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Heaven called Satan, with bold words

       Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:—

       "If thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changed

       From him who, in the happy realms of light

       Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine

       Myriads, though bright!—if he whom mutual league,

       United thoughts and counsels, equal hope

       And hazard in the glorious enterprise

       Joined with me once, now misery hath joined

       In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest

       From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved

       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 else inflict, do I repent, or change,

       Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,

       And high disdain from sense of injured merit,

       That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,

       And to the fierce contentions brought along

       Innumerable force of Spirits armed,

       That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,

       His utmost power with adverse power opposed

       In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,

       And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?

       All is not lost—the unconquerable will,

       And study of revenge, immortal hate,

       And courage never to submit or yield:

       And what is else not to be overcome?

       That glory never shall his wrath or might

       Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace

       With suppliant knee, and deify his power

       Who, from the terror of this arm, so 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 foresight much advanced,

       We may with more successful hope resolve

       To wage by force or guile eternal war,

       Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,

       Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy

       Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven."

       So spake th' apostate Angel, though in pain,

       Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;

       And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:—

       "O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers

       That led th' embattled Seraphim to war

       Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds

       Fearless, endangered Heaven's perpetual King,

       And put to proof his high supremacy,

       Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,

       Too well I see and rue the dire event

       That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,

       Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host

       In horrible destruction laid thus low,

       As far as Gods and heavenly Essences

       Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains

       Invincible, and vigour soon returns,

       Though all our glory extinct, and happy state

       Here swallowed up in endless misery.

       But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now

       Of force believe almighty, since no less

       Than such could have o'erpowered such force as ours)

       Have left us this our spirit and strength entire,

       Strongly to suffer and support our pains,

       That we may so suffice 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 the avail though yet we feel

       Strength undiminished, or eternal being

       To undergo eternal punishment?"

       Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-Fiend replied:—

       "Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,

       Doing or suffering: but of this be sure—

       To do aught good never will be our task,

       But ever to do ill our sole delight,

       As being the contrary to his high will

       Whom we resist. If then his providence

       Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,

       Our labour must be to pervert that end,

       And out of good still to find means of evil;

       Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps

       Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb

       His inmost counsels from their destined aim.

       But see! the angry Victor hath recalled

       His ministers of vengeance and pursuit

       Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,

       Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid

       The fiery surge that from the precipice

       Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,

       Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,

       Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now

       To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.

       Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn

       Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.

       Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,

       The seat of desolation, void of light,

       Save what the glimmering of these livid flames

       Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend

       From off the tossing of these fiery waves;

       There rest, if any rest can harbour there;

       And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,

       Consult how we may henceforth most offend

       Our enemy, our own loss how repair,

       How overcome this dire calamity,

       What reinforcement we may gain from hope,

       If not, what resolution from despair."

       Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,

       With head uplift above the wave, and eyes

       That sparkling blazed; 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 monstrous size,

       Titanian or Earth-born,

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