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      On half the Nations, and with fear of change

      Perplexes Monarchs. Dark’n’d so, yet shon

      Above them all th’ Arch Angel: but his face

      Deep scars of Thunder had intrencht, and care

      Sat on his faded cheek, but under Browes

      Of dauntless courage, and considerate Pride

      Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but cast

      Signs of remorse and passion to behold

      The fellows of his crime, the followers

      (Far other once beheld in bliss) condemn’d

      For ever now to have their lot in pain,

      Millions of Spirits for his fault amerc’t

      Of Heav’n, and from Eternal Splendors flung

      For his revolt, yet faithfull how they stood,

      Thir Glory witherd. As when Heavens Fire

      Hath scath’ d the Forrest Oaks, or Mountain Pines,

      With singed top their stately growth though bare

      Stands on the blasted Heath. He now prepar’d

      To speak; whereat their doubl’d Ranks they bend

      From Wing to Wing, and half enclose him round

      With all his Peers: attention held them mute.

      Thrice he assayd, and thrice in spite of scorn,

      Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last

      Words interwove with sighs found out their way.

      O Myriads of immortal Spirits, O Powers

      Matchless, but with th’ Almighty, and that strife

      Was not inglorious, though th’ event was dire,

      As this place testifies, and this dire change

      Hateful to utter: but what power of mind

      Foreseeing or presaging, from the Depth

      Of knowledge past or present, could have fear’d,

      How such united force of Gods, how such

      As stood like these, could ever know repulse?

      For who can yet beleeve, though after loss,

      That all these puissant Legions, whose exile

      Hath emptied Heav’n, shall faile to re-ascend

      Self-rais’d, and repossess their native seat?

      For me, be witness all the Host of Heav’n,

      If counsels different, or danger shun’d

      By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns

      Monarch in Heav’n, till then as one secure

      Sat on his Throne, upheld by old repute,

      Consent or custome, and his Regal State

      Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal’d,

      Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.

      Henceforth his might we know, and know our own

      So as not either to provoke, or dread

      New warr, provok’t; our better part remains

      To work in close design, by fraud or guile

      What force effected not: that he no less

      At length from us may find, who overcomes

      By force, hath overcome but half his foe.

      Space may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife

      There went a fame in Heav’n that he ere long

      Intended to create, and therein plant

      A generation, whom his choice regard

      Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven:

      Thither, if but to prie, shall be perhaps

      Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:

      For this Infernal Pit shall never hold

      Caelestial Spirits in Bondage, nor th’ Abysse

      Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts

      Full Counsel must mature: Peace is despaird,

      For who can think Submission! Warr then, Warr

      Open or understood must be resolv’d.

      He spake: and to confirm his words, out-flew

      Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs

      Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze

      Far round illumin’d hell: highly they rag’d

      Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arm’s

      Clash’d on their sounding shields the din of war,

      Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heav’n.

      There stood a Hill not far whose griesly top

      Belch’d fire and rowling smoak; the rest entire

      Shon with a glossie scurff, undoubted sign

      That in his womb was hid metallic Ore,

      The work of Sulphur. Thither wing’d with speed

      A numerous Brigad hasten’d. As when bands

      Of Pioners with Spade and Pickaxe arm’d

      Forerun the Royal Camp, to trench a Field,

      Or cast a Rampart. Mammon led them on,

      Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell

      From heav’n, for ev’n in heav’n his looks and thoughts

      Were always downward bent, admiring more

      The riches of Heav’ns pavement, trod’n Gold,

      Then aught divine or holy else enjoy’d

      In vision beatific: by him first

      Men also, and by his suggestion taught,

      Ransack’d the Center, and with impious hands

      Rifl’d the bowels of their mother Earth

      For Treasures better hid. Soon had his crew

      Op’nd into the Hill a spacious wound

      And dig’d out ribs of Gold. Let none admire

      That riches grow in Hell; that soyle may best

      Deserve the pretious bane. And here let those

      Who boast in mortal things, and wondring tell

      Of Babel, and the works Memphian Kings,

      Learn how thir greatest Monuments of Fame,

      And Strength and Art are easily outdone

      By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour

      What in an age they with incessant toyle

      And hands innumerable scarce perform.

      Nigh on the Plain in many cells prepar’d,

      That underneath had veins of liquid fire

      Sluc’d from the Lake, a second multitude

      With wondrous Art founded the massie Ore,

      Severing each kinde, and scum’d the Bullion dross:

      A third as soon had form’d within the ground

      A

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