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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 unconsum'd.
Such place eternal Justice had prepar'd
For those rebellious; here their pris’on ordain'a
In utter darkness ; and their portion set
As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n,
As from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole.
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 th’ Arch Enemy,
And thence in Heav'n call’d Satan; with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began..

"If thou beest he ; but how fall’n ! how chang’d
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 enterprize,
Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd
In equal ruin: into what pit thou seest,
From what height fall’n ; so much the stronger proy'd
He with his thunder : and till then who knew
The force of thuse dire armas ? 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 injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contention brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits arm’d,

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That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost pow'r with adverse pow'r oppos'd
In dubious battle on the plains of Heav'n,
And shook his throne. What tho' 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
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his pow'r,
Who from the terror of this arm so late
Doubted his empire, that were low indeed !
That were an ignominy, and shame heneath
This downfall ! since by fate the strength of Gods
And this empyreal substance cannot fail,
Since, through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanc'd,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage, by force of guile, eternal war;
Irreconcileable to our grand foe,
Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy,
Sole reigning, holds the tyranny of Heav'n.”

So spoke th' apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair :
And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer.

- O Prince, O Chief of many throned powers;
That led th'embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endanger'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

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Can perish: for the mind and spi'rit remains .
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory' extinct, and happy state
Here swallow'd up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conqu’ror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'erpow'r'd şuch 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 business 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 ought 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 bis 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 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 Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Short 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,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,

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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 blaz'd; his other parts besides
Prone on the flood, extending long and larje,
Lay flooting 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-foundered skiff
Deeming some island, ofi, 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 stretch'd out huge in length the Arch Fiend lay,
Chain'd on the burning lake ; nor ever thence
Had ris'n, or heav'd his head, but that the will
And high permission of all ruling Heaven

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Left him at large to his own dark designs, .
That with reiterated crinies he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
Evil to others; and, enrag'd, might see
How all his malice serv'd but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shown
On Man, by him seduc'd; but on himself
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance, pour'd.
Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty stature; on each hand the flames,
Driv'n backward, slope their pointing spires, and, roll'd
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 burn'd
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire ;
And such appear'd in hue, as when the force
Of subterranean wind transports a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd side;
Of thund'ring Ætna, whose combustible

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Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds, is
And leave a singed bottom all involv'd use
With stench and smoke ; such resting found the sole
Of unblest feet. Him follow'd his next mate,
Both glorying to have 'scap'd the Stygian flood
As gods, and by their own recover'd 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 Heav'n, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be' it so, since he
Who now is Sov'reign can dispose and bid .
What shall be right: farthest from him is best,
Whom reas'on hath equal'd, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields, ..

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