pursuit, thy powers with loud acclaim Thee only extolled, Son of thy Father’s might, To execute fierce vengeance on his foes; Not so on Man; him, through their malice fallen, Father of mercy and grace, thou didst not doom So strictly, but much more to pity incline. No sooner did thy dear and only Son Perceive thee purposed not to doom frail Man So strictly, but much more to pity inclined, He, to appease thy wrath, and end the strife Of mercy and justice in thy face discerned, Regardless of the bliss wherein he sat Second to thee, offered himself to die For Man’s offence. O unexampled love! Love nowhere to be found less than divine! Hail, Son of God, Saviour of men! Thy name Shall be the copious matter of my song Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise Forget, nor from thy Father’s praise disjoin!
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: So, on this windy sea of land, the Fiend Walked up and down alone, bent on his prey; Alone, for other creature in this place, Living or lifeless, to be found was none— None yet; but store hereafter from the Earth Up hither like aerial vapours flew Of all things transitory and vain, when sin With vanity had filled the works of men: Both all things vain, and all who