From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, Breathing united force, with fixed thought, Mov'd on in silence to soft pipes, that charm'd Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil: and now Advanc'd in view they stand; a horrid front Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise Of warriors old with order'd spear and shield; Awaiting what command their mighty chief Had to impose: he through the armed files Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse The whole battalion views, their order due, Their visages and stature as of gods;
Their number last he sums. And now his heart Distends with pride, and hardening in his strength Glories for never, since created man, Met such imbodied force, as nam'd with these Could merit more than that small infantry Warr'd on by cranes: though all the giant brood Of Phlegra with the heroic race were join'd That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side Mix'd with auxiliar gods; and what resounds In fable or romance of Uther's son Begirt with British and Armoric knights; And all who since, baptiz'd or infidel, Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban, Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore, When Charlemain with all his peerage fell By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ'd Their dread commander: he, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness; nor appear'd Less than arch-angel ruin'd, and the excess Of glory obscur'd: as when the Sun, new risen, Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams; or from behind the Moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone Above them all the arch-angel: but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrench'd; and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride Waiting revenge; cruel his eye, but cast Signs of remorse and passion, to behold The fellows of his crime, the followers rather, (Far other once beheld in bliss) condemn'd For ever now to have their lot in pain : Millions of spirits for his fault amerc'd
Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood, Their glory wither'd: as when Heaven's fire Hath scath'd the forest oaks, or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth, though bare, Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepar'd To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend From wing to wing, and half enclose him round With all his peers: attention held them mute. Thrice he assay'd, and thrice, in spite of scorn, Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth at last Words, interwove with sighs, found out their way. "O myriads of immortal spirits, O powers Matchless, but with the Almighty; and that strife Was not inglorious, though the event was dire, As this place testifies, and this dire change, Hateful to utter: but what power of mind, Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd
How such united force of gods, how such As stood like these, could ever know repulse? For who can yet believe, though after loss, That all these puissant legions, whose exile Hath emptied Heaven, shall fail to re-ascend Self-rais'd, and repossess their native seat? For me, be witness all the host of Heaven, If counsels different, or dangers shunn'd By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns Monarch in Heaven, till then as one secure Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, Consent or custom; and his regal state Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal'd, Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. Henceforth his might we know and know our cwn: So as not either to provoke, or dread
New war, provok'd; our better part remains To work in close design, by fraud or guile, What force effected not: that he no less At length from us may find, who overcomes By force, hath overcome but half his foe. Space may produce new worlds; whereof so rife There went a fame in Heaven that he ere long Intended to create, and therein plant A generation, whom his choice regard Should favour equal to the sons of Heaven: Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps Our first eruption; thither or elsewhere; For this infernal pit shall never hold Celestial spirits in bondage, nor the abyss Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts Full counsel must mature: peace is despair'd; For who can think submission? War, then, war, Open or understood, must be resolv'd."
He spake and, to confirm his words, out-flew Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty cherubim; the sudden blaze Far round illumin'd Hell: highly they rag'd Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms Clash'd on their sounding shields the din of war, Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.
There stood a hill not far, whose grisly top Belch'd fire and rolling smoke; the rest entire Shone with a glossy scurf; undoubted sign That in his womb was hid metallic ore,
The work of sulphur. Thither, wing'd with speed, A numerous brigade hasten'd: as when bands Of pioneers, with spade and pick-ax arm'd, Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on: Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell From Heaven; for e'en in Heaven his looks and
Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold, Than aught, divine or holy, else enjoy'd In vision beatific: by him first
Men also, and by his suggestion taught, Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands Rifled the bowels of their mother Earth For treasures, better hid. Soon had his crew Open'd into the hill a spacious wound, And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire That riches grow in Hell; that soil may best Deserve the precious bane. And here let those, Who boast in mortal things, and wondering tell Of Babel, and the works of Memphian kings, Learn how their greatest monuments of fame, And strength and art, are easily out-done By spirits reprobate, and in an hour
What in an age they with incessant toil And hands innumerable scarce perform. Nigh on the plain, in many cells prepar'd, That underneath had veins of liquid fire Sluic'd from the lake, a second multitude With wonderous art founded the massy ore, Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross: A third as soon had form'd within the ground A various mould, and from the boiling cells, By strange conveyance, fill'd each hollow nook; As in an organ, from one blast of wind,
To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes. Anon, out of the earth a fabric huge Rose like an exhalation, with the sound Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a temple, where pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid With golden architrave; nor did there want Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven: The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon, Nor great Alcairo, such magnificence Equall'd in all their glories, to enshrine Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxury. The ascending pile Stood fix'd her stately height
To mortal combat, or career with lance) Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in the air Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees In spring time, when the Sun with Taurus rides, Pour forth their populous youth about the hive In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, The suburb of their straw-built citadel, New rubb'd with balm, expatiate and confer Their state affairs. So thick the aery croud Swarm'd and were straiten'd; till, the signal given, Behold a wonder! They but now who seem'd In bigness to surpass Earth's giant sons, Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room Throng numberless, like that pygmean race Beyond the Indian mount; or faery elves, Whose midnight revels, by a forest side Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees while over-head the Moon Sits arbitress, and nearer to the Earth
Wheels her pale course; they, on their mirth and dance
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear;
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. Thus incorporeal spirits to smallest forms
and straight the Reduce their shapes immense, and were at large, Though without number still, amidst the hall Of that infernal court. But far within, And in their own dimensions, like themselves, The great seraphic lords and cherubim In close recess and secret conclave sat ; A thousand demi-gods on golden seats, Frequent and full. After short silence then, And summons read, the great consult began.
Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth And level pavement; from the arched roof Pendent by subtle magic many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky. The hasty multitude Admiring enter'd; and the work some praise, And some the architect; his hand was known In Heaven by many a tower'd structure high, Where scepter'd angels held their residence, And sat as princes; whom the supreme king Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright. Nor was his name unheard, or unador'd, In ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land Men call'd him Mulciber; and how he fell From Heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o'er the crystal battlements: from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day; and with the setting Sun Dropt from the zenith like a falling star, On Lemnos the Ægean isle: thus they relate, Erring; for he with this rebellious rout Fell long before; nor aught avail'd him now To have built in Heaven high towers; nor did he 'scape
By all his engines, but was headlong sent With his industrious crew, to build in Hell.
Meanwhile the winged heralds, by command Of sovran power, with awful ceremony
And trumpet's sound, throughout the host proclaim A solemn council, forthwith to be held At Pandemonium; the high capital
Of Satan and his peers; their summons call'd From every band and squared regiment By place or choice the worthiest; they anon, With hundreds and with thousands, trooping came, Attended: all access was throng'd: the gates And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall (Though like a cover'd field, where champions bold Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldan's chair Defied the best of Panim chivalry
The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of Heaven some advise it, others dissuade a third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in Heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature equal or not much inferior to themselves, about this time to be created. Their doubt, who shall be sent on this difficult search; Satan their chief undertakes alone the voyage, is honoured and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways, and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to Hell gates; finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them; by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between Hell and Heaven; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought.
HIGH on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd
To that bad eminence: and, from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue Vain war with Heaven, and, by success untaught, His proud imaginations thus display'd. '
"Powers and dominions, deities of Heaven; For since no deep within her gulf can hold Immortal vigour, though oppress'd and fall'n, I give not Heaven for lost. From this descent Celestial virtues rising, will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate.
