by John Milton
His journey’s end and our beginning woe.
But first he casts to change his proper shape,
635 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 smiled celestial, and to every limb
Suitable grace diffused, so well he feigned;
640 Under a coronet his flowing hair
In curls on either cheek played, wings he wore
Of many a coloured plume sprinkled with gold,
His habit fit for speed succinct, and held
Before his decent steps a silver wand.
645 He drew not nigh unheard, the angel bright,
Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turned,
Admonished by his ear, and straight was known
Th’ Archangel Uriel, one of the seven
Who in God’s presence, nearest to his throne
650 Stand ready at command, and are his eyes
That run through all the heavens, or down to the 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
655 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
660 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
665 All these his works so wondrous he ordained,
Hath brought me from the choirs of Cherubim
Alone thus wand’ring. Brightest Seraph tell
In which of all these shining orbs hath man
His fixèd seat, or fixèd seat hath none,
670 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 bestowed
Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces poured;
675 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
680 To serve him better: wise are all his ways.
So spake the false dissembler unperceived;
For neither man nor angel can discern
Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
Invisible, except to God alone,
685 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 beguiled
690 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 returned.
Fair angel, thy desire which tends to know
695 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,
700 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;
705 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:
710 Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar
Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined;
Till at his second bidding darkness fled,
Light shone, and order from disorder sprung:
Swift to their several quarters hasted then
715 The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire
And this ethereal quíntessence of heav’n
Flew upward, spirited with various forms,
That rolled orbicular, and turned to stars
Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move;
720 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
725 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,
730 With borrowed 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.
735 Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires.
Thus said, he turned, and Satan bowing low,
As to superior Spirits is wont in Heav’n,
Where honour due and reverence none neglects,
Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath,
740 Down from th’ ecliptic, sped with hoped success,
Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel,
Nor stayed, till on Niphates’ top he lights.
BOOK IV
The Argument
Satan now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he
must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook
alone against God and man, falls into many doubts with
himself, and many passions, fear, envy, and despair; but at
5 length confirms himself in evil, journeys on to Paradise, whose
outward prospect and situation is described, overleaps the
bounds, sits in the shape of a cormorant on the Tree of Life,
as highest in the garden to look about him. The garden
described; Satan’s first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at
10 their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to
work their Fall; overhears their discourse, thence gathers that
the Tree of Knowledge was forbidden them to eat of, under
penalty of death; and thereon intends to found his Temptation,
by seducing them to transgress: then leaves them a while, to
15 know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile
Uriel descending on a sunbeam warns Gabriel, who had in
charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped
the deep, and passed at noon by his sphere in the shape of a
good angel down to Paradise, discovered after by his furious
20 gestures in the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere
morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve, discourse of going
to their rest: their bower described; their evening worship.
Gabriel drawing forth his bands of night-watch to walk the
round of Paradise, appoints two strong angels to Adam’s
25 bower, lest the evil spirit should
be there doing some harm
to Adam or Eve sleeping; there they find him at the ear of Eve,
tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to
Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers, prepares
resistance, but hindered by a sign from Heaven, flies out of
30 Paradise.
O for that warning voice, which he who saw
Th’ Apocalypse, heard cry in Heav’n aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,
Came furious down to be revenged on men,
5 Woe to the inhabitants on earth! that now,
While time was, our first parents had been warned
The coming of their secret foe, and ’scaped
Haply so ’scaped his mortal snare; for now
Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,
10 The Tempter ere th’ Accuser of mankind,
To wreck 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,
15 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
His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir
20 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 slumbered, wakes the bitter memory
25 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 grieved look he fixes sad,
Sometimes towards heav’n and the full-blazing sun,
30 Which now sat high in his meridian tower:
Then much revolving, thus in sighs began.
O thou that with surpassing glory crowned,
Look’st from thy sole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
35 Hide their diminished 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;
40 Till pride and worse ambition threw me down
Warring in Heav’n against Heav’n’s matchless King:
Ah wherefore! he deserved no such return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good
45 Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
What could be less than to afford him praise,
The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,
How due! Yet all his good proved ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high
50 I ’sdained subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment quit
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burdensome, still paying, still to owe;
Forgetful what from him I still received,
55 And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then?
O had his powerful destiny ordained
Me some inferior angel, I had stood
60 Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition. Yet why not? Some other Power
As great might have aspired, and me though mean
Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
65 Or from without, to all temptations armed.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?
Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse,
But Heav’n’s free love dealt equally to all?
Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,
70 To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay cursed 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?
75 Which way I fly is Hell; myself 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 Heav’n.
O then at last relent: is there no place
80 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 seduced
With other promises and other vaunts
85 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,
90 With diadem and sceptre high advanced
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
95 Would heighth recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feigned 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 pierced so deep:
100 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:
105 All hope excluded thus, behold instead
Of us outcást, exíled, 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;
110 Evil be thou my good; by thee at least
Divided empire with Heav’n’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 dimmed his face
115 Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy and despair,
Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayed
Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld.
For Heav’nly minds from such distempers foul
Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware,
120 Each perturbation smoothed with outward calm,
Artificer of fraud; and was the first
That practised falsehood under saintly show,
Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge:
Yet not enough had practised to deceive
125 Uriel once warned; whose eye pursued him down
The way he went, and on th’ Assyrian mount
Saw him disfigured, more than could befall
Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce
He marked and mad demeanour, then alone,
130 As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen.
So on he fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound the champaign head
135 Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,
Access denied; and overhead up grew
Insuperable heighth of loftiest shade,
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
140 A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre
Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung:
Which to our general sire gave prospect large
145 Into his nether empire neighbouring round.
And higher than that wall a circling row
Of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit,
Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue
Appeared, with gay enamelled colours mixed:
150 On which the sun more glad impressed his beams
Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,
When God hath show’red the earth; so lovely seemed
That landscape: and of pure now purer air
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
155 Vernal delight and joy, able to drive
All sadness but despair: now gentle gales
Fanning their odoriferous wings dispense
Native perfumes and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail
160 Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Mozámbique, off at sea northeast winds blow
Sabéan odours from the spicy shore
Of Araby the blest, with such delay
Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league
165 Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles.
So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend
Who came their bane, though with them better pleased
Than Asmodéus with the fishy fume,
That drove him, though enamoured, from the spouse
170 Of Tobit’s son, and with a vengeance sent
From Media post to Egypt, there fast bound.
Now to th’ ascent of that steep savage hill
Satan had journeyed on, pensive and slow;
But further way found none, so thick entwined,
175 As one continued brake, the undergrowth
Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplexed
All path of man or beast that passed that way:
One gate there only was, and that looked east
On th’ other side: which when th’ Arch-felon saw
180 Due entrance he disdained, and in contempt,
At one slight bound high overleaped all bound
Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within
Lights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf,
Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey,
185 Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve
In hurdled cotes amid the field secure,
Leaps o’er the fence with ease into the fold:
Or as a thief bent to unhoard the cash
Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors,