Page:Paradise Lost (1667).djvu/64

Book 2.  Shall breath her balme. But firt whom hall we end In earch of this new world, whom hall we find Sufficient? who hall tempt with wandring feet The dark unbottom’d infinite Abys And through the palpable obcure find out His uncouth way, or pread his aerie flight Upborne with indefatigable wings Over the vat abrupt, ere he arrive 410 The happy Ile; what trength, what art can then Suffice, or what evaion bear him afe Through the trict Senteries and Stations thick Of Angels watching round? Here he had need All circumpection, and we now no les Choice in our uffrage; for on whom we end, The weight of all, and our lat hope relies. This aid, he at; and expectation held His look upence, awaiting who appeer’d To econd, or oppoe, or undertake 420 The perilous attempt: but all at mute, Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; & each In others count’nance red his own dimay Atoniht: none among the choice and prime Of thoe Heav’n-warring Champions could be found So hardie as to proffer or accept Alone the dreadful voyage; till at lat Satan, whom now trancendent glory rais’d Above his fellows, with Monarchal pride Concious of highet worth, unmov’d thus pake. 430 O Progeny of Heav’n, Empyreal Thrones, With reaon hath deep ilence and demurr Seis’d us, though undimaid: long is the way And hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light;