Me though just right, and the fix'd laws of Heaven, Did first create your leader; next, free choice, With what besides, in counsel or in fight, Hath been achiev'd of merit; yet this loss, Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more Establish'd in a safe unenvied throne, Yielded with full consent. The happier state In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim, Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none sure will claim in Hell Precedence, none whose portion is so small Of present pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more. With this advantage then To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, More than can be in Heaven, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old, Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assur'd us; and, by what best way, Whether of open war, or covert guile, We now debate; who can advise, may speak." He ceas'd; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair : His trust was with the Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength; and rather than be less Car'd not to be at all; with that care lost Went all his fear of God, or Hell, or worse, He reck'd not; and these words thereafter spake. "My sentence is for open war: of wiles, More unexpert, I boast not: them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now. For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay? No, let us rather choose, Arm'd with Hell flames and fury, all at once, O'er Heaven's high towers to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine he shall hear Infernal thunder; and, for lightning, see Black fire and horrour shot with equal rage Among his angels; and his throne itself Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps The way seems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumn not still, That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat; descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late,
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then; The event is fear'd; should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction; if there be in Hell Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, con- demn'd
In this abhorred deep to utter woe; Where pain of unextinguishable fire Must exercise us without hope of end, The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorably, and the torturing hour, Calls us to penance? More destroy'd than thus, We should be quite abolish'd, and expire. What fear we then? what doubt we to incense His utmost ire? which, to the height enrag'd, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential; happier far Than miserable to have eternal being: Or, if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne: Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous To less than gods. On th' other side up-rose Belial, in act more graceful and humane: A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seem'd For dignity compos'd, and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds Tim'rous and slothful: yet he pleas'd the ear, And with persuasive accent thus began.
"I should be much for open war, O peers, As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd Main reason to persuade immediate war, Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success; When he, who most excels in fact of arms, In what he counsels, and in what excels, Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair And utter dissolution, as the scope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. First, what revenge? The towers of Heaven are fill'd
With arm'd watch, that render all access Impregnable: oft on the bordering deep Encamp their legions; or, with obscure wing, Scout far and wide into the realm of night, Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise With blackest insurrection, to confound Heaven's purest light: yet our great enemy All incorruptible, would on his throne Sit unpolluted; and the ethereal mould Incapable of stain, would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair: we must exasperate The almighty victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us; that must be our cure,
To be no more. Sad cure for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry foe Can give it, or will ever? how he can, Is doubtful; that he never will, is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence, or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger saves To punish endless? Wherefore cease we then? Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, Reserv'd, and destin'd to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse? Is this then worst, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What, when we fled amain, pursued, and struck With Heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? this Hell then seem'd A refuge from those wounds; or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake? that sure was worse. What if the breath, that kindled those grim fires, Awak'd, should blow them into sevenfold rage, And plunge us in the flames? or, from above, Should intermitted vengeance arm again His red right hand to plague us? What if all Her stores were opened, and this firmament Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrours, threatening hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we perhaps, Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurl'd Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey Of wracking whirlwinds; or for ever sunk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains: There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd, Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse, War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye Views all things at one view? He from Heaven's height
All these our motions vain sees, and derides; Not more almighty to resist our might
Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heaven Thus trampled, thus expell'd to suffer here
Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. Our purer essence then will overcome Their noxious vapour; or, inur'd, not feel; Or, chang'd at length, and to the place conform'd In temper and in nature, will receive Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain; This horrour will grow mild, this darkness light; Besides what hope the never-ending flight
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change
Worth waiting; since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.'
Thus Belial, with words cloth'd in reason's garb, Counsell'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace and after him thus Mammon spake. "Either to disenthrone the King of Heaven We war, if war be best, or to regain
Our own right lost him to unthrone we then May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife: The former, vain to hope, argues as vain
The latter for what place can be for us Within Heaven's bound, unless Heaven's Lord supreme
We overpower? Suppose he should relent, And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection; with what eyes could we Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing Forc'd Halleluiahs; while he lordly sits Our envied sovran, and his altar breathes Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, Our servile offerings? This must be our task In Heaven, this our delight! how wearisome Eternity so spent, in worship paid
To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue By force impossible, by leave obtain'd Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, Free, and to none accountable, preferring Hard liberty before the easy yoke
