Book I

I, who erewhile the happy Garden sungBy one man’s disobedience lost, now singRecovered Paradise to all mankind,By one man’s firm obedience fully triedThrough all temptation, and the Tempter foiledIn all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.Thou Spirit, who led’st this glorious EremiteInto the desert, his victorious fieldAgainst the spiritual foe, and brought’st him thenceBy proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,And bear through highth or depth of Nature’s bounds,With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deedsAbove heroic, though in secret done,And unrecorded left through many an age:Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voiceMore awful than the sound of trumpet, criedRepentance, and Heaven’s kingdom nigh at handTo all baptized. To his great baptism flockedWith awe the regions round, and with them cameFrom Nazareth the son of Joseph deemedTo the flood Jordan—came as then obscure,Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soonDescried, divinely warned, and witness boreAs to his worthier, and would have resignedTo him his heavenly office. Nor was longHis witness unconfirmed: on him baptizedHeaven opened, and in likeness of a DoveThe Spirit descended, while the Father’s voiceFrom Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.That heard the Adversary, who, roving stillAbout the world, at that assembly famedWould not be last, and, with the voice divineNigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whomSuch high attest was given a while surveyedWith wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid airTo council summons all his mighty Peers,Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:—“O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World(For much more willingly I mention Air,This our old conquest, than remember Hell,Our hated habitation), well ye knowHow many ages, as the years of men,This Universe we have possessed, and ruledIn manner at our will the affairs of Earth,Since Adam and his facile consort EveLost Paradise, deceived by me, though sinceWith dread attending when that fatal woundShall be inflicted by the seed of EveUpon my head. Long the decrees of HeavenDelay, for longest time to Him is short;And now, too soon for us, the circling hoursThis dreaded time have compassed, wherein weMust bide the stroke of that long-threatened wound(At least, if so we can, and by the headBroken be not intended all our powerTo be infringed, our freedom and our beingIn this fair empire won of Earth and Air)—For this ill news I bring: The Woman’s Seed,Destined to this, is late of woman born.His birth to our just fear gave no small cause;But his growth now to youth’s full flower, displayingAll virtue, grace and wisdom to achieveThings highest, greatest, multiplies my fear.Before him a great Prophet, to proclaimHis coming, is sent harbinger, who allInvites, and in the consecrated streamPretends to wash off sin, and fit them soPurified to receive him pure, or ratherTo do him honour as their King. All come,And he himself among them was baptized—Not thence to be more pure, but to receiveThe testimony of Heaven, that who he isThenceforth the nations may not doubt. I sawThe Prophet do him reverence; on him, risingOut of the water, Heaven above the cloudsUnfold her crystal doors; thence on his headA perfet Dove descend (whate’er it meant);And out of Heaven the sovraign voice I heard,‘This is my Son beloved,—in him am pleased.’His mother, than, is mortal, but his SireHe who obtains the monarchy of Heaven;And what will He not do to advance his Son?His first-begot we know, and sore have felt,When his fierce thunder drove us to the Deep;Who this is we must learn, for Man he seemsIn all his lineaments, though in his faceThe glimpses of his Father’s glory shine.Ye see our danger on the utmost edgeOf hazard, which admits no long debate,But must with something sudden be opposed(Not force, but well-couched fraud, well-woven snares),Ere in the head of nations he appear,Their king, their leader, and supreme on Earth.I, when no other durst, sole undertookThe dismal expedition to find outAnd ruin Adam, and the exploit performedSuccessfully: a calmer voyage nowWill waft me; and the way found prosperous onceInduces best to hope of like success.”He ended, and his words impression leftOf much amazement to the infernal crew,Distracted and surprised with deep dismayAt these sad tidings. But no time was thenFor long indulgence to their fears or grief:Unanimous they all commit the careAnd management of this man enterpriseTo him, their great Dictator, whose attemptAt first against mankind so well had thrivedIn Adam’s overthrow, and led their marchFrom Hell’s deep-vaulted den to dwell in light,Regents, and potentates, and kings, yea gods,Of many a pleasant realm and province wide.So to the coast of Jordan he directsHis easy steps, girded with snaky wiles,Where he might likeliest find this new-declared,This man of men, attested Son of God,Temptation and all guile on him to try—So to subvert whom he suspected raisedTo end his reign on Earth so long enjoyed:But, contrary, unweeting he fulfilledThe purposed counsel, pre-ordained and fixed,Of the Most