Page:Paradise Lost (1667).djvu/82

Book 2.  From your Dominion won, th’ Ethereal King Poees lately, thither to arrive 980 I travel this profound, direct my coure; Directed, no mean recompense it brings To your behoof, if I that Region lot, All uurpation thence expell'd, reduce To her original darknes and your way (Which is my preent journey) and once more Erect the Standard there of ancient Night; Yours be th’ advantage all, mine the revenge. Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old With faultring peech and viage incompos'd 990 Anwer'd. I know thee, tranger, who thou art, That mighty leading Angel, who of late Made head againt Heav’ns King, though overthrown. I aw and heard, for uch a numerous hot Fled not in ilence through the frighted deep With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout, Confuion wore confounded; and Heav’n Gates Pourd out by millions her victorious Bands Puruing. I upon my Frontieres here Keep reidence; if all I can will erve 1000 That little which is left o to defend, Encroacht on till through our intetine broiles Weakning the Scepter of old Night: firt Hell Your dungeon tretching far and wide beneath; Now lately Heaven and Earth, another World Hung ore my Realm, link'd in a golden Chain To that ide Heav’n from whence your Legions fell: If that way be your walk, you have not farr; So much the neerer danger; goe and peed; Havock and poil and ruin are my gain.