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Book I
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,
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 th'
Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted
yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit,
that dost prefer
Before all temples th' 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
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
From
their Creator, and transgress his will
For one
restraint, lords of the World besides.
Who first
seduced them to that foul revolt?
Th' infernal
Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred 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 equalled 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
Hurled headlong flaming from th'
ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In
adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th'
Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that
measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his
horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, 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 witnessed
huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed 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 flames
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 has prepared
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 th' utmost pole.
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
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
Beelzebub. To whom th'
Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called Satan, with
bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus
began:--
"If thou beest he--but O how fallen! how
changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright!--if he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And
hazard in the glorious enterprise
Joined with me
once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin; into
what pit thou seest
From what height 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
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
contentions brought along
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?
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 sybstance, 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 th' excess of
joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven."
So spake th' apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;
And
him thus answered soon his bold compeer:--
"O
Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led th'
embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in
dreadful deeds
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,
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 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)
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire,
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we
may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier
service as his thralls
By right of war, whate'er his
business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in
fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?
What
can it the avail though yet we feel
Strength
undiminished, or eternal being
To undergo eternal
punishment?"
Whereto with speedy words th'
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,
As being the
contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then
his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth
good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which
ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him,
if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from
their destined aim.
But see! the angry Victor hath
recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid
The
fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven
received us falling; and the thunder,
Winged 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,
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,
If not, what resolution from
despair."
Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes
That
sparkling blazed; his other parts besides
Prone on
the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating
many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name
of monstrous size,
Titanian or Earth-born, that
warred 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 slumbering on the
Norway foam,
The pilot of some small night-foundered
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 stretched out huge in length
the Arch-fiend lay,
Chained on the burning lake; nor
ever thence
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
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.
Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His
mighty stature; on each hand the flames
Driven
backward slope their pointing spires, and,rolled
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 burned
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire,
And
such appeared in hue as when the force
Of
subterranean wind transprots a hill
Torn from
Pelorus, or the shattered side
Of thundering Etna,
whose combustible
And fuelled entrails, thence
conceiving fire,
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the
winds,
And leave a singed bottom all involved
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;
Both
glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood
As gods,
and by their own recovered strength,
Not by the
sufferance of supernal Power.
"Is this the region,
this the soil, the clime,"
Said then the lost
Archangel, "this the seat
That we must change for
Heaven?--this mournful gloom
For that celestial
light? Be it so, since he
Who now is sovereign can
dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from
him is best
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath
made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy
fields,
Where joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors!
hail,
Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor--one who brings
A mind
not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its
own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell,
a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still
the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We
shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built
Here for
his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reigh
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 co-partners of
our loss,
Lie thus astonished 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
Regained in Heaven, or what
more lost in Hell?"
So Satan spake; and him
Beelzebub
Thus answered:--"Leader of those armies
bright
Which, but th' Omnipotent, none could have
foiled!
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
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,
As we erewhile, astounded and
amazed;
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!"
He scare had ceased when the superior Fiend
Was
moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,
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
Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
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
Over the burning marl, 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
inflamed sea he stood, and called
His legions--Angel
Forms, who lay entranced
Thick as autumnal leaves
that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th'
Etrurian shades
High over-arched embower; or
scattered sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion
armed
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
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,
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
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 rolling in the flood
With scattered arms and
ensigns, till anon
His swift pursuers from
Heaven-gates discern
Th' advantage, and, descending,
tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked
thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!"
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
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
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,
'Twixt
upper, nether, and surrounding fires;
Till, as a
signal given, th' uplifted spear
Of their great
Sultan waving to direct
Their course, in even
balance down they light
On the firm brimstone, and
fill all the plain:
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.
Forthwith, form 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,
Though on 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, wandering o'er the earth,
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 th' invisible
Glory of him that made them to transform
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.
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?
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
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,
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
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
Of Solomon he led by
fraoud 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.
Next Chemos,
th' obscene dread of Moab's sons,
From Aroar to Nebo
and the wild
Of southmost Abarim; in Hesebon
And
Horonaim, Seon's real, beyond
The flowery dale of
Sibma clad with vines,
And Eleale to th' Asphaltic
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
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
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,
Not
tried 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 airy
purposes,
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
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 crescent horns;
To
whose bright image nigntly by the moon
Sidonian
virgins paid their vows and songs;
In Sion also not
unsung, where stood
Her temple on th' offensive
mountain, built
By that uxorious king whose heart,
though large,
Beguiled by fair idolatresses, fell
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
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 proch
Ezekiel saw, when, by
the vision led,
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,
Where he fell flat and shamed
his worshippers:
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,
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:
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
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
Their
wandering gods disguised in brutish forms
Rather
than human. Nor did Israel scape
Th' infection, when
their borrowed gold composed
The calf in Oreb; and
the rebel king
Doubled that sin in Bethel and in
Dan,
Likening his Maker to the grazed 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
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
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
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.
