HE angelic squadron bright

THE

Turn'd fiery red, sharpening in moonèd horns

Their phalanx, and began to hem him round
With ported spears, as thick as when a field
Of Ceres ripe for harvest waving bends
Her bearded grove of ears which way the wind
Sways them.

On the other side, Satan, alarm'd,
Collecting all his might, dilated stood,
Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremoved :

His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest
Sat Horror plumed; nor wanted in his grasp
What seem'd both spear and shield.

PARADISE LOST, Book IV.

HE, above the rest

In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appear'd Less than Archangel ruin'd, and the excess Of glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd so, yet shone Above them all the Archangel; but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrench'd, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride Waiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast Signs of remorse and passion, to behold The fellows of his crime, the followers rather (Far other once beheld in bliss), condemn'd For ever now to have their lot in pain; Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung For his revolt; yet faithful how they stood, Their glory wither'd: as, when Heaven's fire Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines, With singed top their stately growth, though bare, Stands on the blasted heath.

PARADISE Lost, Book I.

THEY,

Breathing united force with fixed thought, Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charm'd Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil; and now Advanced in view they stand, a horrid front Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise Of warriors old, with order'd spear and shield, Awaiting what command their mighty Chief Had to impose. He through the armed files Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverse The whole battalion views, their order due, Their visages and stature as of gods;

Their number last he sums. And now his heart
Distends with pride, and hardening in his strength
Glories; for never, since created Man,

Met such embodied force as, named with these,
Could merit more than that small infantry
Warr'd on by cranes: though all the giant brood
Of Phlegra with the heroic race were join'd
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side
Mix'd with auxiliar gods; and what resounds
In fable or romance of Uther's son,
Begirt with British and Armoric knights;
And all who since, baptised or infidel,
Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban,
Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond;
Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore
When Charlemain with all his peerage fell
By Fontarabbia.

PARADISE LOST, Book I.

MAMMON led them on,

Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell

From Heaven, for even in Heaven his looks and

thoughts

Were always downward bent, admiring more

The riches of Heaven's pavement, trodden gold,
Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd

In vision beatific. By him first

Men also, and by his suggestion taught,

Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands
Rifled the bowels of their mother Earth
For treasures better hid.

Soon had his crew

Open'd into the hill a spacious wound,

And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire
That riches grow in Hell; that soil may best

Deserve the precious bane.

Nigh on the plain, in many cells prepared,
That underneath had veins of liquid fire
Sluiced from the lake, a second multitude
With wondrous art founded the massy ore,
Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross.
A third as soon had form'd within the ground
A various mould, and from the boiling cells
By strange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook:
As in an organ, from one blast of wind,

To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes.
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge

Rose like an exhalation, with the sound
Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet;
Built like a temple, where pilasters round
Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid

With golden architrave; nor did there want
Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven ;
The roof was fretted gold.

PARADISE Lost, Book I.

THE . . Fiend

Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,

Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast. The broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening from the top of Fesolè,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
His spear, to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand,
He walk'd with, to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marle, not like those steps
On Heaven's azure; and the torrid clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
Nathless he so endured, till on the beach
Of that inflamèd sea he stood, and call'd
His legions, Angel forms, who lay entranced,
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shades
High over-arch'd embower; or scatter'd sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd
Hath vex'd the Red-Sea coast.

PARADISE LOST, Book I.