seen, The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized, At sight of all this World beheld so fair. Round he surveys (and well might where he stood, So high above the circling canopy Of Night’s extended shade) from eastern point Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears Andromeda far off Atlantic seas Beyond the horizon; then from pole to pole He views in breadth; and, without longer pause, Down right into the World’s first region throws His flight precipitant, and winds with ease Through the pure marble air his oblique way Amongst innumerable stars, that shone Stars distant, but nigh-hand seemed other worlds. Or other worlds they seemed, or happy isles, Like those Hesperian Gardens famed of old, Fortunate fields, and groves, and flowery vales, Thrice happy isles; but who dwelt happy there He stayed not to inquire. Above them all The golden sun, in splendour likest Heaven, Allured his eye. Thither his course he bends, Through the calm firmament (but up or down, By centre or eccentric, hard to tell, Or longitude) where the great luminary, Aloof the vulgar constellations thick, That from his lordly eye keep distance due, Dispenses light from far. They, as they move Their starry dance in numbers that compute Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp Turn swift their various motions, or are turned By his magnetic beam, that gently warms The Universe, and to each inward part With gentle penetration, though unseen, Shoots invisible virtue even to the deep; So wondrously was set his station bright.
There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps Astronomer in the sun’s lucent orb Through his glazed optic tube yet never saw. The place he found beyond expression bright, Compared with aught on Earth, metal or stone; Not all parts like, but all alike informed With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire: If metal, part seemed gold, part silver clear; If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite, Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone In Aaron’s breast-plate, and a stone besides, Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen— That stone, or like to that, which here below Philosophers in vain so long have sought; In vain, though by their powerful art they bind Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound In various