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The universal Maker we may praise,

Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes

To deepest Hell, and, to repair that loss,

Created this new happy race of men

To serve him better: wise are all his ways.

So spake the false dissembler unperceived;

For neither man nor angel can discern

Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks

Invisible, except to God alone,

By his permissive will, through heaven and earth.

And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps

At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity

Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill

Where no ill seems: which now for once beguiled

Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held

The sharpest-sighted spirit of all in Heaven;

Who to the fraudulent impostor foul,

In his uprightness, answer thus returned:

Fair angel, thy desire, which tends to know The works of God, thereby to glorify The great Work-Master, leads to no excess That reaches blame, but rather merits praise The more it seems excess, that led thee hither From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps, Contented with report, hear only in heaven: For wonderful indeed are all His works, Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all Had in remembrance always with delight: But what created mind can comprehend Their number, or the wisdom infinite That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep. I saw, when at His word the formless mass, This world's material mould, came to a heap: Confusion heard His voice and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined;