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Paradise lost.
Book 1.
In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shadesHigh overarch't imbowr; or scatterd sedgeAfloat, when with fierce Winds Orion arm'dHath vext the Red-Sea Coast, whose waves ore-threwBusiris and his Memphian Chivalrie, While with perfidious hatred they pursu'dThe Sojourners of Goshen, who beheldFrom the safe shore their floating Carkases 310And broken Chariot Wheels, so thick bestrownAbject and lost lay these, covering the Flood,Under amazement of their hideous change.He call'd so loud, that all the hollow DeepOf Hell resounded. Princes, Potentates,Warriers, the Flowr of Heav'n, once yours, now lost,If such astonishment as this can siezeEternal spirit ; or have ye chos'n this placeAfter the toyl of Battel to reposeYour wearied vertue, for the ease you find 320To slumber here, as in the Vales of Heav'n?Or in this abject posture have ye swornTo adore the Conquerour? who now beholdsCherube and Seraph rowling in the FloodWith scatter'd Arms and Ensigns, till anonHis swift pursuers from Heav'n Gates discernTh' advantage, and descending tread us downThus drooping, or with linked ThunderboltsTransfix us to the bottom of this Gulfe.Awake, arise, or be for ever fall'n. 330 They heard, and were abasht, and up they sprungUpon the wing, as when men wont to watchOn duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
B 2
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