LITMIR.BIZ

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Satan with thoughts inflam’d of highest design, Puts on swift wings, and toward the Gates of Hell Explores his solitary flight; som times He scours the right hand coast, som times the left, Now shaves with level wing the Deep, then soares Up to the fiery concave touring high. As when farr off at Sea a Fleet descri’d Hangs in the Clouds, by Aequinoctial Winds Close sailing from Bengala, or the Iles Of Ternate and Tidore, whence Merchants bring Thir spicie Drugs: they on the trading Flood Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape Ply stemming nightly toward the Pole. So seem’d Farr off the flying Fiend: at last appeer Hell bounds high reaching to the horrid Roof, And thrice threefold the Gates; three folds were Brass Three Iron, three of Adamantine Rock, Impenitrable, impal’d with circling fire, Yet unconsum’d. Before the Gates there sat On either side a formidable shape; The one seem’d Woman to the waste, and fair, But ended foul in many a scaly fould Voluminous and vast, a Serpent arm’d With mortal sting: about her middle round A cry of Hell Hounds never ceasing bark’d With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung A hideous Peal: yet, when they list, would creep, If aught disturb’d thir noyse, into her woomb, And kennel there, yet there still bark’d and howl’d Within unseen. Farr less abhorrd then these Vex’d Scylla bathing in the Sea that parts Calabria from the hoarce Trinacrian shore: Nor uglier follow the Night-Hag, when call’d In secret, riding through the Air she comes Lur’d with the smell of infant blood, to dance With Lapland Witches, while the labouring Moon Eclipses at thir charms. The other shape, If shape it might be call’d that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joynt, or limb, Or substance might be call’d that shadow seem’d, For each seem’d either; black it stood as Night, Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, And shook a dreadful Dart; what seem’d his head The likeness of a Kingly Crown had on. Satan was now at hand, and from his seat The Monster moving onward came as fast, With horrid strides, Hell trembled as he strode. Th’ undaunted Fiend what this might be admir’d, Admir’d, not fear’d; God and his Son except, Created thing naught vallu’d he nor shun’d; And with disdainful look thus first began.

      Whence and what art thou, execrable shape,

       That dar’st, though grim and terrible, advance

       Thy miscreated Front athwart my way

       To yonder Gates? through them I mean to pass,

       That be assur’d, without leave askt of thee:

       Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof,

       Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heav’n.

      To whom the Goblin full of wrauth reply’d,

       Art thou that Traitor Angel, art thou hee,

       Who first broke peace in Heav’n and Faith, till then

       Unbrok’n, and in proud rebellious Arms

       Drew after him the third part of Heav’ns Sons

       Conjur’d against the highest, for which both Thou

       And they outcast from God, are here condemn’d

       To waste Eternal daies in woe and pain?

       And reck’n’st thou thy self with Spirits of Heav’n,

       Hell-doomd, and breath’st defiance here and scorn,

       Where I reign King, and to enrage thee more,

       Thy King and Lord? Back to thy punishment,

       False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings,

       Least with a whip of Scorpions I pursue

       Thy lingring, or with one stroke of this Dart

       Strange horror seise thee, and pangs unfelt before.

      So spake the grieslie terrour, and in shape,

       So speaking and so threatning, grew ten fold

       More dreadful and deform: on th’ other side

       Incenc’t with indignation Satan stood Unterrifi’d, and like a Comet burn’d, That fires the length of Ophiucus huge In th’ Artick Sky, and from his horrid hair Shakes Pestilence and Warr. Each at the Head Level’d his deadly aime; thir fatall hands No second stroke intend, and such a frown Each cast at th’ other, as when two black Clouds With Heav’ns Artillery fraught, come rattling on Over the Caspian, then stand front to front Hov’ring a space, till Winds the signal blow To joyn thir dark Encounter in mid air: So frownd the mighty Combatants, that Hell Grew darker at thir frown, so matcht they stood; For never but once more was either like To meet so great a foe: and now great deeds Had been achiev’d, whereof all Hell had rung, Had not the Snakie Sorceress that sat Fast by Hell Gate, and kept the fatal Key, Ris’n, and with hideous outcry rush’d between.

      O Father, what intends thy hand, she cry’d,

       Against thy only Son? What fury O Son,

       Possesses thee to bend that mortal Dart

       Against thy Fathers head? and know’st for whom;

       For him who sits above and laughs the while

       At thee ordain’d his drudge, to execute

       What e’re his wrath, which he calls Justice, bids,

       His wrath which one day will destroy ye both.

      She spake, and at her words the hellish Pest

       Forbore, then these to her Satan return’d:

      So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange

       Thou interposest, that my sudden hand

       Prevented spares to tell thee yet by deeds

       What it intends; till first I know of thee,

       What thing thou art, thus double-form’d, and why

       In this infernal Vaile first met thou call’st

       Me Father, and that Fantasm call’st my Son?

       I know thee not, nor ever saw till now

       Sight more detestable then him and thee.

      T’ whom thus the Portress of Hell Gate reply’d;

       Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem

       Now in thine eye so foul, once deemd so fair

       In Heav’n, when at th’ Assembly, and in sight

       Of all the Seraphim with thee combin’d

       In bold conspiracy against Heav’ns King,

       All on a sudden miserable pain

       Surpris’d thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzie swumm

       In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast

       Threw forth, till on the left side op’ning wide,

       Likest to thee in shape and count’nance bright,

       Then shining heav’nly fair, a Goddess arm’d

       Out of thy head I sprung: amazement seis’d

       All th’ Host of Heav’n; back they recoild affraid

       At first, and call’d me Sin, and for a Sign Portentous held me; but familiar grown, I pleas’d, and with attractive graces won The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft Thy self in me thy perfect image viewing Becam’st enamour’d, and such joy thou took’st With me in secret, that my womb conceiv’d A growing burden. Mean while Warr arose, And fields were fought in Heav’n; wherein remaind (For what could else) to our Almighty Foe Cleer Victory, to our part loss and rout Through all the Empyrean: down they fell Driv’n headlong from the Pitch of Heaven, down Into this Deep, and in the general fall I also; at which time this powerful Key Into my hand was giv’n, with charge to keep These Gates for ever shut, which none can pass Without my op’ning. Pensive here I sat Alone, but long I sat not, till my womb Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. At last this odious offspring whom thou seest Thine own begotten, breaking violent way Tore through

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