On that opprobrious hill; and made his grove The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence And black Gehenna call'd, the type of hell.
Next Chemos, th' obscene dread of Moab's sons, From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild
Of southmost Abarim; in Hesebon
And Horonaim, Seon's realm, beyond
The flow'ry dale of Sibma clad with vines, And Eleäle to th' asphaltic pool.
Peor his other name, when he entic'd
Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile,
To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe.
Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarg'd
Ev'n 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 bordʼring flood
Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts
Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names
Of Baälim 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 choose,
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 Astarte, queen of heav'n, 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 th' offensive mountain,
By that uxorious king, whose heart, though large,
Beguil❜d by fair idolatresses, fell
To idols foul. Thammuz came next behind,
Whose annual wound in Lebanon allur'd 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, suppos'd 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 grunsel edge, Where he fell flat, and sham'd 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 conqu'ror, 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 abus'd
Fanatic Egypt and her priests, to seek
Their wand'ring gods disguis'd in brutish forms
Rather than human. Nor did Israel 'scape
Th' infection, when their borrow'd gold compos'd
The calf in Oreb; and the rebel king
Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,
Lik'ning his Maker to the grazed ox;
Jehovah, who in one night, when he pass'd From Egypt marching, equall'd 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 smok'd; 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
Expos'd 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, Th' Ionian gods, of Javan's issue held
Gods, yet confess'd later than heav'n and earth, Their boasted parents: Titan, heav'ns first-born, With his enormous brood, and birthright seiz'd 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, rul'd the middle air, Their highest heav'n; 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 th' Hesperian fields, And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles.
All these and more came flocking; but with looks Downcast 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 count'nance cast Like doubtful hue: but he, his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore Semblance of worth, not substance, gently rais'd 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
Th' imperial ensign, which, full high advanc'd,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind, With gems and golden lustre rich emblaz'd, 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 rais'd To highth of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle; and instead of rage, Deliberate valour breath'd, firm and unmov'd With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; Nor wanting pow'r to mitigate and swage With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, Breathing united force, with fixed thought, Mov'd on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'd Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil: and now Advanc'd 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 experienc'd 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 hard'ning in his strength Glories: for never since created man
Met such embodied force, as nam'd with these Could merit more than that small infantry Warr'd on by cranes; though all the giant brood Of Phlegra with th' 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, 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 Their dread commander: he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tow'r; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness; nor appear'd Less than Arch-angel ruin'd, and th' excess Of glory obscur'd: 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 amerc'd
Of heav'n, and from eternal splendours 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 prepar'd To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend From wing to wing, and half enclose him round With all his peers: attention held them mute. Thrice he assay'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 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 pow'r 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 heav'n, shall fail to reascend Self-rais'd, and repossess their native seat? For me, be witness all the host of heaven, If counsels different, or dangers shunn'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 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 New war, provok'd; 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: Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere; For this infernal pit shall never hold Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts Full counsel must mature: peace is despair'd; For who can think submission? War then, war, Open or understood, must be resolv'd.'
He spake; and, to confirm his words, out-flew Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze Far round illumin'd hell; highly they rag'd Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war, Hurling defiance toward the vault of heaven.
There stood a hill not far, whose grisly top
Belch'd fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire Shone with a glossy scurf; undoubted sign That in his womb was hid metallic ore,
The work of sulphur. Thither, wing'd with speed,
A numerous brigade hasten'd: as when bands Of pioneers, with spade and pickax arm'd, Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field,
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