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Book 2.
Paradiſe Loſt.

Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light
And like a weather-beaten Veſſel holds
Gladly the Port, though Shrouds and Tackle torn;
Or in the emptier waſte, reſembling Air,
Weighs his ſpread wings, at leaſure to behold
Farr off th’ Empyreal Heav’n, extended wide
In circuit, undetermined ſquare or round,
With Opal Towrs and Battlements adorn'd
Of living Saphire, once his native Seat; 1050
And faſt by hanging in a golden Chain
This pendant world, in bigneſs as a Starr
Of ſmalleſt Magnitude cloſe by the Moon.
Thither full fraught with miſchievous revenge,
Accurſt, and in a curſed hour he hies.

The End of the Second Book.


PARA-