کتاب 2

BOOK II

THE ARGUMENT

The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of Heaven: some advise it; others dissuade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan: to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in Heaven concerning another world and another kind of creature, equal or not much inferior to themselves, about this time to be created; their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search. Satan their chief undertakes alone the voyage, is honored and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to Hell gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them: by whom at length they are opened and discover to him the great gulf between Hell and Heaven; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought.

High on a throne of royal state, which far

Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,

Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand

Show’rs on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, “High on a throne of royal state —” (.). (illustration credit .) Satan exalted sat, by merit raised

To that bad eminence; and from despair

Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires

Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue

Vain war with Heav’n, and by success untaught His proud imaginations thus displayed.

“Powers and Dominions, deities of Heav’n,

For since no deep within her gulf can hold

Immortal vigor, though oppressed and fall’n,

I give not Heav’n for lost. From this descent Celestial Virtues rising, will appear

More glorious and more dread than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate.

Me though just right, and the fixed laws of Heav’n Did first create your leader, next, free choice, With what besides, in counsel or in fight,

Hath been achieved of merit, yet this loss

Thus far at least recovered, hath much more

Established in a safe unenvied throne

Yielded with full consent. The happier state

In Heav’n, which follows dignity, might draw

Envy from each inferior; but who here

Will envy whom the highest place exposes

Foremost to stand against the Thunderer’s aim Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share

Of endless pain? Where there is then no good

For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none sure will claim in Hell Precedence, none, whose portion is so small

Of present pain, that with ambitious mind

Will covet more. With this advantage then

To union, and firm faith, and firm accord,

More than can be in Heav’n, we now return

To claim our just inheritance of old,

Surer to prosper than prosperity

Could have assured us; and by what best way,

Whether of open war or covert guile,

We now debate; who can advise, may speak.”

He ceased, and next him Moloch, sceptered king, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in Heav’n, now fiercer by despair.

His trust was with th’ Eternal to be deemed

Equal in strength, and rather than be less

Cared not to be at all; with that care lost

Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse

He reck’d not, and these words thereafter spake.

“My sentence is for open war. Of wiles,

More unexpert, I boast not: them let those

Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.

For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms and longing wait

The signal to ascend, sit ling’ring here

Heav’n’s fugitives, and for their dwelling place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame,

The prison of his tyranny who reigns

By our delay? No, let us rather choose

Armed with Hell flames and fury all at once

O’er Heav’n’s high tow’rs to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms

Against the Torturer; when to meet the noise

Of his almighty engine he shall hear

Infernal thunder, and for lightning see

Black fire and horror shot with equal rage

Among his angels; and his throne itself

Mixed with Tartarean sulfur, and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps

The way seems difficult and steep to scale

With upright wing against a higher foe.

Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench

Of that forgetful lake benumb not still,

That in our proper motion we ascend

Up to our native seat: descent and fall

To us is adverse. Who but felt of late

When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear

Insulting, and pursu’d us through the deep,

With what compulsion and laborious flight

We sunk thus low? Th’ ascent is easy then;

Th’ event is feared. Should we again provoke

Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction, if there be in Hell

Fear to be worse destroyed. What can be worse Than to dwell here, driv’n out from bliss, condemned In this abhorrèd deep to utter woe;

Where pain of unextinguishable fire

Must exercise us without hope of end

The vassals of his anger, when the scourge

Inexorably, and the torturing hour

Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus We should be quite abolished and expire.

What fear we then? What doubt we to incense

His utmost ire? Which to the highth enraged,

Will either quite consume us and reduce

To nothing this essential, happier far

Than miserable to have eternal being:

Or if our substance be indeed divine,

And cannot cease to be, we are at worst

On this side nothing; and by proof we feel

Our power sufficient to disturb his Heav’n,

And with perpetual inroads to alarm,

Though inaccessible, his fatal throne:

Which if not victory is yet revenge.”

