Paradise Lost : Book I.
High
on
a
throne
of
royal
state,
which
far
Outshone
the
wealth
or
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
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:—
"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
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
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
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
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,
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,
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.
His
trust
was
with
th'
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:—
"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
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
ryranny
who
reigns
By
our
delay?
No!
let
us
rather
choose,
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
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
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
porper
motion
we
ascend
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
We
sunk
thus
low?
Th'
ascent
is
easy,
then;
Th'
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
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
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
height
enraged,
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
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."
He
ended
frowning,
and
his
look
denounced
Desperate
revenge,
and
battle
dangerous
To
less
than
gods.
On
th'
other
side
up
rose
Belial,
in
act
more
graceful
and
humane.
A
fairer
person
lost
not
Heaven;
he
seemed
For
dignity
composed,
and
high
exploit.
But
all
was
false
and
hollow;
though
his
tongue
Dropped
manna,
and
could
make
the
worse
appear
The
better
reason,
to
perplex
and
dash
Maturest
counsels:
for
his
thoughts
were
low—
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
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
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
armed
watch,
that
render
all
access
Impregnable:
oft
on
the
bodering
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
With
blackest
insurrection
to
confound
Heaven's
purest
light,
yet
our
great
Enemy,
All
incorruptible,
would
on
his
throne
Sit
unpolluted,
and
th'
ethereal
mould,
Incapable
of
stain,
would
soon
expel
Her
mischief,
and
purge
off
the
baser
fire,
Victorious.
Thus
repulsed,
our
final
hope
Is
flat
despair:
we
must
exasperate
Th'
Almighty
Victor
to
spend
all
his
rage;
And
that
must
end
us;
that
must
be
our
cure—
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,
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,
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,
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
struck
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,
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
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,
Each
on
his
rock
transfixed,
the
sport
and
prey
Or
racking
whirlwinds,
or
for
ever
sunk
Under
yon
boiling
ocean,
wrapt
in
chains,
There
to
converse
with
everlasting
groans,
Unrespited,
unpitied,
unreprieved,
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
height
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
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
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
venturous,
if
that
fail
them,
shrink,
and
fear
What
yet
they
know
must
follow—to
endure
Exile,
or
igominy,
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
much
remit
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
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;
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."
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
disenthrone
the
King
of
Heaven
We
war,
if
war
be
best,
or
to
regain
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
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
Strict
laws
imposed,
to
celebrate
his
throne
With
warbled
hyms,
and
to
his
Godhead
sing
Forced
hallelujahs,
while
he
lordly
sits
Our
envied
sovereign,
and
his
altar
breathes
Ambrosial
odours
and
ambrosial
flowers,
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
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
to
none
accountable,
preferring
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
Thrive
under
evil,
and
work
ease
out
of
pain
Through
labour
and
endurance.
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,
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
desert
soil
Wants
not
her
hidden
lustre,
gems
and
gold;
Nor
want
we
skill
or
art
from
whence
to
raise
Magnificence;
and
what
can
Heaven
show
more?
Our
torments
also
may,
in
length
of
time,
Become
our
elements,
these
piercing
fires
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
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
Th'
assembly
as
when
hollow
rocks
retain
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
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
Michael
Wrought
still
within
them;
and
no
less
desire
To
found
this
nether
empire,
which
might
rise,
By
policy
and
long
process
of
time,
In
emulation
opposite
to
Heaven.
Which
when
Beelzebub
perceived—than
whom,
Satan
except,
none
higher
sat—with
grave
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
shone,
Majestic,
though
in
ruin.
Sage
he
stood
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,
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,
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
In
strictest
bondage,
though
thus
far
removed,
Under
th'
inevitable
curb,
reserved
His
captive
multitude.
For
he,
to
be
sure,
In
height
or
depth,
still
first
and
last
will
reign
Sole
king,
and
of
his
kingdom
lose
no
part
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
Irreparable;
terms
of
peace
yet
none
Vouchsafed
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,
But,
to
our
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?
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
(If
ancient
and
prophetic
fame
in
Heaven
Err
not)—another
World,
the
happy
seat
Of
some
new
race,
called
Man,
about
this
time
To
be
created
like
to
us,
though
less
In
power
and
excellence,
but
favoured
more
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
Or
substance,
how
endued,
and
what
their
power
And
where
their
weakness:
how
attempted
best,
By
force
of
subtlety.
Though
Heaven
be
shut,
And
Heaven's
high
Arbitrator
sit
secure
In
his
own
strength,
this
place
may
lie
exposed,
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
All
as
our
own,
and
drive,
as
we
were
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
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—
Faded
so
soon!
Advise
if
this
be
worth
Attempting,
or
to
sit
in
darkness
here
Hatching
vain
empires."
Thus
beelzebub
Pleaded
his
devilish
counsel—first
devised
By
Satan,
and
in
part
proposed:
for
whence,
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
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,
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,
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,
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,
And
through
the
palpable
obscure
find
out
His
uncouth
way,
or
spread
his
airy
flight,
Upborne
with
indefatigable
wings
Over
the
vast
abrupt,
ere
he
arrive
The
happy
Isle?
What
strength,
what
art,
can
then
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
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,
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,
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!
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
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
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,
And
this
imperial
sovereignty,
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
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
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
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
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,
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
th'
adventure
than
his
voice
Forbidding;
and
at
once
with
him
they
rose.
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
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.
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
Scowls
o'er
the
darkened
landscape
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.
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
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!
The
Stygian
council
thus
dissolved;
and
forth
In
order
came
the
grand
infernal
Peers:
Midst
came
their
mighty
Paramount,
and
seemed
Alone
th'
antagonist
of
Heaven,
nor
less
Than
Hell's
dread
Emperor,
with
pomp
supreme,
And
god-like
imitated
state:
him
round
A
globe
of
fiery
Seraphim
enclosed
With
bright
emblazonry,
and
horrent
arms.
Then
of
their
session
ended
they
bid
cry
With
trumpet's
regal
sound
the
great
result:
Toward
the
four
winds
four
speedy
Cherubim
Put
to
their
mouths
the
sounding
alchemy,
By
herald's
voice
explained;
the
hollow
Abyss
Heard
far
adn
wide,
and
all
the
host
of
Hell
With
deafening
shout
returned
them
loud
acclaim.
Thence
more
at
ease
their
minds,
and
somewhat
raised
By
false
presumptuous
hope,
the
ranged
Powers
Disband;
and,
wandering,
each
his
several
way
Pursues,
as
inclination
or
sad
choice
Leads
him
perplexed,
where
he
may
likeliest
find
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
th'
Olympian
games
or
Pythian
fields;
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
Prick
forth
the
airy
knights,
and
couch
their
spears,
Till
thickest
legions
close;
with
feats
of
arms
From
either
end
of
heaven
the
welkin
burns.
Others,
with
vast
Typhoean
rage,
more
fell,
Rend
up
both
rocks
and
hills,
and
ride
the
air
In
whirlwind;
Hell
scarce
holds
the
wild
uproar:—
As
when
Alcides,
from
Oechalia
crowned
With
conquest,
felt
th'
envenomed
robe,
and
tore
Through
pain
up
by
the
roots
Thessalian
pines,
And
Lichas
from
the
top
of
Oeta
threw
Into
th'
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
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
(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,
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!—
Yet,
with
a
pleasing
sorcery,
could
charm
Pain
for
a
while
or
anguish,
and
excite
Fallacious
hope,
or
arm
th'
obdured
breast
With
stubborn
patience
as
with
triple
steel.
Another
part,
in
squadrons
and
gross
bands,
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
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,
Whose
waves
of
torrent
fire
inflame
with
rage.
Far
off
from
these,
a
slow
and
silent
stream,
Lethe,
the
river
of
oblivion,
rolls
Her
watery
labyrinth,
whereof
who
drinks
Forthwith
his
former
state
and
being
forgets—
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
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
th'
effect
of
fire.
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
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,
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
th'
attempt,
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,
th'
adventurous
bands,
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,
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,
Obominable,
inutterable,
and
worse
Than
fables
yet
have
feigned
or
fear
conceived,
Gorgons,
and
Hydras,
and
Chimeras
dire.
