THE VERSE. THE measure is English heroic verse without rime, as that of Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin-rime being no necessary adjunct or true ornament of poem or good verse, in longer works especially, but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame metre; graced indeed since by the use of some famous modern poets, carried away by custom, but much to their own vexation, hindrance, and constraint to express many things otherwise, and for the most part worse, than else they would have expressed them. Not without cause therefore some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rime both in longer and shorter works, as have also long since our best English tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious ears, trivial and of no true musical delight; which consists only in apt numbers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings-a fault avoided by the learned ancients both in poetry and all good oratory. This neglect then of rime so little is to be taken for a defect, though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather is to be esteemed an example set, the first in English, of ancient liberty recovered to heroic poem from the troublesome and modern bondage of riming. PARADISE LOST. BOOK I. THE ARGUMENT. This First Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject-Man's disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise, wherein he was placed: then touches the prime cause of his fall-the Serpent, or rather Satan in the Serpent; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of Angels, was, by the command of God, driven out of Heaven, with all his crew, into the great Deep. Which action passed over, the Poem hastens into the midst of things; presenting Satan, with his Angels, now fallen into Hell-described here not in the Centre (for heaven and earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed), but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos. Here Satan, with his Angels lying on the burning lake, thunderstruck and astonished, after a certain space recovers, as from confusion; calls up him who, next in order and dignity, lay by him: they confer of their miserable fall. Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded. They rise: their numbers, array of battle; their chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. Satan directs his speech; comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven; but tells them, lastly, of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy, or report, in Heaven-for that Angels were long before this visible creation was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the Deep: the infernal Peers there sit in council. F MAN'S first disobedience, and the fruit OF Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed To these ΤΟ And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer And justify the ways of God to men. Say first-for Heaven hides nothing from thy view, The infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile, Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host He trusted to have equalled the Most High, 20 30 40 Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms. Nine times the space that measures day and night 50 To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew, Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes, That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. At once, as far as Angel's ken, he views The dismal situation waste and wild. 60 A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace For those rebellious; here their prison ordained "If thou beest he-but Oh how fallen! how changed And hazard in the glorious enterprise, Joined with me once, now misery hath joined In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest From what highth fallen: so much the stronger proved The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those, Can else inflict, do I repent, or change, Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind, That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring, And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? 70 80 90 100 And what is else not to be overcome. |