He ended frowning, and his look denounced

Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous

To less than gods. On th’ other side up rose

Belial, in act more graceful and humane;

A fairer person lost not Heav’n; he seemed

For dignity composed and high exploit:

But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropped manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash

Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds

Timorous and slothful: yet he pleased the ear, And with persuasive accent thus began.

“I should be much for open war, O peers,

As not behind in hate, if what was urged

Main reason to persuade immediate war,

Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast

Ominous conjecture on the whole success:

When he who most excels in fact of arms,

In what he counsels and in what excels

Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair

And utter dissolution, as the scope

Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.

First, what revenge? The tow’rs of Heav’n are filled With armèd watch, that render all access

Impregnable; oft on the bordering deep

Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing

Scout far and wide into the realm of Night,

Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way

By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise With blackest insurrection, to confound

Heav’n’s purest light, yet our great enemy

All incorruptible would on his throne

Sit unpolluted, and th’ ethereal mold

Incapable of stain would soon expel

Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire

Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope

Is flat despair: we must exasperate

Th’ almighty Victor to spend all his rage,

And that must end us, that must be our cure,

To be no more. Sad cure; for who would lose,

Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity,

To perish rather, swallowed up and lost

In the wide womb of uncreated Night,

Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows,

Let this be good, whether our angry foe

Can give it, or will ever? How he can

Is doubtful; that he never will is sure.

Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,

Belike through impotence, or unaware,

To give his enemies their wish, and end

Them in his anger, whom his anger saves

To punish endless? ‘Wherefore cease we then?’ Say they who counsel war, ‘we are decreed,

Reserved and destined to eternal woe;

Whatever doing, what can we suffer more,

What can we suffer worse?’ Is this then worst, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms?

What when we fled amain, pursued and strook

With Heav’n’s afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? This Hell then seemed A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay

Chained on the burning lake? That sure was worse.

What if the breath that kindled those grim fires Awaked should blow them into sevenfold rage

And plunge us in the flames? Or from above

Should intermitted vengeance arm again

His red right hand to plague us? What if all

Her stores were opened, and this firmament

Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire

Impendent horrors, threat’ning hideous fall

One day upon our heads; while we perhaps

Designing or exhorting glorious war,

Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurled

Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk

Under yon boiling ocean, wrapped in chains;

There to converse with everlasting groans,

Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,

Ages of hopeless end. This would be worse.

War therefore, open or concealed, alike

My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye

Views all things at one view? He from Heav’n’s highth All these our motions vain, sees and derides; Not more almighty to resist our might

Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.

Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heav’n Thus trampled, thus expelled to suffer here

Chains and these torments? Better these than worse By my advice; since fate inevitable

Subdues us, and omnipotent decree,

The victor’s will. To suffer, as to do,

Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust

That so ordains: this was at first resolved,

If we were wise, against so great a foe

Contending, and so doubtful what might fall.

I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold And vent’rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear What yet they know must follow, to endure

Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,

The sentence of their conqueror. This is now

Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,

Our supreme foe in time may much remit

His anger, and perhaps thus far removed

Not mind us not offending, satisfied

With what is punished; whence these raging fires Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames.

Our purer essence then will overcome

Their noxious vapor, or inured not feel,

changed at length, and to the place conformed In temper and in nature, will receive

Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain;

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light, Besides what hope the never-ending flight

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, since our present lot appears

For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,

If we procure not to ourselves more woe.”

Thus Belial with words clothed in reason’s garb Counseled ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth,

Not peace: and after him thus Mammon spake.

“Either to disenthrone the King of Heav’n

We war, if war be best, or to regain

Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then

May hope when everlasting Fate shall yield

To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife: The former vain to hope argues as vain

The latter: for what place can be for us

Within Heav’n’s bound, unless Heav’n’s Lord supreme We overpower? Suppose he should relent

And publish grace to all, on promise made

Of new subjection; with what eyes could we

Stand in his presence humble, and receive

Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne

With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing

Forced hallelujahs; while he lordly sits

Our envied Sov’reign, and his altar breathes

Ambrosial odors and ambrosial flowers,

Our servile offerings. This must be our task

In Heav’n, this our delight; how wearisome

Eternity so spent in worship paid

To whom we hate. Let us not then pursue

By force impossible, by leave obtained

Unacceptable, though in Heav’n, our state

Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek

Our own good from our selves, and from our own Live to our selves, though in this vast recess, Free, and to none accountable, preferring

Hard liberty before the easy yoke

Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear

Then most conspicuous, when great things of small, Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse

We can create, and in what place soe’er

Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain

Through labor and endurance. This deep world

Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst

Thick clouds and dark doth Heav’n’s all-ruling Sire Choose to reside, his glory unobscured,

And with the majesty of darkness round

Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar Must’ring their rage, and Heav’n resembles Hell?

As he our darkness, cannot we his light

Imitate when we please? This desert soil

Wants not her hidden luster, gems and gold;

Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence; and what can Heav’n show more?

Our torments also may in length of time

Become our elements, these piercing fires

As soft as now severe, our temper changed

Into their temper; which must needs remove

The sensible of pain. All things invite

To peaceful counsels, and the settled state

Of order, how in safety best we may

Compose our present evils, with regard

Of what we are and where, dismissing quite

All thoughts of war: ye have what I advise.”

He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled Th’ assembly, as when hollow rocks retain

The sound of blust’ring winds, which all night long Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull Seafaring men o’erwatched, whose bark by chance Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay

After the tempest: such applause was heard

As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased,

Advising peace: for such another field

They dreaded worse than Hell: so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michael

Wrought still within them; and no less desire To found this nether empire, which might rise By policy, and long process of time,

In emulation opposite to Heav’n.

Which when Beëlzebub perceived, than whom,

Satan except, none higher sat, with grave

Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed

A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat and public care;

And princely counsel in his face yet shone,

Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood

With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear

The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look

Drew audience and attention still as night

Or summer’s noontide air, while thus he spake.

“Thrones and imperial Powers, offspring of Heav’n, Ethereal Virtues; or these titles now

Must we renounce, and changing style be called Princes of Hell? For so the popular vote

Inclines, here to continue, and build up here A growing empire; doubtless; while we dream,

And know not that the King of Heav’n hath doomed This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat

Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt

From Heav’n’s high jurisdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain

In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, Under th’ inevitable curb, reserved

His captive multitude: for he, be sure

In highth or depth, still first and last will reign Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part

By our revolt, but over Hell extend

His empire, and with iron scepter rule

Us here, as with his golden those in Heav’n.

What sit we then projecting peace and war?

War hath determined us, and foiled with loss

Irreparable; terms of peace yet none

Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be giv’n To us enslaved, but custody severe,

And stripes, and arbitrary punishment

Inflicted? And what peace can we return,

But to our power hostility and hate,

Untamed reluctance, and revenge though slow,

Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least

May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice

In doing what we most in suffering feel?

Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need

With dangerous expedition to invade

Heav’n, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, Or ambush from the deep. What if we find

Some easier enterprise? There is a place

(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heav’n

Err not) another world, the happy seat

Of some new race called Man, about this time

To be created like to us, though less

In power and excellence, but favored more

Of him who rules above; so was his will

Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath,

That shook Heav’n’s whole circumference, confirmed.

Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn What creatures there inhabit, of what mold,

Or substance, how endued, and what their power, And where their weakness, how attempted best, By force or subtlety: though Heav’n be shut,

And Heav’n’s high arbitrator sit secure

In his own strength, this place may lie exposed The utmost border of his kingdom, left

To their defense who hold it: here perhaps

Some advantageous act may be achieved

By sudden onset, either with Hell fire

To waste his whole creation, or possess

All as our own, and drive as we were driven,

The puny habitants, or if not drive,

Seduce them to our party, that their God

May prove their foe, and with repenting hand

Abolish his own works. This would surpass

Common revenge, and interrupt his joy

In our confusion, and our joy upraise

In his disturbance, when his darling sons

Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse Their frail original, and faded bliss,

Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth

Attempting, or to sit in darkness here

Hatching vain empires.” Thus Beëlzebub

Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devised

By Satan, and in part proposed: for whence,

But from the author of all ill could spring

So deep a malice, to confound the race

Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell

To mingle and involve, done all to spite

The great Creator? But their spite still serves His glory to augment. The bold design

Pleased highly those infernal States, and joy Sparkled in all their eyes; with full assent

They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews.

“Well have ye judged, well ended long debate, Synod of gods, and like to what ye are,

Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate,

Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in view

Of those bright confines, whence with neighboring arms And opportune excursion we may chance

Re-enter Heav’n; or else in some mild zone

Dwell not unvisited of Heav’n’s fair light

Secure, and at the bright’ning orient beam

Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious air, To heal the scar of these corrosive fires

Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we send In search of this new world, whom shall we find Sufficient? Who shall tempt with wand’ring feet The dark unbottomed infinite abyss

And through the palpable obscure find out

His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight

Upborne with indefatigable wings

Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive

The happy isle; what strength, what art can then Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe

Through the strict senteries and stations thick Of angels watching round? Here he had need

All circumspection, and we now no less

Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send,

The weight of all and our last hope relies.”

This said, he sat; and expectation held

His look suspense, awaiting who appeared

To second, or oppose, or undertake

The perilous attempt: but all sat mute,

Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each In other’s count’nance read his own dismay

Astonished: none among the choice and prime

Of those Heav’n-warring champions could be found So hardy as to proffer or accept

Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last

Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised

Above his fellows, with monarchal pride

Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake.

“O progeny of Heav’n, empyreal Thrones,

With reason hath deep silence and demur

Seized us, though undismayed: long is the way And hard, that out of Hell leads up to light; Our prison strong, this huge convex of fire,

Outrageous to devour, immures us round

Ninefold, and gates of burning adamant

Barred over us prohibit all egress.

These past, if any pass, the void profound

Of unessential night receives him next

Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being

Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf.

If thence he scape into whatever world,

Or unknown region, what remains him less

Than unknown dangers and as hard escape.

But I should ill become this throne, O Peers, And this imperial sov’reignty, adorned

With splendor, armed with power, if aught proposed And judged of public moment, in the shape

Of difficulty or danger could deter

Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume

These royalties, and not refuse to reign,

Refusing to accept as great a share

Of hazard as of honor, due alike

To him who reigns, and so much to him due

Of hazard more, as he above the rest

High honored sits? Go therefore mighty Powers, Terror of Heav’n, though fall’n; intend at home, While here shall be our home, what best may ease The present misery, and render Hell

More tolerable; if there be cure or charm

To respite or deceive, or slack the pain

Of this ill mansion: intermit no watch

Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad

Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek Deliverance for us all: this enterprise

None shall partake with me.” Thus saying rose The monarch, and prevented all reply,

Prudent, lest from his resolution raised

Others among the chief might offer now

(Certain to be refused) what erst they feared; And so refused might in opinion stand

His rivals, winning cheap the high repute

Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they Dreaded not more th’ adventure than his voice Forbidding; and at once with him they rose;

Their rising all at once was as the sound

Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend With awful reverence prone; and as a god

Extol him equal to the highest in Heav’n:

Nor failed they to express how much they praised, That for the general safety he despised

His own: for neither do the spirits damned

Lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, Or close ambition varnished o’er with zeal.

Thus they their doubtful consultations dark

Ended rejoicing in their matchless chief:

As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds

Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o’erspread Heav’n’s cheerful face, the louring element

Scowls o’er the darkened lantskip snow, or show’r; If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet Extend his ev’ning beam, the fields revive,

The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.

