Paradise Lost | Page 8

not lost?In loss itself; which on his countenance cast?Like doubtful hue. But he, his wonted pride?Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore?Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised?Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears.?Then straight commands that, at the warlike sound?Of trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared?His mighty standard. That proud honour claimed?Azazel as his right, a Cherub tall:?Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled?Th' imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,?Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind,?With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,?Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while?Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:?At which the universal host up-sent?A shout that tore Hell's concave, and beyond?Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.?All in a moment through the gloom were seen?Ten thousand banners rise into the air,?With orient colours waving: with them rose?A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms?Appeared, and serried shields in thick array?Of depth immeasurable. Anon they move?In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood?Of flutes and soft recorders--such as raised?To height of noblest temper heroes old?Arming to battle, and instead of rage?Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved?With dread of death to flight or foul retreat;?Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage?With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase?Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain?From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they,?Breathing united force with fixed thought,?Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed?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 ordered 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?Warred on by cranes--though all the giant brood?Of Phlegra with th' heroic race were joined?That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side?Mixed with auxiliar gods; and what resounds?In fable or romance of Uther's son,?Begirt with British and Armoric knights;?And all who since, baptized 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. Thus far these beyond?Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed?Their dread Commander. 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 appeared?Less than Archangel ruined, and th' 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. Darkened so, yet shone?Above them all th' Archangel: but his face?Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, 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), condemned?For ever now to have their lot in pain--?Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced?Of Heaven, and from eteranl splendours flung?For his revolt--yet faithful how they stood,?Their glory withered; 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. He now prepared?To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend?From wing to wing, and half enclose him round?With all his peers: attention held them mute.?Thrice he assayed, and thrice, in spite of scorn,?Tears, such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last?Words interwove with sighs found out their way:--?"O myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers?Matchless, but with th' Almighth!--and that strife?Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire,?As this place testifies, and this dire change,?Hateful to utter. But what power of mind,?Forseeing or presaging, from the depth?Of knowledge past or present, could have feared?How such united force of gods, how such?As stood like these, could ever know repulse??For who can yet believe, though after loss,?That all these puissant legions, whose exile?Hath emptied Heaven, shall fail to re-ascend,?Self-raised, and repossess their native seat??For me, be witness all the host of Heaven,?If counsels different, or danger shunned?By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns?Monarch in Heaven till then as one secure?Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute,?Consent or custom, and his regal state?Put forth at full, but still his strength concealed--?Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.?Henceforth his might we know, and know our own,?So as not either to provoke, or dread?New war provoked: our better part remains?To work in close design, by fraud or guile,?What force effected not; that he no less?At length from us may find, who overcomes?By force hath overcome but half his foe.?Space