High, who, in full frequence brightOf Angels, thus to Gabriel smiling spake:—“Gabriel, this day, by proof, thou shalt behold,Thou and all Angels conversant on EarthWith Man or men’s affairs, how I beginTo verify that solemn message late,On which I sent thee to the Virgin pureIn Galilee, that she should bear a son,Great in renown, and called the Son of God.Then told’st her, doubting how these things could beTo her a virgin, that on her should comeThe Holy Ghost, and the power of the HighestO’ershadow her. This Man, born and now upgrown,To shew him worthy of his birth divineAnd high prediction, henceforth I exposeTo Satan; let him tempt, and now assayHis utmost subtlety, because he boastsAnd vaunts of his great cunning to the throngOf his Apostasy. He might have learntLess overweening, since he failed in Job,Whose constant perseverance overcameWhate’er his cruel malice could invent.He now shall know I can produce a man,Of female seed, far abler to resistAll his solicitations, and at lengthAll his vast force, and drive him back to Hell—Winning by conquest what the first man lostBy fallacy surprised. But first I meanTo exercise him in the Wilderness;There he shall first lay down the rudimentsOf his great warfare, ere I send him forthTo conquer Sin and Death, the two grand foes.By humiliation and strong sufferanceHis weakness shall o’ercome Satanic strength,And all the world, and mass of sinful flesh;That all the Angels and aethereal Powers—They now, and men hereafter—may discernFrom what consummate virtue I have choseThis perfet man, by merit called my Son,To earn salvation for the sons of men.”So spake the Eternal Father, and all HeavenAdmiring stood a space; then into hymnsBurst forth, and in celestial measures moved,Circling the throne and singing, while the handSung with the voice, and this the argument:—“Victory and triumph to the Son of God,Now entering his great duel, not of arms,But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles!The Father knows the Son; therefore secureVentures his filial virtue, though untried,Against whate’er may tempt, whate’er seduce,Allure, or terrify, or undermine.Be frustrate, all ye stratagems of Hell,And, devilish machinations, come to nought!”So they in Heaven their odes and vigils tuned.Meanwhile the Son of God, who yet some daysLodged in Bethabara, where John baptized,Musing and much revolving in his breastHow best the mighty work he might beginOf Saviour to mankind, and which way firstPublish his godlike office now mature,One day forth walked alone, the Spirit leadingAnd his deep thoughts, the better to converseWith solitude, till, far from track of men,Thought following thought, and step by step led on,He entered now the bordering Desert wild,And, with dark shades and rocks environed round,His holy meditations thus pursued:—“O what a multitude of thoughts at onceAwakened in me swarm, while I considerWhat from within I feel myself, and hearWhat from without comes often to my ears,Ill sorting with my present state compared!When I was yet a child, no childish playTo me was pleasing; all my mind was setSerious to learn and know, and thence to do,What might be public good; myself I thoughtBorn to that end, born to promote all truth,All righteous things. Therefore, above my years,The Law of God I read, and found it sweet;Made it my whole delight, and in it grewTo such perfection that, ere yet my ageHad measured twice six years, at our great FeastI went into the Temple, there to hearThe teachers of our Law, and to proposeWhat might improve my knowledge or their own,And was admired by all. Yet this not allTo which my spirit aspired. Victorious deedsFlamed in my heart, heroic acts—one whileTo rescue Israel from the Roman yoke;Then to subdue and quell, o’er all the earth,Brute violence and proud tyrannic power,Till truth were freed, and equity restored:Yet held it more humane, more heavenly, firstBy winning words to conquer willing hearts,And make persuasion do the work of fear;At least to try, and teach the erring soul,Not wilfully misdoing, but unwareMisled; the stubborn only to subdue.These growing thoughts my mother soon perceiving,By words at times cast forth, inly rejoiced,And said to me apart, ‘High are thy thoughts,O Son! but nourish them, and let them soarTo what highth sacred virtue and true worthCan raise them, though above example high;By matchless deeds express thy matchless Sire.For know, thou art no son of mortal man;Though men esteem thee low of parentage,Thy Father is the Eternal King who rulesAll Heaven and Earth, Angels and sons of men.A messenger from God foretold thy birthConceived in me a virgin; he foretoldThou shouldst be great, and sit on David’s throne,And of thy kingdom there should be no end.At thy nativity a glorious quireOf Angels, in the fields of Bethlehem, sungTo shepherds, watching at their folds by night,And told them the Messiah now was born,Where they might see him; and to thee they came,Directed to the manger where thou lay’st;For in the inn was left no better room.A Star, not seen before, in heaven appearing,Guided the Wise Men thither from the East,To honour thee with incense, myrrh, and gold;By whose bright course led on they found the place,Affirming