Satan, now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against God and Man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions-fear, envy, and despair but at length confirms himself in evil journeys on to Paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described overleaps the bounds sits, in the shape of a Cormorant, on the Tree of Life, as highest in the Garden, to look about him. Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending īright-harnessed Angels sit in order serviceable. Time is our tedious song should here have ending: The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn Ĭan in his swaddling bands control the damnèd crew.Įach fettered ghost slips to his several grave,įly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. The sable-stolèd Sorcerers bear his worshiped ark. Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste. In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. Now sits not girt with tapers’ holy shine: With that twice-battered god of Palestine While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat. The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint Īffrights the Flamens at their service quaint The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. Inspires the pale-eyed Priest from the prophetic cell.Ī voice of weeping heard and loud lament Will hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving. Swindges the scaly horror of his folded tail. The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne. Shall from the surface to the centre shake, While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake: The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep, Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering The enamelled arras of the rainbow wearing Time will run back and fetch the Age of Gold Īnd leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould Īnd leave her dolorous mansions of the peering day.
WATCH PENDANT SAIL FORTH WITH HOPE FULL
Make up full consort of the angelic symphony. With unexpressive notes, to Heaven’s newborn Heir.īut when of old the Sons of Morning sung,Īnd the well-balanced World on hinges hung,Īnd bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.Īnd let the bass of heaven’s deep organ blow That with long beams the shamefaced Night arrayed Īre seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, Of Cynthia’s seat the airy Region thrilling,Īnd that her reign had here its last fulfilling:Ĭould hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union. With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.Īs all their souls in blissful rapture took: Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Than his bright Throne or burning axletree could bear.
The new-enlightened world no more should need:
The Sun himself withheld his wonted speed, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. Or Lucifer that often warned them thence While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.īending one way their precious influence, The trumpet spake not to the armèd throng Īs if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. The idle spear and shield were high uphung She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing She, crowned with olive green, came softly sliding Should look so near upon her foul deformities. The saintly veil of maiden white to throw To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, To wanton with the Sun, her lusty Paramour. Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet,įrom out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.Īll meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies Oh! run prevent them with thy humble ode, The star-led Wisards haste with odours sweet! Hath took no print of the approaching light,Īnd all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright? Now while the heaven, by the Sun’s team untrod, Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Wherewith he wont at Heaven’s high council-tableĪnd chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. That glorious Form, that Light unsufferable, That he our deadly forfeit should release,Īnd with his Father work us a perpetual peace. Our great redemption from above did bring Wherein the Son of Heaven’s eternal King, This is the month, and this the happy morn,
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