Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb;

Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, For each seem'd either; black it stood as night, Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as hell,

And shook a dreadful dart; what seem'd his head The likeness of a kingly crown had on.

Satan was now at hand, and from his seat

The monster moving onward, came as fast
With horrid strides; hell trembled as he strode.
The undaunted fiend what this might be admired,
Admired, not fear'd; God and his son except,
Created thing naught valued he, nor shunn'd;
And with disdainful look, thus first began:

"Whence and what art thou, execrable shape,
That darest though grim and terrible, advance
Thy miscreated front athwart my way
To yonder gates? through them I mean to pass,
That be assured, without leave ask'd of thee :
Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof,
Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of heaven."
To whom the goblin full of wrath replied:

"Art thou that traitor-angel, art thou he

Who first broke peace in heaven, and faith, till then Unbroken and in proud rebellious arms,

:

Drew after him the third part of heaven's sons
Conjured against the Highest; for which both thou
And they, outcast from God, are here condemned
To waste eternal days in woe and pain?
And reckon'st thou thyself with spirits of heaven,
Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scorn,
Where I reign king, and, to enrage the more,
Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment,
False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings,
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue
Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart,

Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before."

So spake the grisly terror, and in shape,
So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold
More dreadful and deform. On the other side,
Incensed with indignation, Satan stood
Unterrified and like a comet burn'd,

That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge
In the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair,
Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head
Levell❜d his deadly aim; and their fatal hands
No second stroke intend; and such a frown
Each cast at the other, as when two black clouds,
With heaven's artillery fraught, come rattling on
Over the Caspian, then stand front to front,
Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow
To join their dark encounter in mid-air :
So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell
Grew darker at their frown; so match'd they stood;
For never but once more was either like

To meet so great a foe: and now great deeds
Had been achieved, whereof all hell had rung,
Had not the snaky sorceress, that sat

Fast by hell-gate, and kept the fatal key,

Risen, and with hideous outcry rush'd between.

MILTON.

ALEXANDER'S FEAST.

'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won,

By Philip's warlike son,

Aloft in awful state,

The god-like hero sat

On his imperial throne.

His valiant peers were placed around,

Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound:

So should desert in arms be crown'd.

The lovely Thais, by his side,

Sat like a blooming eastern bride,

In flower of youth, and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair!

None but the brave,

None but the brave,

None but the brave, deserves the fair.

Timotheus placed on high

Amid the tuneful choir,

With flying fingers touch'd the lyre;
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.

The song began from Jove,

Who left his blissful seat above

Such is the power of mighty love :

A dragon's fiery form belied the god;
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,

When he to fair Olympia press'd,

And stamp'd an image of himself, a sov'reign of the world! The listening crowd admire the lofty sound;

"A present deity!" they shout around;

"A present deity!" the vaulted roofs rebound -
With ravish'd ears

The monarch hears,

Assumes the god,

Affects to nod,

And seem to shake the spheres.

The praise of Bacchus, then, the sweet musician sung, Of Bacchus, ever fair and ever young!

The jolly god in triumph comes!

Sound the trumpets! beat the drums!

Flush'd with a purple grace

He shows his honest face,

Now give the hautboys breath! he comes! he comes!

Sooth'd with the sound, the king grew vain ;

Fought all his battles o'er again :

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain! The master saw the madness rise;

He

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;
And while he heaven and earth defied -
Changed his hand, and check'd his pride.
He chose a mournful muse,

Soft Pity to infuse :

sang Darius great and good!

By too severe a fate,

Fallen fallen! fallen! fallen!

Fallen from his high estate,

And weltering in his blood!

Deserted at his utmost need

By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth exposed he lies,

With not a friend to close his eyes!

With downcast look the joyless victor sat,

Revolving, in his alter'd soul,

The various turns of fate below;
And now, and then, a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow !

The mighty master smiled to see

That love was in the next degree:

"Twas but a kindred sound to move;

For pity melts the mind to love.

Softly sweet, in Lydian measures,
Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures.
War, he sung, is toil and trouble:
Honor but an empty bubble;

Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying.
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, oh think it worth enjoying!

Lovely Thais sits beside thee.

Take the good the gods provide thee!

The many rend the skies with loud applause,
So love was crown'd; but music won the cause.
The prince unable to conceal his pain,

Gazed on the fair

Who caused his care,

And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again :

At length, with love and wine at once oppress'd,
The vanquish'd victor― sank upon her breast!

Now strike the golden lyre again!

A louder yet, and yet a louder strain !
Break his bands of sleep asunder,

And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder! Hark! hark! - The horrid sound

Has raised up his head,

As awaked from the dead;

And, amazed, he stares around!

Revenge! revenge!" Timotheus cries

See the furies arise!

See the snakes that they rear,

How they hiss in their hair,

And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!

Behold a ghastly band,

Each a torch in his hand!

These are Grecian ghosts that in battle were slain,