O shame to men! Devil with devil damned

Firm concord holds, men only disagree

Of creatures rational, though under hope

Of heavenly grace: and God proclaiming peace, Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife

Among themselves, and levy cruel wars,

Wasting the earth, each other to destroy:

As if (which might induce us to accord)

Man had not Hellish foes enow besides,

That day and night for his destruction wait.

The Stygian Counsel thus dissolved; and forth In order came the grand infernal Peers:

Midst came their mighty Paramount, and seemed Alone th’ antagonist of Heav’n, nor less

Than Hell’s dread Emperor with pomp supreme,

And God-like imitated state; him round

A globe of fiery Seraphim enclosed

With bright emblazonry, and horrent arms.

Then of their session ended they bid cry

With trumpets’ regal sound the great result:

Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim

Put to their mouths the sounding alchemy

By herald’s voice explained: the hollow abyss Heard far and wide, and all the host of Hell

With deaf’ning shout, returned them loud acclaim.

Thence more at ease their minds and somewhat raised By false presumptuous hope, the rangèd powers Disband, and wand’ring, each his several way

Pursues, as inclination or sad choice

Leads him perplexed, where he may likeliest find Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain The irksome hours, till this great chief return.

Part on the plain, or in the air sublime

Upon the wing, or in swift race contend,

As at th’ Olympian Games or Pythian fields;

Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form.

As when to warn proud cities war appears

Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush

To battle in the clouds, before each van

Prick forth the airy knights, and couch their spears Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms From either end of heav’n the welkin burns.

Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell

Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar.

As when Alcides from Oechalia crowned

With conquest, felt th’ envenomed robe, and tore Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw

Into th’ Euboic Sea. Others more mild,

Retreated in a silent valley, sing

With notes angelical to many a harp

Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall

By doom of battle; and complain that fate

Free virtue should enthrall to force or chance.

Their song was partial, but the harmony

(What could it less when spirits immortal sing?) Suspended Hell, and took with ravishment

The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet (For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense) Others apart sat on a hill retired,

In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high

Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, And found no end, in wand’ring mazes lost.

Of good and evil much they argued then,

Of happiness and final misery,

Passion and apathy, and glory and shame,

Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy:

Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm

Pain for a while or anguish, and excite

Fallacious hope, or arm th’ obdurèd breast

With stubborn patience as with triple steel.

Another part in squadrons and gross bands,

On bold adventure to discover wide

That dismal world, if any clime perhaps

Might yield them easier habitation, bend

Four ways their flying march, along the banks Of four infernal rivers that disgorge

Into the burning lake their baleful streams;

Abhorrèd Styx the flood of deadly hate,

Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;

Cocytus, named of lamentation loud

Heard on the rueful stream; fierce Phlegeton

Whose waves of torrent fire inflame with rage.

Far off from these a slow and silent stream,

Lethe the river of oblivion rolls

Her wat’ry labyrinth, whereof who drinks,

Forthwith his former state and being forgets, Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.

Beyond this flood a frozen continent

Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms Of whirlwind and dire hail, which on firm land Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems

Of ancient pile; all else deep snow and ice,

A gulf profound as that Serbonian Bog

Betwixt Damiata and Mount Casius old,

Where armies whole have sunk: the parching air Burns frore, and cold performs th’ effect of fire.

Thither by harpy-footed Furies haled,

At certain revolutions all the damned

Are brought: and feel by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, From beds of raging fire to starve in ice

Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine Immovable, infixed, and frozen round,

Periods of time, thence hurried back to fire.

They ferry over this Lethean sound

Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment,

And wish and struggle, as they pass, to reach The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe,

All in one moment, and so near the brink;

But fate withstands, and to oppose th’ attempt Medusa with Gorgonian terror guards

The ford, and of itself the water flies

All taste of living wight, as once it fled

The lip of Tantalus. Thus roving on

In confused march forlorn, th’ advent’rous bands With shudd’ring horror pale, and eyes aghast

Viewed first their lamentable lot, and found

No rest: through many a dark and dreary vale

They passed, and many a region dolorous,

O’er many a frozen, many a fiery alp,

Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death, A universe of death, which God by curse

Created evil, for evil only good,

Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things, Abominable, inutterable, and worse

Than fables yet have feigned, or fear conceived, Gorgons and Hydras, and Chimeras dire.

