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. 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, oh how fallen! how changed From him who, in the happy realms of light,
Clothed 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 height fall'n, so much the stronger proved 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 changed in outward lustre, that fix'd mind, And high disdain from sense of injured merit, That with the Mightiest raised 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 opposed, 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, 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 advanced, 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 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. "Oh prince, oh 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 conqueror (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, "Fall'n 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 ofttimes may succeed, so as perhaps Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb His inmost counsels from their destined 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 received 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 blazed; 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, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held; or that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created 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,
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 ris'n 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 pointed spires, and roll'd In billows, leave i' 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
With stench and smoke: such resting found the sole Of unbless'd 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 archangel, "this the seat That we must change for heaven: this mournful For that celestial light? Be it so, since he [gloom Who now is sovran can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest 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.”
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