And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer. O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers, That led th' imbattl'd Seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds Fearless, endanger'd Heav'n's perpetual King, And put to proof his high supremacy, Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate; Too well I see and rue the dire event,
That with sad overthrow and foul defeat Hath lost us Heav'n, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction laid thus low, As far as Gods and heav'nly essences Can perish for the mind and spi'rit remains Invincible, and vigour soon returns, Though all our glory' extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless nisery. But what if he our conqu'ror (whom I now Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'er-pow'r'd such force as ours) Have left us this our spi'rit and strength entire Strongly to suffer and support our pains, That we may so suffice his vengeful ire, Or do him mightier service as his thralls By right of war, whate'er his business be Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire, Or do his errands in the gloomy deep; What can it then avail, though yet we feel Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being To undergo eternal punishment?
Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-Fiend reply'd.
Fall'n Cherub, to be weak is miserable Doing or suffering: but of this be sure, To do ought good never will be our task, But ever to do ill our sole delight, As be'ing the contrary to his high will Whom we resist. If then his providence Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, Our labour must be to pervert that end, And out of good still to find means of evil; Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb His inmost counsels from their destin'd aim. But see the angry victor hath recall'd
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heav'n: the sulphurous hail Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid The fiery surge, that from the precipice
Of Heav'n receiv'd us falling; and the thunder, Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. Let us not slip th' 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, 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 up-lift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts besides Prone on the flood, extended long and large, Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove, Briarcos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim th' ocean stream: Him haply slumb'ring on the Norway foam: The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his scaly rind
Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays:
So stretch'd out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay Chain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thence 210 Had ris'n or heav'd his head, but that the will And high permission of all-ruling Heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs, That with reiterated crimes he might Heap on himself damnation, while he sought Evil to others, and enrag'd might see
How all his malice serv'd but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shown On Man by him seduc'd, but on himself Treble confusion, wrath and vengeance pour'd. 220 Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty stature; on each hand the flames Driv'n backward slope their pointing spires, and roll'd In billows, leave i' th' midst a horrid vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air
That felt unusual weight, till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd With solid, as the lake with liquid fire; And such appear'd in hue, as when the force 230 Of subterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd side Of thund'ring Ætna, whose combustible And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire, Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds, And leave a singed bottom all involv'd
With stench and smoke: such resting found the sole Of unblest feet. Him follow'd his next mate, Both glorying to have 'scap'd the Stygian flood As Gods, and by their own recover'd strength, 240 Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
Is this the region, this the soil, the clime, Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom For that celestial light? Be it so, since he
Who now is Sov'rain can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from him is best, Whom reason hath equal'd, force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farewell happy fields,
Where joy for ever dwells: Hail horrors, hail 250 Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new possessor; one who brings A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n. 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; th' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition though in Hell: Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, Th' associates and copartners of our loss, Lie thus astonish'd on th' oblivious pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy mansion, or once more With rallied arms to try what may be yet Regain'd in Heav'n, or what more lost in Hell! 270 So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub
Thus answer'd. Leader of those armies bright, Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foil'd, If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
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