YOUNG. Such charity as ends in hell! Why, would you tolerate Popery?
MILTON. It is not a faith, but a policy.
YOUNG. Or atheism?
MILTON. That God himself condemns.
YOUNG. Why, then, my young friend, let us hear no more of toleration; for error is error still, be it great or small. There is but one truth, and to miss it by an inch is no better than to miss it by a mile. Condemn atheism, and you condemn implicitly all seemingly minor errors.
MILTON. That I would gladly dispute with you; but we should but mar the night with angry altercation. Let us therefore postpone our difference and pass to a less contentious argument.
YOUNG. As you will, as you will! though I scarcely think your cause will be bettered by the most prolonged meditation. However, it grows damp and chilly, and perhaps it will be more prudent to retire. MILTON. If you will go before, I will join you within an hour.
MILTON. How still it is! No stir of gustier air Shakes in the leaves, no nearer sound obscures The distant noise of watch-dogs; odors stream
Unhindered through the windless atmosphere;
The stars burn steady, nor does aught of cloud
Darken with shadowy drift the pacing moon.
O'er heaven and earth expectant silence broods
With charmed wings, and casts her spell on me.
Spirit of sacred light, whose silver throne,
Mid lesser stars obsequious, cloudless hangs
Staining the violet vault of night; O thou,
Who once, from Heaven descending, didst illume
With hallowed altar-fire and tongues of flame
Thy chosen saints of Pentecost; on me,
Though later born, to utt'rance less divine,
Such grace bestow as, kindling all within,
May prompt prophetic song, not all unfit
To celebrate thy people's praise and thine!
For now, too long despaired of, dawns at last
Our consummating day, which, ushered drear
With wind and scudding cloud, or, more disastrous,
Battered intolerably by rattling tempest,
Or amber-lit, serene, and crystalline,-
Howe'er it dawn, O may it break at last
To such excess of noon as,-Father of Heaven,
Dazzling, eternal, Lord of angel hosts,
That azure fire let no intruding shade
Quench into night! rather with heavenly flame
Sustain its mortal substance! Purge and prove
Thy people's heart! give them a single purpose!
That so their acts, wedded to prayer and praise,
May blend harmonious concord, apt to charm
Even angelic ears in Paradise;
Where round the burning throne eternally,
Seraph to seraph, saint to saint responsive,
With silver trump and harping symphonies,
Peal in a choir immortal hallelujahs.
To such attune, though weak, my mortal voice,
That, while this island-nation, born anew,
A golden eagle, beats her dauntless wings,
Undazzled, full, against the blaze of noon,
I, with not too presumptuous aim, may sing
Her praises right, nor, honoring her, forget
To celebrate, as due, Thee, sole Supreme,
Thee first, Thee last, and Thee eternally!
Lord Falkland and Edward Hyde, at the house of the former, Great Tew,
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