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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

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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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