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small,
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse
We can create; and in what place so e'er Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain,
Chains and these torments? better these than Through labour and endurance. This deep world
By my advice; since fate inevitable
Subdues us, and omnipotent decree,
The victor's will. To suffer, as to do, Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust That so ordains: this was at first resolv'd, If we were wise, against so great a foe Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold And venturous, if that fail them, shrink and fear What yet they know must follow, to endure Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, The sentence of their conqueror: this is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, Our supreme foe in time may much remit His anger; and perhaps, thus far remov'd, Not mind us not offending, satisfied
With what is punish'd; whence these raging fires
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven's all-ruling
Choose to reside, his glory unobscur'd, And with the majesty of darkness round
Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders
Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell? As he our darkness, cannot we his light Imitate when we please? This desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold: Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence; and what can Heaven show more? Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements; these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper, chang'd Into their temper; which must needs remove The sensible of pain. All things invite
To peaceful counsels, and the settled state Of order, how in safety best we may Compose our present evils, with regard Of what we are, and were; dismissing quite All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise." He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'd
The assembly, as when hollow rocks retain
The sound of blustering winds, which all night long
Had rous'd the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull Sea-faring men o'erwatch'd, whose bark by chance Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay
After the tempest: such applause was heard As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleas'd, Advising peace: for such another field
They dreaded worse than Hell: so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michaël Wrought still within them, and no less desire To found this nether empire, which might rise By policy, and long process of time, In emulation opposite to Heaven. Which when Beelzebub perceiv'd, than whom Satan except, none higher sat, with grave Aspéct he rose, and in his rising seem'd
A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat, and public care; And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic, though in ruin: sage he stood With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look Drew audience and attention still as night Or summer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake. "Thrones and imperial powers, offspring Heaven,
Ethereal virtues or these titles now Must we renounce, and, changing style, be call'd Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote Inclines here to continue, and build up here A growing empire; doubtless; while we dream, And know not that the King of Heaven hath doom'd This place our dungeon; not our safe retreat Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt From Heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain In strictest bondage, though thus far remov'd Under the inevitable curb, reserv'd His captive multitude: for he, be sure,
Some easier enterprise? There is a place, (If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven Err not) another world, the happy seat Of some new race call'd Man, about this time To be created like to us, though less
In power and excellence, but favour'd more Of him who rules above; so was his will Pronounc'd among the gods, and by an oath, That shook Heaven's whole circumference, con- firm'd.
Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn What creatures there inhabit, of what mould Or substance, how endued, and what their power, And where their weakness, how attempted best, By force or subtlety. Though Heaven be shut, And Heaven's high Arbitrator sit secure In his own strength, this place may lie expos'd, The utmost border of his kingdom, left To their defence who hold it: here perhaps Some advantageous act may be achiev'd By sudden onset ; either with Hell fire To waste his whole creation, or possess All as our own, and drive, as we were driven, The puny habitants, or, if not drive, Seduce them to our party, that their God May prove their foe, and with repenting hand Abolish his own works. This would surpass Common revenge, and interrupt his joy In our confusion, and our joy upraise In his disturbance; when his darling sons, Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse Their frail original, and faded bliss, Faded so soon. Advise, if this be worth Attempting, or to sit in darkness here Hatching vain empires."
Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devis'd By Satan, and in part propos'd: for whence, But from the author of all ill, could spring So deep a malice, to confound the race Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell To mingle and involve, done all to spite The great Creator? But their spite still serves His glory to augment. The bold design Pleas'd highly those infernal states, and joy Sparkled in all their eyes; with full assent They vote whereat his speech he thus renews. "Well have ye judg'd, well ended long debate, Synod of gods, and, like to what ye are, Great things resolv'd, which, from the lowest deep, Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate, Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in view Of those bright confines, whence, with neighbour- ing arms
In height or depth, still first and last will reign Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part By our revolt; but over Hell extend His empire, and with iron sceptre rule Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven. What sit we then projecting peace and war? War hath determin'd us, and foil'd with loss Irreparable: terms of peace yet none Vouchsaf'd or sought; for what peace will be Secure; and at the brightening orient beam
To us enslav'd, but custody severe
And stripes, and arbitrary punishment Inflicted? and what peace can we return, But to our power hostility and hate,
Untam'd reluctance, and revenge, though slow, Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice In doing what we most in suffering feel? Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need With dangerous expedition to invade Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, Dr ambush from the deep. What if we find
And opportune excursion, we may chance Re-enter Heaven: or else in some mild zone Dwell, not unvisited of Heaven's fair light,
Purge off this gloom: the soft delicious air, To heal the scar of these corrosive fires,
Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we
In search of this new world? whom shall we find Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss,
And through the palpable obscure find out His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight Upborne with indefatigable wings
Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive
The happy isle? What strength, what art can
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