Page:Paradise lost by Milton, John.djvu/389

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383
BOOK XI.

To withered, weak, and gray; thy senses then,540
Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgo,
To what thou hast; and, for the air of youth,
Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign
A melancholy damp of cold and dry
To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume
The balm of life."—To whom our ancestor:
"Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong
Life much; bent rather, how I may be quit,
Fairest and easiest, of this cumbrous charge,
Which I must keep till my appointed day550
Of rendering up, and patiently attend
My dissolution." Michaël replied:
"Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livest
Live well; how long or short, permit to Heaven.
And now prepare thee for another sight."
He looked, and saw a spacious plain, whereon
Were tents of various hue. By some were herds
Of cattle grazing; others, whence the sound
Of instruments, that made the melodious chime,
Was heard, of harp and organ, and who moved560
Their stops and chords were seen; his volent touch
Instinct, through all proportions low and high,
Fled, and pursued transverse the resonant fugue.
In other part stood one, who at the forge