[The Poetical Works of John Milton by John Milton]@TWC D-Link bookThe Poetical Works of John Milton BOOK II 11/11
I upon my Frontieres here Keep residence; if all I can will serve, That little which is left so to defend 1000 Encroacht on still through our intestine broiles Weakning the Scepter of old Night: first Hell Your dungeon stretching far and wide beneath; Now lately Heaven and Earth, another World Hung ore my Realm, link'd in a golden Chain To that side Heav'n from whence your Legions fell: If that way be your walk, you have not farr; So much the neerer danger; goe and speed; Havock and spoil and ruin are my gain. He ceas'd; and Satan staid not to reply, 1010 But glad that now his Sea should find a shore, With fresh alacritie and force renew'd Springs upward like a Pyramid of fire Into the wilde expanse, and through the shock Of fighting Elements, on all sides round Environ'd wins his way; harder beset And more endanger'd, then when Argo pass'd Through Bosporus betwixt the justling Rocks: Or when Ulysses on the Larbord shunnd Charybdis, and by th' other whirlpool steard.
1020 So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour hee; But hee once past, soon after when man fell, Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain Following his track, such was the will of Heav'n, Pav'd after him a broad and beat'n way Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling Gulf Tamely endur'd a Bridge of wondrous length From Hell continu'd reaching th' utmost Orbe Of this frail World; by which the Spirits perverse 1030 With easie intercourse pass to and fro To tempt or punish mortals, except whom God and good Angels guard by special grace. But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and from the walls of Heav'n Shoots farr into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn; here Nature first begins Her fardest verge, and Chaos to retire As from her outmost works a brok'n foe With tumult less and with less hostile din, 1040 That Satan with less toil, and now with ease Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light And like a weather-beaten Vessel holds Gladly the Port, though Shrouds and Tackle torn; Or in the emptier waste, resembling Air, Weighs his spread wings, at leasure to behold Farr off th' Empyreal Heav'n, extended wide In circuit, undetermind square or round, With Opal Towrs and Battlements adorn'd Of living Saphire, once his native Seat; 1050 And fast by hanging in a golden Chain This pendant world, in bigness as a Starr Of smallest Magnitude close by the Moon. Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge, Accurst, and in a cursed hour he hies. Notes: 282 where] were 1674. 402 breath] misprint for breathe. 483 thir] her 1674. 527 his] this 1674. 542 Oealia] Oechalia 1674. 631 toward] towards 1674. The End Of The Second Book..
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