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Book 2.
Paradiſe Loſt.
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, undetermined ſquare or round, With Opal Towrs and Battlements adorn'd Of living Saphire, once his native Seat; 1050And 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.
The End of the Second Book.
PARA-
