Thus they in Heaven, above the starry sphere, Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent. Meanwhile, upon the firm opacous globe Of this round World, whose first convex divides The luminous inferior orbs, enclosed From Chaos and the inroad of Darkness old, Satan alighted walks. A globe far off It seemed; now seems a boundless continent, Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of Night Starless exposed, and ever-threatening storms Of Chaos blustering round, inclement sky; Save on that side which from the wall of Heaven, Though distant far, some small reflection gains Of glimmering air less vexed with tempest loud: Here walked the Fiend at large in spacious field. As when a vulture on Imaus bred, Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds, Dislodging from a region scarce of prey, To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kids On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams; But in his way lights on the barren plains Of Sericana, where Chineses drive With sails and wind their cany waggons light: