Aloof the vulgar constellations thick,
That from his lordly eye keep distance due, Dispenses light from far; they as they move Their starry dance in numbers that compute
Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp
There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps Astronomer in the sun's lucent orb
Through his glaz'd optic tube yet never saw. The place he found beyond expression bright, Compar'd with aught on earth, metal or stone; Not all parts like, but all alike inform'd With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire; If metal, part seem'd gold, part silver clear; If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite, Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone In Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besides, Imagin'd rather oft than elsewhere seen;
That stone, or like to that which here below Philosophers in vain so long have sought, In vain, though by their powerful art they bind Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound, In various shapes old Proteus from the sea, Drain'd through a limbec to his native form. What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run Potable gold, when with one virtuous touch Th' arch-chemic sun, so far from us remote, Produces with terrestrial humour mixt Here in the dark so many precious things Of colour glorious and effect so rare? Here matter new to gaze the Devil met, Undazzl'd; far and wide his eye commands,
For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sun-shine, as when his beams at noon Culminate from th' equator, as they now Shot upward still direct, whence no way round Shadow from body opaque can fall, and the air, Nowhere so clear, sharpen'd his visual ray
To objects distant far; whereby he soon
Saw within ken a glorious angel stand,
The same whom John saw also in the sun;
His back was turn'd, but not his brightness hid;
Of beaming sunny rays a golden tiar
Circl'd his head, nor less his locks behind
Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings
Lay waving round; on some great charge employ'd He seem'd, or fixt in cogitation deep.
Glad was the Spirit impure, as now in hope
To find who might direct his wandring flight To Paradise the happy seat of Man, His journey's end and our beginning woe. But first he casts to change his proper shape, Which else might work him danger or delay: And now a stripling cherub he appears, Not of the prime, yet such as in his face Youth smil'd, celestial, and to every limb
Suitable grace diffus'd, so well he feign'd;
Under a coronet his flowing hair
In curls on either cheek play'd, wings he wore
Of many a colour'd plume sprinkl'd with gold,
His habit fit for speed succinct; and held Before his decent steps a silver wand.
He drew not nigh unheard; the angel bright, Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd, Admonisht by his ear, and straight was known Th' arch-angel Uriel, one of the sev'n
Who in God's presence, nearest to his throne
Stand ready at command, and are his eyes
That run through all the Heav'ns, or down to th' Earth Bear his swift errands over moist and dry
O'er sea and land: him Satan thus accosts;
'Uriel, for thou of those sev'n Spirits that stand In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright, The first art wont his great authentic will Interpreter through highest Heav'n to bring, Where all his sons thy embassy attend; And here art likeliest by supreme decree Like honour to obtain, and as his eye To visit oft this new creation round; Unspeakable desire to see, and know
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man, His chief delight and favour, him for whom All these his works so wondrous he ordain'd, Hath brought me from the quires of cherubim Alone thus wandring. Brightest seraph, tell In which of all these shining orbs hath Man His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,
But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell; That I may find him, and with secret gaze,
Or open admiration him behold
On whom the great Creator hath bestow'd
Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces pour'd;
That both in him and all things, as is meet,
The universal Maker we may praise;
Who justly hath driv'n out his rebel foes
To deepest Hell; and to repair that loss,
Created this new happy race of men
To serve him better: wise are all his ways.'
So spake the false dissembler unperceiv'd;
For neither man nor angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
Invisible except to God alone,
By his permissive will, through Heav'n and Earth:
And oft though Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleeps
At Wisdom's gate, and to Simplicity
Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill
Where no ill seems: which now for once beguil'd Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held
The sharpest-sighted spirit of all in Heav'n; Who to the fraudulent impostor foul, In his uprightness answer thus return'd.
'Fair angel, thy desire which tends to know The works of God, thereby to glorify The great Work-Master, leads to no excess That reaches blame, but rather merits praise The more it seems excess, that led thee hither From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps Contented with report hear only in Heav'n: For wonderful indeed are all his works, Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all Had in remembrance always with delight; But what created mind can comprehend
Their number, or the wisdom infinite
That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep?
I saw when at his word the formless mass,
This world's material mould, came to a heap: Confusion heard his voice, and wild Uproar Stood rul'd; stood vast Infinitude confin'd: Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shon, and order from disorder sprung: Swift to their several quarters hasted then
The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire;
And this ethereal quintessence of heav'n Flew upward, spirited with various forms, That roll'd orbicular, and turn'd to stars
Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move; Each had his place appointed, each his course, The rest in circuit walls this universe.
Look downward on that globe whose hither side
With light from hence, though but reflected, shines;
That place is Earth, the seat of Man, that light
His day, which else as th' other hemisphere
Night would invade, but there the neighbouring Moon (So call that opposite fair star) her aid Timely interposes, and her monthly round
Still ending, still renewing, through mid heav'n; With borrow'd light her countenance triform Hence fills and empties to enlighten th' Earth; And in her pale dominion checks the night. That spot to which I point is Paradise, Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bower. Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires.'
Thus said, he turn'd; and Satan bowing low,
As to superior spirits is wont in Heaven, Where honour due and reverence none neglects,
Took leave; and toward the coast of Earth beneath, Down from th' ecliptic, sped with hop'd success, Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel, Nor staid, till on Niphates top he lights.
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