'The rainbow, that o'er Noah's sacrifice
Stamp'd on the morning clouds the smile of God,
Had scarcely bidden in the amber light
Its unremaining hues, when Lucifer
Summon'd his scatter'd armies to attend
His presence on his great viceregal throne,
Set in the airy firmament. Far off
The signal of the archangelic trump
Rang through the void of heaven, and all his hosts
Flocking in numbers without number stood,
Cohorts and fiery legions arm'd for war,
At awful distance from the standard waving
Hard by his seat. Around it thrones were set
In imitation of the mount of God,
And soon a clarion blast resounding call'd
The rebel chieftains from their serried ranks
To close about their Prince. Congress malign
Of powers in common covenant with death,
Gloomy conspirators, despair of good
Graved on their brow, and in their baleful eyes
Hunger for mischief! But their robes of light
And coronets of glory flashing fire
Dazzled the empyrean, nor bespoke
Less than a synod of apostate gods;
Whom Satan, over all predominant
In cruelty and craft and fiendish pride
As in infernal splendor, thus address'd:

''Virtues of heaven, my comrades, who with me
Have rather chosen liberty and war
Than vassalage and ease, noble have been
And vast beyond my highest hopes achieved
Our triumphs. Where is now that innocent world
Which God created for His pastime? Where?
Destroy'd, except a miserable few
Hardly escaping with their skins, and they
Sure victims in their turn to our intrigues.
Messiah said that life should fight with death,
And good with evil. They have fought. But whose,
Proudly I ask, the victory? ours or God's?
Not God's, but ours. One solitary seer,
One only has been snatch'd from death and us.
Is this the uttermost the Prince of Life,
Aided by Michael and his peers, can do
For His poor servants? Nay, I wrong His rule:
Some obscure suppliants age by age have foil'd
Our efforts immature as yet. The rest
Have rather seem'd to court our tutelage
Than we to proffer it; and greedily
Have revell'd in what we misdeem, no doubt,
Hard servitude with scanty wages paid.
So fertile in that cursed soil have proved
The germs of sin. Darkness, tremendous Power,
I see it written on the scrolls of fate,
Must reign for ever there. But not from this
My only confidence of empire. God,
As I forewarn'd you, wars with God: and hence
Interminable strife, or endless truce.
What are they but His attributes in us
That baffle Him? Had He not fashion'd us
Free and immortal, He had forced our love,
Or in a moment quench'd our feeble hate.
But now Omnipotent hath bound itself,
Nor can Omniscience pierce the shrine of thought
Itself has made inviolate. Think you
Messiah knew me, when of all His hosts,
Of all His flaming myriads, me He made
God of the world and guardian of mankind,
And for His viceroy chose His bitterest foe?
Ah, friends, He was too prodigal of gifts,
And now repents too late. Wisdom and might
Have here outwitted and outdone themselves.
But now, ye gods, advise how best to wage
Protracted warfare: for it seems mankind,
As from a second centre, shall proceed
To propogate their race - matter to us
Of future triumph. Let them multiply:
They only multiply our wealth in slaves.
Were they upright as Adam, ere he fell,
And pure as was their unstain'd mother, Eve,
Did innocence secure those guileless hearts
From guile? And these, impair'd by sin, will prove
An easier booty. That pellucid belt,
Slung on the clouds, forbids us hope or fear
Another flood of waters. And henceforth,
Safe from such vast catastrophe of ruin,
Though sweeping millions into hell at once,
We weave our snares, and ply our arts to draw
From their allegiance all the sons of men,
Not one like that grave patriarch unseduced
(For see how God's love lingers over one):
Then shall we reign without a rival here,
This firmament our throne for ever. Say,
What counsel or what might were best employ'd
For this great enterprise, in which we stand
Equal antagonists to heaven in arms?'

