To the Lord General Cromwell, on the Proposals of Certain Ministers at the Committee for the Propagation of the Gospel
 
(1652)
 
 
CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud 
  Not of war only, but detractions rude, 
  Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, 
  To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, 
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud         5
  Hast reared God’s trophies, and his work pursued, 
  While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued, 
  And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud, 
And Worcester’s laureate wreath: yet much remains 
  To conquer still; Peace hath her victories         10
  No less renowned than War: new foes arise, 
Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. 
  Help us to save free conscience from the paw 
  Of hireling wolves, whose Gospel is their maw. 
 

To Sir Henry Vane the Younger
 
(1652)
 
 
VANE, young in years, but in sage counsel old, 
  Than whom a better senator ne’er held 
  The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled 
  The fierce Epirot and the African bold, 
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold         5
  The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled; 
  Then to advise how war may best, upheld, 
  Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, 
In all her equipage; besides, to know 
  Both spiritual power and civil, what each means,         10
  What severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done. 
The bounds of either sword to thee we owe: 
  Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans 
  In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.

 
On the Late Massacre in Piemont
 
(1655)
 
 
AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered Saints, whose bones 
  Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; 
  Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, 
When all our fathers worshiped stocks and stones, 
Forget not: in thy book record their groans         5
  Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
  Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that rolled 
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 
  To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow         10
O’er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway 
  The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow 
A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, 
  Early may fly the Babylonian woe.

On His Blindness
 
(1655)
 
 
WHEN I consider how my light is spent 
  Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, 
  And that one Talent which is death to hide 
  Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 
To serve therewith my Maker, and present         5
  My true account, lest He returning chide, 
  “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” 
  I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent 
That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need 
  Either man’s work or his own gifts. Who best         10
  Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 
Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed, 
  And post o’er land and ocean without rest; 
  They also serve who only stand and wait.” 
 

To Mr. Lawrence
 
(1656)
 
 
LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son, 
  Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, 
  Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire 
  Help waste a sullen day, what may be won 
From the hard season gaining? Time will run         5
  On smoother, till Favonius reinspire 
  The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 
  The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun. 
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, 
  Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise         10
  To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice 
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? 
  He who of those delights can judge, and spare 
  To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

To Cyriack Skinner
 
(1656)
 
 
CYRIACK, whose grandsire on the royal bench 
  Of British Themis, with no mean applause, 
  Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws, 
  Which others at their bar so often wrench, 
To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench         5
  In mirth that after no repenting draws; 
  Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause, 
  And what the Swede intend, and what the French. 
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 
  Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;         10
  For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, 
And disapproves that care, though wise in show, 
  That with superfluous burden loads the day, 
  And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains

To the Same
 
(1655)
 
 
CYRIACK, this three years’ day these eyes, though clear, 
  To outward view, of blemish or of spot, 
  Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; 
  Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear 
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,         5
  Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not 
  Against Heaven’s hand or will, nor bate a jot 
  Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer 
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? 
  The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied         10
  In liberty’s defence, my noble task, 
Of which all Europe rings from side to side. 
  This thought might lead me through the world’s vain mask 
  Content, though blind, had I no better guide. 
 

On his Deceased Wife
 
(1658)
 
 
METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint 
  Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, 
  Whom Jove’s great son to her glad husband gave, 
  Rescued from Death by force, though pale and faint. 
Mine, as whom washed from spot of childbed taint         5
  Purification in the Old Law did save, 
  And such as yet once more I trust to have 
  Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, 
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. 
  Her face was veiled; yet to my fancied sight         10
  Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined 
So clear as in no face with more delight. 
  But, oh! as to embrace me she inclined, 
  I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night. 
 

Paradise Lost: The First Book
 
 
  THE ARGUMENT.—This First Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject—Man’s disobedience, and the loss thereupon of Paradise, wherein he was placed: then touches the prime cause of his fall—the Serpent, or rather Satan in the Serpent; who, revolting from God, and drawing to his side many legions of Angels, was, by the command of God, driven out of Heaven, with all his crew, into the great Deep. Which action passed over, the Poem hastes into the midst of things; presenting Satan, with his Angels, now fallen into Hell—described here not in the Centre (for heaven and earth may be supposed as yet not made, certainly not yet accursed), but in a place of utter darkness, fitliest called Chaos. Here Satan, with his Angels lying on the burning lake, thunderstruck and astonished after a certain space recovers, as from confusion; calls up him who, next in order and dignity, lay by him: they confer of their miserable fall. Satan awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner confounded. They rise: their numbers; array of battle; their chief leaders named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech; comforts them with hope yet of regaining Heaven; but tells them, lastly, of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, according to an ancient prophecy, or report, in Heaven—for that Angels were long before this visible creation was the opinion of many ancient Fathers. To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what to determine thereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates thence attempt. Pandemonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly built out of the Deep: the infernal Peers there sit in council.
 
