I who e're while the happy Garden sung,
By one mans disobedience lost, now sing
Recover'd Paradise to all mankind,
By one mans firm obedience fully tri'd
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foil'd
In all his wiles, defeated and repuls't,
And Eden rais'd in the wast Wilderness.
[...] tell of deeds
Above Heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an Age, Worthy t' have not remain'd so long unsung.
His coming, is sent Harbinger, who all
Invites, and in the Consecrated stream
Pretends to wash off sin
Victory and triumph to the Son of God
Now entring his great duel, not of arms,
But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles.
The Father knows the Son; therefore secure
Ventures his filial Vertue, though untri'd,
Against whate're may tempt, whate're seduce,
Allure, or terrifie, or undermine. Be frustrate, all ye stratagems of Hell,
And devilish machinations come to nought.
Envy they say excites me, thus to gain
Companions of my misery and wo.
That fellowship in pain divides not smart,
Nor lightens aught each mans peculiar load.
And the great Thisbite who on fiery wheels
Rode up to Heaven, yet once again to come.
Behold the kings of the Earth how they oppress
Thy chosen, to what highth thir pow'r unjust
They have exalted, and behind them cast
All fear of thee, arise and vindicate
Thy Glory, free thy people from thir yoke
My heart hath been a store-house long of things
And sayings laid up, portending strange events.
Skilled to retire, and in retiring draw
Hearts after them tangled in amorous nets.
In the admiration only of weak minds
Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd.
For therein stands the office of a King,
His Honour, Vertue, Merit and chief Praise,
That for the Publick all this weight he bears.
Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, Desires, and Fears, is more a King;
Syene, and where the shadow both way falls,
Meroe, Nilotic isle.
Dusk faces with white silken turbans wreath'd.
The first of all Commandments, Thou shalt worship
The Lord thy God, and only him shalt serve;
The childhood shows the man,
As morning shows the day.
Lines 220-21. Compare: "The child is father of the man", William Wordsworth, My Heart Leaps up.
Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts
The olive grove of Academe,
Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird
Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
Thence to the famous orators repair,
Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence
Wielded at will that fierce democratie,
Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece,
To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne.
Whom well inspired the oracle pronounced
Wisest of men.
Spoke by Satan
The first and wisest of them all professed
To know this only, that he nothing knew.
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior,
(And what he brings what needs he elsewhere seek?)
Uncertain and unsettled still remains,
Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself.
As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore.
Or if I would delight my private hours
With music or with poem, where so soon
As in our native language can I find
Till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray.