And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread
His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals' ring
They call the grisly king,
In dismal dance about the furnace blue; The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove or green,
Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud: Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest ;
Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud: In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark
The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark.
So when the sun in bed,
Curtain'd with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
The flocking shadows pale
Troop to the infernal jail,
Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave; And the yellow-skirted fays
Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved
But see! the Virgin blest
Hath laid her babe to rest:
Time is, our tedious song should here have ending: Heaven's youngest teemed star
Hath fix'd her polish'd car,
Her sleeping Lord, with hand-maid lamp, attending: And all about the courtly stable
Bright harness'd angels sit, in order serviceable.
Listen where thou art sitting, Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; Listen, for dear honour's sake, Goddess of the silver lake,
By all the nymphs that nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance, Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head, From thy coral-paven bed,
And bridle in thy headlong wave, Till thou our summons answer'd have. Listen, and save!
Sabrina rises and sings.
By the rushy-fringed bank,
Where grows the willow, and the osier dank, My sliding chariot stays,
Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen Of turkis blue, and emerald green,
That in the channel strays;
Whilst from off the waters fleet Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread;
Gentle swain, at thy request, I am here.
SATAN'S VISIT TO PARADISE.
So on he fares, and to the border comes Of Eden, where delicious Paradise
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, As with a rural mound, the champain head Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides, With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild, Access denied; and overhead 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 general sire gave prospect large Into his nether empire neighbouring 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 enamell'd colours mix'd: On which the Sun more glad impress'd his beams Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow, When God hath shower'd the earth; so lovely seem'd That landscape: and of pure, now purer air Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair: now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous 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 Mozambic, 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 league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles :
So entertain'd those odorous sweets the fiend.
Southward through Eden went a river large,
Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill Pass'd underneath ingulf'd; for God had thrown That mountain as his garden-mould high raised Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous earth with kindly thirst updrawn, Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill Water'd the garden; thence united fell Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood, Which from his darksome passage now appears, And now, divided into four main streams, Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm And country, whereof here needs no account; But rather to tell how, if Art could tell, How from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks, Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold, With mazy errour under pendent shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain, Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote The open field, and where the unpierced shade Imbrown'd the noontide bowers: thus was this place A happy rural seat of various view;
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm, Others whose fruit, burnish'd with golden rind, Hung amiable, (Hesperian fables true,
If true, here only,) and of delicious taste:
Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks. Grazing the tender herb, were interposed, Or palmy hillock; or the flowery lap
Of some irriguous valley spread her store, Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose : Another side, umbrageous grots and caves Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps Luxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fall Down the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake, That to the fringed bank, with myrtle crown'd, Her crystal mirrour holds, unite their streams. The birds their quire apply; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves; while universal Pan, Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, Led on the eternal Spring.
MORNING HYMN OF ADAM AND EVE.
THESE are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty! Thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who sit'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven. On Earth, join, all ye creatures, to extol
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