But still thy words at random, as before,
Argue thy inexperience, what behoves,
From hard assays, and ill successes past,
A faithful leader, not to hazard all,
Through ways of danger, by himself untried :
I therefore, I alone, first undertook
To wing the desolate abyss, and spy
This new-created world, whereof in Hell
Fame is not silent; here in hope to find
Better abode, and my afflicted powers
To settle here on earth, or in mid air;
Though, for possession, put to try once more
What thou and thy gay legions dare against;
Whose easier business were to serve their Lord,
High up in Heaven, with songs to hymn his throne,
And practised distances to cringe, not fight."

To whom the warrior-angel soon replied.
"To say, and straight unsay, pretending first
Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy,
Argues no leader, but a liar traced.
Satan! and couldst thou faithful add? O name,
O sacred name of faithfulness profaned!
Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew?
Army of fiends, fit body to fit head.
Was this your discipline and faith engaged,
Your military obedience, to dissolve
Allegiance to the acknowledged Power supreme?
And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem
Patron of liberty; who more than thou
Once fawn'd, and cringed, and servilely adored
Heaven's awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hope
To dispossess him, and thyself to reign?
But mark, what I aread thee now; Avaunt!
Fly thither whence thou fled'st: If, from this hour;
Within these hallow'd limits thou appear,
Back to the infernal pit I drag thee, chain'd,
And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn
The facile gates of Hell, too slightly barr'd."

So threaten'd he; but Satan to no threats Gave heed, but waxing more in rage replied. "Then, when I am thy captive, talk of chains, Proud limitary cherub; but ere then, Far heavier load thyself expect to feel, From my prevailing arm; though Heaven's King Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, Used to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels, In progress through the road of heaven, star-paved."

[deeds

While thus he spake, the angelic squadron bright Turn'd fiery red, sharpening, in mooned horns, Their phalanx, and began to hem him round, With ported spears; as thick, as when a field Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Sways them; the careful ploughman doubting stands, Lest, on the threshing-floor, his hopeful sheaves Prove chaff. On the other side, Satan alarm'd, Collecting all his might, dilated stood, Like Teneriffe, or Atlas, unremoved : His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest Sat horror plumed; nor wanted in his grasp, What seem'd, both spear and shield. Now dreadful Might have ensued, nor only Paradise, In this commotion, but the starry cope Of Heaven, perhaps, or all the elements, At least, had gone to wrack, disturb'd and torn With violence of this conflict, had not soon The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray, Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales; yet seen Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign; Wherein, all things created first he weigh'd, The pendulous round earth, with balanced air In counterpoise; now ponders all events, Battles and realms: in these he put two weights, The sequel each of parting and of fight; The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam : Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the fiend. "Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st Neither our own, but given; what folly then [mine, To boast what arms can do? since thine, no more Than Heaven permits; nor mine, though doubled now, To trample thee as mire: for proof look up, And read thy lot, in yon celestial sign; Where thou art weigh'd, and shown how light, how If thou resist." The fiend look'd up, and knew [weak, His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled Murmuring; and with him fled the shades of night.

THE END OF BOOK IV.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK V.

THE ARGUMENT.

Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream: he likes it not, yet comforts her. They come forth to their daylabours: their morning-hymn, at the door of their bower. God, to render man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand; who he is, and why his enemy; and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradise: his appearance described: his coming discerned by Adam afar off, sitting at the door of his bower: he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choicest fruits of Paradise got together by Eve; their discourse at table. Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his state and of his enemy; relates, at Adam's request, who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his first revolt in heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew his legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them to rebel with him, persuading all but only Abdiel a seraph; who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK V.

Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl; When Adam waked, so customed; for his sleep Was airy-light, from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapours bland; which the only sound Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song Of birds on every bough: so much the more His wonder was, to find unwaken'd Eve, With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek, As through unquiet rest. He on his side Leaning, half raised, with looks of cordial love Hung over her enamour'd; and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus. "Awake, My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight, Awake; the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tender plants, how blows the citron-grove; What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed; How nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweet."

Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake. "O sole, in whom my thoughts find all repose, My glory, my perfection, glad I see Thy face, and morn return'd; for I this night, Such night till this I never pass'd, have dream'd, If dream'd, not as I oft am wont, of thee, Works of day past, or morrow's next design; But of offence and trouble, which my mind Knew never, till this irksome night. Methought, Close at mine ear, one call'd me forth to walk, With gentle voice; I thought it thine: it said,