John Milton - Paradise Lost and Its Sequel, Paradise Regained (Illustrated Edition)

His sad exclusion from the dores of Bliss.

Direct against which op’nd from beneath,

Just o’re the blissful selt of Paradise,

A passage down to th’ Earth, a passage wide,

Wider by farr then that of after-times

Over Mount Sion, and, though that were large,

Over the Promis’d Land to God so dear,

By which, to visit oft those happy Tribes,

On high behests his Angels to and fro

Pass’d frequent, and his eye with choice regard

From Paneas the fount of Jordans flood

To Beersaba, where the Holy Land

Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shoare;

So wide the op’ning seemd, where bounds were set

To darkness, such as bound the Ocean wave.

Satan from hence now on the lower stair

That scal’d by steps of Gold to Heav’n Gate

Looks down with wonder at the sudden view

Of all this World at once. As when a Scout

Through dark and desart wayes with peril gone

All night; at last by break of chearful dawne

Obtains the brow of some high-climbing Hill,

Which to his eye discovers unaware

The goodly prospect of some forein land

First seen, or some renownd Metropolis

With glistering Spires and Pinnacles adornd,

Which now the Rising Sun guilds with his beams.

Such wonder seis’d, though after Heaven seen,

The Spirit maligne, but much more envy seis’d

At sight of all this World beheld so faire.

Round he surveys, and well might, where he stood

So high above the circling Canopie

Of Nights extended shade; from Eastern Point

Of Libra to the fleecie Starr that bears

Andromeda farr off Atlantick Seas

Beyond th’ Horizon; then from Pole to Pole

He views in bredth, and without longer pause

Down right into the Worlds first Region throws

His flight precipitant, and windes with ease

Through the pure marble Air his oblique way

Amongst innumerable Starrs, that shon

Stars distant, but nigh hand seemd other Worlds,

Or other Worlds they seemd, or happy Iles,

Like those Hesperian Gardens of old,

Fortunate Fields, and Groves and flourie Vales,

Thrice happy Iles, but who dwelt happy there

He stayd to enquire: above them all

The golden Sun in splendor likest Heaven

Allur’d his eye: Thither his course he bends

Through the calm Firmament; but up or downe

By center, or eccentric, hard to tell,

Or Longitude, where the great Luminarie

Alooff the vulgar Constellations thick,

That from his Lordly eye keep distance due,

Dispenses Light from farr; they as they move

Thir Starry dance in numbers that compute

Days, months, and years, towards his all-chearing Lamp

Turn swift their various motions, or are turnd

By his Magnetic beam, that gently warms

The Univers, and to each inward part

With gentle penetration, though unseen,

Shoots invisible vertue even to the deep:

So wondrously was set his Station bright.

There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps

Astronomer in the Sun’s lucent Orbe

Through his glaz’d Optic Tube yet never saw.

The place he found beyond expression bright,

Compar’d with aught on Earth, Medal or Stone;

Not all parts like, but all alike informd

With radiant light, as glowing Iron with fire;

If mettal, part seemd Gold, part Silver cleer;

If stone, Carbuncle most or Chrysolite,

Rubie or Topaz, to the Twelve that shon

In Aarons Brestplate, and a stone besides

Imagind rather oft then elsewhere seen,

That stone, or like to that which here below

Philosophers in vain so long have sought,

In vain, though by thir powerful Art they binde

Volatil Hermes, and call up unbound

In various shapes old Proteus from the Sea,

Draind throuhh a Limbec to his Native forme.

What wonder then if fields and regions here

Breathe forth Elixir pure, and Rivers run

Potable Gold, when with one vertuous touch

Th’ Arch-chimic Sun so farr from us remote

Produces with Terrestrial Humor mixt

Here in the dark so many precious things

Of colour glorious and effect so rare?

Here matter new to gaze the Devil met

Undazl’d, fair 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’ AEquator, as they now

Shot upward still direct, whence no way round

Shadow from body opaque can fall, and the Aire,

No where so cleer, sharp’nd his visual ray

To objects distant farr, whereby he soon

Saw within kenn a glorious Angel stand,

The same whom John saw also in the Sun:

His back was turnd, but not his brightness hid;

Of beaming sunnie Raies, a golden tiar

Circl’d his Head, nor less his Locks behind

Illustrious on his Shoulders fledge with wings

Lay waving round; on som great charge imploy’d

Hee seemd, 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 happie seat of Man,

His journies 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 Cherube he appeers,

Not of the prime, yet such as in his face

Youth smil’d Celestial, and to every Limb

Sutable grace diffus’d, so well he feignd;

Under a Coronet his flowing haire

In curles on either cheek plaid, wings he wore

Of many a colourd 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 turnd,