XXIV.

And as the fiend up-heav'd his wing,

Imagination forc'd, could feebly guess,
How passing hideous was the hideousness
Of hell's foul king.

XXV.

The Seraph lustre all had fled :—

The downy pinion, white as virgin snow,
On his dark shoulder-blade had ceas'd to grow :
There, in its stead,

XXVI.

Had sprung up, webb'd, and dragon-like,

Of fin-like form, with sharp extremity,

And harsh, as though not purposing to fly,
But form'd to strike,

XXVII.

A glaz'd and philm-connected sail :

And as the fiend unclos'd each burnish'd fold, It rattled like the clattering of old,

From coat of mail.

XXVIII.

While on his back, and underneath,

As if to fortify his tarnish'd frame,
Or make it proof against eternal flame,
Full many a wreath

XXIX.

Of polish'd scales around him twin'd-
Yet wherefore dwell on each deformity?
Enough, perdition Jurk'd within his eye,
Hell in his mind.

XXX.

Leaning in meditative mood,

On a projecting fragment of a rock,
That had surviv'd the elemental shock,

He view'd the flood

XXXI.

Of undulating flame below,

Dashing its fiery foaming surf on high,
As it would beard the everlasting sky,

And overflow

XXXII.

Hell's boundary.-Thence he could see

Th' extremest limit of the raging main :
Those regions of intolerable pain,

Ah! never free

XXXIII.

From lamentation long, and loud :—

7 Whence the foul smoke of torment doth ascend, In black begriming columns, without end,

A fearful cloud!

XXXIV.

He listen'd, and again a smile

Of fiendish satisfaction curv'd upon
His livid cheek, as, ever and anon,
The roaring pile

XXXV.

Of red-hot rocks and mountains, fed

By streams of flowing naphtha, fiercer grew;
And hissing shells of fiery granite flew

Around his head.

XXXVI.

Yet wherefore did his iron brow

Resolve itself from its accustom'd frown?
Could pity soften those hard features down?
Stern monster! no!-

XXXVII.

He heard the long and deep-drawn sigh;

The stifled breath, and agonizing groan
Of keenest torture ;-to his heart of stone
'Twas minstrelsy:

XXXVIII.

He felt that he was not alone.

8 Ten thousand thousand blasted spirits fell, To share with him the miseries of hell,

All,-all by one

XXXIX.

Dread deed of vengeance-be it so;

He smil❜d to know that they, as well as he,
Were doom'd to writhe to all eternity,

In abject woe.

XL.

Again the arch-fiend turned him round:

His keen and all-discriminating ear,

Attentively erect, would seem to hear

Some distant sound.

XLI.

It seem'd nor sound of hell, nor yet Of heav'n :-earth was not ;-nor had time begun :Nor moon to wax, or wane; nor joyous sun To rise, or set.

XLII.

God, with eternity and space
Coeval, and the Son coequal reign'd
O'er seraphim in heav'n :-Satan had gain'd
That other place

XLIII.

Call'd hell the dreadful: meet reward

For him prepar'd, and his rebellious bands,
Who 'gainst their God to raise conflicting hands
Had vainly dar'd.

XLIV.

The rest,-what lay out-spun between These two, was dark, and drear vacuity. While looming lay beyond, infinity

Immense, unseen,

XLV.

Incomprehensible. Then whence

Those sounds? In the third heav'n where angels sang,
The vaulted arch with "hallelujahs" rang:
It was not thence

XLVI.

Aught of confusion could arise;

(For such it seem'd ;) of flood, and crackling flame, Loud roaring winds, and tumbling rocks there came A deaf'ning noise.

XLVII.

'Twas Chaos-by th' Almighty will Sent forth to revel amid boundless space, Till order of confusion should take place, And all be still.

XLVIII.

Behind the pure empyreal ray,

Till then, the essence and the source of things
As yet unform'd, with all the hidden springs
Of Nature lay