As from the center 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 named Beelzebub.1 To whom the Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called 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 battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will,
1 'Beelzebub :' see 2 Kings i. 2.
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 terrour 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, Irreconcilable to our grand Foe, Who now triumphs, and, in th' 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 embattled 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 Conquerour (whom I now Of force believe Almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'erpower'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, 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 the Arch-Fiend replied. Fallen Cherub! to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure, To do aught good never will be our task, But ever to do ill our sole delight, As being 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 ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail, Shot after us in storm, o'erblown, hath laid The fiery surge, that from the precipice
Of Heaven receiv'd us falling; and the thunder,
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. Let us not slip the occasion, whether scorn, Or satiate fury, yield it from our Foe. Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, The seat of Desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering 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 Powers, Consult how we may henceforth most offend Our Enemy; our own loss how repair; How overcome this dire calamity; What re-enforcement we may gain from hope; 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 besides, Prone on the flood, extended long and large, Lay floating many a rood; in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove; Briareos or Typhon, 1 whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held; or that sea-beast Leviathan,2 which God of all his works "reated hugest that swim the ocean stream: Him, haply, slumbering on the Norway foam The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his scaly rind
Briareos or Typhon:' two mythological monsters commemorated in 1.- Leviathan: Milton means evidently the whale.
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless misery. But what if He our Conquerour (whom I now Of force believe Almighty, since no less Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as Have left us this our spirit and strength entire Strongly to suffer 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 the Arch-Fiend rep Fallen Cherub! to be weak is miserable, Doing or suffering: but of this be sure, To do aught good never will be our task, But ever to do ill our sole delight, As being 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 ministers of vengeance and pursuit Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hai Shot after us in storm, o'erblown, hath laid The fiery surge, that from the precipicn Of Heaven receiv'd us falling; and
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