it thy star, new-graven in heaven,By which they knew thee King of Israel born.Just Simeon and prophetic Anna, warnedBy vision, found thee in the Temple, and spake,Before the altar and the vested priest,Like things of thee to all that present stood.’This having heart, straight I again revolvedThe Law and Prophets, searching what was writConcerning the Messiah, to our scribesKnown partly, and soon found of whom they spakeI am—this chiefly, that my way must lieThrough many a hard assay, even to the death,Ere I the promised kingdom can attain,Or work redemption for mankind, whose sins’Full weight must be transferred upon my head.Yet, neither thus disheartened or dismayed,The time prefixed I waited; when beholdThe Baptist (of whose birth I oft had heard,Not knew by sight) now come, who was to comeBefore Messiah, and his way prepare!I, as all others, to his baptism came,Which I believed was from above; but heStraight knew me, and with loudest voice proclaimedMe him (for it was shewn him so from Heaven)—Me him whose harbinger he was; and firstRefused on me his baptism to confer,As much his greater, and was hardly won.But, as I rose out of the laving stream,Heaven opened her eternal doors, from whenceThe Spirit descended on me like a Dove;And last, the sum of all, my Father’s voice,Audibly heard from Heaven, pronounced me his,Me his beloved Son, in whom aloneHe was well pleased: by which I knew the timeNow full, that I no more should live obscure,But openly begin, as best becomesThe authority which I derived from Heaven.And now by some strong motion I am ledInto this wilderness; to what intentI learn not yet. Perhaps I need not know;For what concerns my knowledge God reveals.”So spake our Morning Star, then in his rise,And, looking round, on every side beheldA pathless desert, dusk with horrid shades.The way he came, not having marked return,Was difficult, by human steps untrod;And he still on was led, but with such thoughtsAccompanied of things past and to comeLodged in his breast as well might recommendSuch solitude before choicest society.Full forty days he passed—whether on hillSometimes, anon in shady vale, each nightUnder the covert of some ancient oakOr cedar to defend him from the dew,Or harboured in one cave, is not revealed;Nor tasted human food, nor hunger felt,Till those days ended; hungered then at lastAmong wild beasts. They at his sight grew mild,Nor sleeping him nor waking harmed; his walkThe fiery serpent fled and noxious worm;The lion and fierce tiger glared aloof.But now an aged man in rural weeds,Following, as seemed, the quest of some stray eye,Or withered sticks to gather, which might serveAgainst a winter’s day, when winds blow keen,To warm him wet returned from field at eve,He saw approach; who first with curious eyePerused him, then with words thus uttered spake:—“Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place,So far from path or road of men, who passIn troop or caravan? for single noneDurst ever, who returned, and dropt not hereHis carcass, pined with hunger and with droughth.I ask the rather, and the more admire,For that to me thou seem’st the man whom lateOur new baptizing Prophet at the fordOf Jordan honoured so, and called thee SonOf God. I saw and heard, for we sometimesWho dwell this wild, constrained by want, come forthTo town or village nigh (nighest is far),Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear,What happens new; fame also finds us out.”To whom the Son of God:—“Who brought me hitherWill bring me hence; no other guide I seek.”“By miracle he may,” replied the swain;“What other way I see not; for we hereLive on tough roots and stubs, to thirst inuredMore than the camel, and to drink go far—Men to much misery and hardship born.But, if thou be the Son of God, commandThat out of these hard stones be made thee bread;So shalt thou save thyself, and us relieveWith food, whereof we wretched seldom taste.”He ended, and the Son of God replied:—“Think’st thou such force in bread? Is it not written(For I discern thee other than thou seem’st),Man lives not by bread only, but each wordProceeding from the mouth of God, who fedOur fathers here with manna? In the MountMoses was forty days, nor eat nor drank;And forty days Eliah without foodWandered this barren waste; the same I now.Why dost thou, then, suggest to me distrustKnowing who I am, as I know who thou art?”Whom thus answered the Arch-Fiend, now undisguised:—“’Tis true, I am that Spirit unfortunateWho, leagued with millions more in rash revolt,Kept not my happy station, but was drivenWith them from bliss to the bottomless Deep—Yet to that hideous place not so confinedBy rigour unconniving but that oft,Leaving my dolorous prison, I enjoyLarge liberty to round this globe of Earth,Or range in the Air; nor from the Heaven of HeavensHath he excluded my resort sometimes.I came, among the Sons of God, when heGave up into my hands Uzzean Job,To prove him, and illustrate his high worth;And, when to all his Angels he proposedTo draw the proud king Ahab into fraud,That he might fall in Ramoth, they demurring,I undertook that office, and the tonguesOf all his flattering prophets glibbed with liesTo his destruction, as I had in charge:For