'He ask'd, and Baalim arose, who next
Shone in that fallen hierarchy sublime:
Himself the prince of three, who with him wrought
In all things, Belus and Beelzebub,
A triad of angelic thrones. For God,
Who, when He lit the firmamental dome,
Hung in the heavens a thousand double stars,
Triple, quadruple, multiple, around
Each other or a common centre poised,
With colors complementary to each,
Associate suns of glory, - God who group'd
The Pleiads in their glittering sisterhood,
Thus in the birthtime of creation wove
Innumerable bonds 'twixt spirits and spirits,
Source of untold delights in holy hearts,
Sweet concords, charities, and tender loves,
As with the fourfold cherubim, instinct
With One presiding Spirit: but in the rest,
Apostate, breeding worse conspiracies;
Which now appear'd, when Baalim, his brow
Clouded with counsel, pride impersonate,
A trinity of wills in one express'd,
Thus open'd to his peers in crime his mind:

''Well hast thou summon'd us, O Lucifer,
To consultation. Hitherto the war,
Though crown'd with victory beyond our hopes,
Has lack'd deliberate plan. And now mankind,
Afflicted by the recent flood, will prove
Less facile to our desultory' assaults.
My counsel is, mindful how we ourselves,
Combining and conspiring, spirit with spirit,
Under thy subtle leadership, O Prince,
Escaped the yoke, whenever flesh and blood
Have swarm'd into a multitude again,
To bind their scatter'd tribes and families
In one confederate nation. Let one name
Unite them. Let one vast metropolis
Foster one common pride. Or, if ye will,
Incite them to erect some mountain pile
Whose top shall reach to heaven in their surmise,
And let this be their citadel of strength
For after ages. So shall deeds of wrong,
Which timid hearts had shrunk from if alone,
Be wrought together in defiant league.'

'So counsell'd Baalim; and after him
Rose on his right Apollyon, truculent
His eye, and on his flaming sword half drawn
Rested his restless hand. 'Comrades,' he said,
'If Baalim's design prevail, and one
Colossal empire stride athwart the world
What room were left for war? What space for fields,
Where I have reap'd the richest sheaves of death,
And mingling with the hostile ranks infused
Infernal hatred into human hearts?
Nay, be it ours to nurture rival realms,
Ourselves o'er them presiding (we shall love,
As loves the prowling wolf its chosen flock,
Each one his kingdom), and then sow betwixt
Suspicions, hatreds, lusts, whence wars are spawn'd,
Until we lead their armies fired with rage
To mutual slaughter, foiling Him who made
All of one common blood. Ye have my mind.'

'Apollyon sate, gloomy as death. But now
Near him arose, the loveliest in form
Of all the lost archangels, ashtaroth, -
The corypheus of a band of spirits,
Six spirits, himself the seventh, and the rest
Only less lovely than their chosen chief, -
Of winning voice and sweet attractive grace;
So gentle, that his worshippers on earth
Deem'd him a goddess, though none such exist
Among the fallen or unfallen hosts;
In diverse countries known by diverse names
Hereafter: by the virgin troops of Tyre
Surnamed Astarte, but in Nineveh
Mylitta call'd; along the isles of Greece
Invoked as Aphrodite ocean-born,
As Venus by the stately dames of Rome;
But in all lands adored with moonlight rites
And softest hymns melodious. Ah, false fiend,
In whose perfidious eye damnation lurks,
A chalice in his hand of sparkling wine
Whereof who drinks must die, and on his lip
Kisses and smiles and everlasting woe!

''Thine, lordly Baalim, the task severe
Of building vast confederacies of pride:
And thine, Apollyon, jarring wars to breed
Among the nations. But to me belongs,
To me and to my legionary band,
The smoother but the not less onerous work
Of garlanding with buds and flowers and fruits
The paths of pleasurable youth. I hang
Around the traveller's footsteps day and night
Singing my dulcet songs, and few are they
Who close their ears against the charmer's voice.
Each victim draws his mate: the throngs increase:
They cluster round my cloud-like draperies:
They press around my glancing feet: as moths
That scorch their wings against the ardent flame,
But stay not till with many an airy flight
They plunge at last into their fiery tomb.
Men call me Love, the deity of love.
And thus it happen'd; when I saw that lust
Conceiving brought forth sin, and sin alone
Could wrest from God the empire God had made,
I thought the best perverted would be worst,
And chose the holiest of connubial rites,
The mutual laying open each to each
Of life's profoundest purest sanctities,
And deem'd infusing poison there to mar
The river at its fountain. The event
Hath not belied my hopes. Friends, I have breathed
Upon the lamp of hymeneal joy,
And it hath sicken'd, sicken'd and expired,
Almost as soon as lighted. Oftener yet
Have I beguiled unstable hearts to seek
In license pleasures God has link'd to love,
And blown upon their innocence, and bent
In triumph not unmix'd with pity' and scorn
O'er the unhallow'd couch. Men arm'd in proof
Against all other wiles have yielded here,
And, conquer'd by a glance, a blush, a sigh,
For one brief hour upon a stranger's bosom
Have barter'd immortality of bliss.
And haply in my woven chains of flowers,
Chains light as gossomer, I, Baalim,
Have bound more captives to our prince's car
Than thou hast held in fortresses of power,
Or thou, Apollyon, slain on fields of blood.'

'And, as the fallen seraph sate, he threw
A glance of such bewitching tenderness
Around the assembly, none who caught his eye
But felt, and with involuntary assent
Did homage to the spell: his radiant form
Recline or standing seem'd embodied grace,
And the melodious treble of his voice,
Like the far echo of seraphic harps,
Rang in their ears: when on a sudden one,
In stature low for gods, of downcast look,
Rose from the furthest of those golden thrones,
Mammon his name. His slow and painful words
At first seem'd clinging to his lips, but soon
Fell on that council with momentous weight,
Nor least upon its haughty president:

''I too have poised the heart of man, and watch'd
With sleepless eye what avenue may best
Yield us access. And here I answer, Gold.
Smile not that yellow dust should have such power;
For what is man but dust? What marvel then
Dust over dust holds sway? The blighted earth
No longer yields him her spontaneous fruit.
Poor wretch, his sweat moistens his daily bread.
Labor is bread, and bread is life: and thus
He lives a pensioner for every breath
Upon Another's bounty - yoke to us
Insufferable, not the less to man.
But gold appears a tower other than God,
With honors, pomp, and endless pleasures stored,
Impregnable while life shall last. Poor fool,
He knows not in the lowest keep a fire
Smoulders in its own ashes self-conceal'd:
It glows; it flames; it never says, Enough -
More is more fuel - till the shrivell'd soul,
Alive but wrapt in cerements of death,
Breathes out itself upon that funeral pyre.
Whatever counsels may obtain this day,
Let mortals worship at this golden shrine,
They will not fail of hell. What would ye more?'

'So Mammon sate; and opposite arose
Moloch, tremendous deity, who thus
Louring address'd his peers:

''There is a power
Mightier than pride, or war, or pleasure's thrall,
Or greed of gold, - the intolerable pangs
Of conscience seeking rest and finding none,
The terror which hath torment. Slighting this,
We do ourselves, we do our cause much wrong.
Friends, I have seen the wretched outcast rove,
Driven by the anguish of tyrannic guilt,
From land to land self-exiled. I have seen
Parents imbrue their clench'd hands in the blood
Of their own children. Nor do I despair
Of more. So dreadful are the shadows cast
From the dark outlines of that prison of death
Whence never yet a prisoner return'd,
That unknown all-embracing dungeon house,
What likelier in process of time than they
Of men most miserable, finding God
Deaf to their rebel importunities,
Should call upon the dead? a bootless cry,
Which nathless we will condescend to hear,
And by permission answer those who sell
Their souls for hidden lore, ordaining them
Not without dismal rites of sorcery
Our priests and priestesses. So shall we wield
An enginery of next to' Almighty power.
For conscience hath in it the strength of God,
Which can creation uncreate, and make
A hell of heaven. It is God's oracle:
And if our voice be but mista'en for God's,
The terror-stricken worshipper is ours,
Body and soul, for ever and for ever.'

'As Moloch spake, his gloomy words though brief
Such echo found in lamentable hearts
Once calm as yonder firmament, but now
Vex'd and disquieted and ill at ease,
(For what was man's unrest to theirs, though like?)
That misery held them mute. Which soon their chief
Perceiving, fearful lest remorse might lead
Any to mourn their choice (example dire),
Majestically rising from his throne
Around the council threw his scornful eye
Burning with pride, and thus resumed debate:

