rom eternal splendours flung
For his revolt--yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory withered.

Thrice he attempts to address them, and thrice--

in spite of scorn
Tears, such as Angels weep, burst forth.

His followers are devotedly attached to him; they admire him "that for
the general safety he despised his own"; and the only scene of rejoicing
recorded in the annals of Hell, before the Fall of Man, is at the
dissolution of the Stygian Council, when the devils come forth "rejoicing
in their matchless Chief."

As if of set purpose to raise Satan high above the heads of the other
Archangels, Milton devises a pair of similar scenes, in Heaven and in
Hell. In the one Satan takes upon himself the unknown dangers of the
enterprise that has been approved by the assembly. In the other, which
occurs in the very next book, the Heavenly Powers are addressed from the
Throne, and asked--

"Which of ye will be mortal, to redeem
Man's mortal crime, and just, the unjust to save?
Dwells in all Heaven charity so dear?"
He asked, but all the Heavenly Quire stood mute,
And silence was in Heaven: on Man's behalf
Patron or intercessor none appeared--
Much less that durst upon his own head draw
The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set.

No wonder that Landor--although in another place he declares that Adam is
the hero of _Paradise Lost_, and that "there is neither truth nor wit" in
giving that name to Satan--is nevertheless startled by this passage into
the comment, "I know not what interest Milton could have had in making
Satan so august a creature, and so ready to share the dangers and sorrows
of the angels he had seduced. I know not, on the other hand, what could
have urged him to make the better ones so dastardly that even at the
voice of their Creator not one among them offered his service to rescue
from eternal perdition the last and weakest of intellectual beings."

When Satan first comes in sight of Paradisal bliss and the new-created
pair, here surely was a chance for attributing to him the foul passions
of envy and hate unalloyed? On the contrary, he is struck with admiration
for their grace and infused divinity. He could love and pity them--so he
muses--though himself unpitied. He seeks alliance with them, and is
prepared to give them a share in all he has--which, it must be allowed,
is the spirit of true hospitality. He feels it beneath him to attack
innocence and helplessness, b