O FOR that warning voice, which he, who saw Th' Apocalypse, heard cry in heaven aloud, Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, Came furious down to be reveng'd on men,
Woe to the inhabitants on earth! that now,
While time was, our first parents had been warn'd The coming of their secret foe, and scap'd, Haply so scap'd his mortal snare; for now Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down, The tempter ere th' accuser of mankind, To wreak on innocent frail man his loss Of that first battle, and his flight to hell: Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast, Begins his dire attempt, which, nigh the birth Now. rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast, And like a devilish engine back recoils Upon himself; horror and doubt distract
17 devilish] Those devilish engines fierie fierce.'
Spenser's F. Qu. 1. 7. xiii.
Russell's Battles of Leipsic, 1634, 4to.
'As when that devilish iron engine, wrought in deepest hell.'
17 recoils] see Hamlet, act iii. scene iv.
'For 'tis the sport to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petar.'
And Ausonii Epigram, lxxii.
'Auctorem ut feriant tela retorta suum.'
and Beaumont's Fair Maid of the Inn, act ii.
Gave heat unto the injury, which returned Like a petard ill lighted, into the bosom Of him gave fire to't.'
His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir The hell within him; for within him hell
He brings, and round about him, nor from hell One step no more than from himself can fly By change of place: now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be, Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue. Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view Lay pleasant, his griev'd look he fixes sad; Sometimes towards heav'n and the full-blazing sun, Which now sat high in his meridian tower: Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began.
O thou that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, Warring in heav'n against heaven's matchless King. Ah, wherefore! he deserv'd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good
21 nor from hell] v. Fairfax's Tasso, c. xii. st. 77. 'Swift from myself I run, myself I fear,
Yet still my hell within myself I bear.' Todd.
tower] Virg. Culex, ver. 41.
'Igneus æthereas jam sol penetrârat in arces.' Richardson.
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise, The easiest recompence, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high I'sdein'd subjection, and thought one step higher 50 Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burthensome, still paying, still to owe; Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharg'd; what burden then? O had his powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition! Yet why not? some other power
As great might have aspir'd, and me though mean Drawn to his part; but other powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand? Thou hadst whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But heaven's free love dealt equally to all? Be then his love accurs'd, since love or hate,
50 sdein'd] Drayton's Moses birth, B. 1.
'Which though it sdaind the pleasdnesse to confesse.' and Fairfax's Tasso, ver. xx. 128. He sdeignful eies.' Todd. 53 still paying] Still paying, ne'er discharged.'
v. Benlowe's Theophila, p. 29.
To me alike, it deals eternal woe:
Nay curs'd be thou; since against his thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is hell; my self am hell; And in the lowest deep a lower deep Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. O then at last relent: is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain, Under what torments inwardly I groan, While they adore me on the throne of hell. With diadem and sceptre high advanc'd The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent, and could obtain
By act of grace my former state; how soon Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void;
For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep;
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear Short intermission bought with double smart. This knows my punisher; therefore as far From granting he, as I from begging peace. All hope excluded thus, behold in stead Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight, Mankind, created, and for him this world.
So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good; by thee at least Divided empire with heaven's King I hold, By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; As man ere long and this new world shall know.
Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face Thrice chang'd with pale, ire, envy, and despair, 115 Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'd Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld:
For heavenly minds from such distempers foul Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware
Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calm, 120 Artificer of fraud; and was the first
That practis'd falsehood under saintly show, Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge. Yet not enough had practis'd to deceive
Uriel once warn'd; whose eye pursu'd him down 125 The way he went, and on th' Assyrian mount Saw him disfigur'd, more than could befall Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce He mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone,
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