He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell One step, no more than from himself, can fly By change of place Now conscience wakes despair That slumbered; wakes the bitter memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be- Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue. Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad; Sometimes toward Heaven and the full-blazing sun, Which now sat high in his meridian tower; Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began:
O thou, that, with surpassing glory crowned, Look'st from thy sole dominion, like the God Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere; Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King: Ah, wherefore? He deserved no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was His service hard. What could be less than to afford Him praise, The easiest recompense, and pay Him thanks? How due! Yet all his good proved ill in me, And wrought but malice. Lifted up so high I 'sdained subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude, So burdensome; still paying, still to owe; Forgetful what from Him I still received, And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then? Oh, had His powerful destiny ordained Me some inferior Angel, I had stood Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised Ambition. Yet why not? some other Power
As great might have aspired, and me, though mean, Drawn to his part. But other powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations armed.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand? Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse, But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all?
Be then his love accursed, since love or hate To me alike it deals eternal woe.
Nay, cursed be thou; since against His thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven. Oh, then, at last relent. Is there no place Left for repentance, none for pardon left? None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue The Omnipotent. Ah me! they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain, Under what torments inwardly I groan. While they adore me on the throne of Hell, With diadem and scepter high advanced, The lower still I fall, only supreme In misery: such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent, and could obtain,
By act of grace, my former state; how soon Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay What feigned submission swore! Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void:
For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep: Which would but lead me to a worse relapse, And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear Short intermission, bought with double smart. This knows my Punisher; therefore as far From granting He, as I from begging, peace: All hope excluded thus, behold, instead Of us, outcast, exiled, His new delight, Mankind, created, and for him this world. So farewell hope; and with hope farewell fear; Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good: by thee at least Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold, By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign, As man ere long, and this new world shall know.
Thus while he spake, each passion dimmed his face, Thrice changed with pale ire, envy, and despair; Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayed Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld:
For heavenly minds from such distempers foul Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware, Each perturbation, smoothed with outward calm, Artificer of fraud; and was the first
That practiced falsehood under saintly show, Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge. Yet not enough had practiced to deceive Uriel, once warned; whose eye pursued him down The way he went, and on the Assyrian mount Saw him disfigured, more than could befall
Spirit of happy sort: his gestures fierce
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