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Yet on the other side fain would he start
A mighty Babe, Whose pure, unspotted birth,
But these vast mysteries his senses smother,
And reason (for what 's faith to him?) devour, How she that is a maid should prove a mother,
Yet keep inviolate her virgin flower;
How God's Eternal Son should be man's brother,
How a pure Spirit should incarnate be,
That the great angel-blinding Light should shrink
That from His mother's breast He milk should drink,
That a vile manger His low bed should prove,
That He Whom the Sun serves should faintly peep
That He Who made the fire should fear the cold: That Heaven's High Majesty His court should keep In a clay-cottage, by each blast controll'd:
That Glory's Self should serve our griefs and fears:
And further, that the Law's eternal Giver
Himself, the forfeit of His slave's offence.
While new thoughts boiled in his enragèd breast,
The forehead's shade in Grief's expression there,
Those stings of care that his strong heart opprest,
'Oh me!' (thus bellow'd he) 'Oh me! what great
Down my proud thought, and leave it in a trance?
Can His attempts above still prosperous be,
'He has my Heaven (what would He more?) whose bright
My fair inheritance, He confines me here,
That mankind's torment waits upon my tears.
'Is He not satisfied? means He to wrest Hell from me too, and sack my territories? Vile human nature, means He not t' invest
(O my despite !) with His divinest glories? And rising with rich spoils upon His breast, With His fair triumphs fill all future stories?
Must the bright arms of Heaven rebuke these eyes?
'Art thou not Lucifer? he to whom the droves
Of stars that gild the Morn, in charge were given? The nimblest of the lightning-winged loves?
The fairest, and the first-born smile of Heaven?
Such, and so rich, the flames that from thine eyes
'Ah, wretch! what boots thee to cast back thy eyes, Where dawning hope no beam of comfort shows? While the reflection of thy forepast joys,
Renders thee double to thy present woes; Rather make up to thy new mysteries,
And meet the mischief that upon thee grows;
If Hell must mourn, Heaven sure shall sympathise ;
'And yet whose force fear I? have I so lost
Myself? my strength too with my innocence?
A borrowed being, make thy bold defence:
Heaven saw us struggle once; as brave a fight
Thus spoke th' impatient prince, and made a pause;
His foul hags raised their heads, and clapped their hands; And all the powers of Hell in full applause
Flourish'd their snakes and tossed their flaming brands. 'We' (said the horrid sisters) 'wait thy laws,
Th' obsequious handmaids of thy high commands;
'What thy Alecto, what these hands can do,
Thou madest bold proof upon the brow of Heaven,
With Him below: here thou art lord alone,