''Thrones, virtues, principalities, and powers,
Titles vouchsafed us not in vain by One
Who never of His words or gifts repents,
Ours therefore by inalienable right,
Ye hear your brethren. Well have they advised.
Let Baalim his empire raise supreme,
Or empires out of ruin'd empires build,
Each greater than the last (for who can doubt
That God will cross our counsels? vain attempt),
Each worse, - a worse must still be possible, -
Our scale of greatness. Let Apollyon whet
The keen edge of intestine feuds and wars.
Let Ashtaroth in chains of love or lust
Lead forth his groups of willing prisoners,
Gay captives, garlanded with fading flowers,
Behind our chariot wheels. Let Mammon heap
Fuel for fire on stubborn hearts, and there
Foster the secret flame unquenchable.
And last, though loftiest enterprise, be thou,
O Moloch, as a god to men, and grasp
Their conscience with the iron gripe of fate.
We need your banded strength. Nothing, O peers,
Nothing is done while aught remains to do.
We have not trodden yet the unseen shades,
Divided, if report speaks true, betwixt
A paradise of bliss and prison of woe;
To us alike impenetrable. At least
I own my uttermost of effort foil'd,
By some obscure necessity debarr'd,
Some limit against which I dash'd my wings
As against viewless crystal. Be it so.
We have not yet achieved the battle-field,
Nor can expect the provinces beyond.
Earth once our trophy, we shall conquer peace,
And soon behold the regions under earth
Abandon'd by their Maker, nothing loath,
Being we leave the walls of heaven unscaled.
Earth, earth must first be ours. But, friends, for this
We must defile mankind ere we destroy:
Evil must go before us, death behind.
God has not yet forsaken man, nor yet
Suffers that we assail the fleshly tent
Of his short pilgrimage. Herein beware.
Here Samchasai and Uziel with their hosts
Erring have fall'n; a fall to be avenged,
Not follow'd. What, shall we, celestial powers,
For the brief lust of carnal pleasure mar
Our mighty future? Tush, leave this to man,
Your dupes and drudges. Or if thoughts of joys,
Forbidden to angelic natures, stir
Within your bosom, only' abide your time,
And when the realms of darkness are defined,
And God has yielded this fair earth to us,
As He must yield when utterly corrupt,
Then shall ye and your legions, as ye list,
Act by mankind, your conquer'd heritage.
I will not question how ye treat your slaves.
Meanwhile be this our sleepless care to' estrange
Them and their God, rousing His wrath, their hate.
How think ye? Had He not at Eden's gate
His mercy-seat and altar blazing nigh,
Whereat who knelt with sacrifice and prayer
Alone repulsed our arms? Henceforth, O peers,
If men will worship, let them worship us,
Despite the everlasting interdict
Which severs things unseen and seen. Why not?
Let them make images of wood and stone,
Brass, iron, silver, gold, and call them gods,
Adoring us in them by countless names.
My counsel moves your laughter. But if once
The Almighty, jealous of His name blasphemed,
Swear in His wrath that He disowns mankind,
Our work is done, the empire is our own.
Be it thy charge, O subtle Sammael,
Thou master of the spells of ignorance,
To blind their eyes and indurate their hearts.
For now our watchword must be fraud, nor force;
Darkness our panoply: and of success
The past affords us no uncertain pledge.'

'He spake, and murmurs of assent not loud
But deep, - as in the ocean's sudden roar,
When a careering blast with tempest charged
Down rushing through the mountain gorges strikes
The waters of a rocky bay, whose cliffs
And caves re-echo when the storm is past, -
Spread in interminable waves of sound
Along those countless ranks. Gladly they crouch'd,
As weaker spirits will crouch, beneath the shade
Of wickedness more wicked than their own,
And call'd upon their prince as God: when, lo,
A cloud impenetrable to all light,
At first not larger than the mystic hand
The prophet's servant saw from Carmel's rocks,
Hung poised above the throne of Lucifer,
And, spreading with the speed of thought, o'erhung
The apostate armies, shroud of dreadful gloom,
Darkness that might be felt. Nor dark alone,
But soon sharp lightnings flash'd abruptly; bright
Startling the black a moment, and then quench'd;
While volleys of tremendous thunder shook
The furthest empyrean, and the hearts
Of that rebellious host. Speechless they stood
And stricken, as if every peal announced
The crash of worlds. In horror Lucifer
Gazed upward, sinking on one knee appall'd.
For still the darkness deepen'd, and the wrath
Apparent stamp'd on every guilty brow
Its scathing impress ineffaceable,
The death-brand on the children of despair.
And for one dreadful hour, one of heaven's hours,
None from his seat arose, or station stirr'd,
Or moved his lip, or trembled. Terror froze
Their hearts insensible, until a sound,
More terrible than thunder, vibrated
Through every spirit, Jehovah's awful laugh,
Mocking their fears and scorning their designs,
The laughter of Eternal Love incensed.
It pass'd; and then as suddenly the sky
Was clear, and save the graven brand on each
No vestige of that cloud of wrath remain'd.

