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The likeness of a kingly crown had on.

       Satan was now at hand, and from his seat

       The monster moving onward came as fast

       With horrid strides; Hell trembled as he strode.

       Th' undaunted Fiend what this might be admired—

       Admired, not feared (God and his Son except,

       Created thing naught valued he nor shunned),

       And with disdainful look thus first began:—

       "Whence and what art thou, execrable Shape,

       That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance

       Thy miscreated front athwart my way

       To yonder gates? Through them I mean to pass,

       That be assured, without leave asked of thee.

       Retire; or taste thy folly, and learn by proof,

       Hell-born, not to contend with Spirits of Heaven."

       To whom the Goblin, full of wrath, replied:—

       "Art thou that traitor Angel? art thou he,

       Who first broke peace in Heaven and faith, till then

       Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms

       Drew after him the third part of Heaven's sons,

       Conjured against the Highest—for which both thou

       And they, outcast from God, are here condemned

       To waste eternal days in woe and pain?

       And reckon'st thou thyself with Spirits of Heaven

       Hell-doomed, and breath'st defiance here and scorn,

       Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more,

       Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment,

       False fugitive; and to thy speed add wings,

       Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue

       Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart

       Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before."

       So spake the grisly Terror, and in shape,

       So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold,

       More dreadful and deform. On th' other side,

       Incensed with indignation, Satan stood

       Unterrified, and like a comet burned,

       That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge

       In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair

       Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head

       Levelled his deadly aim; their fatal hands

       No second stroke intend; and such a frown

       Each cast at th' other as when two black clouds,

       With heaven's artillery fraught, came rattling on

       Over the Caspian—then stand front to front

       Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow

       To join their dark encounter in mid-air.

       So frowned the mighty combatants that Hell

       Grew darker at their frown; so matched they stood;

       For never but once more was wither like

       To meet so great a foe. And now great deeds

       Had been achieved, whereof all Hell had rung,

       Had not the snaky Sorceress, that sat

       Fast by Hell-gate and kept the fatal key,

       Risen, and with hideous outcry rushed between.

       "O father, what intends thy hand," she cried,

       "Against thy only son? What fury, O son,

       Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart

       Against thy father's head? And know'st for whom?

       For him who sits above, and laughs the while

       At thee, ordained his drudge to execute

       Whate'er his wrath, which he calls justice, bids—

       His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both!"

       She spake, and at her words the hellish Pest

       Forbore: then these to her Satan returned:—

       "So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange

       Thou interposest, that my sudden hand,

       Prevented, spares to tell thee yet by deeds

       What it intends, till first I know of thee

       What thing thou art, thus double-formed, and why,

       In this infernal vale first met, thou call'st

       Me father, and that phantasm call'st my son.

       I know thee not, nor ever saw till now

       Sight more detestable than him and thee."

       T' whom thus the Portress of Hell-gate replied:—

       "Hast thou forgot me, then; and do I seem

       Now in thine eye so foul?—once deemed so fair

       In Heaven, when at th' assembly, and in sight

       Of all the Seraphim with thee combined

       In bold conspiracy against Heaven's King,

       All on a sudden miserable pain

       Surprised thee, dim thine eyes and dizzy swum

       In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast

       Threw forth, till on the left side opening wide,

       Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright,

       Then shining heavenly fair, a goddess armed,

       Out of thy head I sprung. Amazement seized

       All th' host of Heaven; back they recoiled afraid

       At first, and called me Sin, and for a sign

       Portentous held me; but, familiar grown,

       I pleased, and with attractive graces won

       The most averse—thee chiefly, who, full oft

       Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing,

       Becam'st enamoured; and such joy thou took'st

       With me in secret that my womb conceived

       A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose,

       And fields were fought in Heaven: wherein remained

       (For what could else?) to our Almighty Foe

       Clear victory; to our part loss and rout

       Through all the Empyrean. Down they fell,

       Driven headlong from the pitch of Heaven, down

       Into this Deep; and in the general fall

       I also: at which time this powerful key

       Into my hands was given, with charge to keep

       These gates for ever shut, which none can pass

       Without my opening. Pensive here I sat

       Alone; but long I sat not, till my womb,

       Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown,

       Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes.

       At last this odious offspring whom thou seest,

       Thine own begotten, breaking violent way,

       Tore through my entrails, that, with fear and pain

       Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew

       Transformed: but he my inbred enemy

       Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart,

       Made to destroy.

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