With light from hence, though but reflected, shines.
That place is earth, the seat of Man, that light
His day, which else as th' other hemisphere
Night would invade: but there the neighb'ring moon
(So call that opposite fair star) her aid
Timely interposes, and her monthly round
Still ending, still renewing, through mid heaven,
With borrow'd light her countenance triform
Hence fills and empties to enlighten th' earth,
And in her pale dominion checks the night.
That spot to which I point, is Paradise,
Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bower.
Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires.
Thus said, he turn'd; and Satan bowing low,
As to superior spirits is wont in heav'n, •
Where honour due and reverence none neglects,
Took leave, and tow'rd the coast of earth beneath,
Down from th' ecliptic, sped with hop'd success,
Throws his steep flight in many an airy wheel.
Nor stay'd till on Niphates top he lights.

END OF BOOK THIRD.

THE

FOURTH BOOK

OF

PARADISE LOST.

THE ARGUMENT.

8 Itan 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 Paradise 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 awhile, to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel descending on a sunbeam 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 Adam 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 hin dered by a sign from Heaven, flies out of Paradise.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK IV.

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 reveng'd on men,

Woe to the inhabitants on earth! that now,

While time was, our first parents had been waru'd

The coming of their secret foe, and 'scap'd,

Haply so 'scap'd his mortal snare: for now

Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down,

The tempter ere th' accuser of mankind,

To wreck on innocent frail man his loss

Of that first battle, and his flight to hell;

Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though bold

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 devilish engine back recoils

Upon himself; horror and doubt distract

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 merr ory

Of what he was, what is, and what mast be

Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue.

Sometimes tow'rds Eden, which now in his view
Lay pleasant, his griev'd look he fixes sad;
Sometimes tow'rds heav'n and the full-blazing sun.
Which now sat high in his meridian tower:
Then much revolving, thus in sighs began:

O thou that with surpassing glory crowned,
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished 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 K\..g
Ah wherefore! he deserv'd 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 prov'd ill in me,

And wrought but malice; lifted up so high

I 'sdain'd subjection; and thought one step higher

Would set me highest, and in a moment quit

The debt immense of endless gratitude,

So burdensome still paying, still to owe,

Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd,

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 rais'd

Ambition. Yet why not? some other power

As great might have aspir'd, and me, though mean

Drawn to his part; but other pow'rs as greut

Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within,

Or from without, to all temptations arm'd