Page 82 - PARADISE LOST
P. 82

Paradise Lost


                                  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 no where 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 heart 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.
                                  Mean while upon the firm opacous globe
                                  Of this round world, whose first convex divides
                                  The luminous inferiour 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:


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