 
OF MAN’S first disobedience, and the fruit 
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste 
Brought death into the World, and all our woe, 
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man 
Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat,         5
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top 
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire 
That Shepherd who first taught the chosen seed 
In the beginning how the heavens and earth 
Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill         10
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed 
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence 
Invoke thy aid to my adventrous song, 
That with no middle flight intends to soar 
Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues         15
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. 
And chiefly Thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer 
Before all temples the upright heart and pure, 
Instruct me, for Thou know’st; Thou from the first 
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,         20
Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss, 
And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark 
Illumine, what is low raise and support; 
That, to the highth of this great argument, 
I may assert Eternal Providence,         25
And justify the ways of God to men. 
  Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view, 
Nor the deep tract of Hell—say first what cause 
Moved our grand Parents, in that happy state, 
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off         30
From their Creator, and transgress his will 
For one restraint, lords of the World besides. 
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? 
  The infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile, 
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived         35
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 equalled the Most High,         40
If he opposed, and, with ambitious aim 
Against the throne and monarchy of God, 
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud, 
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power 
Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky,         45
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         50
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew, 
Lay vanquished, rowling in the fiery gulf, 
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom 
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought 
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain         55
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes, 
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay, 
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate. 
At once, as far as Angel’s ken, he views 
The dismal situation waste and wild.         60
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, 
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames 
No light; but rather darkness visible 
Served only to discover sights of woe, 
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace         65
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 unconsumed. 
Such place Eternal Justice had prepared         70
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained 
In utter darkness, and their portion set, 
As far removed from God and light of Heaven 
As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole. 
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!         75
There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed 
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         80
Beëlzebub. 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,         85
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, 
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined         90
In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest 
From what highth fallen: 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         95
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change, 
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind, 
And high disdain from sense of injured merit, 
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend, 
And to the fierce contention brought along         100
Innumerable force of Spirits armed, 
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?         105
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         110
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         115
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         120
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,         125
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair; 
And him thus answered soon his bold Compeer;— 
  “O Prince, O Chief of many thronèd Powers 
That led the embattled Seraphim to war 
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds         130
Fearless, endangered 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,         135
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,         140
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state 
Here swallowed 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’erpowered such force as ours)         145
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,         150
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire, 
Or do errands in the gloomy Deep? 
What can it then avail though yet we feel 
Strength undiminished, or eternal being 
To undergo eternal punishment?”         155
  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,         160
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;         165
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 recalled 
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit         170
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, 
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,         175
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,         180
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;         185
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers, 
Consult how we may henceforth most offend 
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair, 
How overcome this dire calamity, 
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,         190
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,         195
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge 
As whom the fables name of monstrous size, 
Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove, 
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den 
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast         200
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-foundered skiff, 
Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell,         205
With fixèd anchor in his scaly rind, 
Moors by his side under the lee, while night 
Invests the sea, and wishèd morn delays. 
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay, 
Chained on the burning lake; nor ever thence         210
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         215
Evil to others, and enraged might see 
How all his malice served but to bring forth 
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn 
On Man by him seduced, but on himself 
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.         220
  Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool 
His mighty stature; on each hand the flames 
Driven backward slope their pointing spires, and, rowled 
In billows, leave i’ the midst a horrid vale. 
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight         225
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air, 
That felt unusual weight; till on dry land 
He lights—if it were land that ever burned 
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire, 
And such appeared in hue as when the force         230
Of subterranean wind transports a hill 
Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side 
Of thundering Ætna, whose combustible 
And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire, 
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,         235
And leave a singèd bottom all involved 
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole 
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next Mate; 
Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood 
As gods, and by their own recovered strength,         240
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 gloom 
For that celestial light? Be it so, since He         245
Who now is sovran can dispose and bid 
What shall be right: fardest from Him is best, 
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme 
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, 
Where joy forever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,         250
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.         255
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:         260
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 co-partners of our loss,         265
Lie thus astonished 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 
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?”         270
  So Satan spake; and him Beëlzebub 
Thus answered:—“Leader of those armies bright 
Which, but the Omnipotent, none could have foiled! 
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge 
Of hope in fears and dangers—heard so oft         275
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 
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,         280
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, 
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,         285
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 Fesolè, 
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,         290
Rivers, or mountains, in 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 walked with, to support uneasy steps         295
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 inflamèd sea he stood, and called         300
His legions—Angel Forms, who lay entranced 
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks 
In Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shades 
High over-arched imbower; or scattered sedge 
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed         305
Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew 
Busiris and his Memphian chivalry, 
While with perfidious hatred they pursued 
The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld 
From the safe shore their floating carcases         310
And broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown, 
Abject and lost, lay these, covering the flood, 
Under amazement of their hideous change. 
He called so loud that all the hollow deep 
Of Hell resounded:—“Princes, Potentates,         315
Warriors, the Flower of Heaven—once yours; now lost, 
If such astonishment as this can seize 
Eternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place 
After the toil of battle to repose 
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find         320
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven? 
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn 
To adore the Conqueror, who now beholds 
Cherub and Seraph rowling in the flood 
With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon         325
His swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern 
The advantage, and, descending tread us down 
Thus drooping, or with linkèd thunderbolts 
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?— 
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!”         330
