125. FROM IL PENSEROSO.
Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole of Cyprus lawn, Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted state, With even step and musing gait; And looks commèrcing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes; There, held in holy passion still, Forget thyself to marble, till
With a sad leaden downward cast Thou fix them on the earth as fast:
And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, And hears the Muses in a ring
Aye round about Jove's altar sing:
And add to these retiréd Leisure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure. But first, and chiefest, with thee bring Him that yon soars on golden wing, Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, The cherub Contemplation; And the mute Silence hist along, 'Less Philomel will deign a song,
In her sweetest, saddest plight, Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke,
Gently o'er the accustomed oak:
Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee, chantress, oft, the woods among,
I woo, to hear thy even-song;
And, missing thee, I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heaven's wide pathless way; And oft, as if her head she bowed, Stooping through a fleecy cloud Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off Curfew sound, Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging slow with sullen roar.
Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That Shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning, how the Heavens and Earth Rose out of Chaos: Or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed Fast by the oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples the upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread, Dove-like satt'st brooding on the vast abyss
And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark Illumine; what is low raise and support;
That to the height of this great argument
He scarce had ceased when the superior fiend Was moving toward the shore: his ponderous shield, Ethereal temper, massy, large and round,
Behind him cast; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the Moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening from the top of Fesolé, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers, or mountains in her spotty globe. His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, He walked with, to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marle, not like those steps On Heaven's azure; and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire: Nathless he so endured till on the beach Of that inflaméd sea he stood, and called His legions, angel forms, who lay entranced, Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks In Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shades, High over-arched, embower; or scattered sedge Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed
Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld From the safe shore their floating carcasses
And broken chariot wheels: so thick bestrewn, Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, Under amazement of their hideous change. He called so loud, that all the hollow deep Of Hell resounded. "Princes, potentates, Warriors, the flower of Heaven, once yours, now lost, If such astonishment as this can seize
Eternal spirits; or have ye chosen this place,
After the toil of battle to repose
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven? Or in this abject posture have ye sworn T'adore the Conqueror? who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon His swift pursuers, from Heaven-gates, discern Th' advantage, and, descending, tread us down Thus drooping, or with linkéd thunderbolts Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf. Awake, arise, or be forever fallen."
Anon, out of the earth a fabric huge Rose like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple, where pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid With golden architrave; nor did there want Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven: The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon,
Nor great Alcairo, such magnificence
Equalled in all their glories, to enshrine Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat
Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxury. The ascending pile
Stood fixed her stately height: and straight the doors, Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth And level pavement; from the archéd roof, Pendent by subtle magic, many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky.
129. DEATH AND SATAN. (Book II.)
If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;
Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, For each seemed either: black it stood as night, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as Hell,
And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on. Satan was now at hand, and from his seat The monster moving onward came as fast With horrid strides; Hell trembled as he strode. The undaunted fiend what this might be admired, Admired, not feared; God and his Son except, Created thing naught valued he, nor shunned; And with disdainful look thus first began:
"Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance Thy miscreated front athwart my way
To yonder gates? through them I mean to pass, That be assured, without leave asked of thee: Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of Heaven.” To whom the goblin full of wrath replied: "Art thou that traitor-angel, art thou he,
Who first broke peace in Heaven, and faith, till then Unbroken; and in proud rebellious.arms
Drew after him the third part of Heaven's sons Conjured against the Highest; for which both thou And they, outcast from God, are here condemned To waste eternal days in woe and pain?
And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of Heaven,
Hell-doomed, and breath'st defiance here and scorn, Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment, False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue
Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before." So spake the grisly terror, and in shape, So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold More dreadful and deform. On the other side, Incensed with indignation, Satan stood Unterrified, and like a comet burned, That fires the length of Ophiucus huge In the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head Levelled his deadly aim; their fatal hands No second stroke intend; and such a frown Each cast at the other, as when two black clouds, With Heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on Over the Caspian, then stand front to front, Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow To join their dark encounter in mid air: So frowned the mighty combatants, that Hell Grew darker at their frown; so matched they stood For never but once more was either like
130. INVOCATION TO LIGHT. (Book III.)
Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven, first-born, Or of the Eternal coeternal beam, May I express thee unblamed? since God is light, And never but in unapproachéd light Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, Bright effluence of bright essence increate. Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream, Whose fountain who shall tell? Before the Sun, Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest The rising world of waters dark and deep, Won from the void and formless infinite.
Thee I revisit now with bolder wing,
Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detained In that obscure sojourn, while, in my flight,
Through utter and through middle darkness borne, With other notes than to the Orphéan lyre, I sung of Chaos and eternal Night;
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