Regions of forrow, 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 fulphur unconfum'd:
such place eternal juftice had prepar'd

For those rebellious, here their prifon 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 the utmost pole.
o how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o'rewhelm'd
with Floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He foon difcerns, and weltring by his fide

one next himself in power, 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 fatan, with bold words Breaking the horrid filence thus began.

IF thou beeft he; but o how falln! how chang'd From him, who in the happy realms of light cloth'd with transcendent brightness didst outshine Myriads though bright: if he whom mutual league, united thoughts and counfels, equal hope

And hazard in the glorious enterprife,

Join'd with me once, now misery hath join'd
in equal ruin : into what pit thou seest

From what highth falln, fo much the stronger prov'd
He with his thunder: and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? yet not for those,
Nor what the potent victor in his rage

can elfe inflict, do I repent or change,

Though chang'd in outward luftre; that fixt 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
Innumerable force of spirits arm'd

That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd
In dubious battle on the plains of heav'n,

And shook his throne. what though the field be loft?
All is not loft; the unconquerable will,

And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to fubmit or yield:
And what is elfe not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and fue for grace
with fuppliant knee, and deifie his power,
who from the terrour of this arm fo late
Doubted his empire, that were low indeed,
That were an ignominy, and shame beneath
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 forefight much advanc'd,
we may with more fuccessful 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 heav'n.
so spoke th' apoftate angel, though in pain,
vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep despair:
And him thus answer'd foon his bold compeer.
O prince, o chief of many throned powers,
That led th' imbattell'd feraphim to warr
under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endanger'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 host
in horrible destruction laid thus low,

As far as gods and heav'nly effences

can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour foon returns,

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

But what if he our conqueror, (whom I now
of force believe almighty, fince no less

Than fuch could have o'erpow'rd fuch force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength intire
strongly to fuffer and fupport our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
or do him mightier fervice as his thralls
By right of war, what e'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 undiminisht, 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 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 resist. 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 still to find means of evil;
which oft times may fucceed, so as perhaps

shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb His inmost councils from their destin'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'reblown 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 vast and boundless deep. Let us not flip th' occasion, whether scorn, or fatiate fury yield it from our foe.

seeft thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wilde, 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 reft can harbour there,
And reaffembling 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 up-lift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts besides,
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name of monftrous size,
Titanian, or earth-born, that warr'd on jove,
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarfus held, or that fea beaft

Leviathan, which God of all his works
created hugeft that swim the ocean stream:
Him haply flumbering on the Norway foam,
The pilot of fome small night-founder'd skiff,
Deeming fome island, oft, as seamen tell,
with fixed anchor in his skaly rind,

Moors by his fide under the lee, while night
Invests the fea, and wished morn delays:

so ftretcht 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 shew'n
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
Driv'n backward slope their pointing spires and rowld
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 folid, as the lake with liquid fire;
And fuch appear'd in hue, as when the force
of fubterranean wind transports a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd fide
of thundring Ætna, whose combustible
And fewel'd intrals thence conceiving fire,