Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.
So stretch'd out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay, Chain'd on the burning lake: nor ever thence Had risen, or heaved his head; but that the will And high permission of all-ruling Heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs: That, with reiterated crimes, he might Heap on himself damnation, while he sought Evil to others; and, enraged, might see How all his malice served but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace and mercy, shown On man by him seduced; but on himself Treble confusion, wrath and vengeance pour'd. Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty stature: on each hand the flames, Driven backward, slope their pointing spires, and, roll'd
In billows, leave in the' midst a horrid vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air
That felt unusual weight; till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd With solid, as the lake with liquid fire; And such appear'd in hue, as when the force Of subterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd side Of thundering Etna; whose combustible And fuell'd entrails thence conceiving fire, Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds; And leave a singed bottom all involved [sole With stench and smoke: such resting found the Of unblest feet. Him follow'd his next mate: Both glorying to have 'scaped the Stygian flood As gods, and by their own recover'd strength,
Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
"Is this the region? this the soil? the clime, (Said then the lost Arch-angel) this the seat That we must change for Heaven? this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be' it so, since he,
Who now is sovran, can dispose and bid
What shall be right: furthest from him is best, Whom reason hath equall'd, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, Where joy for ever dwells! hail horrors! hail Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell! Receive thy new possessor; one who brings A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven, What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be; all but less than He Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free: the' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy: will not drive us hence. Here we may reign secure ;—and, in my choice, To reign is worth ambition, though in hell: Better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, The' associates and copartners of our loss, Lie thus astonish'd on the' oblivious pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy mansion; or once more With rallied arms to try what may be yet Regain'd in heaven, or what more lost in hell?” So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub
Thus answer'd: "Leader of those armies bright, Which but the' Omnipotent none could have foil'd! If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge Of battle when it raged, in all assaults Their surest signal, they will soon resume New courage and revive; though now they lie Groveling and prostrate on yon lake of fire, As we erewhile, astounded and amazed; No wonder, fallen such a pernicious highth."
He scarce had ceased, when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore: his ponderous shield,
Etherial temper, massy, large, and round, Behind him cast: the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic-glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesolé, Or in Valdarno; to descry new lands, Rivers or mountains on her spotty globe. His spear (to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand,) He walk'd with, to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle, (not like those steps On heaven's azure) and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire. Nathless he so endured, till on the beach Of that inflamed sea he stood; and call'd His legions, angel-forms, who lay entranced Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where the' Etrurian shades, High over-arch'd, imbower; or scatter'd sedge
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