'Nor was it long before the rebel host
Resumed their courage, and in marvel gazed
Each on the other that the vengeful flame
Had smitten none amongst them, and ere long
Jested at their own fears, but vainly' assay'd
To rase the ineradicable sign
Too deeply on their cursed brow inured;
But, finding all their efforts useless, laugh'd
At this dark badge, which Satan told his mates
(Satan henceforth his name, and demons theirs)
Was the predestined bruise on him and his,
The serpent and its seed: - cheap penalty,
He vaunted, for a world, and gladly paid,
A warrior's honorable scar, the pledge
Of daring and of desperate revenge.

'So in their fiendish pride they schemed. But this
Shadow of things to come was but the first
Faint pressure of God's hand, a transient breath
Blown from that wrath which to the lowest hell
Burns and shall burn for ever, - though by them
Discredited, when forth in swarms they went
From that infernal senate, as they thought
To wrest the sceptre from Almighty power,
And baffle the All-wise in counsel. Fools,
And blind! Vainly, when plann'd by Baalim
The city of confusion rear'd its brow
Towards heaven, a whisperer of God's voice perplex'd
The builders' language and their works at once.
When Ashtaroth, standing himself aloof,
Through some of his perfidious crew defiled
With lust and blood the cities of the plain,
Vainly the fiery wrath too long provoked
Fell undistinguishing on men and fiends,
And made of earth's most fragrant flowery vale
A picture of Gehenna's burning lake.
And when at last the prince of darkness, couch'd
In symbol of the great leviathan,
The dragon of the river floods of Nile,
Harden'd the heart of Pharaoh, scourged by all
Heaven's plagues, until it grew like adamant,
And led him to assay the ocean depths
And satisfy his lust on Israel there,
Vainly God moving in the pillar cloud
Smote with His glittering sword that monster's head,
And with the wreck of chariots and of arms
And horsemen overta'en in baleful rout
Cumber'd the waters and confused the shores.
All was in vain. Each desperate repulse
But seem'd to kindle fiercer subtler hate
In those infatuate spirits, till I have seen
The cheek of Michael alter with distress,
And all the hosts of heaven astonied stand,
As couriers in successive hours announced
Hell's endless crafts, each deadlier than the last.

'The clouds yet brooded upon Sinai's peaks,
And twice ten thousand chariots flashing fire
Attended Him, who plants His steps serene
Upon the whirlwind and the storm, and there
Was communing, as communes friend with friend,
With Amram's princely son, when Sammael,
(In Egypt as the great Osiris known,)
By all the judgements on his countless fanes
And Satan's ghastly wound unterrified,
Moved Israel and their timid priest to cast
Their idol god, and interweave with songs
Their naked dances round the golden calf; -
Vision to us of horror and of grief,
Presaging woes. Ah, faithless children! Still
The manna fell around their pilgrim tents;
The living water from the smitten rock
Still track'd their devious steps; the fiery cloud,
Shadowing the tabernacle, still bespoke
Jehovah's awful Presence; - when they turn'd
(Hard to believe, though seen) and chose for gods
Grim Moloch's shrine and Remphan's lurid star.
But Mercy strove with Judgement, and prevail'd,
And led them to the promised land, a land
With milk and honey flowing, redolent
With Eden's frangrance in a fallen world,
The glory of all other lands. But there
Abandoning ere long the holy tent,
In Shiloh first, after on Zion pitch'd,
Throngs of insensate worshippers besiege
Lews Baal's gates in Bethel and in Dan.
But little boots it to recall those scenes
Of foul aspostasy, though here and there
Illumined with celestial lights of faith
And virtue militant. Once only' it seem'd,
When saintly David fell on sleep, and left
To Solomon his sceptre, prince of peace,
Angels might yet behold upon the earth
A nation witness for the truth. Ah, brief
And fleeting vision! Soon on Salem's height
Gaunt altars rose to every hideous god.
And thenceforth, on through weary centuries
Of vigil, oft the blessed stars appear'd
As blotted from the very firmament
Appall'd. What time of Israel's chosen tribes
Ten, like a loosen'd cliff, crumbled and sank
Into the surging tide of heathen lands,
Who shall relate the scoffs of fiendish mirth,
That taunted our persistent ministries
Camping around God's hidden ones? And when, -
Albeit awhile the sudden blast of death,
As Michael waved his keen far-reaching sword
Over armies of Sennacherib,
Shielded the royal city, - when at last
The cup of Israel's wickedness was full,
And Asshur, trampling on Jerusalem,
Led forth her trembling prisoners to hang
Their harps beside the proud Euphrates' banks,
Then shouts of nearer victory fill'd the air,
And Satan's firmamental kingdom rang
With praises of their leader's matchless craft,
And loudly-mutter'd blasphemies of Him
Whose patience they misreckon'd impotence.

