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PARADISE LOST.

Now laid perhaps asleep, secure of harm. This evening from the sun's decline arrived Who tells of some infernal spirit seen Hitherward bent-who could have thought?-escaped The bars of Hell, on errand bad no doubt: Such, where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring.

So saying, on he led his radiant files, Dazzling the moon; these to the bower direct In search of whom they sought. Him there they found, Squat like a toad close at the ear of Eve, Assaying by his devilish art to reach The organs of her fancy, and with them to forge Illusions, as he list, phantasms and dreams. Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint The animal spirits, that from pure blood arise Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise, At least, distempered, discontented thoughts, Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires, Blown up with high conceits engendering pride. Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear Touched lightly;—for no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper, but returns Of force to its own likeness. Up he starts, Discovered and surprised. As when a spark Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid Fit for the tun, some magazine to store Against a rumoured war, the smutty grain, With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air; So started up in his own shape the Fiend. Back stept those two fair angels, half amazed So sudden to behold the grizzly king. Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon:

Which of those rebel spirits adjudged to hell Com'st thou, escaped thy prison? and transformed, Why satt'st thou like an enemy in wait, Here watching at the head of these that sleep?

Воок IV.—827-862] Know ye not, then, said Satan, filled with scorn. Know ye not me? Ye knew me once no mate For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar: Not to know me, argues yourself unknown, The lowest of your throng; or, if ye know, Why ask ye, and superfluous begin Your message, like to end as much in vain?

To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn: Think not, revolted spirit, thy shape the same, Or undiminished brightness to be known, As when thou stood'st in heaven, upright and pure; That glory then, when thou no more wast good, Departed from thee; and thou resemblest now Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foul. But come; for thou, be sure, shalt give account To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep This place inviolable, and these from harm.

So spake the cherub; and his grave rebuke, Severe in youthful beauty, added grace Invincible. Abashed the devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely; saw, and pined His loss; but chiefly to find here observed His lustre visibly impaired; yet seemed Undaunted. If I must contend, said he, Best with the best, the sender not the sent, Or all at once; more glory will be won, Or less be lost. Thy fear, said Zephon bold, Will save us trial what the least can do

Single against thee, wicked and thence weak. The Fiend replied not, overcome with rage; But, like a proud steed reined, went haughty on, Champing his iron curb: to strive or fly He held it vain; awe from above had quelled His heart, not else dismayed. Now drew they nigh The western point, where those half-rounding guards