The Complete Poetry of John Milton (70 page)

   970     
Chaos
and ancient
Night
, I come no Spy,

               
With purpose to explore or to disturb

               
The secrets of your Realm, but by constraint

               
Wandring this darksome Desart, as my way

               
Lies through your spacious Empire up to light,

   975     
Alone, and without guide, half lost,
⁵⁶
I seek

               
What readiest path leads where your gloomie bounds

               
Confine with Heav’n; or if som other place

               
From your Dominion won, th’ Ethereal King

               
Possesses lately, thither to arrive

   980     
I travel this profound,
⁵⁷
direct my course;

               
Directed, no mean recompence it brings

               
To your behoof, if I that Region lost,

               
All usurpation thence expell’d, reduce

               
To her original darkness and your sway

   985     
(Which is my present journey) and once more

               
Erect the Standard there of ancient
Night;

               
Yours be th’ advantage all, mine the revenge.

           
      
       Thus
Satan;
and him thus the Anarch old

               
With faultring speech and visage incompos’d
⁵⁸

   990     
Answer’d. I know thee, stranger, who thou art,

               
That mighty leading Angel, who of late

               
Made head against Heav’ns King, though overthrown.

               
I saw and heard, for such a numerous Host

               
Fled not in silence through the frighted deep

   995     
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,

               
Confusion worse confounded; and Heav’n Gates

               
Pourd out by millions her victorious Bands

               
Pursuing. I upon my Frontiers here

               
Keep residence; if all I can will serve,

   1000   
That little which is left so to defend,

               
Encroacht on still through our intestine broils

               
Weakning the Scepter of old
Night:
first Hell

               
Your dungeon stretching far and wide beneath;

               
Now lately Heav’n and Earth, another World

   1005   
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; go and speed;

               
Havock and spoil and ruin are my gain.

   1010
      
       He ceas’d; and
Satan
staid not to reply,

               
But glad that now his Sea should find a shore,

               
With fresh alacritie and force renew’d

               
Springs upward like a Pyramid
⁵⁹
of fire

               
Into the wild expanse, and through the shock

   1015   
Of fighting Elements, on all sides round

               
Environ’d wins his way; harder beset

               
And more endanger’d, then when
Argo
⁶⁰
pass’d

               
Through
Bosporus
betwixt the justling Rocks:

               
Or when
Ulysses
on the Larbord shunnd

   1020   
Charybdis
, and by th’ other whirlpool
⁶¹
steard.

               
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

   1025   
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 Orb

   1030   
Of this frail World;
⁶²
by which the Spirits perverse

               
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

   1035   
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

   1040   
With tumult less and with less hostile din,

               
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;

   1045   
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,
⁶³

               
With Opal Towrs and Battlements adorn’d

   1050   
Of living Saphire, once his native Seat;

               
And fast by hanging in a golden Chain

               
This pendant world,
⁶⁴
in bigness as a Starr

               
Of smallest Magnitude close by the Moon.

               
Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge,

   1055   
Accurst, and in a cursed hour he hies.