Meanwhile the Adversary of God and man,

Satan with thoughts inflamed of highest design, Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of Hell Explores his solitary flight; sometimes

He scours the right hand coast, sometimes the left, Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars Up to the fiery concave tow’ring high.

As when far off at sea a fleet descried

Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds

Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles

Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring Their spicy drugs: they on the trading flood

Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape

Ply stemming nightly toward the pole. So seemed Far off the flying Fiend: at last appear

Hell bounds high reaching to the horrid roof, And thrice threefold the gates; three folds were brass, Three iron, three of adamantine rock,

Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire,

Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat

On either side a formidable shape;

The one seemed woman to the waist, and fair,

But ended foul in many a scaly fold

Voluminous and vast, a serpent armed

With mortal sting: about her middle round

A cry of Hell-hounds never ceasing barked

With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung A hideous peal: yet, when they list, would creep, If aught disturbed their noise, into her womb, And kennel there, yet there still barked and howled, Within unseen. Far less abhorred than these

Vexed Scylla bathing in the sea that parts

Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore:

Nor uglier follow the night-hag, when called

In secret, riding through the air she comes

Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance With Lapland witches, while the laboring moon Eclipses at their charms. The other shape,

If shape it might be called that shape had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb,

Or substance might be called that shadow seemed, For each seemed either; black it stood as night, Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell,

And shook a dreadful dart; what seemed his head 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 Heav’n.” To whom the Goblin full of wrath replied,

“Art thou that traitor angel, art thou he,

Who first broke peace in Heav’n and faith, till then Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms

Drew after him the third part of Heav’n’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 Heav’n, 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 ling’ring, 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 threat’ning, 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 Ophiucus huge

In th’ Arctic sky, and from his horrid hair

Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head

Leveled 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 Heav’n’s artillery fraught, come rattling on Over the Caspian, then stand front to front

Hov’ring 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 either 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,

Ris’n, 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 Heav’n, when at th’ assembly, and in sight Of all the Seraphim with thee combined

In bold conspiracy against Heav’n’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 op’ning wide, Likest to thee in shape and count’nance bright, Then shining Heav’nly fair, a goddess armed

Out of thy head I sprung: amazement seized

All th’ host of Heav’n; 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 enamored, 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 Heav’n; 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

Driv’n 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 hand was giv’n, with charge to keep

These gates for ever shut, which none can pass Without my op’ning. 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: I fled, and cried out ‘Death’; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed From all her caves, and back resounded ‘Death.’ I fled, but he pursued (though more, it seems, Inflamed with lust than rage) and swifter far, Me overtook his mother all dismayed,

And in embraces forcible and foul

Engend’ring with me, of that rape begot

These yelling monsters that with ceaseless cry Surround me, as thou saw’st, hourly conceived And hourly born, with sorrow infinite

To me, for when they list into the womb

That bred them they return, and howl and gnaw My bowels, their repast; then bursting forth

Afresh with conscious terrors vex me round,

That rest or intermission none I find.

Before mine eyes in opposition sits

Grim Death my son and foe, who sets them on,

And me his parent would full soon devour

For want of other prey, but that he knows

His end with mine involved; and knows that I

Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane,

Whenever that shall be; so fate pronounced.

But thou O father, I forewarn thee, shun

His deadly arrow; neither vainly hope

To be invulnerable in those bright arms,

Though tempered Heav’nly, for that mortal dint, Save he who reigns above, none can resist.”

She finished, and the subtle Fiend his lore

Soon learned, now milder, and thus answered smooth.

