Extort from me. To bow and fue for grace
With fuppliant knee, and deify his power,
Who from the terror of this arm fo late
Doubted his empire; that were low indeed,.
That were an ignominy' and shame beneath
This downfal; fince by fate the ftrength of Gods
And this empyreal fubftance cannot fail,.
Since through experience of this great event
In arms not worfe, in forefight much advanc'd,
We may with more fuccefsful hope refolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcileable to our grand foe,

Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.

So fpake th' apoftate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair:
And him thus anfwer'd foon his bold compeer.

O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led th'imbattell'd Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds
Fearless, indanger'd heav'n's perpetual king,
And put to proof his high fupremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate;
Too well I fee and rue the dire event,

That with fad overthrow and foul defeat
Hath loft us heav'n, and all this mighty hoft
In horrible deftruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heav'nly effences
Can perish for the mind and fpirit remains
Invincible, and vigor foon returns,

Though all our glory extinct, and happy state
Here fwallow'd up in endless mifery.

But what if he our conqu'ror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, fince no lefs

Than fuch could have o'erpow'r'd fuch force as ours)

Have left us this our spirit and strength entire
Strongly to fuffer and fupport our pains,
That we may fo fuffice 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 miferable
Doing or fuffering: but of this be fure,
To do ought good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our fole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we refift. If then his providence.
Out of our evil feek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good ftill to find means of evil;
Which oft times may fucceed, so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb.:
His inmoft counfels from their deftin'd aim.
But fee the angry victor hath recall'd
His minifters of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of heav'n: the fulphurous hail
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid
The fiery furge, that from the precipice
Of heav'n receiv'd us falling; and the thunder
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his fhafts, and ceafes now
To bellow through the vaft and boundless deep.
Let us not flip th' occafion, whether fcorn,
Or fatiate fury yield it from our foe.
Seeft thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,

The

The feat of defolation, void of light,

Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Cafts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the toffing of these fiery waves,
There reft, if any rest can harbour there,
And re-affembling our afflicted Powers,
Confult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own lofs how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,

What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not what refolution from despair.

Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes.
That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts befides
Prone on the flood, extended long and large
Lay floting 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 antient Tarfus held, or that fea-beaft
Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugeft that swim th' ocean stream:
Him haply flumb'ring on the Norway foam
The pilot of fome fmall night-founder'd skiff
Deeming fome ifland, oft, as fea-men tell,
With fixed anchor in his fkaly rind

Moors by his fide under the lee, while night
Invests the fea, and wished morn delays:
So ftretch'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 permiffion 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 fought

Evil to others, and enrag'd might fee
How all his malice ferv'd but to bring forth.
Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shown
On Man by him feduc'd, but on himself
Treble confufion, wrath and vengeance pour'd.
Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty ftature; on each hand the flames
Driven backward flope their pointed spires, and roll'd
In billows, leave i' th' midft a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air,

That felt unufual weight, till on dry land
He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd
With folid, as the lake with liquid fire;
And fuch appear'd in hue, as when the force
Of fubterranean wind tranfports a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the fhatter'd fide
Of thund'ring Etna, whofe combuftible
And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire,
Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds,
And leave a finged bottom all involv'd

With stench and fmoke: Such refting found the fole
Of unbleft feet. Him follow'd his next mate,
Both glorying to have 'fcap'd the Stygian flood
As Gods, and by their own recover'd ftrength,
Not by the fufferance of fupernal Power.

Is this the region, this the foil, the clime,
Said then the loft Arch-angel, this the feat

That we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloom For that celeftial light? Be it fo, fince he

Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid

What fhall be right: fartheft from him is best,

Whom reason hath equall'd, force hath made fupreme Above his equals. Farewel happy fields,

Where joy for ever dwells: Hail horrors, hail

Infernal

Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell
Receive thy new poffeffor; one who brings
A mind not to be chang'd by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.
What matter where, if I be ftill the fame,
And what I fhould 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 reign fecure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition though in hell :
Better to reign in hell, than ferve in heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th' affociates and copartners of our lofs,
Lie thus astonish'd on th' oblivious pool,
And call them not to fhare with us their part
In this unhappy manfion, or once more
With rallied arms to try what may be yet
Regain'd in heav'n, or what more loft in hell?
So Satan fpake, and him Beelzebub

Thus answer'd. Leader of thofe armies bright,
Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foil'd,
If once they hear that voice, their livelieft pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battel when it rag'd, in all affaults
Their fureft fignal, they will foon resume
New courage and revive, though now they lie
Grovelling and proftiate on yon lake of fire,
As we erewhile, aftounded and amaz'd,
No wonder, fall'n fuch a pernicious height.

He fcarce had ceas'd when the fuperior Fiend Was moving toward the shore; his pond'rous fhield, Ethereal temper, mafly, large and round,