'So dream'd they dreams, which nothing but the strains,
Breathed from the solemn harp of prophecy,
Disturb'd; - mysterious harpings on the wind,
Not now first mingling with the jarring sounds
Of earth and time, for they had ever rung,
Since Enoch laid his hand upon the chords,
Echoes of heavenly voices in faith's ear,
Still clearest in the hour of sorest need,
But never more distinct than now.

'The sun
Still couch'd unrisen beneath the dawning hills,
But far and wide the heavens were all aglow
With saffron lights and hues of roseate pearl,
Shedding upon the towers of Babylon,
Its massive walls, and gates of burnish'd brass,
And gardens in the golden morn suspense,
Nor least upon the river's amber waves,
A thousand changeful splendors. On a roof
Beneath the open sky a young man lay
And slept; serene his brow; and on his face
Even in his sleep a smile of holy joy
Play'd inexpressible, which, when he rose
With morning from his calm unruffled couch,
Flow'd from his lips in praise. Gabriel and I
Had watch'd his slumbers, and, so order'd, hung
On his unfaltering steps, as through the ranks
Of courtiers, follow'd by a trembling group
Of magi, sorcerers, astrologers,
Who gazed on him incredulous, he pass'd,
And calmly faced his monarch's baffled pride.
And as, instructed by the Spirit of God,
He in their audience (nor in theirs alone)
Renew'd the faded image, excellent
In brightness and in stature terrible;
And then, as God's ambassador, reveal'd
The import of the head of gold, the breast
Of silver, and the loins of brass, and legs
Of iron and of miry clay compact,
Portending ruin, till a mystic stone,
Quarried and fashion'd by no human hand,
Smote that colossal idol, which straightway
Crumbled to dust and vanish'd as the chaff
Driven idly from the summer threshing-floor,
The while that rock grew vaster and more vast,
A mountain whose circumference was earth,
And whose eternal canopy the heaven;
As thus that youthful seer, dauntless in heart
And mien, cast his prophetic eye of fire
Athwart the changes of tumultuous time,
And in the illimitable distance saw
Eternal love triumphant, Gabriel look'd
On me and smiled, and we refresh'd our faith
With strength in mortal weakness perfected.
Hard by us Baal stood, and Ashtaroth,
And Moloch, kept in terror by the sword
That waved in Gabriel's hand; but oh, the scowl
Of cruel disappointment on their lip
And baffled vengeance, till obscure they shrank
To nurture worse designs; while songs of praise,
Flowing spontaneously from angel harps,
Were wafted to the ear of God in heaven.

