Or 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,
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
Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook, that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight, intends to soar
Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues
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,
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 height of this great argument
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
Say first, for Heaven hides nothing from thy
Nor the deep tract of Hell; say first, what cause
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favour'd of Heaven so highly, to fall off
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,
Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceived
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 equall'd the Most High,
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
Hurl'd headlong, flaming, from the ethereal sky,
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
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquish'd, rolling 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,
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mix'd with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as angels ken, he views
The dismal situation, waste and wild. ✨ •
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace, flamed; yet from those
No light, but rather darkness visible,
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
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
For those rebellious: here their prison ordain'd
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!
There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'd
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom the Arch-Enemy, [words,
And thence in Heaven call'd Satan, with bold
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began.
"If thou beest he; but oh! how fallen! how changed
From him, who, in the happy realms of light,
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright! if he, who mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise,
Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd
In equal ruin: into what pit, thou seest, [proved
From what height fallen; so much the stronger
He, with his thunder: and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor, in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change,
Though changed in outward lustre, that fix'd mind,
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That, with the Mightiest, raised me to contend,
And, to the fierce contention, brought along
Innumerable force of spirits arm'd,
That durst dislike his reign; and me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle, on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What tho' the field be lost?
All is not lost: the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield,
And what is else, not to be overcome;
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace,
With suppliant knee, and deify his power,
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire; that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall: since by fate, the strength of gods
And this empyreal substance cannot fail,
Since, through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
We may, with more successful hope, resolve
To wage, by force or guile, eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and, in the excess of joy
Sole reigning, holds the tyranny of Heaven."
So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair:
And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer.—
"O Prince! O Chief of many throned Powers!
That led the embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endanger'd Heaven's perpetual King,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate;
Too well I see and rue the dire event,
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host,
In horrible destruction, laid thus low,
As far as gods and heavenly essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory' extinct, and happy state
Here swallow'd up in endless misery.
But what if he, our Conqueror, whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as
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