And all her various objects of delight

Annull'd, which might in part my grief have eas'd,
Inferior to the vilest now become

Of man or worm; the vilest here excel me,
They creep, yet see, I dark in light expos'd
To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong,
Within doors, or without, still as a fool,
In pow'r of others, never in my own;

Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.
O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon,
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse

Without all hope of day!

O first created beam, and thou great Word,
Let there be light, and light was over all;
Why am I thus bereav'd thy prime decree?

The sun to me is dark

And silent as the moon,

When she deserts the night

Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.

Since light so necessary is to life,

And almost life itself, if it be true

That light is in the soul,

She all in every part; why was the sight
To such a tender ball as th' eye confin'd,

So obvious and so easy to be quench'd?

And not as feeling through all parts diffus'd,

That she might look at will through every pore?

Then had I not been thus exil'd from light,

As in the land of darkness, yet in light,
To live a life half dead, a living death,
And buried: but O yet more miserable!
Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave,
Buried, yet not exempt

By privilege of death and burial

From worst of other evils, pains and wrongs,
But made hereby obnoxious more

To all the miseries of life,

Life in captivity

Among inhuman foes.

But who are these? for with joint pace I hear
The tread of many feet steering this way;
Perhaps my enemies, who come to stare
At my affliction, and perhaps t' insult,
Their daily practice to afflict me more.
CHORUS.

This, this is he; softly a while,

Let us not break in upon him;

O change beyond report, thought, or belief!
See how he lies at random, carelessly diffus'd,
With languish'd head unpropp'd,

As one past hope, abandon'd,

And by himself given over;

In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds

O'er-worn and soil'd;

Or do my eyes misrepresent? Can this be he,

That heroic, that renown'd,

Irresistible Samson? whom unarm'd

105

110

115

120

125

111. steering this way;] If this be the right reading, the metaphor is extremely hard and abrupt. A common man would have said bearing this way. Warburton.

118. See how he lies at random, carelessly diffus'd,] This beautiful application of the word diffused Milton has borrowed from the

Latins. So Ovid ex Ponto. iii. iii. 7.

Publica me requies curarum somnus habebat,

Fusaque erant toto languida membra

toro.

Thyer.

So Virgil, fusi per herbam, En. i. 214. and in many other places. E.

No strength of man, or fiercest wild beast could with

stand;

Who tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid,

Ran on imbattled armies clad in iron,

And weaponless himself,

Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery

Of brazen shield and spear, the hammer'd cuirass,
Chaly'bean temper'd steel, and frock of mail

Adamantean proof;

But safest he who stood aloof,

When insupportably his foot advanc'd,

In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools,

130

135

Spurn'd them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite Fled from his lion ramp, old warriors turn'd

Their plated backs under his heel;

Or grov❜ling soil'd their crested helmets in the dust.
Then with what trivial weapon came to hand,
The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone,
A thousand fore-skins fell, the flow'r of Palestine,

140

he had before used 'gean for Egéan, and Thyéstean for Thye

stéan.

136. When insupportably his foot advanc'd,] For this nervous expression Milton was probably indebted to the following lines of Spenser, Faery Queen, b. i. cant. vii. st. 11.

That when the knight he spied, he 'gan advance

With huge force, and insupportable main.

Thyer.

138. The bold Ascalonite] The inhabitant of Ascalon, one of the five principal cities of the Philistines, mentioned, 1 Sam. vi. 17.

In Ramath-lechi famous to this day.

Then by main force pull'd up, and on his shoulders bore

The gates of Azza, post, and massy bar,

Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old,

No journey of a sabbath-day, and loaded so;

Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up heaven.
Which shall I first bewail

Thou art become (O worst imprisonment !)
The dungeon of thyself; thy soul

(Which men enjoying sight oft without cause complain)

So he does within six lines of might prefer post as somewhat of a softer sound. the end of this play,