The Complete Poetry of John Milton (125 page)

   740     
From under Heav’n; the Hills to their supplie

               
Vapour, and Exhalation dusk and moist,

               
Sent up amain; and now the thick’n’d Skie

               
Like a dark Ceeling stood; down rush’d the Rain

               
Impetuous, and continu’d till the Earth

   745     
No more was seen; the floating Vessel swum

               
Uplifted; and secure with beaked prow

               
Rode tilting o’re the Waves, all dwellings else

               
Flood overwhelmd, and them with all thir pomp

               
Deep under water rould; Sea cover’d Sea,

   750     
Sea without shoar; and in thir Palaces

               
Where luxurie late reign’d, Sea-monsters whelp’d

               
And stabl’d; of Mankind, so numerous late,

               
All left, in one small bottom swum imbark’t.

               
How didst thou grieve then,
Adam
, to behold

   755     
The end of all thy Ofspring, end so sad,

               
Depopulation; thee another Floud,

               
Of tears and sorrow a Floud thee also drown’d,

               
And sunk thee as thy Sons; till gently reard

               
By th’ Angel, on thy feet thou stoodst at last,

   760     
Though comfortless, as when a Father mourns

               
His Childern, all in view destroyd at once;

               
And scarce to th’ Angel utterdst thus thy plaint

           
      
       O Visions ill foreseen! better had I

               
Liv’d ignorant of future, so had borne

   765     
My part of evil onely, each dayes lot

               
Anough to bear; those now, that were dispenst
⁶⁰

               
The burd’n of many Ages, on me light

               
At once, by my foreknowledge gaining Birth

               
Abortive, to torment me ere thir being,

   770     
With thought that they must be. Let no man seek

               
Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall

               
Him or his Childern, evil he may be sure,

               
Which neither his foreknowing can prevent,

               
And hee the future evil shall no less

   775     
In apprehension then in substance feel

               
Grievous to bear: but that care now is past,

               
Man is not whom to warn: those few escap’t

               
Famin and anguish will at last consume

               
Wandring that watrie Desert: I had hope

   780     
When violence was ceas’t, and Warr on Earth,

               
All would have then gon well, peace would have crownd

               
With length of happy dayes the race of man;

               
But I was farr deceav’d; for now I see

               
Peace to corrupt no less then Warr to waste.

   785     
How comes it thus? unfould, Celestial Guide,

               
And whether here the Race of man will end.

           
      
       To whom thus
Michael.
Those whom last thou sawst

               
In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they

               
First seen in acts of prowess eminent

   790     
And great exploits, but of true vertu void;

               
Who having spilt much blood, and don much waste

               
Subduing Nations, and achiev’d thereby

               
Fame in the World, high titles, and rich prey,

               
Shall change thir course to pleasure, ease, and sloth,

   795     
Surfet, and lust, till wantonness and pride

               
Raise out of friendship hostil deeds in Peace.

               
The conquerd also, and enslav’d by Warr

               
Shall with thir freedom lost all vertu loose

               
And fear of God, from whom thir pietie feign’d

   800     
In sharp contest of Battel found no aid

               
Against invaders; therefore coold in zeal

               
Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure,

               
Worldlie or dissolute, on what thir Lords

               
Shall leave them to enjoy; for th’ Earth shall bear

   805     
More then anough, that temperance may be tri’d:

               
So all shall turn degenerate, all deprav’d,

               
Justice and Temperance, Truth and Faith forgot;

               
One Man except, the onely Son of light

               
In a dark Age, against example good,

   810     
Against allurement, custom, and a World

               
Offended; fearless of reproach and scorn,

               
Or violence, hee of thir wicked wayes

               
Shall them admonish, and before them set

               
The paths of righteousness, how much more safe,

   815     
And full of peace, denouncing wrauth to come

               
On thir impenitence; and shall return

               
Of them derided, but of God observ’d

               
The one just Man alive; by his command

               
Shall build a wondrous Ark, as thou beheldst,

   820     
To save himself and houshold from amidst

               
A World devote to universal rack.

