The 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 heaven, 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 heaven and battle proud With vain attempt. Him the almighty power Hurl'd headlong flaming from the ethereal sky With hideous ruin and combustion, down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquish'd, rolling in the fiery gulph Confounded though immortal: but his doom Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting 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 sides round
As one great furnace flam'd, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 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 sulphur unconsum'd: Such place eternal justice had prepar'd
For those rebellious, here their prison ordain'd In utter darkness; and their portion set As far remov'd from God and light of heaven As from the centre thrice to the 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 soon discerns, and weltering by his side One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd Beelzebub. To whom the arch-enemy,
And thence in heaven call'd Satan, with bold words Breaking the horrid silence, thus began.
If thou beest he; but O how fallen! how chang'd From him, who in the happy realms of light Cloth'd with transcendent brightness didst outshine Myriads though bright: if he whom mutual league, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise,
Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd In equal ruin: into what pit thou seest
From what highth fallen, 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,
Though chang'd in outward lustre; that fix'd mind And high disdain, 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 power with adverse power oppos'd
In dubious battel on the plains of heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome? That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power, 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 worse, in foresight much advanc'd, We may with more successful hope resolve To wage by force or guile eternal war Irreconcileable, to our grand foe,
Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heaven.
So spake the apostate angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair: And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer. O prince, O chief of many throned powers, That led the imbattel'd seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds Fearless, endanger'd heaven's perpetual king; And put to proof his high supremacy, Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate, Too well I see and rue the dire event,
That with sad overthrow and foul defeat Hath lost us heaven, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as gods and heavenly essences
Can perish for the mind and spirit remains Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless misery.
But what if he our conqueror, (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'er-power'd such force as ours).
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
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