Paradiſe loſt. Book i.
In Wallombroſa, where th' Etrurian ſtudesHigh overarch't imbowr; or ſcatterd ſedgeAfloat, when with fierce Winds Orion arm'dHath vext the Red-Sea Coaſt, whoſe waves ore-threwBuſiris and his Memphian Chivalrie,While with perfidious hatred they purſu’dThe Sojourners of Goſhen, who beheld310From the ſafe ſhore their floating CarkaſesAnd broken Chariot Wheels, ſo thick beſtrownAbject and loſt, lay theſe, covering the FloodsUnder amazement of their hideous change.He call’d ſo loud, that all the hollow DeepOf Hell reſounded. Princes, Potentates,Warriers,the Flowr of Heav’n,once yours,now loſt,If ſuch aſtonifhment as this can ſiezeEternal ſpirits; or have ye ehos'n this place320After the toyl of Battel to repoſeYour wearied vertue, for the eaſe you findTo ſlumber here, as in the Vales of Heav’n?Or in this abject poſture have ye ſwornTo adore the Conquerour? who now beholdsCherube and Seraph rowling in the FloodWith ſcatterd Arms and Enſigns, till anonHis ſwift purſuers from Heav’n Gates diſcernTh’ advantage, and deſcending tread-us downThus drooping, or with linked ThunderboltsTransfix us to the bottom of this Gulfe. 330Awake, ariſe, or be for ever fall’n. They heard,and were abaſht,and up they ſprungUpon the wing, as when men wont to watchOn duty ſleeping found by whom they dread,Roſue and beſtir themſelves ere well awake.
Nor