               
No sooner hee with them of Man and Beast

               
Select for life shall in the Ark be lodg’d,

               
And shelterd round, but all the Cataracts

   825     
Of Heav’n set open on the Earth shall powr

               
Rain day and night, all fountains of the Deep

               
Broke up, shall heave the Ocean to usurp

               
Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise

               
Above the highest Hills: then shall this Mount

   830     
Of Paradise by might of Waves be moov’d

               
Out of his place, pushd by the horned
⁶¹
floud,

               
With all his verdure spoil’d, and Trees adrift

               
Down the great River
⁶²
to the op’ning Gulf,

               
And there take root an Iland salt and bare,

   835     
The haunt of Seals and Orcs,
⁶³
and Sea-mews clang.
⁶⁴

               
To teach thee that God attributes to place

               
No sanctitie, if none be thither brought

               
By Men who there frequent, or therein dwell.

               
And now what further shall ensue, behold.

   840  
      
       He look’d, and saw the Ark hull
⁶⁵
on the floud,

               
Which now abated, for the Clouds were fled,

               
Drivn by a keen North-wind, that blowing drie

               
Wrinkl’d the face of Deluge, as decai’d;

               
And the cleer Sun on his wide watrie Glass

   845     
Gaz’d hot, and of the fresh Wave largely drew,

               
As after thirst, which made thir flowing shrink

               
From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole

               
With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopt

               
His Sluces, as the Heav’n his windows shut.

   850     
The Ark no more now flotes, but seems on ground

               
Fast on the top of som high mountain fixt.

               
And now the tops of Hills as Rocks appeer;

               
With clamor thence the rapid Currents drive

               
Towards the retreating Sea thir furious tyde.

   855     
Forthwith from out the Ark a Raven flies,

               
And after him, the surer messenger,

               
A Dove sent forth once and agen to spie

               
Green Tree or ground whereon his foot may light;

               
The second time returning, in his Bill

   860     
An Olive leaf he brings, pacific signe:

               
Anon drie ground appeers, and from his Ark

               
The ancient Sire descends with all his Train;

               
Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout,

               
Grateful to Heav’n, over his head beholds

   865     
A dewie Cloud, and in the Cloud a Bow

               
Conspicuous with three listed
⁶⁶
colours gay,

               
Betok’ning peace from God, and Cov’nant new.

               
Whereat the heart of
Adam
erst so sad

               
Greatly rejoyc’d, and thus his joy broke forth.

   870  
      
       O thou who future things canst represent

               
As present, Heav’nly instructer, I revive

               
At this last sight, assur’d that Man shall live

               
With all the Creatures, and thir seed preserve.

               
Farr less I now lament for one whole World

   875     
Of wicked Sons destroyd, then I rejoyce

               
For one Man found so perfet and so just,

               
That God voutsafes to raise another World

               
From him, and all his anger to forget.

               
But say, what mean those colourd streaks in Heavn,

   880     
Distended as the Brow of God appeas’d,

               
Or serve they as a flowrie verge to bind

               
The fluid skirts of that same watrie Cloud,

               
Least it again dissolve and showr the Earth?

           
      
       To whom th’ Archangel. Dextrously thou aim’st;

   885     
So willingly doth God remit his Ire,

               
Though late repenting him of Man deprav’d,

               
Griev’d at his heart, when looking down he saw

               
The whole Earth fill’d with violence, and all flesh

               
Corrupting each thir way; yet those remoov’d,

   890     
Such grace shall one just Man find in his sight,

               
That he relents, not to blot out mankind,

               
And makes a Covenant never to destroy

               
The Earth again by flood, nor let the Sea

               
Surpass his bounds, nor Rain to drown the World

   895     
With Man therein or Beast; but when he brings

               
Over the Earth a Cloud, will therein set

               
His triple-colour’d Bow, whereon to look

               
And call to mind his Cov’nant: Day and Night,

               
Seed time and Harvest, Heat and hoary Frost