The flowery dale of Sibma, clad with vines,
And Eleälé to the Asphaltic pool:
Peor his other name, when he enticed
Israel, in Sittim, on their march from Nile,
To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.
Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged,
Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove
Of Moloch, homicide; lust hard by hate:
Till good Josiah drove them thence to Hell.
With these came they, who, from the bordering
Of old Euphrates, to the brook that parts [flood
Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names
Of Baalim and Ashtaroth; those male,
These feminine for Spirits, when they please,
Can either sex assume, or both; so soft
And uncompounded is their essence pure:
Not tied or manacled with joint or limb,
Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones,
Like cumbrous flesh; but, in what shape they
Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure, [choose,
Can execute their airy purposes,
And works of love or enmity fulfil.
For those the race of Israel oft forsook
Their living Strength, and unfrequented left
His righteous altar, bowing lowly down
To bestial gods: for which their heads, as low
Bow'd down in battle, sunk before the spear
Of despicable foes. With these in troop
Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians call'd
Astarté, queen of Heaven, with crescent horns:
To whose bright image nightly by the moon,
Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs:
In Sion also not unsung, where stood
Her temple, on the offensive mountain, built
By that uxorious king, whose heart, though large,
Beguiled by fair idolatresses, fell
To idols foul. Thammuz came next behind,
Whose annual wound, in Lebanon, allured
The Syrian damsels to lament his fate,
In amorous ditties, all a summer's day;
While smooth Adonis from his native rock,
Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood
Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale
Infected Sion's daughters, with like heat;
Whose wanton passions, in the sacred porch,
Ezekiel saw, when, by the vision led,
His eye survey'd the dark idolatries
Of alienated Judah. Next came one
Who mourn'd in earnest, when the captive ark
Maim'd his brute image, head and hands lopt off,
In his own temple, on the groundsil-edge,
Where he fell flat, and shamed his worshippers :
Dagon his name, sea-monster, upward man
And downward fish: yet had his temple, high
Rear'd in Azotus, dreaded through the coast
Of Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon,
And Accaron and Gaza's frontier bounds.
Him follow'd Rimmon, whose delightful seat
Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks
Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams.
He also against the house of God was bold:
A leper once he lost, and gain'd a king,
Ahaz, his sottish conqueror, whom he drew
God's altar to disparage, and displace
For one of Syrian mode; whereon to burn
His odious offerings, and adore the gods,
Whom he had vanquish'd. After these appear'd
A crew, who, under names of old renown,
Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train,
With monstrous shapes and sorceries, abused
Fanatic Egypt and her priests, to seek
Their wandering gods, disguised in brutish forms,
Rather than human. Nor did Israel 'scape
The infection, when their borrow'd gold composed
The calf in Oreb; and the rebel king
Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,
Likening his Maker to the grazed ox;
Jehovah, who, in one night, when he pass'd
From Egypt marching, equalled, with one stroke,
Both her first-born, and all her bleating gods.
Belial came last, than whom a Spirit more lewd
Fell not from Heaven, or more gross, to love
Vice for itself; to him no temple stood,
Or altar smoked; yet who more oft, than he,
In temples and at altars, when the priest
Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who fill'd
With lust and violence the house of God?
In courts and palaces he also reigns,
And in luxurious cities, where the noise
Of riot ascends, above their loftiest towers,
And injury and outrage: and when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night
In Gibeah, when the hospitable door
Exposed a matron to avoid worse rape
These were the prime in order and in might :
The rest were long to tell, though far renown'd:
The Ionian Gods, of Javan's issue, held
Gods, yet confess'd later than Heaven and Earth,
Their boasted parents: Titan, Heaven's first-born,
With his enormous brood, and birth-right seized
By younger Saturn; he, from mightier Jove,
His own and Rhea's son, like measure found :
So Jove usurping reign'd. These, first in Crete
And Ida known, thence, on the snowy top
Of cold Olympus, ruled the middle air,
Their highest Heaven; or, on the Delphian cliff,
Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds
Of Doric land; or, who with Saturn old,
Fled over Adria to the Hesperian fields,
And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles.
All these, and more, came flocking; but with looks
Down-cast and damp; yet such wherein appear'd
Obscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chief,
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost
In loss itself; which on his countenance cast
Like doubtful hue: but he, his wonted pride
Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore
Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised
Their fainting courage, and dispell'd their fears.
Then straight commands, that, at the warlike sound
Of trumpets loud, and clarions, be uprear'd
His mighty standard. That proud honour claim'd
Azazel as his right, a Cherub tall;
Who forthwith, from the glittering staff, unfurl'd
The imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,
Shone, like a meteor, streaming to the wind,
With gems and golden lustre rich imblazed,
Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while.
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
At which the universal host up- sent.
A shout that tore Hell's 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 forest 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 raised
To highth of noblest temper, heroes old,
Arming to battle; and, instead of rage,
Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved
With dread of death, to flight or foul retreat;
Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage,
With solemn touches, troubled 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,
Moved on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'd
Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil: and now
Advanced in view they stand, a horrid front
Of dreadful length, and dazzling arms, in guise
Of warriors old, with order'd spear and shield;
Awaiting what command their mighty Chief
Had to impose. He, through the armed files
Darts his experienced eye; and soon traverse
The whole battalion views; their order due;
Their visages and stature, as of Gods:
Their number last he sums. And now his heart
Distends with pride, and, hardening in his strength,
Glories for never, since created man,
Met such imbodied force, as, named with these,
Could merit more than that small infantry
Warr'd on by cranes; though all the giant-brood
Of Phlegra, with the heroic race, were join'd,
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side
Mix'd with auxiliar Gods; and what resounds
In fable or romance, of Uther's son,
Begirt with British, and Armoric knights;
And all, who since, baptized or infidel,
Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban,
Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond;
Or, whom Biserta sent from Afric shore,
When Charlemain, with all his peerage, fell,
By Fontarabia. Thus far these beyond
Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed
Their dread Commander. He, above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent,
Stood like a tower: his form had yet not lost
All her original brightness; nor appear'd
Less than Arch-angel ruin'd, and the excess
Of glory obscured: as when the sun, new risen,
Looks through the horizontal misty air,
Shorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon,
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone,
Above them all the Arch-angel: but his face
Deep scars of thunder had intrench'd; and care
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows
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 rather,
Far other once beheld in bliss, condemn'd
For ever now to have their lot in pain:
Millions of Spirits, for his fault, amerced
Of Heaven, and from eternal splendors flung,
For his revolt yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory wither'd: as when Heaven's fire
Hath scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain pines,
With singed top, their stately growth, though bare
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared
To speak; whereat, their doubled ranks they bend,
From wing to wing, and half inclose him round,
With all his peers: attention held them mute.
Thrice he essay'd, 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 the Almighty; and that strife
Was not inglorious, though the 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 believe, though after loss,
That all these puissant legions, whose exile
Hath emptied Heaven, shall fail to re-ascend,
Self-raised, and re-possess their native seat?
For me, be witness all the host of Heaven,
If counsels different, or danger shunn'd
By me, have lost our hopes. But he, who reigns
Monarch in Heaven, till then, as one secure,
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute,
Consent or custom, 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.
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