Page:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton.djvu/176

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'34

��PARADISE LOST

��Of painful superstition and blind zeal, Naught seeking but the praise of men, here

find

Fit retribution, empty as their deeds; All the unaccomplished works of Nature's

hand,

Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mixed, Dissolved on Earth, fleet hither, and in

vain,

Till final dissolution, wander here Not in the neighbouring Moon, as some

have dreamed: 459

Those argent fields more likely habitants, Translated Saints, or middle Spirits hold, Betwixt the angelical and human kind. Hither, of ill-joined sons and daughters

born, First from the ancient world those Giants

came,

With many a vain exploit, though then re- nowned:

The builders next of Babel on the plain Of Sennaar, and still with vain design New Babels, had they wherewithal, would

build:

Others came single; he who, to be deemed A god, leaped fondly into /Etna flames, 470 Empedocles; and he who, to enjoy Plato's Elysium, leaped into the sea, Cleombrotus; and many more, too long, Embryos and idiots, eremites and friars, White, black, and grey, with all their

trumpery. Here pilgrims roam, that strayed so far to

seek

In Golgotha him dead who lives in Heaven; And they who, to be sure of Paradise, Dying put on the weeds of Dominic, Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised. They pass the planets seven, and pass the

fixed, 481

And that crystal'lin sphere whose balance

weighs

The trepidation talked, and that first moved ; And now Saint Peter at Heaven's wicket

seems To wait them with his keys, and now at

foot Of Heaven's ascent they lift their feet,

when, lo !

A violent cross wind from either coast Blows them transverse, ten thousand

leagues awry, Into the devious air. Then might ye see

��Cowls, hoods, and habits, with their wear- ers, tOSt 490 And fluttered into rags ; thenreliques, beads, Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls, The sport of winds: all these, up whirled

aloft,

Fly o'er the backside of the World far off Into a Limbo large and broad, since called The Paradise of Fools; to few unknown Long after, now unpeopled and untrod. All this dark globe the Fiend found as

he passed;

And long he wandered, till at last a gleam Of dawning light turned thitherward in haste 500

His travelled steps. Far distant he de- scries,

Ascending by degrees magnificent Up to the wall of Heaven, a structure high; At top whereof, but far more rich, appeared The work as of a kingly palace-gate, With frontispice of diamond and gold Imbellished; thick with sparkling orient

gems

The portal shon, inimitable on Earth By model, or by shading pencil drawn. The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw 510

Angels ascending and descending, bands Of guardians bright, when he from Esau

fled

To Padan-Aram, in the field of Luz Dreaming by night under the open sky, And waking cried, This is the gate of Heaven. Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor

stood There always, but drawn up to Heaven

sometimes Viewless; and underneath a bright sea

flowed

Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon Who after came from Earth sailing ar- rived 520 Wafted by Angels, or flew o'er the lake Rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds. The stairs were then let down, whether to

dare

The Fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss: Direct against which opened from beneath, Just o'er the blissful seat of Paradise, A passage down to the Earth a passage

wide; Wider by far than that of after-times

�� �