“Dear daughter, since thou claim’st me for thy sire, And my fair son here show’st me, the dear pledge Of dalliance had with thee in Heav’n, and joys Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change Befall’n us unforeseen, unthought of, know

I come no enemy, but to set free

From out this dark and dismal house of pain,

Both him and thee, and all the Heav’nly host

Of spirits that in our just pretenses armed

Fell with us from on high: from them I go

This uncouth errand sole, and one for all

Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread

Th’ unfounded deep, and through the void immense To search with wand’ring quest a place foretold Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now

Created vast and round, a place of bliss

In the purlieus of Heav’n, and therein placed A race of upstart creatures, to supply

Perhaps our vacant room, though more removed, Lest Heav’n surcharged with potent multitude

Might hap to move new broils: be this or aught Than this more secret now designed, I haste

To know, and this once known, shall soon return, And bring ye to the place where thou and Death Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen

Wing silently the buxom air, embalmed

With odors; there ye shall be fed and filled

Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey.” He ceased, for both seemed highly pleased, and Deat Grinned horrible a ghastly smile, to hear

His famine should be filled, and blessed his maw Destined to that good hour: no less rejoiced

His mother bad, and thus bespake her sire.

“The key of this infernal pit by due,

And by command of Heav’n’s all-powerful King

I keep, by him forbidden to unlock

These adamantine gates; against all force

Death ready stands to interpose his dart,

Fearless to be o’ermatched by living might.

But what owe I to his commands above

Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down

Into this gloom of Tartarus profound,

To sit in hateful office here confined,

Inhabitant of Heav’n, and Heav’nly-born,

Here in perpetual agony and pain,

With terrors and with clamors compassed round Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed:

Thou art my father, thou my author, thou

My being gav’st me; whom should I obey

But thee, whom follow? Thou wilt bring me soon To that new world of light and bliss, among

The gods who live at ease, where I shall reign At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems

Thy daughter and thy darling, without end.”

Thus saying, from her side the fatal key,

Sad instrument of all our woe, she took;

And towards the gate rolling her bestial train, Forthwith the huge portcullis high up drew,

Which but herself not all the Stygian powers

Could once have moved; then in the key-hole turns Th’ intricate wards, and every bolt and bar

Of massy iron or solid rock with ease

Unfastens: on a sudden open fly

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound

Th’ infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook

Of Erebus. She opened, but to shut

Excelled her power; the gates wide open stood, That with extended wings a bannered host

Under spread ensigns marching might pass through With horse and chariots ranked in loose array; So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth

Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame.

Before their eyes in sudden view appear

The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark

Illimitable ocean without bound,

Without dimension, where length, breadth, and highth, And time and place are lost; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold

Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise

Of endless wars, and by confusion stand.

For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce Strive here for mast’ry, and to battle bring

Their embryon atoms; they around the flag

Of each his faction, in their several clans,

Light-armed or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow, Swarm populous, unnumbered as the sands

Of Barca or Cyrene’s torrid soil,

Levied to side with warring winds, and poise

Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere, He rules a moment; Chaos umpire sits,

And by decision more embroils the fray

By which he reigns: next him high arbiter

Chance governs all. Into this wild abyss,

The womb of Nature and perhaps her grave,

Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mixed

Confus’dly, and which thus must ever fight,

Unless th’ Almighty Maker them ordain

His dark materials to create more worlds,

Into this wild abyss the wary Fiend

Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while, Pondering his Voyage; for no narrow frith

He had to cross. Nor was his ear less pealed

With noises loud and ruinous (to compare

Great things with small) than when Bellona storms, With all her battering engines bent to raze

Some capital city; or less than if this frame Of heav’n were falling, and these elements

In mutiny had from her axle torn

The steadfast Earth. At last his sail-broad vans He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke Uplifted spurns the ground, thence many a league As in a cloudy chair ascending rides

Audacious, but that seat soon failing, meets

A vast vacuity: all unawares

Flutt’ring his pennons vain plumb down he drops Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour

Down had been falling, had not by ill chance

The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud

Instinct with fire and niter hurried him

As many miles aloft: that fury stayed,

Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea,

Nor good dry land: nigh foundered on he fares, Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, Half flying; behooves him now both oar and sail.