what he bids I do. Though I have lostMuch lustre of my native brightness, lostTo be beloved of God, I have not lostTo love, at least contemplate and admire,What I see excellent in good, or fair,Or virtuous; I should so have lost all sense.What can be then less in me than desireTo see thee and approach thee, whom I knowDeclared the Son of God, to hear attentThy wisdom, and behold thy godlike deeds?Men generally think me much a foeTo all mankind. Why should I? they to meNever did wrong or violence. By themI lost not what I lost; rather by themI gained what I have gained, and with them dwellCopartner in these regions of the World,If not disposer—lend them oft my aid,Oft my advice by presages and signs,And answers, oracles, portents, and dreams,Whereby they may direct their future life.Envy, they say, excites me, thus to gainCompanions of my misery and woe!At first it may be; but, long since with woeNearer acquainted, now I feel by proofThat fellowship in pain divides not smart,Nor lightens aught each man’s peculiar load;Small consolation, then, were Man adjoined.This wounds me most (what can it less?) that Man,Man fallen, shall be restored, I never more.”To whom our Saviour sternly thus replied:—“Deservedly thou griev’st, composed of liesFrom the beginning, and in lies wilt end,Who boast’st release from Hell, and leave to comeInto the Heaven of Heavens. Thou com’st, indeed,As a poor miserable captive thrallComes to the place where he before had satAmong the prime in splendour, now deposed,Ejected, emptied, gazed, unpitied, shunned,A spectacle of ruin, or of scorn,To all the host of Heaven. The happy placeImparts to thee no happiness, no joy—Rather inflames thy torment, representingLost bliss, to thee no more communicable;So never more in Hell than when in Heaven.But thou art serviceable to Heaven’s King!Wilt thou impute to obedience what thy fearExtorts, or pleasure to do ill excites?What but thy malice moved thee to misdeemOf righteous Job, then cruelly to afflict himWith all inflictions? but his patience won.The other service was thy chosen task,To be a liar in four hundred mouths;For lying is thy sustenance, thy food.Yet thou pretend’st to truth! all oraclesBy thee are given, and what confessed more trueAmong the nations? That hath been thy craft,By mixing somewhat true to vent more lies.But what have been thy answers? what but dark,Ambiguous, and with double sense deluding,Which they who asked have seldom understood,And, not well understood, as good not known?Who ever, by consulting at thy shrine,Returned the wiser, or the more instructTo fly or follow what concerned him most,And run not sooner to his fatal snare?For God hath justly given the nations upTo thy delusions; justly, since they fellIdolatrous. But, when his purpose isAmong them to declare his providence,To thee not known, whence hast thou then thy truth,But from him, or his Angels presidentIn every province, who, themselves disdainingTo approach thy temples, give thee in commandWhat, to the smallest tittle, thou shalt sayTo thy adorers? Thou, with trembling fear,Or like a fawning parasite, obey’st;Then to thyself ascrib’st the truth foretold.But this thy glory shall be soon retrenched;No more shalt thou by oracling abuseThe Gentiles; henceforth oracles are ceased,And thou no more with pomp and sacrificeShalt be enquired at Delphos or elsewhere—At least in vain, for they shall find thee mute.God hath now sent his living OracleInto the world to teach his final will,And sends his Spirit of Truth henceforth to dwellIn pious hearts, an inward oracleTo all truth requisite for men to know.”So spake our Saviour; but the subtle Fiend,Though inly stung with anger and disdain,Dissembled, and this answer smooth returned:—“Sharply thou hast insisted on rebuke,And urged me hard with doings which not will,But misery, hath wrested from me. WhereEasily canst thou find one miserable,And not inforced oft-times to part from truth,If it may stand him more in stead to lie,Say and unsay, feign, flatter, or abjure?But thou art placed above me; thou art Lord;From thee I can, and must, submiss, endureCheek or reproof, and glad to scape so quit.Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk,Smooth on the tongue discoursed, pleasing to the ear,And tunable as sylvan pipe or song;What wonder, then, if I delight to hearHer dictates from thy mouth? most men admireVirtue who follow not her lore. Permit meTo hear thee when I come (since no man comes),And talk at least, though I despair to attain.Thy Father, who is holy, wise, and pure,Suffers the hypocrite or atheous priestTo tread his sacred courts, and ministerAbout his altar, handling holy things,Praying or vowing, and voutsafed his voiceTo Balaam reprobate, a prophet yetInspired: disdain not such access to me.”To whom our Saviour, with unaltered brow:—“Thy coming hither, though I know thy scope,I bid not, or forbid. Do as thou find’stPermission from above; thou canst not more.”He added not; and Satan, bowling lowHis gray dissimulation, disappeared,Into thin air diffused: for now beganNight with her sullen wing to double-shadeThe desert; fowls in their clay nests were couched;And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam.