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

Who forthwith from the glittering Staff unfurld

Th’ Imperial Ensign, which full high advanc’t

Shon like a Meteor streaming to the Wind

With Gemms and Golden lustre rich imblaz’d,

Seraphic arms and Trophies: all the while

Sonorous mettal blowing Martial sounds:

At which the universal Host upsent

A shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond

Frighted the Reign of Chaos and old Night.

All in a moment through the gloom were seen

Ten thousand Banners rise into the Air

With Orient Colours waving: with them rose

A Forrest huge of Spears: and thronging Helms

Appear’d, and serried shields in thick array

Of depth immeasurable: Anon they move

In perfect Phalanx to the Dorian mood

Of flutes and soft Recorders; such as rais’d

To highth of noblest temper Hero’s old

Arming to Battel, and in stead of rage

Deliberate valour breath’d, firm and unmov’d

With dread of death to flight or foul retreat,

Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage

With solemn touches, troubl’d thoughts, and chase

Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain

From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they

Breathing united force with fixed thought

Mov’d on in silence to soft Pipes that charm’d

Thir painful steps o’re the burnt soyle; and now

Advanc’t in view they stand, a horrid Front

Of dreadful length and dazling Arms, in guise

Of Warriers old with order’d Spear and Shield,

Awaiting what command thir mighty Chief

Had to impose: He through the armed Files

Darts his experienc’t eye, and soon traverse

The whole Battalion views, thir order due,

Thir visages and stature as of Gods,

Thir number last he summs. And now his heart

Distends with pride, and hardning in his strength

Glories: For never since created man,

Met such imbodied force, as nam’d with these

Could merit more then that small infantry

Warr’d on by Cranes: though all the Giant brood

Of Phlegra with th’ Heroic Race were joyn’d

That fought at Theb’s and Ilium, on each side

Mixt with auxiliar Gods; and what resounds

In Fable or Romance of Uthers Son

Begirt with British and Armoric Knights;

And all who since, Baptiz’d or Infidel

Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,

Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond,

Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore

When Charlemain with all his Peerage fell

By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond

Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ’d

Thir dread Commander: he above the rest

In shape and gesture proudly eminent

Stood like a Towr; his form had yet not lost

All her Original brightness, nor appear’d

Less then Arch Angel ruind, and th’ excess

Of Glory obscur’d: As when the Sun new ris’n

Looks through the Horizontal misty Air

Shorn of his Beams, or from behind the Moon

In dim Eclips disastrous twilight sheds

On half the Nations, and with fear of change

Perplexes Monarchs. Dark’n’d so, yet shon

Above them all th’ Arch Angel: but his face

Deep scars of Thunder had intrencht, and care

Sat on his faded cheek, but under Browes

Of dauntless courage, and considerate Pride

Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but cast

Signs of remorse and passion to behold

The fellows of his crime, the followers

(Far other once beheld in bliss) condemn’d

For ever now to have their lot in pain,

Millions of Spirits for his fault amerc’t

Of Heav’n, and from Eternal Splendors flung

For his revolt, yet faithfull how they stood,

Thir Glory witherd. As when Heavens Fire

Hath scath’ d the Forrest Oaks, or Mountain Pines,

With singed top their stately growth though bare

Stands on the blasted Heath. He now prepar’d

To speak; whereat their doubl’d Ranks they bend

From Wing to Wing, and half enclose him round

With all his Peers: attention held them mute.

Thrice he assayd, and thrice in spite of scorn,

Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last

Words interwove with sighs found out their way.

O Myriads of immortal Spirits, O Powers

Matchless, but with th’ Almighty, and that strife

Was not inglorious, though th’ event was dire,

As this place testifies, and this dire change

Hateful to utter: but what power of mind

Foreseeing or presaging, from the Depth

Of knowledge past or present, could have fear’d,

How such united force of Gods, how such

As stood like these, could ever know repulse?

For who can yet beleeve, though after loss,

That all these puissant Legions, whose exile

Hath emptied Heav’n, shall faile to re-ascend

Self-rais’d, and repossess their native seat?

For me, be witness all the Host of Heav’n,

If counsels different, or danger shun’d

By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns

Monarch in Heav’n, till then as one secure

Sat on his Throne, upheld by old repute,

Consent or custome, and his Regal State

Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal’d,

Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.

Henceforth his might we know, and know our own

So as not either to provoke, or dread

New warr, provok’t; our better part remains

To work in close design, by fraud or guile

What force effected not: that he no less

At length from us may find, who overcomes

By force, hath overcome but half his foe.

Space may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife

There went a fame in Heav’n that he ere long

Intended to create, and therein plant

A generation, whom his choice regard

Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven: