There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps Astronomer in the sun's lucent orb
Through his glaz'd optic tube yet never saw. The place he found beyond expression bright, Compar'd with ought on earth, metal or stone; Not all parts like, but all alike inform'd With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire; If metal, part seem'd gold, part silver clear; If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite, Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone In Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besides Imagin'd rather oft than elsewhere seen,
That stone, or like to that which here below Philosophers in vain so long have sought; In vain, though by their powerful art they bind Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound In various shapes old Proteus from the sea, Drain'd through a limbec to his native form. What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run Potable gold, when with one virtuous touch The arch-chemic sun so far from us remote Produces with terrestrial humour mix'd
Here in the dark so many precious things
Of color glorious and effect so rare ? Here matter new to gaze the Devil met Undazzled; far and wide his eye commands; For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sun-shine, as when his beams at noon Culminate from the Equator, as they now Shot upward still direct, whence no way round Shadow from body opaque can fall; and the air, No where so clear, sharpen'd his visual ray To objects distant far, whereby he soon Saw within ken a glorious Angel stand,
The same whom John saw also in the sun : His back was turn'd, but not his brightness hid; Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiar
Circled his head, nor less his locks behind Illustrious on his shoulders fledg'd with wings
Lay waving round; on some great charge employ'd He seem'd, or fix'd in cogitation deep.
Glad was the Spirit impure, as now in hope To find who might direct his wandering flight To Paradise, the happy seat of man,
His journey's end, and our beginning woe.
But first he casts to change his proper shape, Which else might work him danger or delay: And now a stripling Cherub he appears, Not of the prime, yet such as in his face Youth smil'd celestial, and to every limb Suitable grace diffus'd, so well he feign'd; Under a coronet his flowing hair
In curls on either cheek play'd; wings he wore Of many a color'd plume sprinkled with gold, His habit fit for speed succinct, and held Before his decent steps a silver wand.
He drew not nigh unheard, the Angel bright, Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd, Admonish'd by his ear, and strait was known The Arch-Angel Uriel, one of the seven Who in God's presence, nearest to his throne, Stand ready at command, and are his eyes
That run through all the Heavens, or down to the earth Bear his swift errands over moist and dry,
O'er sea and land: him Satan thus accosts.
Uriel, for thou of those seven Spirits that stand In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright, The first art wont his great authentic will
Interpreter through highest Heaven to bring, Where all his sons thy embassy attend; And here art likeliest by supreme decree Like honour to obtain, and as his eye
To visit oft this new creation round; Unspeakable desire to see, and know
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man, His chief delight and favour, him for whom All these his works so wondrous he ordain'd, Hath brought me from the quires of Cherubim Alone thus wandering. Brightest Seraph, tell In which of all these shining orbs hath Man His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,
But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell; That I may find him, and with secret gaze, Or open admiration him behold
On whom the great Creator hath bestow'd
Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces pour'd; That both in him and all things, as is meet,
The universal Maker we may praise;
Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes To deepest Hell, and to repair that loss Created this new happy race of men
To serve him better: wise are all his ways.
So spake the false dissembler unperceiv'd ; For neither Man nor Angel can discern Hypocrisy, the only' evil that walks Invisible, except to God alone,
By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth : And oft though Wisdom wake, Suspicion sleeps At Wisdom's gate, and to Simplicity
Resigns her charge, while Goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems: which now for once beguil'd
Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held The sharpest sighted Spirit of all in Heaven; Who to the fraudulent impostor foul In his uprightness answer thus return'd.
Fair Angel, thy desire which tends to know The works of God, thereby to glorify The great Work-master, leads to no excess That reaches blame, but rather merits praise The more it seems excess, that led thee hither From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps Contented with report hear only in Heaven: For wonderful indeed are all his works,
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