Page:Paradise lost by Milton, John.djvu/250

244 So even and morn accomplished the sixth day; Yet not till the Creator, from his work Desisting, though unwearied, up returned, Up to the Heaven-of-heavens, his high abode, Thence to behold this new created World The addition of his empire, how it shewed In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair, Answering his great idea. Up he rode, Followed with acclamation and the sound Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned Angelic harmonies. The earth, the air Resounded—thou rememberest, for thou heardest— The heavens and all the constellations rung, The planets in their stations listening stood, While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. 'Open, ye everlasting gates!' they sung, 'Open, ye Heavens, your living doors! Let in The great Creator from his work returned Magnificent, his six days' work, a world. Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deign To visit oft the dwellings of just men, Delighted, and, with frequent intercourse, Thither will send his winged messengers On errands of supernal grace.' So sung The glorious train ascending. He through Heaven, That opened wide her blazing portals, led To God's eternal house direct the way,