  They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung 
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch, 
On duty sleeping found by whom they dread, 
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake. 
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight         335
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel; 
Yet to their General’s voice they soon obeyed 
Innumerable. As when the potent rod 
Of Amram’s son, in Egypt’s evil day, 
Waved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud         340
Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind, 
That o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung 
Like Night, and darkened all the land of Nile; 
So numberless were those bad Angels seen 
Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell,         345
’Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires; 
Till, as a signal given, the uplifted spear 
Of their great Sultan waving to direct 
Their course, in even balance down they light 
On the firm brimstone, and fill the plain:         350
A multitude like which the populous North 
Poured never from her frozen loins to pass 
Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons 
Came like a deluge on the South, and spread 
Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.         355
Forthwith, from every squadron and each band, 
The heads and leaders thither haste where stood 
Their great Commander—godlike Shapes, and Forms 
Excelling human; princely Dignities; 
And powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,         360
Though of their names in Heavenly records now 
Be no memorial, blotted out and rased 
By their rebellion from the Books of Life. 
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve 
Got them new names, till, wondering o’er the earth,         365
Through God’s high sufferance for the trial of man, 
By falsities and lies the greatest part 
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake 
God their Creator, and the invisible 
Glory of Him that made them to transform         370
Oft to the image of a brute, adorned 
With gay religions full of pomp and gold, 
And devils to adore for deities: 
Then were they known to men by various names, 
And various idols through the heathen world.         375
  Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last, 
Roused from the slumber on that fiery couch, 
At their great Emperor’s call, as next in worth 
Came singly where he stood on the bare strand, 
While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof.         380
  The chief were those who, from the pit of Hell 
Roaming to seek their prey on Earth, durst fix 
Their seats, long after, next the seat of God, 
Their altars by His altar, gods adored 
Among the nations round, and durst abide         385
Jehovah thundering out of Sion, throned 
Between the Cherubim; yea, often placed 
Within His sanctuary itself their shrines, 
Abominations; and with cursed things 
His holy rites and solemn feasts profaned,         390
And with their darkness durst affront His light. 
First, Moloch, horrid King, besmeared with blood 
Of human sacrifice, and parents’ tears; 
Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, 
Their children’s cries unheard that passed through fire         395
To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite 
Worshiped in Rabba and her watery plain, 
In Argob and in Basan, to the stream 
Of utmost Arnon. Nor content with such 
Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart         400
Of Solomon he led by fraud to build 
His temple right against the temple of God 
On that opprobrious hill, and made his grove 
The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence 
And black Gehenna called, the type of Hell.         405
Next Chemos, the obscene dread of Moab’s sons, 
From Aroar to Nebo and the wild 
Of southmost Abarim; in Hesebon 
And Horonaim, Seon’s realm, beyond 
The flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines,         410
And Elealè to the Asphaltick Pool: 
Peor his other name, when he enticed 
Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile, 
To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe. 
Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged         415
Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove 
Of Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate, 
Till good Josiah drove them thence to Hell. 
With these came they who, from the bordering flood 
Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts         420
Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names 
Of Baalim and Ashtaroth—those male, 
These feminine. For Spirits, when they please, 
Can either sex assume, or both; so soft 
And uncompounded is their essence pure,         425
Not tied or manacled with joint or limb, 
Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones, 
Like cumbrous flesh; but, in what shape they choose, 
Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure, 
Can execute their aery purposes,         430
And works of love or enmity fulfil. 
For those the race of Israel oft forsook 
Their Living Strength, and unfrequented left 
His righteous altar, bowing lowly down 
To bestial gods; for which their heads, as low         435
Bowed down in battle, sunk before the spear 
Of despicable foes. With these in troop 
Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians called 
Astarte, queen of heaven, with cresent horns; 
To whose bright image nightly by the moon         440
Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs; 
In Sion also not unsung, where stood 
Her temple on the offensive mountain, built 
By that uxorious king whose heart, though large, 
Beguiled by fair idolatresses, fell         445
To idols foul. Thammuz came next behind, 
Whose annual wound in Lebanon allured 
The Syrian damsels to lament his fate 
In amorous ditties all a summer’s day, 
While smooth Adonis from his native rock         450
Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood 
Of Thammuz yearly wounded: the love-tale 
Infected Sion’s daughters with like heat, 
Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch 
Ezekiel saw, when, by the vision led,         455
His eye surveyed the dark idolatries 
Of alienated Judah. Next came one 
Who mourned in earnest, when the captive Ark 
Maimed his brute image, head and hands lopt off, 
In his own temple, on the grunsel-edge,         460
Where he fell flat and shamed his worshipers: 
Dagon his name, sea-monster, upward man 
And downward fish; yet had his temple high 
Reared in Azotus, dreaded through the coast 
Of Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon,         465
And Accaron and Gaza’s frontier bounds. 
Him followed Rimmon, whose delightful seat 
Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks 
Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams. 
He also against the house of God was bold:         470
A leper once he lost, and gained a king— 
Ahaz, his sottish conqueror, whom he drew 
God’s altar to disparage and displace 
For one of Syrian mode, whereon to burn 
His odious offerings, and adore the gods         475
Whom he had vanquished. After these appeared 
A crew who, under names of old renown— 
Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train— 
With monstrous shapes and sorceries abused 
Fanatic Egypt and her priests to seek         480
Their wandering gods disguised in brutish forms 
Rather than human. Nor did Israel scape 
The infection, when their borrowed gold composed 
The calf in Oreb; and the rebel king 
Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,         485
Likening his Maker to the grazèd ox— 
Jehovah, who, in one night, when he passed 
From Egypt marching, equalled with one stroke 
Both her first-born and all her bleating gods. 
Belial came last; than whom a Spirit more lewd         490
Fell not from Heaven, or more gross to love, 
Vice for itself. To him no temple stood 
Or altar smoked; yet who more oft than he 
In temples and at altars, when the priest 
Turns atheist, as did Eli’s sons, who filled         495
With lust and violence the house of God? 
In courts and palaces he also reigns, 
And in luxurious cities, where the noise 
Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers, 
And injury and outrage; and, when night         500
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. 
Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night 
In Gibeah, when the hospitable door 
Exposed a matron, to avoid worse rape.         505
  These were the prime in order and in might: 
The rest were long to tell; though far renowned 
The Ionian gods—of Javan’s issue held 
Gods, yet confessed later than Heaven and Earth, 
Their boasted parents;—Titan, Heaven’s first-born,         510
With his enormous brood, and birthright seized 
By younger Saturn: he from mightier Jove, 
His own and Rhea’s son, like measure found; 
So Jove unsurping reigned. These, first in Crete 
And Ida known, thence on the snowy top         515
Of cold Olympus ruled the middle air, 
Their highest heaven; or on the Delphian cliff, 
Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds 
Of Doric land; or who with Saturn old 
Fled over Adria to the Hesperian fields,         520
And o’er the Celtic roamed the utmost Isles. 
  All these and more came flocking; but with looks 
Downcast and damp; yet such wherein appeared 
Obscure some glimpse of joy to have found their Chief 
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost         525
In loss itself; which on his countenance cast 
Like doubtful hue. But he, his wonted pride 
Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore 
Semblance of worth, nor substance, gently raised 
Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears:         530
Then straight commands that, at the war-like sound 
Of trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared 
His mighty standard. That proud honour claimed 
Azazel as his right, a Cherub tall: 
Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled         535
The imperial ensign; which, full high advanced, 
Shon like a meteor streaming to the wind, 
With gems and golden lustre rich imblazed, 
Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while 
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:         540
At which the universal host up-sent 
A shout that tore Hell’s concave, and beyond 
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. 
All in a moment through the gloom were seen 
Ten thousand banners rise into the air,         545
With orient colours waving: with them rose 
A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms 
Appeared, and serried shields in thick array 
Of depth immeasurable. Anon they move 
In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood         550
Of flutes and soft recorders—such as raised 
To highth of noblest temper heroes old 
Arming to battle, and instead of rage 
Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved 
With dread of death to flight or foul retreat;         555
Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 
With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase 
Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain 
From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, 
Breathing united force with fixed thought,         560
Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed 
Their painful steps o’er the burnt soil. And now 
Advanced in view they stand—a horrid front 
Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise 
Of warriors old, with ordered spear and shield,         565
Awaiting what command their mighty Chief 
