Under a Coronet his flowing haireIn curles on either cheek plaid, wings he woreOf many a colourd plume sprinkl'd with Gold,His habit fit for speed succinct, and heldBefore his decent steps a Silver wand.He drew not nigh unheard, the Angel bright,Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turnd,Admonisht by his eare, and strait was knownTh' Arch-Angel Uriel, one of the seav'nWho in Gods presence, neerest to his Throne
[650]
Stand ready at command, and are his EyesThat run through all the Heav'ns, or down to th' EarthBear his swift errands over moist and dry,O're Sea and Land: him Satan thus accostes;Uriel, for thou of those seav'n Spirits that standIn sight of God's high Throne, gloriously bright,The first art wont his great authentic willInterpreter through highest Heav'n to bring,Where all his Sons thy Embassie attend;And here art likeliest by supream decree
[660]
Like honour to obtain, and as his EyeTo visit oft this new Creation round;Unspeakable desire to see, and knowAll these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man,His chief delight and favour, him for whomAll these his works so wondrous he ordaind,Hath brought me from the Quires of CherubimAlone thus wandring. Brightest Seraph tellIn which of all these shining Orbes hath ManHis fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,
[670]
But all these shining Orbes his choice to dwell;That I may find him, and with secret gaze,Or open admiration him beholdOn whom the great Creator hath bestowdWorlds, and on whom hath all these graces powrd;That both in him and all things, as is meet,The Universal Maker we may praise;Who justly hath drivn out his Rebell FoesTo deepest Hell, and to repair that lossCreated this new happie Race of Men
[680]
To serve him better: wise are all his wayes.So spake the false dissembler unperceivd;For neither Man nor Angel can discernHypocrisie, the only evil that walksInvisible, except to God alone,By his permissive will, through Heav'n and Earth:And oft though wisdom wake, suspicion sleepsAt wisdoms Gate, and to simplicitieResigns her charge, while goodness thinks no illWhere no ill seems: Which now for once beguil'd
[690]
Uriel, though Regent of the Sun, and heldThe sharpest sighted Spirit of all in Heav'n;Who to the fraudulent Impostor fouleIn his uprightness answer thus returnd.Faire Angel, thy desire which tends to knowThe works of God, thereby to glorifieThe great Work-Maister, leads to no excessThat reaches blame, but rather merits praiseThe more it seems excess, that led thee hitherFrom thy Empyreal Mansion thus alone,
[700]
To witness with thine eyes what some perhapsContented with report heare onely in heav'n:For wonderful indeed are all his works,Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all