As when a gryphon through the wilderness

With wingèd course o’er hill or moory dale,

Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth

Had from his wakeful custody purloined

The guarded gold: so eagerly the Fiend

O’er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings or feet pursues his way, And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies: At length a universal hubbub wild

Of stunning sounds and voices all confused

Born through the hollow dark assaults his ear With loudest vehemence: thither he plies,

Undaunted to meet there whatever power

Or spirit of the nethermost abyss

Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask

Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies

Bordering on light; when straight behold the throne Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread

Wide on the wasteful deep; with him enthroned Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things,

The consort of his reign; and by them stood

Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name

Of Demogorgon; Rumor next and Chance,

And Tumult and Confusion all embroiled,

And Discord with a thousand various mouths.

T’ whom Satan turning boldly, thus. “Ye Powers And Spirits of this nethermost abyss,

Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy,

With purpose to explore or to disturb

The secrets of your realm, but by constraint

Wand’ring this darksome desert, as my way

Lies through your spacious empire up to light, Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek

What readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds Confine with Heav’n; or if some other place

From your dominion won, th’ Ethereal King

Possesses lately, thither to arrive

I travel this profound, direct my course;

Directed, no mean recompense it brings

To your behoof, if I that region lost,

All usurpation thence expelled, reduce

To her original darkness and your sway

(Which is my present journey) and once more

Erect the standard there of ancient Night;

Yours be th’ advantage all, mine the revenge.” Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old

With falt’ring speech and visage incomposed

Answered. “I know thee, stranger, who thou art, That mighty leading angel, who of late

Made head against Heav’n’s King, though overthrown.

I saw and heard, for such a numerous host

Fled not in silence through the frighted deep With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,

Confusion worse confounded; and Heav’n gates

Poured out by millions her victorious bands

Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here

Keep residence; if all I can will serve,

That little which is left so to defend,

Encroached on still through our intestine broils Weak’ning the scepter of old Night: first Hell Your dungeon stretching far and wide beneath; Now lately heaven and Earth, another world

Hung o’er my realm, linked in a golden chain

To that side Heav’n from whence your legions fell: If that way be your walk, you have not far;

So much the nearer danger; go and speed;

Havoc and spoil and ruin are my gain.”

He ceased; and Satan stayed not to reply,

But glad that now his sea should find a shore, With fresh alacrity and force renewed

Springs upward like a pyramid of fire

Into the wild expanse, and through the shock

Of fighting elements, on all sides round

Environed wins his way; harder beset

And more endangered, than when Argo passed

Through Bosporus betwixt the jostling rocks:

Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned

Charybdis, and by th’ other whirlpool steered.

So he with difficulty and labor hard

Moved on, with difficulty and labor he;

But he once passed, soon after when man fell, Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain

Following his track, such was the will of Heav’n, Paved after him a broad and beaten way

Over the dark abyss, whose boiling gulf

Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length

From Hell continued reaching th’ utmost orb

Of this frail world; by which the spirits perverse With easy intercourse pass to and fro

To tempt or punish mortals, except whom

God and good angels guard by special grace.

But now at last the sacred influence

Of light appears, and from the walls of Heav’n Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night

A glimmering dawn; here Nature first begins

Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire

As from her outmost works a broken foe

With tumult less and with less hostile din,

That Satan with less toil, and now with ease

Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light

And like a weather-beaten vessel holds

Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn; Or in the emptier waste, resembling air,

Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold Far off th’ empyreal Heav’n, extended wide

In circuit, undetermined square or round,

With opal tow’rs and battlements adorned

Of living sapphire, once his native seat;

And fast by hanging in a golden chain

This pendant world, in bigness as a star

Of smallest magnitude close by the moon.

Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge, Accursed, and in a cursèd hour he hies.