I may affert eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
Say first, for Heav'n hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of hell; say first what cause
Mov'd our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favour'd of heav'n so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and tranfgrefs his will,
For one restraint, lords of the world besides?
Who first feduc'd them to that foul revolt ?
Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile,
Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceiv'd
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from heav'n, with all his host
Of rebel angels; by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in glory' above his peers,
He trusted to have equall'd the Most High,
If he oppos'd; and, with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Rais'd impious war in heav'n, and battle proud,
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurl'd healong flaming from th' ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durft defy th' Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night so
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded though immortal: but his doom
Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of loft happiness and lafting pain
Torments him. Round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mix'd with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:
At once, as far as angels ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild;
A dungeon horrible on all fides round
As one great furnace flam'd, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd only to discover fights of woe,
Regions of forrow, doleful shades, where peace 65
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning fulphur unconfum'd:
Such place eternal Justice had prepar'd
For those rebellious, here their pris'n ordain'd
In utter darkness, and their portion fet
As far remov'd from God and light of heav'n,
As from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole.
O how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'd
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He foon difcerns; and welt'ring by his fide
One next himself in pow'r, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd
Beelzebub. To whom th' arch-enemy,
And thence in heav'n call'd Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid filence, thus began.
If thou beest he; but O how fall'n! how chang'd From him, who in the happy realms of light Cloth'd with transcendent brightness didit outshine Myriads, tho' bright! if he whom mutual league, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprize, Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd
In equal ruin: into what pit thou seest
From what height fall'n, so much the stronger prov'd
He with his thunder: and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent or change,
Tho' chang'd in outward lustre, that fix'd mind,
And high difdain from sense of injur'd merit,
That with the Mightiest rais'd me to contend;
And to the fierce contention brought along
Innumerable force of spirits arm'd,
That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,
His utmost pow'r with adverse pow'r oppos'd
In dubious battle on the plains of heav'n,
And shook his throne. What tho' the field be loft?`
All is not lost; th' unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to fubmit or yield,
And what is else not to be overcome;
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and fue for grace
With fuppliant knee, and deify his pow'r,"
Who from the terror of this arm so late
Doubted his empire; that were low indeed,
That were an ignominy' and shame beneath
This downfall; since by fate the strength of gods
And this empyreal substance cannot fail;
Since through experience of this great event
In arms not worfe, in forefight much advanc'd,
We may with more successful hope refolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcileable to our grand foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heav'n.
So spake th' apostate angel, tho' in pain;
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair:
And him thus answer'd foon his bold compeer.
O Prince, O Chief of many throned pow'rs,
That led th' imbattl'd Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endangerd heav'n's perpetual King,
And put to proof his high fupremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate;
Too well I fee, and rue the dire event,
That with sad overthrow and foul defeat
Hath lost us heav'n, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as gods and heav'nly effences
Can perish: for the mind and sp'rit remains
Invincible, and vigour foon returns,
Though all our glory' extinct, and happy state
Here swallow'd up in endless mifery.
But what if he our conqu'ror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, fince no less
Than fuch could have o'erpow'r'd fuch force as ours)
Have left us this our sp'rit and strength entire
Strongly to fuffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate'er his business be,
Here in the heart of hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy deep;
What can it then avail, though yet we feel
Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?
Whereto with speedy words th' arch-fiend reply'd.
Fall'n Cherub, to be weak is miferable
Doing or fuff'ring: but of this be fure,
To do ought good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our fole delight,
As be'ing the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destin'd aim.
But see the angry Victor hath recall'd
His minifters of vengeance and pursuit.
Back to the gates of heav'n: the fulph'rous hail
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown, hath laid
The fiery furge, that from the precipice
Of heav'n receiv'd us falling; and the thunder,
Wing'd with red light'ning and impetuous rage, 1755
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless deep.
Let us not flip th' occafion, whether scorn,
Or fatiate fury yield it from our foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, 180
The feat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimm'ring of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there;
And reassembling our afflicted pow'rs,
Confult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope, 190 If not, what resolution from despair.
Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate With head uplift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts befides Prone on the flood, extended long and large Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous fize, Titanian, or earth-born, that warr'd on Jove, Briareus or Typhon, whom the den
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