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 unconsum’d: Such place eternal Justice had prepar'd
For those rebellious, here their pris❜on ordain'd In utter darkness, and their portion set
As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n, As from the center thrice to th' utmost pole. 74 O 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 welt'ring by his side One next himself in pow'r, and next in crime, Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd Beelzebub. To whom the Arch-enemy,
And thence in Heav'n call'd Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence thus began.
If thou beest he; but O how fall'n! how chang'd
From him, who in the happy realms of light
Cloth'd with transcendent brightness didst outshine Myriads though bright! If he whom mutual league, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise,
Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd 90 In equal ru'in: into what pit thou seest
From what highth 'fall'n, so much the stronger prov'd
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 chang'd in outward lustre, that fix'd mind, And high disdain from sense of injur'd merit, That with the Mightiest rais'd 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 pow'r with adverse pow'r oppos'd In dubious battel on the plains of Heav'n, And shook his throne.
All is not lost; th' 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 115 This downfal; 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 advanc'd, We may with more successful hope resolve 120 To wage by force or guile eternal war, Irreconcileable to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heav'n.
So spake th' apostate angel, though in pain, 125 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 th' imbattel'd seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds Fearless, indanger'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 vigor soon returns, Though all our glory' extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless misery. But what if he our Conqu❜ror (whom I now Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'erpow'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 bus'ness 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 aught 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 labor must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil: 165 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 sulph'rous 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, 175 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 195 Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous size, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove, Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim th' ocean stream: Him haply slumb'ring on the Norway foam The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff Deeming some iland, oft, as sea-men tell, With fixed anchor in his skaly 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
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