'Nor learn'd we less of faith's omnipotence,
When Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego
Chose for their dying couch the fiery kiln,
Rather than vile prostration to the god
Chaldea's monarch, brooding o'er his dream,
Not uninspired by Belus, rear'd aloof
On Dura's sultry plain, finding amid
Those thousand forked tongues of hungry flame
An unsuspected Paradise more sweet,
Than sinless Adam when he walk'd with God
In Eden. But enough, brother, thou knowest
All that befell that haughty monarch driven
From palace halls with flocks and herds to graze,
A bitter school. Thou knowest the weary lapse
Of those predestined threescore years and ten
Of Israel's woe and Babylonia's pride,
Even to their latest bourn, that impious feast
By those brief characters of doom perplex'd,
When Persia grasp'd the sceptre Asshur dropp'd.
Thy heart has been with Daniel in the den
Of lions. I was by his side that night.
And when he wrote upon his mystic scroll
The visions of his lonely bed, wherein
Earth's proudest realms as ravenous beasts appear'd,
Assyria, Persia, Macedon, and last
One diverse from all others, iron-tooth'd,
Ten-horn'd, dreadful and strong exceedingly,
Far ranging o'er the desolated world,
Till earthly thrones all sank in ruinous heaps
Before the Ancient of eternal days,
I saw the joyous eloquence, that flash'd
From that lone prophet's eye undimm'd by age,
And lighted up his wrinkled countenance
With glories from the everlasting hills.
Nor was I absent, when his prevalent prayer
Clomb to the highest heavens, and Gabriel came,
Descending with the speed of seraphim,
The herald of evangel grace, though link'd
With mystic times and numbers, seventy sevens;
Nor wholly clear nor dark, faith's chosen light.
And I was there what time a mightier One
Than Gabriel, having striven, self-limited,
With Persia's guardian fiend three weeks of days,
Till Michael sped, permitted, to his aid,
Beside the crystal waves of Hiddekel
Reveal'd His glory and the scroll of time
Till him should be no more.

'The light of heaven
Soon faded, and the transitory rent
Through which it stream'd was block'd with denser cloud:
But it had lit imperishable hopes
In human hearts and ours. How could we faint,
Or how despond, when men of flesh and blood,
Weaker than we in power but strong in prayer,
Wrestled and wrought and vanquish'd? Oft herein
They minister'd to us as we to them.

'Without us haply human faith had fail'd,
Without them ours. For still the gloom increased.
What though a band of stricken fugitives
Return'd to lorn Jerusalem and built
Their wall and temple gates in troublous times;
What though in faded splendor Judah held
His trembling sceptre; darkness wrapt the earth.
Apollyon, Baalim, Beezlebub,
Bel, Dagon, Chemosh, Nisroch, Arioch,
Merodach, Moloch, these and countless more,
With hosts of spirits subordinate to each,
They to their princedoms, these to Satan bound,
Ranged in imperious tyranny abroad,
And chose their various realms as liked them best,
And parcell'd out the kingdoms of the world
Amongst them as their rightful heritage.
Each region had its dynasty of gods:
Primeval Asshur hers, whose altars blazed
Upon the plains of Shinar: Persia hers,
Beside her founts of liquid fire: and where
The mighty Indus rolls its tide of wealth,
Innumerable shrines, sparkling with gems,
Studded the odorous banks. But none like Greece
Could boast its names of graceful deities
For every fountain, and for every breeze,
For every stream, and wood, and ocean shore,
For night and day, for sunshine, and for storm,
For every changeful phase of Nature's moods,
For every passion of the human heart,
For wine, for war, for laughter, and for tears,
For nuptial dances, and for funeral dirge,
For all things from the cradle to the grave
And past the grave in Hades, - over all
Were gods, or goddesses, or demigods,
Sylphs, nymphs, fawns, muses, graces president;
For here the sevenfold power of Ashtaroth,
Encamping with his limitary hosts,
First fix'd his seat, in after years removed
Where Tiber rolls beneath the walls of Rome.

'Amongst them Satan ranged pre-eminent,
Incessant; and, denied ubiquity,
Yet seem'd the more to multiply himself,
And almost with the speed of thought to be
(For narrow is the breadth of earth to spirits
Accustom'd to celestial latitudes)
Where most the struggle lack'd his puissant arm,
When to the heaven of heavens the sons of God
Were summon'd, sate he on his ducal throne.
Arch-adversary was his name, well earn'd;
And well by all his ministers of state
And legions seconded.

'Yet deem not we
On God's behalf were idle. O'er the world
Death reign'd, but underneath its sable shroud
Life wrought in secret, as serenest gems
In darkest cavers oft are found anneal'd,
Crystalline amethysts, or roseate quartz,
The pure quintessence of incumbent rocks
Distill'd by extinct fires. And it was ours
To watch these priceless jewels carved and set,
As finish'd, in that diadem of glory,
Wherewith in fulness of predestined time
Messiah shall appear for ever crown'd.'