Book I. Paradiſe loſt.
Moors by his ſide under the Lee, while NightInveſts the Sea, and wiſihed Morn delayes :So ſtretcht out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay210 Chain’d on the burning Lake, nor ever thenceHad riſ’n or heav’d his head, but that the willAnd high permiſſion of all-ruling HeavenLeft him at large to his own dark deſigns,That with reiterated crimes he mightHeap on himſelf damnation, while he foughtEvil to others, and enrag’d might feeHow all his malice ſerv’d but to bring forthInfinite goodneſs, grace and mercy vhewnOn Man by him ſeduc’t, but on himſelf220Treble confuſion, wrath and vengeance pour’d.Forthwith upright he rears from off the PoolHis mighty Stature; on each hand the flamesDrivn backward ſlope their pointing ſpires, & rowldIn billows, leave i’th’ midſt a horrid Vale.Then with expanded wings he ſtears his flightAloft, incumbent- on the dusky AirThat felt unuſual weight; till on dry LandHe lights, if it were Land that ever burn’dWith ſolid, as the Lake with liquid fire;230And ſuch appear’d in hue, as when the forceOf ſubterranean wind tranſports a HillTorn from Pelorus, or the ſhatter'd ſideOf thundring Ætna, whoſe combuſtibleAnd ſewel'd entrals thence conceiving Fire,Sublim’d with Mineral fury, aid the Winds,And leave a ſinged bottom all involv’dWith ſtench and ſmoak:Such reſting found the ſoleOf unbleſt feet. Him followed his next Mate,
Both
