Page:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton.djvu/318

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��PARADISE REGAINED

��After his aerie jauut, though hurried sore, Hungry and cold, betook him to his rest, Wherever, under some concourse of shades, Whose branching arms thick intertwined

might shield

From dews and damps of night his shel- tered head; But, sheltered, slept in vain; for at his

head The Tempter watched, and soon with ugly

dreams Disturbed his sleep. And either tropic

now 'Gan thunder, and both ends of heaven;

the clouds 410

From many a horrid rift abortive poured Fierce rain with lightning mixed, water

with fire

In ruin reconciled; nor slept the winds Within their stony caves, but rushed abroad From the four hinges of the world, and fell On the vexed wilderness, whose tallest

pines, Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest

oaks, Bowed their stiff necks, loaden with stormy

blasts, Or torn up sheer. Ill wast thou shrouded

then,

O patient Son of God, yet only stood'st 420 Unshaken ! Nor yet staid the terror there : Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round Environed thee ; some howled, some yelled,

some shrieked, Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while

thou

Sat'st uuappalled in calm and sinless peace. Thus passed the night so foul, till Morning

fair Came forth with pilgrim steps, in amice

grey, Who with her radiant finger stilled the

roar Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the

winds, And griesly spectres, which the Fiend had

raised 43 o

To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire. And now the sun with more effectual beams Had cheered the face of earth, and dried

the wet From drooping plant, or dropping tree ; the

birds, Who all things now behold more fresh and

green,

��After a night of storm so ruinous, Cleared up their choicest notes in bush and

spray,

To gratulate the sweet return of morn. Nor yet, amidst this joy and brightest

morn,

Was absent, after all his mischief done, 44* The Prince of Darkness; glad would also

seem Of this fair change, and to our Saviour

came; Yet with no new device (they all were

spent),

Rather by this his last affront resolved, Desperate of better course, to vent his rage And mad despite to be so oft repelled. Him walking on a sunny hill he found, Backed on the north and west by a thick

wood;

Out of the wood he starts in wonted shape, And in a careless mood thus to him said: " Fair morning yet betides thee, Son of God, 451

After a dismal night. I heard the wrack, As earth and sky would mingle; but my- self

Was distant; and these flaws, though mor- tals fear them,

As dangerous to the pillared frame of Hea- ven,

Or to the Earth's dark basis underneath, Are to the main as inconsiderable And harmless, if not wholesome, as a

sneeze

To man's less universe, and soon are gone. Yet, as being ofttimes noxious where they light 460

On man, beast, plant, wasteful and turbu- lent,

Like turbulencies in the affairs of men, Over whose heads they roar, and seem to

point,

They oft fore-signify and threaten ill. This tempest at this desert most was bent; Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell'st. Did I not tell thee, if thou didst reject The perfect season offered with my aid To win thy destined seat, but wilt prolong All to the push of fate, pursue thy way 470 Of gaining David's throne no man knows

when (For both the when and how is nowhere

told),

Thou shalt be what thou art ordained, no doubt;

�� �