These were the prime in order
and in might:
The rest were long to tell; though far
renowned
Th' Ionian gods--of Javan's issue held
Gods, yet confessed later than Heaven and Earth,
Their boasted parents;--Titan, Heaven's first-born,
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 usurping
reigned. These, first in Crete
And Ida known, thence
on the snowy top
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 th' Hesperian fields,
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
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, not substance, gently raised
Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears.
Then straight commands that, at the warlike 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
Th' imperial ensign;
which, full high advanced,
Shone like a meteor
streaming to the wind,
With gems and golden lustre
rich emblazed,
Seraphic arms and trophies; all the
while
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
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,
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
Of flutes and soft
recorders--such as raised
To height 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;
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,
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,
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;
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 embodied force as, named with these,
Could merit more than that small infantry
Warred on
by cranes--though all the giant brood
Of Phlegra
with th' 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,
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
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,
Stood like a tower. His form had
yet not lost
All her original brightness, nor
appeared
Less than Archangel ruined, and th' excess
Of glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen
Looks through the horizontal misty air
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 shone
Above them all th' Archangel: but his face
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
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 eteranl splendours flung
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 singed top their
stately growth, though bare,
Stands on the blasted
heath. He now prepared
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
Words interwove with sighs found out their
way:--
"O myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers
Matchless, but with th' Almighth!--and that strife
Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire,
As
this place testifies, and this dire change,
Hateful
to utter. But what power of mind,
Forseeing 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?
For who can yet believe, though after loss,
That all these puissant legions, whose exile
Hath emptied Heaven, shall fail to re-ascend,
Self-raised, and repossess their native seat?
For
me, be witness all the host of Heaven,
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
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
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
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
Our
first eruption--thither, or elsewhere;
For this
infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial Spirits in
bondage, nor th' Abyss
Long under darkness cover.
But these thoughts
Full counsel must mature. Peace
is despaired;
For who can think submission? War,
then, war
Open or understood, must be resolved."
He spake; and, to confirm his words, outflew
Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs
Of
mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze
Far round
illumined Hell. Highly they raged
Against the
Highest, and fierce with grasped arms
Clashed on
their sounding shields the din of war,
Hurling
defiance toward the vault of Heaven.
There stood a
hill not far, whose grisly top
Belched fire and
rolling smoke; the rest entire
Shone with a glossy
scurf--undoubted sign
That in his womb was hid
metallic ore,
The work of sulphur. Thither, winged
with speed,
A numerous brigade hastened: as when
bands
Of pioneers, 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
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 his suggestion taught,
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
That riches
grow in Hell; that soil may best
Deserve the
precious 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
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,
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
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
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
Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculptures
graven;
The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon
Nor great Alcairo such magnificence
Equalled in all
their glories, to enshrine
Belus or Serapis their
gods, or seat
Their kings, when Egypt with Assyria
strove
In wealth and luxury. Th' ascending pile
Stood fixed her stately height, and straight the doors,
Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide
Within, her ample spaces o'er the smooth
And level
pavement: from the arched roof,
Pendent by subtle
magic, many a row
Of starry lamps and blazing
cressets, fed
With naptha and asphaltus, yielded
light
As from a sky. The hasty multitude
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
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
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,
On Lemnos, th'
Aegaean isle. Thus they relate,
Erring; for he with
this rebellious rout
Fell long before; nor aught
aviled him now
To have built in Heaven high towers;
nor did he scape
By all his engines, but was
headlong sent,
With his industrious crew, to build
in Hell.
Meanwhile the winged Heralds, by command
Of sovereign power, with awful ceremony
And
trumpet's sound, throughout the host proclaim
A
solemn council forthwith to be held
At Pandemonium,
the high capital
Of Satan and his peers. Their
summons called
From every band and squared regiment
By place or choice the worthiest: they anon
With
hundreds and with thousands trooping came
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 Paynim
chivalry
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
In
clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers
Fly to
and fro, or on the smoothed plank,
The suburb of
their straw-built citadel,
New rubbed with balm,
expatiate, and confer
Their state-affairs: so thick
the airy crowd
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
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
Wheels her pale
course: they, on their mirth and dance
Intent, with
jocund 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,
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,
A thousand demi-gods on
golden seats,
Frequent and full. After short silence
then,
And summons read, the great consult began.
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