Had to impose. He through the armed files 
Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverse 
The whole battalion views—their order due, 
Their visages and stature as of Gods;         570
Their number last he sums. And now his heart 
Distends with pride, and, hardening in his strength, 
Glories: for never, since created Man, 
Met such imbodied force as, named with these, 
Could merit more than that small infantry         575
Warred on by cranes—though all the giant brood 
Of Phlegra with the heroic race were joined 
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side 
Mixed with auxiliar gods; and what resounds 
In fable or romance of Uther’s son,         580
Begirt with British and Armoric knights; 
And all who since, baptized or infidel, 
Jousted in Aspramont, or Montalban, 
Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, 
Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore         585
When Charlemain with all his peerage fell 
By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond 
Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed 
Their dread Commander. He, above the rest 
In shape and gesture proudly eminent,         590
Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost 
All her original brightness, nor appeared 
Less than Archangel ruined, and the excess 
Of glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen 
Looks through the horizontal misty air         595
Shorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon, 
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds 
On half the nations, and with fear of change 
Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shon 
Above them all the Archangel: but his face         600
Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care 
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows 
Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride 
Waiting revenge. Cruel his eye, but cast 
Signs of remorse and passion, to behold         605
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather 
(Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned 
For ever now to have their lot in pain— 
Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced 
Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung         610
For his revolt—yet faithful how they stood, 
Their glory withered; as, when heaven’s fire 
Hath scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines, 
With singèd top their stately growth, though bare, 
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared         615
To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend 
From wing to wing, and half enclose him round 
With all his peers: Attention held them mute. 
Thrice he assayed, and thrice, in spite of scorn, 
Tears, such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last         620
Words interwove with sighs found out their way:— 
  “O myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers 
Matchless, but with the Almighty!—and that strife 
Was not inglorious, though the event was dire, 
As this place testifies, and this dire change,         625
Hateful to utter. But what power of mind, 
Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth 
Of knowledge past or present, could have feared 
How such united force of gods, how such 
As stood like these, could ever know repulse?         630
For who can yet believe, though after loss, 
That all these puissant legions, whose exile 
Hath emptied Heaven, shall fail to reascend, 
Self-raised, and re-possess their native seat? 
For me, be witness all the host of Heaven,         635
If counsels different, or danger shunned 
By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns 
Monarch in Heaven till then as one secure 
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, 
Consent or custom, and his regal state         640
Put forth at full, but still his strength concealed— 
Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. 
Henceforth his might we know, and know our own, 
So as not either to provoke, or dread 
New war provoked: our better part remains         645
To work in close design, by fraud or guile, 
What force effected not; that he no less 
At length from us may find, Who overcomes 
By force hath overcome but half his foe. 
Space may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife         650
There went a fame in Heaven that He ere long 
Intended to create, and therein plant 
A generation whom his choice regard 
Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven. 
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps         655
Our first eruption—thither, or elsewhere; 
For this infernal pit shall never hold 
Cælestial Spirits in bondage, nor the Abyss 
Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts 
Full counsel must mature. Peace is despaired;         660
For who can think submission? War, then, war 
Open or understood, must be resolved.” 
He spake; and, to confirm his words, out-flew 
Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs 
Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze         665
Far around illumined Hell. Highly they raged 
Again the Highest and fierce with graspèd arms 
Clashed on their sounding shields the din of war, 
Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven. 
  There stood a hill not far, whose griesly top         670
Belched fire and rowling smoke; the rest entire 
Shown with a glossy scurf—undoubted sign 
That in his womb was hid metallic ore, 
The work of sulphur. Thither, winged with speed, 
A numerous brigad hastened: as when bands         675
Of pioners, with spade and pickaxe armed, 
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, 
Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on— 
Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell 
From Heaven; for even in Heaven his looks and thoughts         680
Were always downward bent, admiring more 
The riches of Heaven’s pavement, trodden gold, 
Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed 
In vision beatific. By him first 
Men also, and by suggestion taught         685
Ransacked the Centre, and with impious hands 
Rifled the bowels of their mother Earth 
For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew 
Opened into the hill a spacious wound, 
And digged out ribs of gold. Let none admire         690
That riches grow in Hell: that soil may best 
Deserve the pretious bane. And here let those 
Who boast in mortal things, and wondering tell 
Of Babel and the works of Memphian kings, 
Learn how their greatest monuments of fame,         695
And strength, and art, are easily outdone 
By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour 
What in an age they, with incessant toil 
And hands innumerable, scarce perform. 
Nigh on the plain, in many cells prepared,         700
That underneath had veins of liquid fire 
Sluiced from the lake, a second multitude 
With wondrous art founded the massy ore, 
Severing each kind, and scummed the bullion-dross. 
A third as soon had formed within the ground         705
A various mould, and from the boiling cells 
By strange conveyance filled each hollow nook; 
As in an organ, from one blast of wind, 
To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes. 
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge         710
Rose like an exhalation, with the sound 
Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet— 
Built like a temple, where pilasters round 
Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid 
With golden architrave; nor did there want         715
Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures graven: 
The roof was fretted gold. Not Babilon 
Nor great Alcairo such magnificence 
Equalled in all their glories, to inshrine 
Belus or Serapis their gods, or seat         720
Their kings, when Ægypt with Assyria strove 
In wealth and luxury. The ascending pile 
Stood fixed her stately highth; and straight the doors 
Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide 
Within, her ample spaces o’er the smooth         725
And level pavement: from the arched roof, 
Pendent by subtle magic, many a row 
Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light 
As from a sky. The hasty multitude         730
Admiring entered; and the work some praise, 
And some the Architect. His hand was known 
In Heaven by many a towered structure high, 
Where sceptred Angels held their residence, 
And sat as Princes, whom the supreme King         735
Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, 
Each in his hierarchy, the Orders bright. 
Nor was his name unheard or unadored 
In ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land 
Men called him Mulciber; and how he fell         740
From Heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove 
Sheer o’er the crystal battlements: from morn 
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 
A summer’s day, and with the setting sun 
Dropt from the zenith, like a falling star,         745
On Lemnos, the Ægæan isle. Thus they relate, 
Erring; for he with this rebellious rout 
Fell long before; nor aught availed him now 
To have built in Heaven high towers; nor did he scape 
By all his engines, but was headlong sent,         750
With his industrious crew, to build in Hell. 
  Meanwhile the wingèd Haralds, by command 
Of sovran power, with awful ceremony 
And trumpet’s sound, throughout the host proclaim 
A solemn council forthwith to be held         755
At Pandæmonium, the high capital 
Of Satan and his peers. Their summons called 
From every band and squarèd regiment 
By place or choice the worthiest: they anon 
With hundreds and with thousands trooping came         760
Attended. All access was thronged; the gates 
And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall 
(Though like a covered field, where champions bold 
Wont ride in armed, and at the Soldan’s chair 
Defied the best of Panim chivalry         765
To mortal combat, or career with lance), 
Thick swarmed, both on the ground and in the air, 
Brushed with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees 
In spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus rides, 
Pour forth their populous youth about the hive         770
In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers 
Fly to and fro, or on the smoothèd plank, 
The suburb of their straw-built citadel, 
New rubbed with balm, expatiate, and confer 
Their state-affairs: so thick the aerie crowd         775
Swarmed and were straitened; till, the signal given, 
Behold a wonder! They but now who seemed 
In bigness to surpass Earth’s giant sons, 
Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room 
Throng numberless—like that pygmean race         780
Beyond the Indian mount; or faery elves, 
Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side 
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, 
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the Moon 
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the Earth         785
Wheels her pale course: they, on their mirth and dance 
Intent, with jocond music charm his ear; 
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. 
Thus incorporeal Spirits to smallest forms 
Reduced their shapes immense, and were at large,         790
Though without number still, amidst the hall 
Of that infernal court. But far within, 
And in their own dimensions like themselves, 
The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim 
In close recess and secret conclave sat,         795
A thousand demi-gods on golden seats, 
Frequent and full. After short silence then, 
And summons read, the great consult began. 
 

