The Annotated Milton: Complete English Poems Read Online Free PDF Page B

thyself with what thy womb 1053 devours—
    Which is no more than what is false and vain
    And merely mortal dross. 1054
    So little is our loss,
    So little is thy gain.
    For when as each thing bad thou hast entombed,
    And last of all thy greedy self consumed,
    Then long eternity shall greet our bliss
    With an individual kiss. 1055
    And joy shall overtake us as a flood
    When everything that is sincerely good
    And perfectly divine
    With truth, and peace, and love shall ever shine
    About the supreme throne
    Of Him t’ whose happy-making sight alone,
    When once our Heav’nly-guided soul shall climb,
    Then all this earthy grossness quit, 1056
    Attired with stars we shall forever sit,
Triumphing over death, and chance, and thee, O time!

 
    UPON THE CIRCUMCISION

     
    1633–37
     
Ye flaming powers 1057 and wingèd warriors bright
    That erst with music and triumphant song
    First heard by happy watchful shepherd’s ear,
    So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along,
    Through the soft silence of the list’ning night,
    Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear
    Your fiery essence can distill no tear,
    Burn in your sighs and borrow
    Seas wept from our deep sorrow.
    He who with all Heav’n’s heraldry 1058 whilere 1059
    Entered the world, now bleeds to give us ease.
    Alas, how soon our sin
Sore 1060 doth begin
    His infancy to cease! 1061
O more exceeding love or law more just?
    Just law, indeed—but more exceeding love!
    For we, by rightful doom 1062 remediless,
    Were lost in death till He that dwelt above,
    High-throned in secret bliss, for us frail dust
    Emptied His glory, ev’n to nakedness,
    And that great cov’nant 1063 which we still transgress
    Entirely satisfied,
    And the full wrath beside
    Of vengeful justice bore for our excess,
    And seals obedience, first, with wounding smart
    This day, but O, ere long
Huge pangs, and strong,
    Will pierce more near His heart.

 
    AT A SOLEMN MUSIC

     
    1637
     
    Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav’n’s joy,
    Sphere-born, harmonious sisters, voice and verse,
    Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ,
    Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce
    And to our high-raised fantasy present
    That undisturbèd song of pure content 1064
    Aye 1065 sung before the sapphire-colored throne
    To Him that sits thereon,
    With saintly shout and solemn jubilee,
    Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
    Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow
    And the Cherubic host, in thousand choirs,
    Touch their golden harps of immortal wires,
    With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms
    Hymns devout and holy psalms
    Singing everlastingly,
    That we on earth with undiscording 1066 voice
    May rightly answer that melodious noise,
    As once we did, till disproportioned sin
    Jarred against Nature’s chime and with harsh din
    Broke the fair music that all creatures made
    To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed
    In perfect diapason, 1067 whilst they stood
    In first 1068 obedience and their state of good.
    O may we soon again renew that song
    And keep in tune with Heav’n, till God ere-long
    To His celestial consort 1069 us unite
To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light.

 
    PARADISE LOST

    1642?–1655?

 
    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 past over, the poem hastes into the midst of things, presenting Satan with his Angels now fallen into Hell, described here not in the center (for Heaven and Earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed) but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest 1390 called Chaos. Here Satan with his Angels lying on the burning lake, thunder-struck and