Of good and evil much they argu’d then,
Of happineſs and final miſery,
Paſſion and Apathie, and glory and ſhame,
Vain wiſdom all, and falſe Philoſophie:
Yet with a pleaſing ſorcerie could charm
Pain for a while or anguiſh, and excite
Fallacious hope, or arm th’ obdured breſt
With ſtubborn patience as with triple ſteel.
570Another part in Squadrons and groſs Bands,
On bold adventure to diſcover wide
That diſmal world, if any Clime perhaps
Might yeild them eaſier habitation, bend
Four ways thir flying March, along the Banks
Of four infernal Rivers that diſgorge
Into the burning Lake thir baleful ſtreams;
Abhorred Styx the flood of deadly hate,
Sad Acheron of ſorrow, black and deep;
Cocytus, nam’d of lamentation loud
580Heard on the rueful ſtream; fierce Phlegeton
Whoſe waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.
Farr off from theſe a ſlow and ſilent ſtream,
Lethe the River of Oblivion roules
Her watrie Labyrinth, whereof who drinks,
Forthwith his former ſtate and being forgets,
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.
Beyond this flood a frozen Continent
Lies dark and wilde, beat with perpetual ſtorms
Of Whirlwind and dire Hail, which on firm land
590Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin ſeems
Of ancient pile; all elſe deep ſnow and ice,
A gulf profound as that Serbonian Bog
Betwixt Damiata and Mount Caſius old,
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Paradiſe loſt.
Book 2.
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