 
Paradise Lost: The Second Book
 
 
  THE ARGUMENT.—The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle is to be hazarded for the recovery of Heaven: some advise it, others dissuade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan—to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in Heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much inferior, to themselves, about this time to be created. Their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search: Satan, their chief, undertakes alone the voyage; is honoured and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways and to several imployments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to Hell-gates; finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them; by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between Hell and Heaven. With what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight of this new World which he sought.
 
 
HIGH on a throne of royal state, which far 
Outshon the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand 
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, 
Satan exalted sat, by merit raised         5
To that bad eminence; and, from despair 
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires 
Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue 
Vain war with Heaven; and, by success untaught, 
His proud imaginations thus displayed:—         10
  “Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven!— 
For, since no deep within her gulf can hold 
Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen, 
I give not Heaven for lost: from this descent 
Celestial Virtues rising will appear         15
More glorious and more dread than from no fall, 
And trust themselves to fear no second fate!— 
Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven, 
Did first create your leader—next, free choice, 
With what besides in council or in fight         20
Hath been achieved of merit—yet this loss, 
Thus far at least recovered, hath much more 
Established in a safe, unenvied throne, 
Yielded with full consent. The happier state 
In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw         25
Envy from each inferior; but who here 
Will envy whom the highest place exposes 
Foremost to stand against the Thunderer’s aim 
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share 
Of endless pain? Where there is, then, no good         30
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there 
From faction: for none sure will claim in Hell 
Precedence; none whose portion is so small 
Of present pain that with ambitious mind 
Will covet more! With this advantage, then,         35
To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, 
More than can be in Heaven, we now return 
To claim our just inheritance of old, 
Surer to prosper than prosperity 
Could have assured us; and by what best way,         40
Whether of open war or covert guile, 
We now debate. Who can advise may speak.” 
  He ceased; and next him Moloch, sceptred king, 
Stood up—the strongest and the fiercest Spirit 
That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair.         45
His trust was with the Eternal to be deemed 
Equal in strength, and rather than be less 
Cared not to be at all; with that care lost 
Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse, 
He recked not, and these words thereafter spake:—         50
  “My sentence is for open war. Of wiles, 
More unexpert, I boast not: them let those 
Contrive who need, or when they need; not now. 
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest— 
Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait         55
The signal to ascend—sit lingering here, 
Heaven’s fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, 
The prison of His tyranny who reigns 
By our delay? No! let us rather choose,         60
Armed with Hell-flames and fury, all at once 
O’er Heaven’s high towers to force resistless way, 
Turning our tortures into horrid arms 
Against the torturer; when, to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine, he shall hear         65
Infernal thunder, and, for lightning, see 
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
Among his Angels and his throne itself 
Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 
His own invented torments. But perhaps         70
The way seems difficult, and steep to scale 
With upright wing against a higher foe! 
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 
That in our proper motion we ascend         75
Up to our native seat; descent and fall 
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear 
Insulting, and pursued us through the Deep, 
With what compulsion and laborious flight         80
We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy, then; 
The event is feared! Should we again provoke 
Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 
To our destruction, if there be in Hell 
Fear to be worse destroyed! What can be worse         85
Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned 
In this abhorred deep to utter woe; 
Where pain of unextinguishable fire 
Must exercise us without hope of end 
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge         90
Inexorably, and the torturing hour, 
Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus, 
We should be quite abolished, and expire. 
What fear we then? what doubt we to incense 
His utmost ire? which, to the highth enraged,         95
Will either quite consume us, and reduce 
To nothing this essential—happier far 
Than miserable to have eternal being!— 
Or, if our substance be indeed Divine, 
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst         100
On this side nothing; and by proof we feel 
Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven, 
And with perpetual inroads to alarm, 
Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne: 
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.”         105
  He ended frowning, and his look denounced 
Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous 
To less than gods. On the other side up rose 
Belial, in act more graceful and humane. 
A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seemed         110
For dignity composed, and high exploit. 
But all was false and hollow, though his tongue 
Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear 
The better reason, to perplex and dash 
Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low—         115
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds 
Timorous and slothful. Yet he pleased the ear, 
And with persuasive accent thus began:— 
  “I should be much for open war, O Peers, 
As not behind in hate, if what was urged         120
Main reason to persuade immediate war 
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast 
Ominous conjecture on the whole success; 
When he who most excels in fact of arms, 
In what he counsels and in what excels         125
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair 
And utter dissolution, as the scope 
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 
First, what revenge? The towers of Heaven are filled 
With armèd watch, that render all access         130
Impregnable: oft on the bordering Deep 
Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing 
Scout far and wide into the realm of Night, 
Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way 
By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise         135
With blackest insurrection to confound 
Heaven’s purest light, yet our great Enemy, 
All incorruptible, would on his throne 
Sit unpolluted, and the ethereal mould, 
Incapable of stain, would soon expel         140
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, 
Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope 
Is flat despair: we must exasperate 
The Almighty Victor to spend all his rage: 
And that must end us; that must be our cure—         145
To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lose, 
Though full of pain, this intellectual being, 
Those thoughts that wander through eternity, 
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost 
In the wide womb of uncreated Night,         150
Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows, 
Let this be good, whether our angry Foe 
Can give it, or will ever? How he can 
Is doubtful; that he never will is sure. 
Will He, so wise, let loose at once his ire,         155
Belike through impotence or unaware, 
To give his enemies their wish, and end 
Them in his anger whom his anger saves 
To punish endless? ‘Wherefore cease we, then?’ 
Say they who counsel war; ‘we are decreed,         160
Reserved, and destined to eternal woe; 
Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 
What can we suffer worse?’ Is this, then, worst— 
Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? 
What when we fled amain, pursued and strook         165
With Heaven’s afflicting thunder, and besought 
The Deep to shelter us? This Hell then seemed 
A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay 
Chained on the burning lake? That sure was worse. 
What if the breath that kindled those grim fires,         170
Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage, 
And plunge us in the flames; or from above 
Should intermitted vengeance arm again 
His red right hand to plague us? What if all 
Her stores were opened, and this firmament         175
Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, 
Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall 
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps, 
Designing or exhorting glorious war, 
Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled.         180
Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey 
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk 
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains, 
There to converse with everlasting groans, 
Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,         185
Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse. 
War, therefore, open or concealed, alike 
My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile 
With Him, or who deceive His mind, whose eye 
Views all things at one view? He from Heaven’s highth         190
All these our motions vain sees and derides, 
Not more almighty to resist our might 
Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. 
Shall we, then, live thus vile—the race of Heaven 
Thus trampled, thus expelled, to suffer here         195
Chains and these torments? Better these than worse 
By my advice; since fate inevitable 
Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, 
The Victor’s will. To suffer, as to do, 
Our strength is equal; nor the law unjust         200
That so ordains. This was at first resolved, 
If we were wise, against so great a foe 
Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. 
I laugh when those who at the spear are bold 
And ventrous, if that fail them, shrink, and fear         205
What yet they know must follow—to endure 
Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, 
The sentence of their conqueror. This is now 
Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, 
Our Supreme Foe in time may such remit         210
His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed, 
Not mind us not offending, satisfied 
With what is punished; whence these raging fires 
Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. 
Our purer essence then will overcome         215
Their noxious vapour; or, inured, not feel; 
Or, changed at length, and to the place conformed 
In temper and in nature, will receive 
Familiar the fierce heat; and void of pain, 
This horror will grow mild, this darkness light;         220
Besides what hope the never-ending flight 
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change 
Worth waiting—since our present lot appears 
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, 
If we procure not to ourselves more woe.”         225
  Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason’s garb, 
Counselled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth, 
Not peace; and after him thus Mammon spake:— 
  “Either to disinthrone the King of Heaven 
We war, if war be best, or to regain         230
Our own right lost. Him to unthrone we then 
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield 
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife. 
The former, vain to hope, argues as vain 
The latter; for what place can be for us         235
Within Heaven’s bound, unless Heaven’s Lord Supreme 
We overpower? Suppose he should relent, 
And publish grace to all, on promise made 
Of new subjection; with what eyes could we 
Stand in his presence humble, and receive         240
Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne 
With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing 
Forced Halleluiahs, while he lordly sits 
Our envied sovran, and his altar breathes 
Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers,         245
Our servile offerings? This must be our task 
In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome 
Eternity so spent in worship paid 
To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue, 
By force impossible, by leave obtained         250
Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state 
Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek 
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own 
Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, 
Free and none accountable, preferring         255
Hard liberty before the easy yoke 
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear 
Then most conspicuous when great things of small, 
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse, 
We can create, and in what place soe’er         260
Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain 
Through labour and indurance. This deep world 
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst 
Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven’s all-ruling Sire 
Choose to reside, his glory unobscured,         265
And with the majesty of darkness round 
Covers his throne, from whence deep thunders roar, 
Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell! 
As He our darkness, cannot we His light 
Imitate when we please? This desart soil         270
Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold; 
Nor want we skill or art from whence to raise 
Magnificence; and what can Heaven shew more? 
Our torments also may, in length of time, 
Become our elements, these piercing fires         275
As soft as now severe, our temper changed 
Into their temper; which must needs remove 
The sensible of pain. All things invite 
To peaceful counsels, and the settled state 
Of order, how in safety best we may         280
Compose our present evils, with regard 
Of what we are and where, dismissing quite 
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.” 
  He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled 
The assembly as when hollow rocks retain         285
The sound of blustering winds, which all night long 
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull 
Seafaring men o’erwatched, whose bark by chance, 
Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay 
After the tempest. Such applause was heard         290
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased, 
Advising peace: for such another field 
They dreaded worse than Hell; so much the fear 
Of thunder and the sword of Michaël 
Wrought still within them; and no less desire         295
To found this nether empire, which might rise, 
By policy and long process’ of time, 
In emulation opposite to Heaven. 
Which when Beëlzebub perceived—than whom, 
Satan except, none higher sat—with grave         300
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed 
A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven 
Deliberation sat, and public care; 
And princely counsel in his face yet shon, 
Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood,         305
With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear 
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look 
Drew audience and attention still as night 
Or summer’s noontide air, while thus he spake:— 
  “Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven,         310
Ethereal Virtues! or these titles now 
Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called 
Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote 
Inclines—here to continue, and build up here 
A growing empire; doubtless! while we dream;         315
And know not that the king of Heaven hath doomed 
This place our dungeon—not our safe retreat 
Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt 
From Heaven’s high jurisdiction, in new league 
Banded against his throne, but to remain         320
In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, 
Under the inevitable curb, reserved 
His captive multitude. For He, be sure, 
In highth of depth, still first and last will reign 
Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part         325
By our revolt, but over Hell extend 
His empire, and with iron sceptre rule 
Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven, 
What sit we then projecting peace and war? 
War hath determined us and foiled with loss         330
Irreparable; terms of peace yet none 
Voutsafed or sought; for what peace will be given 
To us enslaved, but custody severe, 
And stripes and arbitrary punishment 
Inflicted? and what peace can we return,         335
But, to out power, hostility and hate, 
Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow, 
Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least 
May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice 
In doing what we most in suffering feel?         340
Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need 
With dangerous expedition to invade 
Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, 
Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find 
Some easier enterprise? There is a place         345
(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven 
Err not)—another World, the happy seat 
Of some new rave, called Man, about this time 
To be created like to us, though less 
In power and excellence, but favoured more         350
Of Him who rules above; so was His will 
Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath 
That shook Heaven’s whole circumference confirmed. 
Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn 
What creatures there inhabit, of what mould         355
Or substance, how endued, and what their power 
And where their weakness; how attempted best, 
By force or subtlety. Though Heaven be shut, 
And Heaven’s high Arbitrator sit secure 
In his own strength, this place may lie exposed,         360
The utmost border of his kingdom, left 
To their defence who hold it: here, perhaps, 
Some advantageous act may be achieved 
By sudden onset—either with Hell-fire 
To waste his whole creation, or possess         365
All as our own, and drive, as we are driven, 
The puny habitants; or, if not drive, 
Seduce them to our party, that their God 
May prove their foe, and with repenting hand 
Abolish his own works. This would surpass         370
Common revenge, and interrupt His joy 
In our confusion, and our joy upraise 
In His disturbance; when his darling sons, 
Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse 
Their frail original, and faded bliss—         375
Faded so soon! Advise if this be worth 
Attempting, or to sit in darkness here 
Hatching vain empires.” Thus Beëlzebub, 
Pleaded his devilish counsel—first devised 
By Satan, and in part proposed: for whence,         380
But from the author of all ill, could spring 
So deep a malice, to confound the race 
Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell 
To mingle and involve, done all to spite 
The great Creator? But their spite still serves         385
His glory to augment. The bold design 
Pleased highly those Infernal States, and joy 
Sparkled in all their eyes: with full assent 
They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews:— 
“Well have ye judged, well ended long debate,         390
Synod of Gods and, like to what ye are, 
Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep 
Will once more lift us up, in spite of Fate, 
Nearer our ancient Seat—perhaps in view 
Of those bright confines, whence, with neighbouring arms,         395
And opportune excursion, we may chance 
Re-enter Heaven; or else in some mild zone 
Dwell, not unvisited of Heaven’s fair light, 
Secure, and at the brightening orient beam 
Purge off this gloom: the soft delicious air,         400
To heal the scar of these corrosive fires, 
Shall breathe her balm. But, first, whom shall we send 
In search of this new World? whom shall we find 
Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet 
The dark, unbottomed, infinite Abyss,         405
And through the palpable obscure find out 
His uncouth way, or spread his aerie flight, 
Upborne with indefatigable wings 
Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive 
The happy Isle? What strength, what art, can then         410
Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 
Through the strict senteries and stations thick 
Of Angels watching round? Here he had need 
All circumspection: and we now no less 
Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send         415
The weight of all, and our last hope, relies.” 
  This said, he sat; and expectation held 
His look suspense, awaiting who appeared 
To second, or oppose, or undertake 
The perilous attempt. But all sat mute,         420
Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each 
In other’s countenance read his own dismay, 
Astonished. None among the choice and prime 
Of those Heaven-warring champions could be found 
So hardy as to proffer or accept,         425
Alone, the dreadful voyage; till, at last, 
Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised 
Above his fellows, with monarchal pride 
Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake:— 
  “O Progeny of Heaven! Empyreal Thrones!         430
With reason hath deep silence and demur 
Seized us, though undismayed. Long is the way 
And hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light. 
Our prison strong, this huge convex of fire, 
Outrageous to devour, immures us round         435
Ninefold; and gates of burning adamant, 
Barred over us, prohibit all egress. 
These passed, if any pass, the void profound 
Of unessential Night receives him next, 
Wide-gaping, and with utter loss of being         440
Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf. 
If thence he scape, into whatever world, 
Or unknown region, what remains him less 
Than unknown dangers, and as hard escape? 
But I should ill become this throne, O Peers,         445
And this imperial sovranty, adorned 
With splendour, armed with power, if aught proposed 
And judged of public moment in the shape 
Of difficulty or danger, could deter 
Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume         450
These royalties, and not refuse to reign, 
Refusing to accept as great a share 
Of hazard as of honour, due alike 
To him who reigns, and so much to him due 
Of hazard more as he above the rest         455
High honoured sits? Go, therefore, mighty Powers, 
Terror of Heaven, though fallen; intend at home, 
While here shall be our home, what best may ease 
The present misery, and render Hell 
More tolerable; if there be cure or charm         460
To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain 
Of this ill mansion: intermit no watch 
Against a wakeful Foe, while I abroad 
Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek 
Deliverance for us all. This enterprise         465
None shall partake with me.” Thus saying, rose 
The Monarch, and prevented all reply; 
Prudent lest, from his resolution raised, 
Others among the chief might offer now, 
Certain to be refused, what erst they feared,         470
And, so refused, might in opinion stand 
His rivals, winning cheap the high repute 
Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they 
Dreaded not more the adventure than his voice 
Forbidding; and at once with him they rose.         475
Their rising all at once was as the sound 
Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend 
With awful reverence prone, and as a God 
Extol him equal to the Highest in Heaven. 
Nor failed they to express how much they praised         480
That for the general safety he despised 
His own: for neither do the Spirits damned 
Lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast 
Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, 
Or close ambition varnished o’er with zeal.         485
  Thus they their doubtful consultations dark 
Ended, rejoicing in their matchless Chief: 
As, when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds 
Ascending, while the North-wind sleeps, o’erspread 
Heaven’s cheerful face, the louring element         490
Scowls o’er the darkened lantskip snow or shower, 
If chance the radiant sun, with farewell sweet, 
Extend his evening beam, the fields revive, 
The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds 
Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.         495
O shame to men! Devil with devil damned 
Firm concord holds; men only disagree 
Of creatures rational, though under hope 
Of heavenly grace, and, God proclaiming peace, 
Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife         500
Among themselves, and levy cruel wars 
Wasting the earth, each other to destroy: 
As if (which might induce us to accord) 
Man had not hellish foes enow besides, 
That day and night for his destruction wait!         505
  The Stygian council thus dissolved; and forth 
In order came the grand Infernal Peers: 
Midst came their mighty Paramount, and seemed 
Alone the Antagonist of Heaven, nor less 
Than Hell’s dread Emperor, with pomp supreme,         510
And god-like imitated state: him round 
A globe of fiery Seraphim inclosed 
With bright imblazonry, and horrent arms. 
Then of their session ended they bid cry 
With trumpet’s regal sound the great result:         515
Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim 
Put to their mouths the sounding alchemy, 
By harald’s voice explained; the hollow Abyss 
Heard far and wide, and all the host of Hell 
With deafening shout returned them loud acclaim.         520
Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat raised 
By false presumptuous hope, the rangèd Powers 
Disband; and, wandering, each his several way 
