shapes old Proteus from the sea, Drained through a limbec to his native form. What wonder then if fields and regions here Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run Potable gold, when, with one virtuous touch, The arch-chemic sun, so far from us remote, Produces, with terrestrial humour mixed, Here in the dark so many precious things Of colour glorious and effect so rare? Here matter new to gaze the Devil met Undazzled. Far and wide his eye commands; For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sunshine, as when his beams at noon Culminate from the equator, as they now Shot upward still direct, whence no way round Shadow from body opaque can fall; and the air, Nowhere so clear, sharpened his visual ray To objects distant far, whereby he soon Saw within ken a glorious Angel stand, The same whom John saw also in the sun. His back was turned, but not his brightness hid; Of beaming sunny rays a golden tiar Circled his head, nor less his locks behind Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings Lay waving round: on some great charge employed He seemed, or fixed in cogitation deep.
Glad was the Spirit impure, as now in hope To find who might direct his wandering flight To Paradise, the happy seat of Man, His journey’s end, and our beginning woe. But first he casts to change his proper shape, Which else might work him danger or delay: And now a stripling Cherub he appears, Not of the prime, yet such as in his face Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb Suitable grace diffused; so well he feigned. Under a coronet his flowing hair In curls on either cheek played; wings he wore Of many a coloured plume sprinkled with gold, His habit fit for speed succinct; and held Before his decent steps a silver wand. He drew not nigh unheard; the Angel bright, Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turned, Admonished by his ear, and straight was known The Archangel Uriel; one of the seven Who in God’s presence, nearest to his throne, Stand ready at command, and are his eyes That run through all the Heavens, or down to the Earth Bear his swift errands over moist and dry, O’er sea and land. Him Satan thus accosts: