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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 prepard - 70
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 80
Beëlzebub. 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 fallin! how
? chang'd
From him, who in the happy realms of light 85
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, iso much the stronger

prov'd . . He with his thunder: 'and-till then who know.',

105

The force of those dire arms? yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage 95
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 100
Innumerable force of spirits arm'd,
That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,
His utmost pow's with adverse pow'r oppos'd
In dubious battel on the plains of Heav'n,
And shook his throne. What though the field be

lost ?
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 110
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knce, 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 bencath 115
This downfal; since by fate the strength of gode
And this empyrcal 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 was,
Irreconcilcable 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 130 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 135 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,

140 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 144 Than such could have o'erpow'r'd 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 vengetul ire, Or do him mightier service as his thralls By right of war, whate'et his business be, 150 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 ?

155 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,

160 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 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 170 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, 185
And re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamiry,
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 200
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, 205
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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