Pursues, as inclination or sad choice, 
Leads him perplexed, where he may likeliest find         525
Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain 
The irksome hours, till his great Chief return. 
Part on the plain, or in the air sublime, 
Upon the wing or in swift race contend, 
As at the Olympian games or Pythian fields;         530
Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal 
With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form: 
As when, to warn proud cities, war appears 
Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush 
To battle in the clouds; before each van         535
Prick forth the aerie knights, and couch their spears, 
Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms 
From either end of heaven the welkin burns. 
Others, with vast Typhœan rage, more fell, 
Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air         540
In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar:— 
As when Alcides, from Oechalia crowned 
With conquest, felt the envenomed robe, and tore 
Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, 
And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw         545
Into the Euboic sea. Others, more mild, 
Retreated in a silent valley, sing 
With notes angelical to many a harp 
Their own heroic deeds, and hapless fall 
By doom of battle, and complain that Fate         550
Free Virtue should enthrall to Force or Chance. 
Their song was partial; but the harmony 
(What could it less when Spirits immortal sing?) 
Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment 
The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet         555
(For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense) 
Others apart sat on a hill retired, 
In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high 
Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate— 
Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute—         560
And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. 
Of good and evil much they argued then, 
Of happiness and final misery, 
Passion and apathy, and glory and shame: 
Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy!—         565
Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charm 
Pain for a while or anguish, and excite 
Fallacious hope, or arm the obdured breast 
With stubborn patience as with triple steel. 
Another part, in squadrons and gross bands,         570
On bold adventure to discover wide 
That dismal world, if any clime perhaps 
Might yield them easier habitation, bend 
Four ways their flying march, along the banks 
Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge         575
Into the burning lake their baleful streams— 
Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate; 
Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep; 
Cocytus, named of lamentation loud 
Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegeton,         580
Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage. 
Far off from these, a slow and silent stream, 
Lethe, the river of oblivion, rowls 
Her watery labyrinth, whereof who drinks 
Forthwith his former state and being forgets—         585
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain. 
Beyond this flood a frozen continent 
Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms 
Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land 
Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems         590
Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice, 
A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog 
Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old, 
Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air 
Burns frore, and cold performs the effect of fire.         595
Thither, by harpy-footed Furies haled, 
At certain revolutions all the damned 
Are brought; and feel by turns the bitter change 
Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, 
From beds of raging fire to starve in ice         600
Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine 
Immovable, infixed, and frozen round 
Periods of time,—thence hurried back to fire. 
They ferry over this Lethean sound 
Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment,         605
And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reach 
The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose 
In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe, 
All in one moment, and so near the brink; 
But Fate withstands, and, to oppose the attempt,         610
Medusa with Gorgonian terror guards 
The ford, and of itself the water flies 
All taste of living wight, as once it fled 
The lip of Tantalus. Thus roving on 
In confused march forlorn, the adventrous bands,         615
With shuddering horror pale, and eyes aghast, 
Viewed first their lamentable lot, and found 
No rest. Through many a dark and dreary vale 
They passed, and many a region dolorous, 
O’er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp,         620
Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death— 
A universe of death, which God by curse 
Created evil, for evil only good; 
Where all life dies, death lives, and Nature breeds, 
Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,         625
Abominable, inutterable, and worse 
Than fables yet have feigned or fear conceived, 
Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimæras dire. 
  Meanwhile the Adversary of God and Man, 
Satan, with thoughts inflamed of highest design,         630
Puts on swift wings, and toward the gates of Hell 
Explores his solitary flight: sometimes 
He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left; 
Now shaves with level wing the Deep, then soars 
Up to the fiery concave towering high.         635
As when far off at sea a fleet descried 
Hangs in the clouds, by æquinoctial winds 
Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles 
Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring 
Their spicy drugs; they on the trading flood,         640
Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape, 
Ply stemming nightly toward the pole: so seemed 
Far off the flying Fiend. At last appear 
Hell-hounds, high reaching to the horrid roof, 
And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were brass,         645
Three iron, three of adamantine rock, 
Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire, 
Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat 
On either side a formidable Shape. 
The one seemed a woman to the waist, and fair,         650
But ended foul in many a scaly fold, 
Voluminous and vast—a serpent armed 
With mortal sting. About her middle round 
A cry of Hell-hounds never-ceasing barked 
With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung         655
A hideous peal; yet, when they list, would creep, 
If aught disturbed their noise, into her womb, 
And kennel there; yet there still barked and howled 
With in unseen. Far less abhorred than these 
Vexed Scylla, bathing in the sea that parts         660
Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore; 
Nor uglier follow the night-hag, when, called 
In secret, riding through the air she comes, 
Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance 
With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon         665
Eclipses at their charms. The other Shape— 
If shape it might be called that shape had none 
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb; 
Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, 
For each seemed either—black it stood as Night,         670
Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, 
And shook a dreadful dart: what seemed his head 
The likeness of a kingly crown had on. 
Satan was now at hand, and from his seat 
The monster moving onward came as fast         675
With horrid strides; Hell trembled as he strode. 
The undaunted Fiend what this might be admired— 
Admired, not feared (God and his Son except, 
Created thing naught valued he nor shunned), 
And with disdainful look thus first began:—         680
  “Whence and what art thou, execrable Shape, 
That dar’st though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass, 
That be assured, without leave asked of thee.         685
Retire; or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, 
Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heaven.” 
  To whom the Goblin, full of wrauth, replied:— 
“Art thou that Traitor-Angel, art thou he, 
Who first broke peace in Heaven and faith, till then         690
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of Heaven’s sons, 
Conjured against the Highest—for which both thou 
And they, outcast from God, are here condemned 
To waste eternal days in woe and pain?         695
And reckon’st thou thyself with Spirits of Heaven, 
Hell-doomed, and breath’st defiance here and scorn, 
Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, 
Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment, 
False fugitive; and to thy speed add wings,         700
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart 
Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before.” 
  So spake the griesly Terror, and in shape, 
So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold         705
More dreadful and deform. On the other side, 
Incensed with indignation, Satan stood 
Unterrified, and like a comet burned, 
That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge 
In the artick sky, and from his horrid hair         710
Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head 
Levelled his deadly aim; their fatal hands 
No second stroke intend; and such a frown 
Each cast at the other as when two black clouds, 
With Heaven’s artillery fraught, come rattling on         715
Over the Caspian,—then stand front to front 
Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow 
To join their dark encounter in mid-air. 
So frowned the mighty combatants that Hell 
Grew darker at their frown; so matched they stood;         720
For never but once more was either like 
To meet so great a foe. And now great deeds 
Had been achieved, whereof all Hell had rung, 
Had not the snaky Sorceress, that sat 
Fast by Hell-gate and kept the fatal key,         725
Risen, and with hideous outcry rushed between. 
  “O father, what intends thy hand,” she cried, 
“Against thy only son? What fury, O son, 
Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart 
Against thy father’s head? And know’st for whom?         730
For Him who sits above, and laughs the while 
At thee, ordained his drudge to execute 
Whate’er his wrauth, which He calls justice, bids— 
His wrauth, which one day will destroy ye both!” 
  She spake, and at her words the hellish Pest         735
Forbore: then these to her Satan returned:— 
  “So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange 
Thou interposest, that my sudden hand, 
Prevented, spares to tell thee yet by deeds 
What it intends, till first I know of thee         740
What thing thou art, thus double-formed, and why 
In this infernal vale first met, thou call’st 
Me father, and that fantasm call’st my son. 
I know thee not, nor ever saw till now 
Sight more detestable than him and thee.”         745
  To whom thus the Portress of Hell-gate replied:— 
“Hast thou forgot me, then; and do I seem 
Now in thine eyes so foul?—once deemed so fair 
In Heaven, when at the assembly, and in sight 
Of all the Seraphim with thee combined         750
In bold conspiracy against Heaven’s King, 
All on a sudden miserable pain 
Surprised thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum 
In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast 
Threw forth, till on the left side opening wide,         755
Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright, 
Then shining heavenly fair, a goddess armed, 
Out of thy head I sprung. Amazement seized 
All the host of Heaven; back they recoiled afraid 
At first, and called me Sin, and for a sign         760
Portentous held me; but, familiar grown, 
I pleased, and with attractive graces won 
The most averse—thee chiefly, who, full oft 
Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing, 
Becam’st enamoured; and such joy thou took’st         765
With me in secret that my womb conceived 
A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose, 
And fields were fought in Heaven: wherein remained 
(For what could else?) to our Almighty Foe 
Clear victory; to our part loss and rout         770
Through all the Empyrean. Down they fell, 
Driven headlong from the pitch of Heaven, down 
Into this Deep; and in the general fall 
I also: at which time this powerful Key 
Into my hands was given, with charge to keep         775
These gates for ever shut, which none can pass 
Without my opening. Pensive here I sat 
Alone; but long I sat not, till my womb, 
Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown, 
Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes.         780
At last this odious offspring whom thou seest, 
Thine own begotten, breaking violent way, 
Tore through my entrails, that, with fear and pain 
Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew 
Transformed: but he my inbred enemy         785
Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart, 
Made to destroy. I fled, and cried out Death! 
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed 
From all her caves, and back resounded Death! 
I fled; but he pursued (though more, it seems,         790
Inflamed with lust than rage), and, swifter far, 
Me overtook, his mother, all dismayed, 
And, in embraces forcible and foul 
Engendering with me, of that rape begot 
These yelling monsters, that with ceaseless cry         795
Surround me, as thou saw’st—hourly conceived 
And hourly born, with sorrow infinite 
To me: for, when they list, into the womb 
That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw 
My bowels, their repast; then, bursting forth         800
Afresh, with conscious terrors vex me round, 
That rest or intermission none I find. 
Before mine eyes in opposition sits 
Grim Death, my son and foe, who sets them on, 
And me, his parent, would full soon devour         805
For want of other prey, but that he knows 
His end with mine involved, and knows that I 
Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane, 
Whenever that shall be: so Fate pronounced. 
But thou, O Father, I forewarn thee, shun         810
His deadly arrow: neither vainly hope 
To be invulnerable in those bright arms, 
Though tempered heavenly; for that mortal dint, 
Save He who reigns above, none can resist.” 
  She finished; and the subtle Fiend his lore         815
Soon learned, now milder, and thus answered smooth:— 
  “Dear daughter—since thou claim’st me for thy sire, 
And my fair son here show’st me, the dear pledge 
Of dalliance had with thee in Heaven, and joys 
Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change         820
Befallen us unforeseen, unthought-of—know, 
I come no enemy, but to set free 
From out this dark and dismal house of pain 
Both him and thee, and all the Heavenly host 
Of Spirits that, in our just pretences armed,         825
Fell with us from on high. From them I go 
This uncouth errand sole, and one for all 
Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread 
The unfounded Deep, and through the void immense 
To search, with wandering quest, a place foretold         830
Should be—and, by concurring signs, ere now 
Created vast and round—a place of bliss 
In the pourlieues of Heaven; and therein placed 
A race of upstart creatures, to supply 
Perhaps our vacant room, though more removed,         835
Lest Heaven, surcharged with potent multitude, 
Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or aught 
Than this more secret, now designed, I haste 
To know; and this once known, shall soon return 
And bring ye to the place where thou and Death         840
Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen 
Wing silently the buxom air, imbalmed 
With odours. There ye shall be fed and filled 
Immeasurably; all things shall be your prey.” 
  He ceased; for both seemed highly pleased, and Death         845
Grinned horrible a ghastly smile, to hear 
His famine should be filled, and blessed his maw 
Destined to that good hour. No less rejoiced 
His mother bad, and thus bespake her Sire:— 
  “The key of this infernal Pit, by due         850
And by command of Heaven’s all-powerful King, 
I keep, by Him forbidden to unlock 
These adamantine gates; against all force 
Death ready stands to interpose his dart, 
Fearless to be o’ermatched by living might.         855
But what I owe I to His commands above, 
Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down 
Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, 
To sit in hateful office here confined, 
Inhabitant of Heaven and heavenly-born—         860
Here in perpetual agony and pain, 
With terrors and with clamours compassed round 
Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed? 
Thou art my father, thou my author, thou 
My being gav’st me; whom should I obey         865
But thee? whom follow? Thou wilt bring me soon 
To that new world of light and bliss, among 
The gods who live at ease, where I shall reign 
At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems 
Thy daughter and thy darling, without end.”         870
  Thus saying, from her side the fatal key, 
Sad instrument of all our woe, she took; 
And, toward the gate rowling her bestial train, 
Forthwith the huge portcullis high up-drew, 
Which, but herself, not all the Stygian Powers         875
Could once have moved; then in the keyhole turns 
The intricate wards, and every bolt and bar 
Of massy iron or solid rock with ease 
Unfastens. On a sudden open fly, 
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound,         880
The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 
Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook 
Of Erebus. She opened; but to shut 
Excelled her power: the gates wide open stood, 
That with extended wings a bannered host,         885
Under spread ensigns marching, might pass through 
With horse and chariots ranked in loose array; 
So wide they stood, and like a furnace-mouth 
Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. 
Before their eyes in sudden view appear         890
The secrets of the hoary Deep—a dark 
Illimitable ocean, without bound, 
Without dimension: where length, breadth, and highth, 
And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night 
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold         895
Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise 
Of endless wars, and by confusion stand. 
For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce, 
Strive here for maistrie, and to battle bring 
Their embryon atoms: they around the flag         900
Of each his faction, in their several clans, 
Light-armed or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow, 
Swarm populous, unnumbered as the sands 
Of Barca or Cyrene’s torrid soil, 
Levied to side with warring winds, and poise         905
Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere 
He rules a moment: Chaos umpire sits, 
And by decision more imbroils the fray 
By which he reigns: next him, high arbiter, 
Chance governs all. Into this wild Abyss,         910
The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave, 
Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire, 
But all these in their pregnant causes mixed 
Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, 
Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain         915
His dark materials to create more worlds— 
Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend 
Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while, 
Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith 
He had to cross. Nor was his ear less pealed         920
With noises loud and ruinous (to compare 
Great things with small) than when Bellona storms 
With all her battering engines, bent to rase 
Some capital city; or less than if this frame 
Of heaven were falling, and these elements         925
In mutiny had from her axle torn 
The steadfast Earth. At last his sail-broad vans 
He spreads for flight, and, in the surging smoke 
Uplifted, spurns the ground; thence many a league, 
As in a cloudy chair, ascending rides         930
Audacious; but, that seat soon failing, meets 
A vast vacuity. All unawares, 
Fluttering his pennons vain, plumb-down he drops 
Ten thousand fadom deep, and to this hour 
Down had been falling, had not, by ill chance,         935
The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud, 
Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him 
As many miles aloft. That fury stayed— 
Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea, 
Nor good dry land-nigh foundered, on he fares,         940
Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, 
Half flying; behoves him now both oar and sail. 
As when a gryfon through the wilderness 
With wingèd course, o’er hill or moory dale, 
Pursues the Arimpasian, who by stealth         945
Had from his wakeful custody purloined 
The guarded gold; so eagerly the Fiend 
O’er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, 
With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, 
And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.         950
At length, a universal hubbub wild 
Of stunning sounds, and voices all confused, 
Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear 
With loudest vehemence. Thither he plies 
Undaunted, to meet there whatever Power         955
Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss 
Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask 
Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies 
Bordering on light; when straight behold the throne 
Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread         960
Wide on the wasteful Deep! With him enthroned 
Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things, 
The consort of his reign; and by them stood 
Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name 
Of Demogorgon; Rumour next, and Chance,         965
And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroiled, 
And Discord with a thousand various mouths. 
  To whom Satan, turning boldly, thus:—“Ye Powers 
And Spirits of this nethermost Abyss, 
Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy         970
With purpose to explore or to disturb 
The secrets of your realm; but, by constraint 
Wandering this darksome desert, as my way 
Lies through your spacious empire up to light, 
Alone and without guide, half lost, I seek,         975
What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds 
Confine with Heaven; or, if some other place, 
From your dominion won, the Ethereal King 
Possesses lately, thither to arrive 
I travel this profound. Direct my course;         980
Directed, no mean recompense it brings 
To your behoof, if I that region lost. 
All usurpation thence expelled, reduce 
To her original darkness and your sway 
(Which is my present journey), and once more         985
Erect the standard there of ancient Night. 
Yours be the advantage all, mine the revenge!” 
  Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old, 
With faltering speech and visage incomposed, 
Answered:—“I know thee, stranger, who thou art—         990
That mighty leading Angel, who of late 
Made head against Heaven’s King, though overthrown. 
I saw and heard; for such a numerous host 
Fled not in silence through the frighted Deep, 
With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,         995
Confusion worse confounded; and Heaven-gates 
Poured out by millions her victorious bands, 
Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here 
Keep residence; if all I can will serve 
That little which is left so to defend,         1000
Encroached on still through our intestine broils 
Weakening the sceptre of old Night: first, Hell, 
Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath; 
Now lately Heaven and Earth, another world 
Hung o’er my realm, linked in a golden chain         1005
To that side Heaven from whence your legions fell! 
If that way be your walk, you have not far; 
So much the nearer danger. Go, and speed; 
Havoc, and spoil, and ruin, are my gain.” 
  He ceased; and Satan staid not to reply,         1010
But, glad that now his sea should find a shore, 
With fresh alacrity and force renewed 
Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire, 
Into the wild expanse, and through the shock 
Of fighting elements, on all sides round         1015
Environed, wins his way; harder beset 
And more endangered than when Argo passed 
Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks, 
Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned 
Charybdis, and by the other Whirlpool steered.         1020
So he with difficulty and labour hard 
Moved on. With difficulty and labour he; 
But, he once passed, soon after, when Man fell, 
Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain, 
Following his track (such was the will of Heaven)         1025
Paved after him a broad and beaten way 
Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling gulf 
Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length, 
From Hell continued, reaching the utmost Orb 
Of this frail World; by which the Spirits perverse         1030
With easy intercourse pass to and fro 
To tempt or punish mortals, except whom 
God and good Angels guard by special grace. 
  But now at last the sacred influence 
Of light appears, and from the walls of Heaven         1035
Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night 
A glimmering dawn. Here Nature first begins 
Her fardest verge, and Chaos to retire, 
As from her utmost works, a broken foe, 
With tumult less and with less hostile din;         1040
That Satan with less toil, and now with ease, 
Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light, 
And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds 
Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn; 
Or in the emptier waste, resembling air,         1045
Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold 
Far off the imperial Heaven, extended wide 
In circuit, undetermined square or round, 
With opal towers and battlements adorned 
Of living sapphire, once his native seat,         1050
And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain, 
This pendent World, in bigness as a star 
Of smallest magnitude close by the moon. 
Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge, 
Accurst, and in a cursed hour, he hies.         1055