For each seemed either black it stood as Night,

670

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 be680

gan:"Whence and what art thou, execrable Shape,

and scorn,

Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee

With me in secret that my womb conceived A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose, And fields were fought in Heaven: wherein remained

(For what could else ?) to our Almighty Foe

Clear victory; to our part loss and rout 770 Through all the Empyrean. Down they fell,

Driven headlong from the pitch of Heaven, down

Into this Deep; and in the general fall
I also: at which time this powerful Key
Into my hands was given, with charge to
keep

These gates for ever shut, which none can pass

Without my opening. Pensive here I sat Alone; but long I sat not, till my womb, Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown, Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. At last this odious offspring whom thou seest, 781 Thine own begotten, breaking violent way, Tore through my entrails, that, with fear

and pain

Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew Transformed: but he my inbred enemy

Audacious; but, that seat soon failing, meets
A vast vacuity. All unawares,
Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb-down
he drops

Ten thousand fadom deep, and to this hour Down had been falling, had not, by ill chance,

The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud,

Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him
As many miles aloft. That fury stayed
Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea,
Nor good dry land-nigh foundered, on
he fares,

940

Treading the crude consistence, half on foot,

Half flying; behoves him now both oar and sail.

As when a gryfon through the wilderness With winged course, o'er hill or moory dale, Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth Had from his wakeful custody purloined The guarded gold; so eagerly the Fiend O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way,

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.

950

At length a universal hubbub wild
Of stunning sounds, and voices all confused,
Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his

That mighty leading Angel, who of late Made head against Heaven's King, though

overthrown.

I saw and heard; for such a numerous host Fled not in silence through the frighted Deep,

With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confusion worse confounded; and Heavengates

Poured out by millions her victorious bands,
Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here
Keep residence; if all I can will serve
That little which is left so to defend, 1000
Encroached on still through our intestine
broils

Weakening the sceptre of old Night: first,
Hell,

Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath;

Now lately Heaven and Earth, another world

Hung o'er my realm, linked in a golden chain