Meanwhile
the
Adversary
of
God
and
Man,
Satan,
with
thoughts
inflamed
of
highest
design,
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.
As
when
far
off
at
sea
a
fleet
descried
Hangs
in
the
clouds,
by
equinoctial
winds
Close
sailing
from
Bengala,
or
the
isles
Of
Ternate
and
Tidore,
whence
merchants
bring
Their
spicy
drugs;
they
on
the
trading
flood,
Through
the
wide
Ethiopian
to
the
Cape,
Ply
stemming
nightly
toward
the
pole:
so
seemed
Far
off
the
flying
Fiend.
At
last
appear
Hell-bounds,
high
reaching
to
the
horrid
roof,
And
thrice
threefold
the
gates;
three
folds
were
brass,
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
woman
to
the
waist,
and
fair,
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
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
Within
unseen.
Far
less
abhorred
than
these
Vexed
Scylla,
bathing
in
the
sea
that
parts
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
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,
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
With
horrid
strides;
Hell
trembled
as
he
strode.
Th'
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:—
"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.
Retire;
or
taste
thy
folly,
and
learn
by
proof,
Hell-born,
not
to
contend
with
Spirits
of
Heaven."
To
whom
the
Goblin,
full
of
wrath,
replied:—
"Art
thou
that
traitor
Angel?
art
thou
he,
Who
first
broke
peace
in
Heaven
and
faith,
till
then
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?
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,
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
grisly
Terror,
and
in
shape,
So
speaking
and
so
threatening,
grew
tenfold,
More
dreadful
and
deform.
On
th'
other
side,
Incensed
with
indignation,
Satan
stood
Unterrified,
and
like
a
comet
burned,
That
fires
the
length
of
Ophiuchus
huge
In
th'
arctic
sky,
and
from
his
horrid
hair
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
th'
other
as
when
two
black
clouds,
With
heaven's
artillery
fraught,
came
rattling
on
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;
For
never
but
once
more
was
wither
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,
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?
For
him
who
sits
above,
and
laughs
the
while
At
thee,
ordained
his
drudge
to
execute
Whate'er
his
wrath,
which
he
calls
justice,
bids—
His
wrath,
which
one
day
will
destroy
ye
both!"
She
spake,
and
at
her
words
the
hellish
Pest
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
What
thing
thou
art,
thus
double-formed,
and
why,
In
this
infernal
vale
first
met,
thou
call'st
Me
father,
and
that
phantasm
call'st
my
son.
I
know
thee
not,
nor
ever
saw
till
now
Sight
more
detestable
than
him
and
thee."
T'
whom
thus
the
Portress
of
Hell-gate
replied:—
"Hast
thou
forgot
me,
then;
and
do
I
seem
Now
in
thine
eye
so
foul?—once
deemed
so
fair
In
Heaven,
when
at
th'
assembly,
and
in
sight
Of
all
the
Seraphim
with
thee
combined
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,
Likest
to
thee
in
shape
and
countenance
bright,
Then
shining
heavenly
fair,
a
goddess
armed,
Out
of
thy
head
I
sprung.
Amazement
seized
All
th'
host
of
Heaven;
back
they
recoiled
afraid
At
first,
and
called
me
Sin,
and
for
a
sign
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
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
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
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.
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
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,
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
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
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
set
them
on,
And
me,
his
parent,
would
full
soon
devour
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
His
deadly
arrow;
neither
vainly
hope
To
be
invulnerable
in
those
bright
arms,
Through
tempered
heavenly;
for
that
mortal
dint,
Save
he
who
reigns
above,
none
can
resist."
She
finished;
and
the
subtle
Fiend
his
lore
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
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,
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
Th'
unfounded
Deep,
and
through
the
void
immense
To
search,
with
wandering
quest,
a
place
foretold
Should
be—and,
by
concurring
signs,
ere
now
Created
vast
and
round—a
place
of
bliss
In
the
purlieus
of
Heaven;
and
therein
placed
A
race
of
upstart
creatures,
to
supply
Perhaps
our
vacant
room,
though
more
removed,
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
Shall
dwell
at
ease,
and
up
and
down
unseen
Wing
silently
the
buxom
air,
embalmed
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
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
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.
But
what
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—
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
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."
Thus
saying,
from
her
side
the
fatal
key,
Sad
instrument
of
all
our
woe,
she
took;
And,
towards
the
gate
rolling
her
bestial
train,
Forthwith
the
huge
portcullis
high
up-drew,
Which,
but
herself,
not
all
the
Stygian
Powers
Could
once
have
moved;
then
in
the
key-hole
turns
Th'
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,
Th'
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,
Under
spread
ensigns
marching,
mibht
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
The
secrets
of
the
hoary
Deep—a
dark
Illimitable
ocean,
without
bound,
Without
dimension;
where
length,
breadth,
and
height,
And
time,
and
place,
are
lost;
where
eldest
Night
And
Chaos,
ancestors
of
Nature,
hold
Eternal
anarchy,
amidst
the
noise
Of
endless
wars,
and
by
confusion
stand.
For
Hot,
Cold,
Moist,
and
Dry,
four
champions
fierce,
Strive
here
for
mastery,
and
to
battle
bring
Their
embryon
atoms:
they
around
the
flag
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
Their
lighter
wings.
To
whom
these
most
adhere
He
rules
a
moment:
Chaos
umpire
sits,
And
by
decision
more
embroils
the
fray
By
which
he
reigns:
next
him,
high
arbiter,
Chance
governs
all.
Into
this
wild
Abyss,
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
th'
Almighty
Maker
them
ordain
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
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
In
mutiny
had
from
her
axle
torn
The
steadfast
Earth.
At
last
his
sail-broad
vans
He
spread
for
flight,
and,
in
the
surging
smoke
Uplifted,
spurns
the
ground;
thence
many
a
league,
As
in
a
cloudy
chair,
ascending
rides
Audacious;
but,
that
seat
soon
failing,
meets
A
vast
vacuity.
All
unawares,
Fluttering
his
pennons
vain,
plumb-down
he
drops
Ten
thousand
fathom
deep,
and
to
this
hour
Down
had
been
falling,
had
not,
by
ill
chance,
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,
Treading
the
crude
consistence,
half
on
foot,
Half
flying;
behoves
him
now
both
oar
and
sail.
As
when
a
gryphon
through
the
wilderness
With
winged
course,
o'er
hill
or
moory
dale,
Pursues
the
Arimaspian,
who
by
stealth
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.
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
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
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,
And
Tumult,
and
Confusion,
all
embroiled,
And
Discord
with
a
thousand
various
mouths.
T'
whom
Satan,
turning
boldly,
thus:—"Ye
Powers
And
Spirtis
of
this
nethermost
Abyss,
Chaos
and
ancient
Night,
I
come
no
spy
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,
What
readiest
path
leads
where
your
gloomy
bounds
Confine
with
Heaven;
or,
if
some
other
place,
From
your
dominion
won,
th'
Ethereal
King
Possesses
lately,
thither
to
arrive
I
travel
this
profound.
Direct
my
course:
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
Erect
the
standard
there
of
ancient
Night.
Yours
be
th'
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—
***
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,
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,
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
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
stayed
not
to
reply,
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
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
th'
other
whirlpool
steered.
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)
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
th'
utmost
orb
Of
this
frail
World;
by
which
the
Spirits
perverse
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
Shoots
far
into
the
bosom
of
dim
Night
A
glimmering
dawn.
Here
Nature
first
begins
Her
farthest
verge,
and
Chaos
to
retire,
As
from
her
outmost
works,
a
broken
foe,
With
tumult
less
and
with
less
hostile
din;
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,
Weighs
his
spread
wings,
at
leisure
to
behold
Far
off
th'
empyreal
Heaven,
extended
wide
In
circuit,
undetermined
square
or
round,
With
opal
towers
and
battlements
adorned
Of
living
sapphire,
once
his
native
seat;
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,
Accursed,
and
in
a
cursed
hour,
he
hies.
