That reignest aye in three, and two, and one,”
just such an accomplished and charming doxology as might be expected from Chaucer—but, all the same, a doxology. To such strange uses did poets lend their muse when they loved paynimry and were horribly afraid of it too.
Freed from the overshadowing of a wrath to come, Milton was able to concentrate upon poetic excellence, as indeed he did. You will look far before you find so serene and beautiful a close to a long poem as that of Paradise Lost. Pity and terror contend in the last paragraph. When the Archangel with his burning brand, and the attendant Cherubim, faces in the fire, descend and take possession of Eden, terror holds us; but then, pity:
“They, looking back, all th’ eastern side beheld
Of Paradise so late their happy seat....”
They were mortal, that pair. Mortals have short memories, but long hopes. So—
“Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;
The world was all before them where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.