BOOK IV

THE ARGUMENT.

Satan now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against God and Man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions, fear, envy, and despair; but at length confirms himself in evil, journeys on to l'aradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described, overleaps the bounds, sits in the shape of a cormorant on the Tree of Life, as highest in the garden, to look about him. The garden described: Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall; overhears their discourse, thence gathers that the Tree of Knowledge was forbidden them to eat of, under penalty of Death; and thereon intends to found his temptation, by seducing them to transgress; then leaves them a while, to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel, descending on a sun-beam, warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped the deep, and passed at noon by his sphere in the shape of a good Angel down to Paradise, discovered after by his furious gestures in the Mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest: their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel drawing forth his bands of night-watch to walk the round of Paradise, appoints two strong Angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil Spirit should be there doing some harm to Adan, or Eve sleeping; there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers, prepares resistance, but hindered by a sign trom Heaven, flies out of Paradise.

O FOR that warning voice, which he who saw
Th' Apocalypse heard cry in Heav'n aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,
Came furious down to be revenged on men,
Woe to th' inhabitants on earth!' that now,
While time was, our first parents had been warn'd
The coming of their secret foe, and 'scaped,
Haply so 'scaped his mortal snare: for now
Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,
The tempter ere th' accuser of mankind,

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To wreck on innocent frail man his loss
Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell:
Yet not rejcicing in his speed, though bold

1. There is great propriety in the opening of the present book. The grand subject of the relation which St. John gave of the Apocalypse or Revelation he received, is the overthrow of Satan, whose first attempts upon Man's purity and happiness form the ground- work of this part of the poem.

Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,
Begins his dire attempt, which nigh the birth
Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast,
And, like a dev'lish engine, back recoils
Upon himself: horror and doubt distract

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His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir
The Hell within him; for within him Hell
He brings, and round about him; nor from Hell
One step no more than from himself can fly
By change of place: now Conscience wakes Despair
That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory

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Of what he was, what is, and what must be
Worse; of worse deeds worse suff'rings must ensue.
Sometimes tow'rds Eden, which now in his view
Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad;

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Sometimes tow'rds Heav'n and the full-blazing Sun,
Which now sat high in his meridian tow'r :
Then much revolving, thus in sighs began:

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O thou that with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down Warring in Heav'n against Heav'n's matchless King: Ah wherefore! he deserved no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise, The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks, How due! yet all his good proved ill in me, And wrought but malice; lifted up so high, I sdeign'd subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me high'st, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude,

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24. Memory is here used in the sense of reflection or conside. ration.

32. Milton first thought of writing a tragedy on the Loss of Paradise, and the first ten lines of this speech formed its opening. 50. Sdeign'd, for disdain'd, from the Italian, sdegnare.

So burdensome still paying, still to owe,
Forgetful what from Him I still received,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged: what burden then?
O had his pow'rful destiny ordain'd
Me some inferior Angel, I had stood

Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised
Ambition. Yet, why not? some other Pow'r,

As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,
Drawn to his part; but other Pow'rs as great
Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
Hadst thou the same free will and pow'r to stand?
Thou hadst. Whom hast thou then or what t' accuse,
But Heav'n's free love dealt equally to all?

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Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.

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Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will

Chose freely what it now so justly rues.

Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n
O then at last relent. Is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
DISDAIN forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced
With other promises and other vaunts
Than to submit, boasting I could subdue
Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the throne of Hell!
With diadem and sceptre high advanced,
The lower still I fall, only supreme

In misery! such joy ambition finds.

But say I could repent, and could obtain

55. Understood not, to be connected with the preceding verl

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By act of grace my former state, how soon
Would highth recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feign'd submission swore! ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void;
For never can true reconcilement grow

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Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse,
And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.
This knows my Punisher: therefore, as far
From granting he, as I from begging peace.
All hope excluded thus, behold, instead
Of us outcast, exiled, his new delight,
Mankind created, and for him this world.

So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,
Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost :
Evil be thou my good; by thee at least
Divided empire with Heav'n's King I hold,
By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign;
As Man ere long, and this new world shall know.

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Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face; Thrice changed with pale, ire, envy, and despair; 115 Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'd Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld.

For heav'nly minds from such distempers foul
Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware,

Each perturbation smooth'd with outward calm, 120
Artificer of fraud; and was the first

That practised falsehood under saintly show,
Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge:

Yet not enough had practised to deceive

Uriel once warn'd; whose eye pursued him down 125
The way he went, and on th' Assyrian mount
Saw him disfigured more than could befall
Spirit of happy sort; his gestures fierce
He mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone,
As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen.
So on he fares, and to the border comes
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her inclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,

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Access deny'd; and over head up grew,
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm;
A sylvan scene; and as the ranks ascend
Shade above shade, a woody theatre

Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops
The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung;
Which to our gen'ral sire gave prospect large
Into his nether empire neighb'ring round:
And higher than that wall a circling row
Of goodliest trees loaden with fairest fruit,
Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,
Appear'd with gay enamel'd colours mix'd:

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On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams
Than in fair ev'ning cloud, or humid bow,
When God hath show'r'd the earth: so lovely seem'd
That landskip: and of pure now purer air
Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires
Vernal delight and joy, able to drive

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All sadness but despair: now gentle gales,
Fanning their odorif'rous wings, dispense
Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole
Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail
Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past
Mozambique, off at sea north-east winds blow
Sabean odours from the spicy shore
Of Araby the Blest; with such delay
Well pleased they slack their course, and many a
Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles :
So entertain'd those odorous sweets the Fiend 166
Who came their bane, though with them better pleased
Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume

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That drove him, though enamour'd, from the spouse

151. The description which Milton has given of Paradise is similar to those of Homer, Spenser, and Tasso, in their accounts of the gardens in which the scene of their poems sometimes lies. To these may be added Ariosto's and Marino's, it being generally allowed, that though Milton's is superior to any other, that the Italian come nearest in beauty and perfection.

158. An imitation is here observed of Shakspeare in the Twelfth Night, or of Ariosto, Orlan. Fur. 6. 34. st. 51.

162. Mozambique is an island on the eastern coast of Africa. As the north-east wind blows contrary to those who have doabled the Cape, they are nence obliged to slack their course.-Sabean from Saba, a city and province of Arabia Felix

168. See Tobit viii.