
Or cast a rampart: Mammon led them on,
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell
From heaven: for even in heaven his looks and thoughts
Were always downward bent; admiring more
The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold,
Than ought divine or holy else, enjoy'd
In vision beatific: by him first
Men also, and by his suggestion taught,
Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands
Rifled the bowels of their mother earth
For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew
Open'd into the hill a spacious wound,
And digg'd out ribs of gold. (Let none admire 690
That riches grow in hell; that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane.) And here let those
Who boast in mortal things, and wond'ring tell
Of Babel, and the works of Memphian kings,
Learn how their greatest monuments of fame, 695
And strength, and art, are easily outdone
By spirits reprobate, and in an hour,
What in an age they with incessant toil,
And hands innumerable, scarce perform.
Nigh on the plain in many cells prepar'd,
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