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Sad sleep, who fain his eyes in rest would steep;
And now th' world and dreams themselves were drown'd
In deadly sleep; the labourer snoreth fast, His brawny arms unbent, his limbs unbound,
As dead, forgot all toil to come, or past; Only sad guilt, and troubled greatness crown'd
With heavy gold and care, no rest can taste, Go then vain man, go pill the live and dead, Buy, sell, fawn, Aatter, rise, then crouch thy head In proud, but dangerous gold;-in silk, but restless bed. When lo! a sudden noise breaks th' empty air ;
A dreadful noise, which every creature daunts ; Frights home the blood, shoots up the limber hair.
For through the silent heaven hell's pursuivants Cutting their way, command foul spirits repair
With haste to Pluto, who their counsel wants. Their hoarse base horns like fenny bittens sound; Th' earth shakes, dogs howl, and heaven itself astound Shuts all his eyes; the stars in clouds their candles
Mean time hell's iron gates by fiends beneath
Are open flung; which framed with wondrous art To erery guilty soul yields entrance eath ; *
But never wight, but he, could thence depart, Who dying once was death to endless death.
So where the liver's channel to the heart Pays purple tribute, with their three-forked mace Three Tritons stand, and speed his flowing race, But stop the ebbing stream, if once it back would pace.
The porter to the infernal gate is Sin,
A shapeless shape, a foul deformed thing, Nor nothing, nor a substance; as those thin
And empty forms which through the ayer fling Their wandering shapes, at length are fasten’d in
The chrystal sight.--It serves, yet reigns as king: It lives, yet's death; it pleases, full of pain : Monster! ah who, who, can thy being feign ? Thou shapeless slape, live death, pain pleasing, servile
Of that first woman, and the old serpent bred,
By lust and custom nurs’d; whom when her mother Saw so deformed, how fain would she have fled
Her birth and self? But she her dam would smother And all her brood, had not he rescued
Who was bis mother's sire, his children's brother : Eternity, who yet was born and died : His own creator, earth's scorn, heaven's pride, Wbo th' deity inflesht, and man's flesh deified.
Her former parts her mother seems resemble,
Yet only seems to flesh and weaker sight; For she with art and paint could fine dissemble
Her loathsome face; her back parts, black as night, Like to her horrid sire would force to tremble
The boldest heart;—to the eye that meets her right She seems a lovely sweet of beauty rare; But at the parting, he that shall compare, Hell will more lovely deem, the devil's self more fair.
Her rosy cheek, quick eye, her naked breast,
And whatsoe'er loose fancy might entice,
She bare expos'd to sight, all lovely dress'd
In beauty's livery, and quaint devise:
Who drenched in hell, dreams all of paradise:
Close by her sat Despair, sad ghastly spright,
With staring looks, unmoved, fast nailed to Sin; Her body all of earth, her soul of fright,
About her thousand deaths, but more within : Pale, pined cheeks, black hair, torn, rudely dight;
Short breath, long nails, dull eyes, sharp pointed chin : Light, life, heaven, earth, herself, and all she fled. Fain would she die but could not; yet half dead, A breathing corse she seem'd, wrapt up in living lead.
In th' entrance Sickness, and faint Languor dwelt,
Who with sad groans toll out their passing knell ; Late fear, fright, horror, that already felt
The torturer's claws, preventing death and hell. Within loud Grief, and roaring Pangs that swelt
In sulphur flames, did weep, and howl, and yell. And thousand souls in endless dolour lie, Who burn, fry, hiss, and never cease to cry," Oh that I ne'er had liv'd! oh that I once could die ?"
And now the Infernal Powers through th' ayer driving,
For speed their leatherp pinions broad display; Now at eternal Death's wide gate arriving,
Sin gives them passage; still they cut their way, Till to the bottom of hell's palace driving
They enter Dis' deep conclave: there they stay,
Waiting the rest, and now they all are met,
The mid'st but lowest, --in bell's heraldry
The decpest is the highest room,in state Sat lordly Lucifer : his fiery eye,
Much swoln with pride, but more with rage and hate, As censor muster'd all his company;
Who round about with awful silence sate. This do, this let rebellious spirits gain, Change God for Satan, heaven's for hell's sov'reign: O‘let him serve in hell, who'scorns in heaven to reign ! Ab wretch! who with ambitious cares opprest,
Long'st still for future, feel'st no present good:Despising to be better, would'st be best;
Good never; who wilt serve thy lusting mood, Yet all command : not he, who raised his crest
But pulled it down, hath bigh and firmly stood. Fool serve thy towering lust, grow still, still crave, Rule, reign, this comfort from thy greatness have, Now at thy top thou art a great commanding slave. Thus fell that prince of darkness, onee a bright
And shining star; he wilful turned away His borrowed globe from that eternal light:
Himself he sought, so lost himself; his ray Vanished to smoke, his morning sunk in night,
And never more shall see the springing day: To be in heaven the second he disdains : So now the first in hell, in flames he reigns, Crown'd once with joy and light; crown'd now with
fire and pains.
As where the warlike Dane the sceptre sways,
They crown usurpers with a wreath of lead ; And with hot steel while loud the traitor brays,
They melt, and drop it down unto his head. Crown'd he would live, and crown'd he ends his days:
All so in heaven's court this traitor sped. Who now, when he had overlooked his train, Rising upon his throne with bitter strain, , Thus 'gan to whet their rage, and chide their frustrate
The speech of Satan, which occupies eighteen stanzas, is too long for insertion. He begins with lamenting the universal peace in which the world reposed, and the extention of divine truth by the propagation of the Gospel.
Spring-tides of light divine the air surround,
And bring down heav'n to earth; deaf ignorance Voxt with the day, her head in hell hath drown'd,
Fond superstition, frighted with the glance
Truth and religion every where advance
That little swimming Isle above the rest,
Spite of our spite, and all our plots, remains, And grows in happiness; but late our nest,
und Rome, and blood, and all our
Monks, nuns, dead and live idols, safe did rest: