PARADISE LOST

Of mankind's first disobedience and the fruit
of that forbidden tree, whose deadly taste
brought death into the world and all our suffering,
with loss of Eden, until one greater man
restores us and regains the blissful seat.
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that on the secret peak
of Oreb or Sinai, inspired
that shepherd who first taught the chosen people
how the heavens and earth
emerged from Chaos: Or if Sion Hill
delights you more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed
quickly by the Oracle of God; I call
on your help for my daring song,
that with no average flight aims to soar
above the Aonian Mount, while it pursues
things yet unattempted in prose or rhyme.
And especially You, O Spirit, who prefer
above all temples the upright and pure heart,
teach me, for You know; You were present from the start
and with mighty wings spread wide
like a dove sat brooding on the vast abyss
and made it fruitful: What is dark in me
illuminate, what is low raise and support;
that to the height of this great argument
I may assert the Eternal Providence
and justify the ways of God to men.

Say first, for Heaven hides nothing from your view
Nor the deep depth of Hell, say first what made
Our Grandparents, who were in such a favorable state,
Highly favored by Heaven, turn away
From their Creator and ignore His will
For one rule, when they were Masters of the World besides?
Who first lured them into that foul revolt?
The infernal Serpent; it was he whose trickery
Fueled by Envy and Revenge, deceived
The Mother of Mankind when his Pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, along with all his Host
Of Rebel Angels, who aided him in aspiring
To raise himself in Glory above his Peers,
Trusting he could equal the Most High,
If he opposed; and with ambitious aim
Against the Throne and Monarchy of God
Started impious War in Heaven and fought proud
With a vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Threw headlong flaming from the Ethereal Sky
With hideous ruin and combustion down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In Adamantine Chains and penal Fire,
Who dared defy the Omnipotent to Arms.
Nine times the Space that measures Day and Night
For mortal men, he with his horrid crew
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery Gulf
Confounded though immortal: But his doom
Reserved him for more wrath; for now the thought
Of both lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay
Mixed with stubborn pride and steadfast hate:
As far as Angels can see he views
The dismal, wasteful situation,
A horrible Dungeon, on all sides round
As one great Furnace flamed, yet from those flames
No light, but rather visible darkness
Served only to reveal sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, mournful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never arrives
That comes to all; but endless torture
Still urges, and a fiery Deluge, fed
With ever-burning Sulfur unconsumed:
Such a place Eternal Justice had prepared
For those rebels, here their Prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set
As far removed from God and the light of Heaven
As from the Center thrice to the utmost Pole.
Oh how unlike the place from which they fell!
There the companions of his fall, overwhelmed
With Floods and Whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He quickly discerns, and writhing by his side
One next to himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom the Arch-Enemy,
And hence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence thus began.

If you are he; but oh, how fallen! How changed From the one who, in the happy realms of light, Clothed in transcendent brightness, outshone Myriads, though bright: If he, whom mutual alliance, Shared thoughts and plans, equal hope, And risk in the glorious enterprise, Joined with me once, now misery has joined In equal ruin: into what pit you see From what height fallen, so much the stronger proved He with his thunder: and until then, who knew The power of those terrible weapons? Yet not for those Nor what the powerful victor in his rage Can inflict do I regret or change, Though changed in outward appearance; that fixed mind And high disdain, from the sense of injured merit, That raised me to contend with the mightiest, And brought alongside the fierce conflict An innumerable force of armed spirits That dared to oppose his reign, and preferring me, His utmost power faced with opposing power In a doubtful battle on the plains of heaven, And shook his throne. What if the field is lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And desire for revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what else is there that cannot be overcome? That glory shall never be extorted from me by his rage or strength. To bow and beg for grace With a supplicant knee, and deify his power Who from the terror of this arm so recently Doubted his empire, that would indeed be low, That would be a disgrace and shame beneath This downfall; since by fate, the strength of gods And this celestial substance cannot fail, Since through experience of this great event In arms not worse, in foresight much improved, We may with more hopeful resolve Wage eternal war by force or deception Unreconcilable, against our grand foe, Who now triumphs, and in the excess of joy Solely reigning holds the tyranny of heaven.

So spoke the Apostate Angel, though in pain,
Boasting loudly, but tortured by deep despair:
And his brave companion quickly answered him.

O Prince, O Leader of many Powerful Thrones,
Who led the battle-ready Seraphim to War
Under your command, and in terrifying actions
Fearlessly challenged Heaven's eternal King;
And tested his supreme power,
Whether upheld by strength, luck, or destiny,
I clearly see and regret the terrible outcome,
That with sad downfall and disgraceful defeat
Has lost us Heaven, and this mighty Host
Has been laid low in horrible destruction,
As far as Gods and Heavenly Beings
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remain
Invincible, and strength will soon return,
Though all our Glory is gone, and our happy state
Here swallowed up in endless misery.
But what if our Conqueror, (whom I now
Must believe is Almighty, since none less
Could have overpowered such strength as ours)
Has left us this spirit and strength intact
Strongly to suffer and endure our pains,
So we may please his vengeful wrath,
Or serve him more powerfully as his servants
By right of War, whatever his purpose may be
Here in the heart of Hell to toil in Fire,
Or carry out his tasks in the dark Depths;
What good is it then if we still feel
Strength undiminished, or eternal existence
If we must endure eternal punishment?
To this, the Arch-fiend quickly replied.

Fallen angel, being weak is miserable
Doing or suffering: but know this for sure,
Doing anything good won’t be our task,
But doing wrong will always be our delight,
Since it goes against the high will
Of the one we resist. If his Providence
Seeks to bring good from our evil,
Our job must be to twist that purpose,
And find ways to turn good into evil;
Which may often succeed, perhaps
To annoy him, if I’m not mistaken, and disrupt
His innermost plans from their intended aims.
But look, the angry Victor has recalled
His agents of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: The sulfurous hail
Shot after us in a storm has laid down
The fiery surge that caught us falling from
Heaven's precipice, and the thunder,
Fueled by red lightning and furious rage,
May have spent its bolts, and now stops
To roar through the vast and endless deep.
Let’s not miss this chance, whether it’s scorn,
Or a greedy fury from our enemy.
Do you see that dreary plain, deserted and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Except for the glimmering of these pale, dreadful flames?
Let’s head there
From the tossing of these fiery waves,
There rest, if any rest can be found there,
And regroup our troubled powers,
Plan how we can most offend
Our enemy, how to repair our own loss,
How to overcome this dire catastrophe,
What support we might gain from hope,
If not, then what resolution from despair.

So Satan spoke to his closest companion,
Head raised above the waves, eyes
Glowing and bright, his other parts
Lying flat on the water, stretched out wide
Floating over a large area, as massive
As the creatures from myths that are said to be enormous,
, or , that fought against ,
or , whom the cave
In ancient held, or that sea monster
, which God created,
The largest of all that swim in the ocean:
He might have been dozing in the foam of ,
The pilot of some small boat that sank at night,
Thinking it was an island, as sailors often say,
With a fixed anchor in his rugged shell,
Moored by his side sheltered from the wind, while night
Envelops the sea, and wished-for dawn is delayed:
So the Archfiend lay stretched out,
Chained in the burning lake, never rising
Or lifting his head, except that the will
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven
Left him free to pursue his dark schemes,
To accumulate damnation through his repeated crimes,
While he sought to do evil to others, and in his rage
Could see how all his malice only served to produce
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy shown
To mankind by those he had led astray, but for himself
Multiplied confusion, wrath, and vengeance.
Immediately, he rises up from the pool,
His mighty form rearing; on each side the flames
Bend backward, their pointed tips and rolled
Into waves, leaving a terrible valley in between.
Then, with outspread wings, he steers his flight
Upward, pressing down on the dark air
That felt an unusual weight, until he lands,
If it could be called land that ever burned,
Solid like the lake with liquid fire;
And it appeared in color as if when the force
Of underground winds lifts a hill
Torn from , or the shattered side
Of thundering , whose combustible
And fueled insides generate fire,
Sublimed with mineral fury, aiding the winds,
Leaving a charred bottom all enveloped
In stench and smoke: such was the place
Where the unholy feet rested. Then his next companion followed,
Both boasting of having escaped the flood
Like gods, and by their own regained strength,
Not through the tolerance of higher power.

Is this the region, this the soil, this the climate,
Said then the lost Archangel, is this the place
That we must leave for heaven, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? So be it, since he
Who is now sovereign can decide and demand
What is right: farthest from him is best
Who reason has equaled, force has made supreme
Over his equals. Farewell happy fields
Where joy forever dwells: Hail horrors, hail
Infernal world, and you profound Hell
Receive your new possessor: One who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.
What does it matter where, if I remain the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder has made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; the Almighty has not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us away:
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice
To reign is worth ambition even in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
But why should we leave our faithful friends,
The associates and partners of our loss
Lying thus astonished in the oblivious pool,
And not call them to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion, or once more
With gathered arms to try what may still be
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?

So Satan spoke, and Beelzebub answered him.
Leader of those bright armies,
Which only the Omnipotent could have defeated,
Once they hear that voice, their strongest pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so often
In the worst extremes, and on the dangerous edge
Of battle when it raged, in all assaults,
Their surest signal, they will quickly regain
New courage and revive, even though now they lie
Crawling and prostrate on that Lake of Fire,
As we once did, stunned and amazed,
No wonder, having fallen from such a terrible height.

He barely had stopped when the superior Fiend
Was moving toward the shore; his heavy shield
Made of ethereal material, massive, large and round,
Cast behind him; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the Moon, whose orb
Through a telescope the Tuscan artist sees
In the evening from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to spot new lands,
Rivers or mountains in her spotted globe.
His spear, which was taller than the highest pine
Cut down on Norwegian hills, to serve as the mast
For some great admiral, was just a stick,
He walked with it to support his unsteady steps
Over the burning soil, not like those steps
On Heaven's blue skies, and the scorching heat
Hit him hard too, vaulted with fire;
Yet he endured, until he stood on the beach
Of that flaming sea and called
His legions, angelic forms, who lay still
As thick as autumn leaves that strew the streams
In Vallombrosa, where the Etrurian shades
High overhead provided shelter; or scattered reeds
Drifting, when fierce winds Orion armed
Have troubled the Red Sea coast, whose waves threw down
Busiris and his Memphian knights,
While with treacherous hatred they pursued
The sojourners of Goshen, who watched
From the safe shore their floating corpses
And broken chariot wheels, so thickly scattered
Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood,
In amazement at their horrific transformation.
He called so loud that all the hollow depths
Of Hell echoed. Princes, potentates,
Warriors, the flower of Heaven, once yours, now lost,
If such astonishment can seize
Eternal spirits; or have you chosen this place
After the toil of battle to rest
Your weary virtue, for the ease you find
To sleep here, as in the valleys of Heaven?
Or in this lowly posture have you sworn
To worship the conqueror? who now sees
Cherubs and seraphs rolling in the flood
With scattered arms and standards, until soon
His swift pursuers from Heaven's gates discern
The advantage, and descending crush us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Pierce us to the bottom of this gulf.
Awake, arise, or be forever fallen.

They heard and were embarrassed, and they jumped up
Like those who watch on duty, caught asleep by those they fear,
They rouse themselves and stir before they’re fully awake.
They also saw the terrible situation
They were in, and felt the fierce pains;
Yet they quickly obeyed their General's voice,
Countless in number. Just like when the powerful rod
Of Amram’s son in Egypt's dark day
Waved around the coast, calling forth a thick cloud
Of locusts, blown in by the eastern wind,
That hung over the land of the wicked Pharaoh
Like night, and darkened all the land of the Nile:
So countless were those evil angels seen
Hovering under the cover of hell
Between upper, lower, and surrounding fires;
Until, as a signal was given, the raised spear
Of their great Sultan waved to guide
Their course, and evenly they descended
On the solid brimstone, filling all the plain;
A multitude like which the populous North
Never poured from her frozen loins, to cross
The Rhine or the Danube when her barbarous sons
Came like a flood on the South, spreading
Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.
Immediately from every squadron and each group
The heads and leaders hastened to where
Their great commander stood; godlike shapes and forms
Excelling human, princely dignities,
And powers that once sat on thrones in Heaven;
Though their names in heavenly records
Are now forgotten, erased and removed
By their rebellion, from the books of life.
They hadn’t yet among the sons of Eve
Gained new names, until wandering over the Earth,
By God’s high allowance for man’s trial,
Through lies and deceit they corrupted most
Of mankind to abandon
God their creator, and the invisible
Glory of Him, who made them, often transforming
Into the image of a beast, adorned
With flashy religions full of pomp and gold,
And devils to worship as deities:
Then they were known to men by various names,
And various idols throughout the pagan world.
Say, Muse, what names were known then, who first, who last,
Awakened from slumber on that fiery couch,
At their great emperor's call, as next in worth
Came one by one to where he stood on the bare shore,
While the mixed crowd stood back?
The chief among them were those who from the pit of hell
Roaming to seek prey on earth, dared to settle
Their altars close to God's altar, worshipping
Among the nations nearby, and dared to withstand
Jehovah thundering from Zion, enthroned
Between the cherubim; yes, often placing
Their shrines, abominations, even in His sanctuary,
And with cursed things profaned
His holy rites and solemn feasts,
And with their darkness dared to confront His light.
First Moloch, horrid king smeared with the blood
Of human sacrifice and parents' tears,
Though for the noise of drums and tambourines loud
Their children's cries went unheard, as they passed through fire
To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite
Worshipped in Rabbah and her watery plain,
In Argob and in Bashan, to the stream
Of utmost Arnon. Nor content with such
Audacious company, he led the wisest heart
Of Solomon by deceit to build
His temple right against the temple of God
On that disgraceful hill, and made his grove
The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Dante’s
And black Gehenna called, the type of hell.
Next Chemosh, the lewd dread of Moab’s sons,
From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild
Of southern Abarim; in Heshbon
And Heronain, Seon’s realm, beyond
The flowery dale of Sibma clad with vines,
And Elealeh to the Asphaltic pool.
Peor his other name, when he enticed
Israel at Sittim on their march from Nile
To perform vile rites, which cost them woe.
Yet from there his lustful orgies spread
Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove
Of Moloch, murder, lust right next to hate;
Until good Josiah drove them to hell.
With these came they, who from the bordering flood
Of old Euphrates to the brook that divides
Egypt from Syrian ground, were generally known
As Baalim and Ashtaroth, the male,
These female. For spirits when they wish
Can assume either sex, or both; so soft
And unbound is their essence pure,
Not tied or shackled with joint or limb,
Nor dependent on the fragile strength of bones,
Like cumbersome flesh; but in whatever shape they choose
Expanded or condensed, bright or obscure,
Can carry out their airy purposes,
And fulfill works of love or enmity.
For those the race of Israel often forsook
Their living strength, and left unfrequented
His righteous altar, bowing low down
To bestial gods; for which their heads as low
Bowed down in battle, sunk before the spear
Of contemptible foes. With these in a crowd
Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians called
Astarte, queen of heaven, with crescent horns;
To whose bright image nightly by the moon
Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs,
In Zion also not unsung, where stood
Her temple on the offensive mountain, built
By that indulgent king, whose heart though large,
Beguiled by pretty idolaters, fell
To foul idols. Thammuz came next behind,
Whose annual wound in Lebanon lured
The Syrian maidens to lament his fate
In love songs all summer long,
While smooth Adonis from his native rock
Ran purple to the sea, thought to be with the blood
Of Thammuz yearly wounded; the love tale
Infected Zion’s daughters with similar heat,
Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch
Ezekiel saw, when by vision led
His eye surveyed the dark idolatries
Of alienated Judah. Next came one
Who mourned in earnest, when the captive ark
Maimed his beast-like image, head and hands lopped off
In his own temple, on the ground's edge,
Where he fell flat, and shamed his worshipers:
Dagon his name, sea monster, upward man
And downward fish: yet had his temple high
Built in Azotus, dreaded throughout the coast
Of Palestine, in Gath and Ascalon,
And Accaron and Gaza’s boundary limits.
He was followed by Rimmon, whose pleasant seat
Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks
Of Abbana and Pharpar, clear streams.
He also boldly opposed the house of God:
A leper once he lost and gained a king,
Ahaz his foolish conqueror, whom he led
To disparage and replace God's altar
For one of Syrian style, on which to burn
His detestable offerings, and worship the gods
He had vanquished. After these appeared
A crew who under names of old renown,
Osiris, Isis, Orus and their train
With monstrous shapes and sorceries abused
Fanatic Egypt and her priests, to seek
Their wandering gods disguised in beastly forms
Rather than human. Nor did Israel escape
The infection when their borrowed gold formed
The calf in Oreb: and the rebel king
Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,
Likenig his maker to the grazing ox,
Jehovah, who in one night when he passed
From Egypt marching, equalized with one stroke
Both her firstborn and all her bleating gods.
Belial came last, then whom no spirit more lewd
Fell from heaven, or was more gross in loving
Vice for itself: To him no temple stood
Or altar smoked; yet who more often than he
In temples and at altars, when the priest
Turns atheist, as did Eli’s sons, who filled
With lust and violence the house of God.
In courts and palaces he also reigns
And in luxurious cities, where the noise
Of riot ascends above their tallest towers,
And injury and outrage: And when night
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
Of Belial, high with insolence and wine.
Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night
In Gibeah, when hospitable doors
Yielded their matrons to prevent worse rape.
These were the prime in order and in might;
The rest were long to tell, though far renowned,
The Ionian gods, descendants of Javan,
Yet confess later than heaven and earth
Their claimed parents; Titan heaven’s firstborn
With his enormous brood, and birthright seized
By younger Saturn, he from mightier Jove
His own and Rhea’s son like measure found;
So Jove usurping reigned: these first in Crete
And Ida known, then on the snowy top
Of cold Olympus ruled the middle air
Their highest heaven; or on the Delphian cliff,
Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds
Of Doric land; or who with Saturn old
Fled over Adria to the Hesperian fields,
And of the Celtic roamed the utmost isles.
All these and more came flocking; but with looks
Downcast and damp, yet such that showed
Obscure some glimpse of joy, to have found their chief
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost
In loss itself; which on his countenance cast
Like doubtful hue: but he his accustomed pride
Soon regaining, with high words, that bore
A semblance of worth not substance, gently raised
Their faint courage, and dispelled their fears.
Then straight commands that at the warlike sound
Of trumpets loud and clarions be raised
His mighty standard; that proud honor claimed
Azazel as his right, a tall cherub:
Who immediately from the glittering staff unfurled
The imperial ensign, which held high aloft
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind
With gems and golden luster richly emblazoned,
Seraphic arms and trophies: all the while
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:
At which the universal host sent up
A shout that tore hell’s concave, and beyond
Frightened the reign of chaos and old night.
All in a moment through the gloom were seen
Ten thousand banners rise into the air
With eastern colors waving: with them rose
A huge forest of spears: and crowding helms
Appeared, and serried shields in thick array
Of depth immeasurable: Anon they moved
In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood
Of flutes and soft recorders; such as raised
To height of noblest temper heroes old
Arming for battle, and instead of rage
Deliberate valor breathed, firm and unmoved
With dread of death to flight or foul retreat,
Nor lacking power to mitigate and quell
With solemn touches, troubled thoughts, and chase
Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain
From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they
Breathing united force with fixed thought
Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed
Their painful steps over the burnt soil; and now
Advancing into view they stand, a horrid front
Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise
Of warriors old with ordered spear and shield,
Awaiting what command their mighty chief
Had to impose: He through the armed ranks
Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverses
The whole battalion views, their order due,
Their faces and stature as of gods,
Their number last he sums. And now his heart
Distends with pride, and hardening in his strength
Glories: For never since created man,
Met such embodied force, as named with these
Could merit more than that small infantry
Waged on by cranes: though all the giant brood
Of Phlegra with the heroic race were joined
That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side
Mixed with auxiliary gods; and what resounds
In fable or romance of Uther's son
Surrounded with British and Armoric knights;
And all who since, baptized or infidel
Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,
Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond,
Or whom Biserta sent from African shore
When Charlemain with all his peerage fell
By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond
Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed
Their dread commander: he above the rest
In shape and gesture proudly eminent
Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost
All her original brightness, nor appeared
Less than archangel ruined, and the excess
Of glory obscured: As when the sun newly risen
Looks through the horizontal misty air
Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon
In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs. Darkened so, yet shone
Above them all the archangel: but his face
Deep scars of thunder had entrenched, and care
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows
Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride
Waiting for revenge: cruel his eye, but cast
Signs of remorse and passion to behold
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather
(Far other once beheld in bliss) condemned
Forever now to have their lot in pain,
Millions of spirits for his fault fined
From heaven, and from eternal splendors flung
For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory withered. As when heaven’s fire
Has scorched the forest oaks, or mountain pines,
With singed tops their stately growth though bare
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared
To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend
From wing to wing, and half enclose him round
With all his peers: attention held them mute.
Thrice he attempted, and thrice in spite of scorn,
Tears such as angels weep burst forth: at last
Words interwoven with sighs found their way.

O countless immortal spirits, O unmatched powers,
Equal only to the Almighty, and though the conflict
Was not without glory, the result was severe,
As this place shows, and this terrible change,
Hateful to express: but what strength of mind
Could foresee or predict, from the depths
Of knowledge, past or present, could have feared,
How such a united force of gods, how those
Like these, could ever be pushed back?
For who can still believe, even after loss,
That all these powerful legions, whose exile
Has emptied heaven, will fail to rise again
On their own, and reclaim their rightful place?
As for me, let the entire host of heaven bear witness,
If differing plans, or avoidance of danger
By me, have cost us our hopes. But he who reigns,
Monarch in heaven, until then sat secure
On his throne, upheld by reputation,
Consent or custom, and his royal state
Exhibited fully, but still his strength concealed,
Which tempted our effort and caused our fall.
From now on, we know his power, and know our own,
So as not to provoke or fear
A new war, provoked; our better option remains
To work in secret, through deception or trickery,
What force could not achieve: that he may ultimately discover
That he who overcomes by force has only half defeated his enemy.
Space may produce new worlds; and so widespread
Was the rumor in heaven that he intended
To create soon and within it establish
A generation whom his choice would favor
Equal to the sons of heaven:
To that place, even just to spy, could perhaps
Be our first strike, there or elsewhere:
For this infernal pit will never keep
Celestial spirits in bondage, nor will the abyss
Remain hidden under darkness for long. But these thoughts
Full counsel must develop: peace is lost,
For who can think of submission? War then, war
Open or understood must be decided.

He spoke: and to back up his words, millions of flaming swords flew out, drawn from the thighs of powerful Cherubim; the sudden blaze lit up hell all around: they raged fiercely against the Highest, and with their arms raised, clashed their sounding shields in the noise of war, throwing defiance toward the vault of Heaven.

There was a hill nearby with a grimy top
That belched fire and rolling smoke; the rest of it
Shone with a glossy crust, a sure sign
That hidden inside was metallic ore,
The work of sulfur. Quickly, a large group
Hastened there. Just like when teams
Of laborers armed with shovels and pickaxes
Lead the royal camp to dig a field,
Or build a rampart. Mammon led them on,
Mammon, the lowest spirit that fell
From heaven, for even in heaven, his looks and thoughts
Were always pointed downward, admiring more
The riches of heaven's pavement, trodden gold,
Than anything divine or holy else enjoyed
In blessed vision: he was the first
Who led men and taught them to
Ransack the earth's core, and with impious hands
Ripped apart the bowels of their mother Earth
For treasures better hidden. Soon his crew
Opened a large wound in the hill
And dug out veins of gold. Let no one be surprised
That riches grow in hell; that soil may best
Deserve the precious curse. And here let those
Who boast about mortal things, and wonder
At Babel, and the works of the Memphian kings,
Learn how their greatest monuments of fame,
Strength, and art can be easily surpassed
By wicked spirits, and in an hour
What they accomplish in an age
With endless toil and countless hands
Barely seems to measure up
In many cells prepared,
That underneath had veins of liquid fire
Sourced from the lake, a second group
With amazing art shaped the massive ore,
Separating each kind and skimming the bullion dross:
A third soon formed within the ground
A variety of molds, and from the boiling cells
Through strange means filled every hollow spot,
Like in an organ where one blast of wind
Breathes through many rows of pipes.
Instantly, from the earth a huge structure
Rose like a vapor, with the sound
Of sweet symphonies and lovely voices,
Built like a temple, surrounded by
Pilasters and Doric pillars overlaid
With golden architraves; there was no lack
Of cornices or friezes, with ornate sculptures carved,
The roof was inlaid with gold. Not Babilon,
Nor great Alcairo matched such magnificence
To house Belus or Serapis, their gods, or to seat
Their kings, when Aegypt vied with Assyria
In wealth and luxury. The rising structure
Stood firmly at its impressive height, and the doors
Opened their brazen folds wide,
Revealing within, spacious areas, over the smooth
And level pavement: from the arched roof
Hung by subtle magic many rows
Of starry lamps and blazing torches fed
With naphtha and asphalt that yielded light
Like from a sky. The hasty multitude
Entered in awe, praising the work,
Some the architect: his hand was known
In heaven by many tall structures,
Where scepter-wielding angels made their homes,
And sat like princes, whom the supreme king
Exalted to such power and gave to rule,
Each in his hierarchy, the bright orders.
Nor was his name unheard or unadmired
In ancient Greece; in Ausonian lands,
They called him Mulciber; and how he fell
From heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove
Sheer over the crystal battlements: from morn
To noon he tumbled, from noon to dewy eve,
A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropped from the zenith like a falling star,
On Lemnos, the Aegaean isle: thus they say,
Wrongly, for he with this rebellious mob
Fell long before; nor did it help him now
To have built high towers in heaven; nor did he escape
By all his devices, but was hurled down
With his industrious crew to build in hell.
Meanwhile, the winged heralds by command
Of sovereign power, with solemn ceremony
And trumpets sounded throughout the host, proclaimed
A solemn council to be held
At Pandaemonium, the high capital
Of Satan and his peers: their summons called
From every band and regiment,
The worthiest chosen by place or choice; they quickly
Came, hundreds and thousands marching in.
All access was crowded, the gates
And porches wide, but especially the spacious hall
(Though like a covered field, where brave champions
Used to ride armed, and at the sultan's chair
Defied the best of pagan chivalry
To mortal combat or to race with lance)
Buzzed thick, both on the ground and in the air,
Filled with the sound of rustling wings. As bees
In springtime, when the sun is in Taurus,
Pour forth their numerous young around the hive
In clusters; they fly among fresh dews and flowers
To and fro, or on the smoothed plank,
The outskirts of their straw-built citadel,
Recently rubbed with balm, expanding and discussing
Their state affairs. So thick the airborne crowd
Swarmed and became tight; until the signal was given,
Behold a wonder! They who had just seemed
To surpass the giant sons of Earth
Were now smaller than the tiniest dwarfs, in a cramped space
Crowding in countless numbers, like that pigmy race
Beyond the Indian mountains, or fairy elves,
Whose midnight revelries, by a forest side
Or near a fountain, a lost peasant sees,
Or dreams he sees, while overhead the moon
Sits as arbiter, and nearer to the Earth
Wheels her pale course, they in their joy and dance
Engaged, with cheerful music charming his ear;
At once with joy and fear his heart leaps.
Thus incorporeal spirits reduced their immense forms
To smaller shapes, and were at large,
Though still countless amidst the hall
Of that infernal court. But deep inside
In their own sizes, like themselves,
The great seraphic lords and cherubim
Sat in close recess and secret conclave
A thousand demigods on golden seats,
Frequent and full. After a brief silence then
And the summons read, the great council began.

High on a royal throne, which shone brighter
Than the riches of Ormus and Ind,
Or where the lavish East pours out its treasures
On its kings—Barbaric pearls and gold,
Satan sat exalted, raised by his own actions
To that terrible height; and from despair
Thus lifted up, beyond hope, he strives
To soar even higher, insatiable in his quest
To wage a useless war with Heaven, and by lacking success
His arrogant thoughts unfold.

Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven,
For since no deep within her gulf can hold
Immortal strength, even though oppressed and fallen,
I do not consider Heaven lost. From this fall
Celestial virtues rising will seem
More glorious and more feared than from no fall,
And trust themselves to fear no second fate:
Though justly, the fixed Laws of Heaven
First created your Leader, then, free choice,
With whatever else, in Counsel or in Battle,
Has been achieved of merit, yet this loss
At least has been somewhat recovered, and has much more
Established in a safe, unenvied Throne
Yielded with full consent. The happier state
In Heaven, which follows dignity, might inspire
Envy from each inferior; but who here
Will envy those who hold the highest place, exposed
First to stand against the Thunderers’ aim,
Your defense, and condemned to the greatest share
Of endless pain? Where there is then no good
To strive for, no strife can arise there
From Faction; for surely none will claim in hell
Precedence, none whose portion is so small
Of present pain, that with an ambitious mind
Will seek more. With this advantage, then,
To unity, and firm Faith, and strong agreement,
More than can be in Heaven, we now return
To claim our rightful inheritance from the past,
More certain to succeed than prosperity
Could ever assure us; and by the best means,
Whether through open War or secret strategy,
We now debate; whoever can advise may speak.

He stopped, and next to him stood Moloc, the Scepter’d King, The strongest and fiercest Spirit that fought in Heaven; now even fiercer from despair. He believed he was equal in strength with the Eternal, and rather than be less, He didn't care about being at all; with that concern gone, All his fear vanished: he didn't care about God, Hell, or anything worse, And then he spoke these words.

My sentence is for open war: of plots,
I’m not claiming to be the expert; let those
Who need to scheme do so, but not right now.
While they’re busy planning, the rest of us,
Millions waiting in arms, longing for
The signal to rise, will linger here,
Fugitives of heaven, accepting this dark,
Shameful prison, the cage of the tyrant
Who rules because of our delay? No, let’s choose
To be armed with hell’s flames and fury all at once,
To force our way against heaven’s high towers,
Turning our suffering into horrid weapons
Against the torturer; when he hears
The noise of his Almighty Engine, he’ll hear
Infernal thunder, and for lightning see
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage
Among his angels; and his throne itself
Mixed with Tartar’s sulfur and strange fire,
His own invented torments. But maybe
The way seems difficult and steep to climb
With upright wings against a higher foe.
Let them consider, if the sleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake hasn’t numbed them still,
That we can ascend to our native seat:
Descent and fall are adversities to us.
Who hasn’t felt lately
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear,
Insulting and pursuing us through the deep,
The strain and effort it took
To sink this low? The ascent is easy then;
The outcome is feared; if we provoke again,
Our stronger foe may find worse ways to bring
Destruction upon us: if there’s fear in hell
To be even more destroyed: what can be worse
Than dwelling here, driven out from bliss, condemned
To this abhorred deep to utter misery;
Where the pain of unquenchable fire
Must torment us without hope of end,
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge
Unyieldingly, and the torturous hour
Calls us to penance? More destroyed than this,
We’d be completely abolished and die.
What do we fear then? What do we doubt in provoking
His ultimate fury? Which, when enraged to the height,
Will either totally consume us and reduce
Us to nothing—this essence, far happier
Than being miserable with eternal existence:
Or if our substance is indeed divine,
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
On this side of nothing; and by proof, we feel
Our power is enough to disturb his heaven,
And with constant raids to alarm,
Though inaccessible, his fatal throne:
Which if not victory is still revenge.

He ended with a frown, and his expression revealed
Desperate revenge and dangerous battles
For less than gods. On the other side, up rose
Belial, acting more gracefully and humanly;
No one more beautiful had lost Heaven; he seemed
Composed and ready for great deeds:
But it was all false and empty; though his words
Dropped like honey and could make the bad seem
Like the better reason, confusing and undermining
Sound judgments: for his thoughts were low;
Diligent about vice, but fearful and lazy about
Nobler actions: yet he pleased the ear,
And with a persuasive tone, he began.

I should be open to war, O peers,
As not behind in hate; if what was urged
As the main reason to persuade immediate war,
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast
Ominous predictions on the whole success:
When he who most excels in the art of war,
In what he advises and in what he excels,
Bases his courage on doubt and despair,
And utter destruction, as the goal
Of all his efforts, after some terrible revenge.
First, what revenge? The towers of heaven are filled
With armed guards that make all access
Impossible; often on the bordering sea
They camp their legions, or with stealthy wings
Scout far and wide into the realm of night,
Ignoring surprise. Or could we break our way
By force, and behind us all hell should rise
With the darkest insurrection, to confuse
Heaven’s purest light, yet our great enemy
All incorruptible would on his throne
Sit untainted, and the ethereal mold
Incapable of stain would soon expel
Her mischief and cleanse off the baser fire
Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope
Is flat despair: we must provoke
The Almighty Victor to unleash 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 instead, swallowed up and lost
In the vast 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 uncertain; that he never will is sure.
Will he, so wise, let loose all his fury,
Perhaps out of impotence, or unaware,
To give his enemies their wish, and end
Them in his anger, whom his anger saves
To punish endlessly? So why do we cease then?
Say those who counsel war, we are decreed,
Reserved and destined for eternal woe;
Whatever we do, 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 swiftly, pursued and struck
By heaven’s afflicting thunder, and begged
The deep Sea 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
Awakened to blow them into sevenfold rage
And plunged us into the flames? Or from above
Should intermittent vengeance arm again
His red right hand to plague us? What if all
Her stores were opened, and this firmament
Of hell should spew forth its cataracts of fire,
Imminent horrors, threatening a hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps
Designing or urging glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurled
Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or forever sunk
Under the boiling ocean, wrapped in chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unresting, unpitied, unrepented,
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 can deceive his mind, whose eye
Views all things at once? He from heaven's height
Sees and derides all our vain motions;
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 heaven,
Thus trampled, thus expelled to suffer here
Chains and these torments? Better these than worse
By my advice; since inevitable fate
Subdues us, and Omnipotent decree,
The victors' will. To suffer, as to do,
Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust
That so ordains: this was resolved at first,
If we were wise, against so great a foe
Contending, and so uncertain what might fall.
I laugh when those who are bold with the spear
And venture, if that fails them, shrink and fear
What they know must follow, to endure
Exile, or shame, or bonds, or pain,
The sentence of their conqueror: this is now
Our doom; which if we can withstand and bear,
Our supreme foe in time may much reduce
His anger, and perhaps thus far removed
Not minding us offenders, satisfied
With what has been punished; hence these raging fires
Will lessen, if his breath stirs not their flames.
Our purer essence then will overcome
Their noxious vapor, or we won’t even feel,
Or changed at last, and to the place conformed
In temper and in nature, will receive
Familiar with 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
Is worth waiting for, since our present lot appears
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,
If we don’t bring upon ourselves more woe.

Thus Belial with words dressed in reason’s disguise
Advised for a life of lazy comfort and peaceful inaction,
Not true peace: and after him, Mammon spoke.

Either to dethrone the King of Heaven
We wage war, if war is best, or to regain
Our lost rights: we might hope to unseat him
When everlasting fate yields
To fickle chance, and chaos judges the battle:
The first hope is as vain as the second: for what place
Can we occupy within heaven’s bounds, unless we
Overpower heaven’s supreme lord? Suppose he should relent
And grant grace to everyone, on the promise
Of new subjection; with what eyes could we
Stand before him humbly and accept
Strict laws imposed, celebrating his throne
With sung hymns and singing to his godhead
Forced hallelujahs; while he sits there lordly,
Our envied sovereign, and his altar breathes
Ambrosial scents and flowers,
Our servile offerings. This must be our task
In heaven, this our delight; how tiresome
Eternity spent in worship paid
To one we hate. Let us not then attempt
By impossible force, or by allowed
But unacceptable means, though in heaven, our state
Of splendid servitude, but rather seek
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own
Live for ourselves, even in this vast space,
Free, and accountable to no one, preferring
Hard freedom over the easy yoke
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will be most clear
When we can create big things from small,
Useful from harmful, prosperous from adverse,
And in whatever place thrive under evil,
Making ease out of pain
Through labor and endurance. Do we dread this deep world
Of darkness? How often among
Thick clouds and dark does heaven’s all-ruling sire
Choose to reside, his glory undisguised,
And with the majesty of darkness surrounding
Covers his throne; from where deep thunders roar
Gathering their rage, and heaven resembles hell?
As he is our darkness, can’t we imitate his light
Whenever we choose? This desert soil
Is not lacking its hidden luster, gems, and gold;
Nor do we lack the skill or art to raise
Magnificence; and what more can heaven show?
Our torments may also over time
Become our elements, these piercing fires
As soft as they are now severe, our temper changing
Into their nature; which must surely remove
The sensation of pain. All things invite
To peaceful counsel, and the settled state
Of order, how best we may
Handle our current evils, considering
What we are and where, completely dismissing
All thoughts of war: you have what I advise.

He had barely finished when the Assembly was filled with a murmur, like the sound of howling winds echoing in hollow rocks, which all night long had stirred the sea. Now, with a hoarse rhythm, it lulled the sailors who had stayed awake while their ship or smaller boat anchored in a rocky bay after the storm. The applause that followed was loud when Mammon finished speaking, pleased with his call for peace; they feared another battle much more than Hell itself. The fear of thunder and Michael's sword still weighed heavily on them, and they also longed to establish this lower empire, which could rise through strategy and a long process of time, competing against Heaven. When Beelzebub noticed this, no one sat higher than him except Satan. With a serious demeanor, he rose, and in doing so appeared as a pillar of authority; deep deliberation and public concern were engraved on his forehead. Royal counsel shone in his face, majestic despite his ruin. He stood wise, with shoulders strong enough to bear the weight of the mightiest empires; his gaze commanded silence and attention, as still as night or the midday summer air, as he began to speak.

Thrones and imperial powers, offspring of heaven,
Ethereal virtues; or should we now
Give up these titles and be called
Princes of Hell? because that’s what the popular opinion
Suggests, to stay here and build up a
Growing empire; undoubtedly, while we’re dreaming,
And don’t realize that the King of Heaven has doomed
This place to be our prison, not our safe haven
Beyond His powerful reach, to live free
From Heaven’s higher power, in a new alliance
Joined against His throne, but to remain
In strict bondage, though somewhat removed,
Under the inevitable restraint, holding
His captive multitude: For be sure,
In high or low, He will always reign
Sole King, and won’t lose any part
Of His Kingdom through our rebellion, but rather
Extend His empire over Hell, ruling
Us here with an iron scepter, as with His golden one those in Heaven.
So why do we sit here plotting peace and war?
War has decided our fate, and we’ve been thwarted with losses
That can’t be repaired; no terms of peace
Have been granted or sought; for what peace will be given
To us enslaved, but harsh captivity,
And punishment, and random harshness
Inflicted? and what peace can we bring back,
But hostility and hatred to our power,
Untamed defiance, and slow revenge,
Yet always scheming how to ensure the conqueror gets the least,
And how to make him rejoice the least
In doing what we feel most in suffering?
Nor will we lack opportunity, nor will we need
To launch a dangerous attack to invade
Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege,
Or ambush from the deep. What if we find
An easier undertaking? There’s a place
(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven
Is not mistaken) another world, the happy home
Of some new race called Man, about this time
To be created like us, though less
In power and excellence, but favored more
By Him who rules above; such was His will
Declared among the Gods, and confirmed
By an oath that shook Heaven’s whole circumference.
Let’s focus all our thoughts there, to learn
What beings inhabit it, what they’re made of,
Or their nature, how endowed, and what their power,
And where their weakness is, how best to attempt,
By force or cunning: Though Heaven may be shut,
And Heaven’s high judge sit secure
In His own strength, this place may be exposed
At the outer edge of His Kingdom, left
To the defense of those who hold it: here perhaps
An advantageous act may be achieved
By a sudden attack, either with Hellfire
To destroy His whole creation, or take
All as our own, and drive off the puny inhabitants, or if not drive,
Recruit them to our side, that their God
May prove their enemy, and with a trembling hand
Abolish His own works. This would surpass
Common revenge, and interrupt His joy
In our confusion, and lift our joy
In His disturbance; when His beloved sons
Are hurled down to share our fate, shall curse
Their fragile origins, and faded bliss,
Faded so quickly. Consider if this is worth
Attempting, or to sit in darkness here
Concocting empty empires. Thus Beelzebub
Presented his devilish counsel, first devised
By Satan, and partly proposed: for where,
But from the author of all evil could spring
Such deep malice, to confound the race
Of humankind in one root, and mix Earth with Hell,
To blend and involve, all done to spite
The great Creator? But their spite still serves
To increase His glory. The bold plan
Pleased those infernal states immensely, and joy
Sparkled in all their eyes; with full agreement
They voted: whereupon he renewed his speech.

Well, you've judged well and brought the long debate to a close,
Synod of Gods, and just like who you are,
Great things have been decided; which from the lowest depths
Will once more lift us up, despite Fate,
Closer to our ancient Seat; maybe in sight
Of those bright boundaries, where with neighboring Arms
And timely ventures we might
Re-enter Heaven; or else in some gentle Zone
Dwell, not unnoticed by Heaven's fair Light,
Secure, and at the brightening Eastern beam
Clear away this gloom; the soft, sweet Air,
To heal the scars from these corrosive Fires
Shall breathe its balm. But first, whom should we send
To explore this new world, who can we find
That’s capable? Who will dare with wandering feet
The dark, bottomless, infinite Abyss
And through the tangible obscurity find his
Strange path, or spread his airy flight
Lifted by tireless wings
Over the vast drop, before he reaches
The blessed Isle; what strength, what skill can then
Be enough, or what sidestepping will keep him safe
Through the strict Sentinels and thick Stations
Of Angels watching around? Here he will need
All caution, and we must also choose carefully
In our vote; for on whom we send,
The weight of everything and our last hope relies.

That being said, he took a seat; and anticipation held
His gaze in suspense, waiting for someone to
Agree, oppose, or take on
The risky challenge: but everyone sat silent,
Contemplating the danger with serious thoughts; and each
In the faces of others saw his own fear
Astonished: none among the chosen and elite
Of those Heaven-warring champions could be found
So brave as to propose or accept
On their own the terrible journey; until finally
Satan, now lifted by extraordinary glory
Above his peers, with royal pride
Aware of his own worth, spoke without being moved.

O Children of Heaven, Empyreal Thrones,
Deep silence and hesitation have taken hold of us, though undeterred: the path
From Hell to Light is long and difficult;
This strong prison, this vast expanse of Fire,
Destructive and consuming, surrounds us
Ninefold, and the gates of burning Adamant
Bar us in, preventing any escape.
If anyone should pass, the profound void
Of meaningless Night receives him next
Wide open, and with total loss of existence
Threatens him, plunged in that futile abyss.
If he escapes to any world,
Or unknown Region, what remains for him
But unknown dangers and as hard an escape?
But I would not befit this Throne, O Peers,
And this Imperial Sovereignty, adorned
With splendor, armed with power, if anything proposed
And deemed of public importance, in the form
Of difficulty or danger could deter
Me from trying. So why do I take
These Royalties, and not refuse to Reign,
Refusing to accept as great a share
Of risk as of honor, equally due
To him who Reigns, and even more due
Of risk, since he sits exalted above the rest
In high honor? So go, mighty powers,
Terror of Heaven, though fallen; focus at home,
While here will be our home, on what best might ease
The current misery, and make Hell
More bearable; if there be a cure or charm
To respite or deceive, or lessen the pain
Of this wretched Mansion: do not cease
Watching against a vigilant Foe, while I go
Through all the shores of dark destruction seeking
Deliverance for us all: this venture
None shall share with me. Thus saying rose
The Monarch, cutting off all response,
Wisely, lest from his raised resolution
Others among the chiefs might propose now
(Certain to be refused) what they once feared;
And so refused might stand in opinion
As his rivals, easily winning the high repute
Which he must earn through great risk. But they
Feared not so much the venture as his voice
Forbidding it; and all at once they stood up;
Their rising together sounded like
Distant Thunder. They bowed to him
With deep respect; and as a God
Held him equal to the highest in Heaven:
They did not fail to express how much they praised,
That for the sake of the common good, he disregarded
His own: for the damned Spirits
Do not lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast
Of their deceptive deeds on earth, which glory stirs,
Or hidden ambition disguised under zeal.
Thus they ended their uncertain discussions,
Rejoicing in their unmatched Leader:
As when from mountain tops the dark clouds
Rise, while the North wind sleeps, covering
Heaven's cheerful face, the gloomy weather
Scowls over the darkened landscape with Snow or rain;
If by chance the radiant Sun with a sweet farewell
Extends his evening beam, the fields revive,
The birds renew their songs, and the bleating herds
Confirm their joy, causing hill and valley to echo.
O shame to men! Devil with devil damned
Maintain a firm alliance, yet men alone disagree
Among rational beings, still hoping
For heavenly Grace: and God declares peace,
Yet they live in hatred, enmity, and strife
Among themselves, waging cruel wars,
Destroying the Earth, each other to ruin:
As if (which might lead us to agreement)
Man had not hellish foes enough besides,
That day and night wait for his destruction.

The Stygian Council was dissolved, and then
The grand infernal Peers came forth in order,
Amidst them was their mighty leader, who appeared
As the sole rival of Heaven, no less
Than Hell's dreadful Emperor, with supreme pomp,
And a god-like imitation of state; around him
A globe of fiery Seraphim enclosed him,
With bright decorations and fearsome weapons.
Then, when their session ended, they commanded
With regal trumpets the great announcement:
Toward the four winds, four swift Cherubim
Put their mouths to sound the announcement,
Explained by the Herald's voice: the vast Abyss
Heard it far and wide, and all the host of Hell
Returned the deafening shout in loud acclaim.
From there, their minds were more at ease and somewhat lifted
By false presumptuous hope, the ranged powers
Disbanded, wandering, each pursuing his own way
As inclination or sad choice led him, perplexed,
Where he might likely find
Peace from his restless thoughts and to pass
The irksome hours until his great leader returned.
Some stayed on the plain, or in the high air
On the wing, or competed in a swift race,
As at the Olympic Games or Pythian fields;
Some reined their fiery steeds, or avoided the goal
With rapid wheels or formed fronted brigades.
As when war appears to warn proud cities
Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush
To battle in the clouds, before each van
Flew the airy knights and lowered their spears
Until the thickest legions closed; with feats of arms
From both ends of Heaven, the sky burned.
Others, in a vast Typhoean rage, more fierce,
Tore up both rocks and hills and rode the air
In a whirlwind; Hell barely held the wild uproar.
As when Alcides from Oealia crowned
With conquest, felt the venomous robe and tore
Through pain, uprooting the Thessalian pines,
And threw Lichas from the top of Oeta
Into the Euboic Sea. Others more mild,
Retreated to a quiet valley, singing
With angelic notes to many a harp
Their own heroic deeds and unfortunate falls
By the doom of battle; and lamented that fate
Should enslave free virtue to force or chance.
Their song was biased, but the harmony
(What could it be less when immortal spirits sing?)
Suspended Hell and took the crowd in rapture.
In a sweeter discourse
(For eloquence charms the soul, and song enchants the senses),
Others sat aside on a secluded hill,
In elevated thoughts, reasoning highly
About Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate,
Fixed Fate, free will, absolute foreknowledge,
And found no conclusion, lost in wandering mazes.
They argued much about good and evil,
About 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 rouse
Deceptive hope, or arm the hardened breast
With stubborn patience as if with triple steel.
Another group in squads and large bands,
On a bold adventure to explore widely
That dismal world, if any region perhaps
Might offer them an easier place to live, bent
In four ways their flying march, along the banks
Of four infernal rivers that pour
Into the burning lake their deadly streams;
The loathed Styx, the flood of deadly hate,
Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep;
Cocytus, named for loud lamentation
Heard on the mournful 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
Its watery labyrinth; whoever drinks,
Forgets his former state and being,
Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure and pain.
Beyond this flood lies a frozen continent,
Dark and wild, battered by perpetual storms
Of whirlwinds and dire hail, which, on solid ground,
Does not melt but heaps up, and it seems
A ruin of ancient structures; all else, deep snow and ice,
A profound gulf as that Serbonian bog
Between Damiata and the old Mount Casius,
Where whole armies have sunk: the parching air
Burns frozen, and cold acts like fire.
There, by harpy-footed Furies hailed,
At certain intervals, 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 waste
Immovable, fixed, and frozen round,
Periods of time, then hurried back to fire.
They ferry over this Lethean sound
Both ways, their sorrow to increase,
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 stands against, and to oppose the attempt,
Medusa with Gorgonian terror guards
The ford, and of itself the water repels
All taste of living being, as once it fled
The lips of Tantalus. Thus roving on
In confused and forlorn march, the adventurous bands
With shuddering horror pale and eyes aghast
Viewed first their lamentable fate and found
No rest: through many a dark and dreary vale
They passed, and many a dolorous region,
Over many a frozen, many a fiery alpine,
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 enemy of God and man, Satan, with thoughts ablaze with grand designs, Takes flight on swift wings, heading towards the Gates of Hell, Exploring his solitary journey; sometimes He scans the right-hand coast, sometimes the left, Now skims the surface of the Deep, then soars Up to the fiery dome above. Just like a fleet seen far off at sea Hangs in the clouds, caught by Aequinoctial winds, Sailing close to Bengala, or the islands Of Ternate and Tidore, where merchants gather Their spiced goods: they navigate the trade route Through the vast Ethiopian waters to the Cape, Paddling steadily northward under the night sky. So seemed The flying fiend from a distance: at last appeared The bounds of Hell, towering high to the dreadful roof, And three times three the gates; three were of brass, Three of iron, three of adamantine rock, Impenetrable, surrounded by circling fire, Yet not consumed. Before the gates sat On either side a formidable figure; One seemed a woman from the waist up, and beautiful, But ended foul in many scaly folds, Voluminous and vast, a serpent armed With a deadly sting: around her middle, A chorus of Hellhounds never ceased to bark, With wide Cerberean mouths full of noise, ringing A hideous peal: yet, whenever they chose, would creep, If anything disturbed their noise, into her womb, And curl up there, still barking and howling Unseen inside. Far less horrific than these Was Scylla, bathing in the sea that separates Calabria from the rough Trinacrian shore; Nor was she uglier than the Night-Hag, when called In secret, riding through the air she comes, Lured by the scent of infant blood, to dance With Lapland witches, while the laboring moon Eclipses at their charms. The other shape, If it could even be called a shape, had none Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb, Or substance that could be recognized; that shadow seemed, For each seemed either; it stood black as night, Fierce as ten Furies, terrible as Hell, And shook a dreadful dart; what appeared to be its head Wore the likeness of a kingly crown. Satan was now near, and from his seat The monster moved forward quickly, With horrific strides, Hell trembled as he walked. The undaunted fiend wondered what this might be, Admired, not afraid; except for God and His Son, He valued no created thing nor shunned it; And with a scornful look, thus began.

Where are you from and what are you, horrible figure,
That dare, even though you're grim and terrifying, to step
Your twisted face in my path
To those gates over there? I'm planning to pass through,
That’s for sure, without asking permission from you:
Back off, or feel the consequences, and find out the hard way,
Born of hell, not to challenge the spirits of heaven.

To whom the Goblin full of rage replied,
Are you that Traitor Angel, is that you,
Who first broke the peace in Heaven and Faith, which until then
Was unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms
Led a third of Heaven’s Sons
To rebel against the highest; for which both you
And they, cast out from God, are here condemned
To waste eternal days in sorrow and pain?
And do you think of yourself as one of Heaven’s Spirits,
Hell-bound, and breathing defiance here in scorn,
Where I reign as King, and to anger you more,
Your King and Lord? Go back to your punishment,
False runaway, and move faster,
Lest I chase you down with a whip of scorpions
For your delay, or with a single strike of this dart
A strange horror seize you, and pains you've never felt before.

So spoke the terrifying figure, and in appearance,
As it spoke and threatened, grew ten times
More frightening and grotesque: on the other side
Fueled by anger, Satan stood
Unfazed, burning like a comet,
That illuminates the vastness of Ophiucus
In the Arctic Sky, and from his dreadful hair
Sweeps Pestilence and War. Each aimed
Their deadly intent at the other; their fatal hands
Had no intention for a second strike, and each
Gave a glare at the other, like when two dark clouds
Loaded with Heaven's artillery roll in
Over the Caspian, then stand face to face,
Hovering for a moment, until the winds signal
To join their dark battle in mid-air:
So glared the mighty combatants that Hell
Grew darker at their frown, so evenly matched they stood;
For never again would either meet
Such a formidable foe: and now great deeds
Would have been accomplished, of which all Hell would have echoed,
Had not the serpentine Sorceress sitting
Right by Hell Gate, holding the fatal Key,
Risen, and with a terrifying scream rushed in between.

O Father, what do you plan to do, she cried,
Against your only Son? What rage, O Son,
Is consuming you to aim that deadly arrow
At your Father's head? And do you realize for whom;
For him who sits above and laughs the whole time
At you assigned as his servant, to carry out
Whatever his anger, which he calls Justice, commands,
His anger that one day will destroy you both.

She spoke, and at her words the hellish Pest
Held back, then these to her Satan replied:

So strange is your outcry, and your words are so odd
That you interrupt me, causing my sudden hand
To hesitate in telling you by actions
What it intends; until I first understand you,
What being you are, so double-form’d, and why
In this dark valley you first call me Father,
And that illusion you call my Son?
I don’t know you, and I’ve never seen
A sight more detestable than you and him.

To whom the Gatekeeper of Hell replied:
Have you forgotten me, then? Do I seem
So ugly in your eyes now, once deemed so beautiful
In Heaven, at the Assembly, in front
Of all the Seraphim, united
In a bold conspiracy against Heaven’s King?
Suddenly, miserable pain
Surprised you, dimmed your eyes, and left you dizzy
In darkness, while flames thick and fast
Shot from your head, until wide open
On the left side, I burst forth,
Similar in shape and bright in appearance,
Then shining heavenly beautiful, an armed Goddess,
I sprang from your head: amazement seized
All the Host of Heaven; they recoiled in fear
At first and called me *Sin*, considering me
A portentous sign; but as I became familiar,
I pleased them, and with my attractive graces, won over
Even the most averse, especially you, who often
Gazed at your own perfect image in me
And became enamored, and took such joy
In secret with me that my womb conceived
A growing burden. Meanwhile, War arose,
And battles were fought in Heaven; from which remained
(What else could we expect) for our Almighty Foe
Clear Victory, while we faced loss and defeat
Throughout the Empyrean: down they fell,
Driven headlong from the Heights of Heaven, down
Into this Abyss, and in that general fall
I fell too; at that time, this powerful Key
Was given to me, charged with keeping
These Gates forever shut, which none can pass
Without my opening. I sat here, pensive,
Alone, but I didn’t sit long, until my womb
Pregnant with you, now excessively swollen,
Felt prodigious movements and painful throes.
At last, this hateful offspring whom you see,
Your own creation, violently tore
Through my insides, distorting my shape
In fear and pain. But he, my inborn enemy,
Burst forth, brandishing his deadly Dart
Made to destroy: I fled and cried out *Death*;
Hell trembled at the horrifying Name, and sighed
From all her Caves, and the echo returned *Death*.
I fled, but he pursued me (though more inflamed
With lust than rage) and swifter by far,
He caught up with his mother, all dismayed,
And in forceful and foul embraces
Conceived with me, from that attack birthed
These screaming Monsters that with incessant cries
Surround me, as you saw, conceived hourly
And born hourly, bringing me infinite sorrow
For when they wish, they return to the womb
That birthed them, howling and gnawing
At my insides, their feast; then bursting forth
Again with conscious terrors, tormenting me constantly,
That I find no rest or break.
Before my eyes sits
Grim *Death*, my Son and foe, who sends them against me,
And would soon devour me, his Parent,
Since he lacks other prey, but he knows
His end is tied to mine; he knows that I
Have become a bitter Meal for him,
When that time finally comes; so Fate has decreed.
But you, O Father, I warn you, avoid
His deadly arrow; do not foolishly hope
To be invulnerable in that shining Armor,
Though tempered by Heaven, for that mortal blow,
Except for Him who reigns above, no one can resist.

She finished, and the sly Fiend quickly learned his lesson, now calmer, and replied smoothly. “Dear Daughter, since you claim me as your Father, and my fair Son shows me the dear reminder of the bond we had in Heaven, and the joys that were sweet but are now sad to mention due to the unexpected and unthought-of change that has come upon us, know that I come not as an enemy, but to set free both him and you, and all the heavenly Host of Spirits who fell with us from above due to our rightful claims. I alone have taken on this strange mission, exposing myself to wander the unfounded deep and through the vast void to search with wandering quest for a place foretold to exist, which by various signs should have already been created—a vast and round place of bliss in the outskirts of Heaven, where a new race of upstart Creatures has been placed, perhaps to fill our vacant space, though further removed, lest Heaven, overburdened with a powerful multitude, might lead to new troubles. Be this or anything else, I hurry to know this secret plan, and once I do, I will soon return and bring you to the place where you and Death shall dwell at ease, silently roaming the fragrant Air filled with scents; there you shall be nourished and overwhelmed, and everything shall be yours to claim.” He stopped, for both appeared highly pleased, and Death grinned with a horrible, ghastly smile to hear that his hunger would be satisfied, blessing his insatiable appetite destined for that good hour. No less rejoiced was his mother, who then spoke to her Father.

The key to this hellish Pit, by right,
And by the command of Heaven's all-powerful King,
I guard, forbidden by Him to unlock
These unyielding Gates; against all strength
Death stands ready to launch his attack,
Fearless of being outmatched by earthly power.
But what do I care for His commands above
Who hates me and has thrust me down here
Into this darkness of Tartarus deep,
To sit in this hateful role, confined,
Inhabitant of Heaven, and heaven-born,
Here in endless agony and pain,
Surrounded by the fears and shouts
Of my own kin, who feed on my suffering:
You are my Father, you my Creator, you
Gave me my existence; whom should I obey
But you, whom should I follow? You will soon lead me
To that new world of light and joy, among
The Gods who live in comfort, where I shall reign
At your right hand, indulged, as befits
Your daughter and beloved, forever.

Thus saying, from her side she took the deadly Key,
A sad tool of all our suffering;
And toward the Gate, leading her bestial train,
She promptly lifted the massive Portcullis,
Which not even all the Stygian powers
Could have moved; then she turned the intricate wards
And easily unfastened every Bolt and Bar
Of solid Iron or rock: suddenly,
The infernal doors flew open
With a loud bang and jarring sound,
And harsh Thunder shook
The very depths of Erebus. She opened them, but it was beyond her power to close them;
The Gates stood wide open,
So that a Banners Host
Under spread Ensigns could march through
With Horses and Chariots arranged in loose order;
They stood so wide, like the mouth of a Furnace,
Belching forth thick smoke and fiery flames.
Before their eyes, suddenly appeared
The secrets of the ancient deep, a dark,
Endless Ocean without bounds,
Without dimensions, where length, breadth, and height,
As well as time and place, are lost; where ancient Night
And Chaos, the Ancestors of Nature, hold
Eternal Anarchie, amidst the noise
Of endless wars and stand by confusion.
For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four fierce Champions
Strive for mastery and bring their
Embryonic Atoms to Battle; they gather around the flag
Of their respective factions, in their various Clans,
Light-armed or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow,
Swarming in countless numbers like the sands
Of Barca or Cyrene’s scorching soil,
Enlisted to side with warring Winds, balancing
Their lighter wings. To whom the most adhere,
He rules for a moment; Chaos sits as Umpire,
And by his judgment further complicates the fray
By which he reigns: next to 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 mixed in their pregnant causes,
Confusedly, and which must always fight,
Unless the Almighty Maker ordains
His dark materials to create more Worlds,
Into this wild Abyss, the wary fiend
Stood on the edge of Hell and looked for a while,
Pondering his journey; for he had no narrow strait
To cross. Nor was his ear less pierced
With loud and destructive noises (to compare
Great things with small) than when Bellona storms,
With all her battering Engines aimed to raze
Some Capital City, or less than if this frame
Of Heaven were falling, and these Elements
In mutiny had torn from her Axle
The steadfast Earth. At last, he spread his sail-broad wings
For flight, and in the swirling smoke
He lifted off the ground, soaring many leagues
As if riding in a cloudy Chair;
But that seat soon failed him, and he faced
A vast emptiness: all unawares,
Fluttering his pennants vainly, he plummeted down
Ten thousand fathoms deep, and to this hour
He would have been falling, had not by bad luck
The strong push of some tumultuous cloud
Filled with Fire and Nitre hurled him
Many miles aloft: that fury stilled,
Doused in a boggy Syrtis, neither Sea,
Nor good dry Land: near sinking, he struggled,
Treading through the muddy substance, half on foot,
Half flying; he now needed both Oar and Sail.
As when a Gryphon through the Wilderness
With winged speed over Hill or boggy Dale,
Chases the Arimaspian, who stealthily
Had stolen from his watchful custody
The guarded Gold: so eagerly the fiend
Over bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his path,
And swims or sinks, or wades, or crawls, or flies:
At length a chaotic uproar
Of blaring sounds and confusion
Born through the hollow dark assaults his ear
With the loudest intensity: there he heads,
Undaunted to confront whatever power
Or Spirit of the lowest Abyss
Might reside in that noise, of which to ask
Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies
Bordering on light; when suddenly he beheld the Throne
Of Chaos, and his dark Pavilion spread
Wide over the desolate Deep; with him seated
Was Sable-vested Night, the oldest of things,
The partner of his Reign; and by them stood
Orcus and Ades, and the feared name
Of Demogorgon; next to them the figure of Rumor and Chance,
And Tumult and Confusion all entangled,
And Discord with a thousand diverse voices.

To whom Satan boldly turned, saying: You Powers
And Spirits of this deepest Abyss,
Chaos and Ancient Night, I’m not a spy,
With the intention to investigate or disrupt
The secrets of your Realm, but by necessity
Wandering this dark desert, as my path
Leads through your vast Empire toward the light,
Alone, and without a guide, half lost, I search
For the quickest route to where your gloomy borders
Meet Heaven; or if there's some other place
Recently taken from your Dominion by< br/> The Ethereal King, I travel there
Through this deep, directing my course;
Guided, no small reward it brings
To your benefit, if I can reclaim that Region,
Expelling all usurpation, restoring
It to its original darkness and your rule
(Which is my current journey) and once again
Raise the Standard of Ancient Night there;
Let the advantage be yours, and mine the revenge.

Thus, Satan; and the old Anarch answered him, With faltering speech and a disordered face. "I know you, stranger, who you are, That powerful leading Angel, who recently Defied Heaven’s King, though you were defeated. I saw and heard, for such a vast army Did not flee silently through the terrified deep, With destruction upon destruction, chaos upon chaos, Confusion worse than confusion itself; and Heaven’s gates Poured out millions of her victorious soldiers Chasing. Here I maintain my residence on my borders; If all I can do will help, That little which is left to defend Is still encroached upon through our internal conflicts, Weakening the scepter of old Night: first Hell, Your dungeon stretching far and wide beneath; Now recently Heaven and Earth, another World Hangs over my realm, linked by a golden chain To that side of Heaven from where your legions fell: If that is your path, you’re not far; So much the closer to danger; go and succeed; Destruction and chaos and ruin are my gain."

He stopped; and Satan didn’t wait to respond,
But happy that his Sea would finally reach a shore,
With renewed energy and strength
Springs up like a pyramid of fire
Into the wild expanse, and through the clash
Of battling Elements, surrounded on all sides
He fights his way; harder pressed
And in more danger than when Argo passed
Through Bosporus between the jostling Rocks:
Or when Ulysses on the port side avoided
Charybdis and steered towards the other whirlpool.
So he, with difficulty and hard labor,
Moved on, with difficulty and labor he;
But once he got past, shortly after when man fell,
A strange change! Sin and Death quickly
Following his path, such was Heaven’s will,
Paved behind him a broad, beaten path
Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling Gulf
Calmly endured a bridge of incredible length
From Hell extending to the farthest edge
Of this fragile World; by which the perverse Spirits
With ease go back and forth
To tempt or punish mortals, except those whom
God and good Angels protect by special grace.
But now, at last, the holy light
Shows up, and from the walls of Heaven
Shoots far into the dark Night's embrace
A glimmering dawn; here Nature first begins
Her furthest edge, and Chaos starts to retreat
As from her outermost works a broken enemy
With less noise and a less hostile din,
That Satan, with less effort, now easily
Floats on the calmer wave by uncertain light
And like a weather-beaten Vessel gladly holds
The Port, even though its sails and rigging are torn;
Or in the emptier expanse, like Air,
Spreads his wings, leisurely to gaze
Far off at the Empyreal Heaven, stretching wide
In shape, undetermined as square or round,
With Opal Towers and Battlements adorned
With living Sapphire, once his native Seat;
And close by, hanging on a golden Chain
This world, as big as a tiny Star
Near the Moon.
There, full of vengeful malice,
Cursed, and at a cursed hour, he heads.

Hail, holy light, firstborn of Heaven,
Or of the Eternal, Coeternal beam.
Can I express you without blame? Since God is light,
And never exists except in unapproachable light,
He dwelt from eternity, and then within you,
Bright outflow of the uncreated essence.
Or do you hear, rather, pure ethereal stream,
Whose fountain can anyone truly describe? Before the Sun,
Before the heavens, you were, and at the voice
Of God, like a mantle, you covered
The rising world of dark and deep waters,
Won from the void and formless infinite.
I revisit you now with braver wings,
Escaped from the Stygian Pool, though long held
In that dark realm, while in my flight
Through utter and middle darkness borne,
With different notes than the Orphean Lyre.
I sang of Chaos and Eternal Night,
Taught by the heavenly Muse to venture down
The dark descent and then rise again,
Though it was difficult and rare: I return to you safely,
And feel your sovereign vital Lamp; but you
Do not return to these eyes, that roll in vain
To find your piercing ray and discover no dawn;
So thick a serene drop has quenched their orbs,
Or a dim haze has veiled them. Yet I don’t stop
Wandering where the Muses linger,
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,
In love with sacred song; but mainly
You, Sion and the flowering brooks beneath
That wash your hallowed feet, and melodious flow,
I visit nightly: nor do I sometimes forget
Those other two equal to me in fate,
Thus I was equal to them in renown,
Blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides,
And Tiresias and old Phineas, prophets.
Then I feed on thoughts that voluntarily move
Harmonious numbers; like the wakeful bird
Sings in the dark, and in the shadiest cover hidden
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus, with the year,
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of evening or dawn,
Or sight of spring blooms, or summer roses,
Or flocks, or herds, or divine human faces;
But clouds instead, and ever-present dark
Surround me, cut off from the cheerful ways of men
And for the book of knowledge fair
Presented with a universal blank
Of nature’s works expunged and erased for me,
And wisdom completely shut out at one entrance.
So much the more, you celestial light,
Shine inward, and illuminate the mind through all her powers,
There plant eyes, purge and disperse all mist from there,
So that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight.

Now the Almighty Father from above,
From the pure Empyrean where He sits
High Throne above all heights, looked down to see
His own creations and their works at once:
Around Him, all the Sanctities of Heaven
Stood thick as stars, and from His sight received
Blessings beyond words; at His right
The radiant image of His Glory sat,
His only Son; On Earth He first saw
Our two first Parents, the only two
Of mankind, in the happy Garden placed,
Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love,
Uninterrupted joy, unrivaled love
In blissful solitude; He then looked over
Hell and the chasm between, and Satan there
Skirting the wall of Heaven on this side of Night
In the dark, lofty air, and ready now
To settle with tired wings and willing feet
On the bare outside of this World, which seemed
Like solid land embraced without a Firmament,
Uncertain whether in Ocean or in Air.
God, observing from His high perspective,
Wherein past, present, and future He sees,
Thus spoke to His only Son, foreseeing.

Only begotten Son, do you see the rage
That drives our enemy, who is bound by no limits,
No chains of Hell, nor the shackles laid upon him there,
Nor even the vast Abyss can hold him back;
He seems so committed to desperate revenge,
That it will ultimately fall back on his own rebellious head. And now,
Breaking free from all restraint, he makes his way
Not far from Heaven, in the realms of light,
Directly towards the newly created World,
And Man placed there, with the intention to see
If he can destroy him by force or, worse,
Pervert him with some false deceit; and he will pervert;
For Man will listen to his flattering lies,
And easily break the one Command,
The sole pledge of his obedience: So will fall
He and his unfaithful descendants: whose fault?
Whose but his own? Ungrateful, he had from me
Everything he could desire; I made him just and right,
Able to stand, though free to fall.
Thus I created all the Ethereal Powers
And Spirits, both those who stood and those who fell;
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell.
Without freedom, what proof could they give of true
Allegiance, constant Faith, or Love,
If only what they were forced to do appeared,
Not what they wanted? What praise could they receive?
What pleasure could I derive from such obedience,
When Will and Reason (and Reason is also choice)
Were both stripped of their freedom,
Made passive, serving necessity,
Not me. Therefore, they rightly belonged as they were,
Created as such, nor can justly accuse
Their maker, or their creation, or their Fate;
As if Predestination forced
Their will, arranged by absolute Decree
Or high foreknowledge; they decreed
Their own rebellion, not I: If I foreknew,
Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault,
Which would have proven certain even if unknown.
So, without the slightest impulse or shadow of Fate,
Or anything I immutably foreseen,
They transgress, authors of themselves in all
Both what they judge and what they choose; for so
I made them free, and they must remain free,
Until they enslave themselves: Otherwise, I must change
Their nature and revoke the high Decree
Unchangeable, Eternal, which ordained
Their freedom; they themselves brought about their fall.
The first group fell by their own suggestion,
Self-tempted, self-depraved: Man falls deceived
By the other first: Therefore, Man shall find grace,
The others none: in Mercy and Justice both,
Through Heaven and Earth, so shall my glory shine,
But Mercy first and last shall shine the brightest.

Thus, while God spoke, a heavenly fragrance filled
All of Heaven, and in the blessed chosen Spirits
A sense of new, indescribable joy spread:
Beyond compare, the Son of God was seen
Most glorious; in him, all his Father shone
In a tangible way, and in his face
Divine compassion was clearly visible,
Endless love, and grace without measure,
Which, expressing this, he said to his Father.

O Father, what a gracious word that closed Your sovereign judgment, that Man should find grace; For which both Heaven and Earth shall highly praise You, with the countless sounds Of hymns and sacred songs, with which Your Throne Surrounded shall forever resound with Your blessedness. For if Man were to be lost, if Man, Your creature so dearly loved, Your youngest Son, Were to fall victim to deceit, joined With his own foolishness? That be far from You, That far be from You, Father, who are the Judge Of all things made, and judges only rightly. Or shall the Adversary thus achieve His goal, and thwart Yours, shall he fulfill His malice, and bring Your goodness to nothing, Or return in pride to his heavier doom, Yet with revenge accomplish it and drag with him The entire Race of mankind, corrupted by him? Or will You yourself Abolish Your Creation, and unmake What for Your glory You have made? So should Your goodness and Your greatness both Be questioned and blasphemed without defense.

To whom the great Creator then replied.
O Son, in whom my Soul finds its main joy,
Son of my heart, the only one
My word, my wisdom, and effective strength,
You have spoken all as my thoughts are, all
As my Eternal purpose has declared:
Man will not be completely lost, but saved if he chooses,
Not because of his own will, but grace from me
Freely offered; once more I will restore
His fallen abilities, though forfeited and trapped
By sin and foul desires;
Held by me, once more he shall stand
On even ground against his mortal enemy,
Supported by me, so he can see how weak
His fallen state is, and owe
All his rescue to me, and to no one but me.
Some I have chosen out of special grace,
Selected above the rest; this is my will:
The rest will hear me call, and often be warned
About their sinful state, and to make amends
To the angry deity while offered grace
Invites; for I will clear their darkened senses,
What is sufficient, and soften stony hearts
To pray, repent, and fulfill their duties.
To prayer, repentance, and fulfilling their duties,
Though only attempted with sincere intent,
My ear will not be slow, my eye not closed.
And I will place within them as a guide
My Umpire Conscience, whom if they will listen to,
Light after light, well used, they will achieve,
And if they persist until the end, arrive safely.
This my long patience and my day of grace
Those who disregard and scorn will never experience;
But hardened will be hard, blind will be more blind,
So they may stumble and fall deeper;
And only such I exclude from mercy.
But still, it is not done; Man disobeying,
Disloyal, breaks his loyalty, and sins
Against the high Supremacy of Heaven,
Aspiring to Godhood, and thus losing all,
To atone for his Treason has nothing left,
But to face destruction, sacred and devoted,
He and his entire offspring must die,
Die he or Justice must; unless for him
Someone else able, and as willing, pays
The strict satisfaction, death for death.
Say Heavenly Powers, where can we find such love,
Which of you will be mortal to redeem
Man's mortal crime, and justly save the unjust,
Dwells there such charity in all Heaven?

He asked, but all the heavenly choir stayed silent,
And silence filled Heaven: no one was there to
Act as a patron or intercessor on behalf of mankind,
Let alone someone brave enough to take on
The fatal penalty and the ransom required.
And now, without redemption, all humanity
Would have been lost, sentenced to Death and Hell
By a harsh judgment, if the Son of God,
In whom the fullness of divine love resides,
Had not renewed His heartfelt mediation.

Father, your word is fulfilled; humanity will find grace;
And if grace doesn't find a way to come,
The fastest of your winged messengers,
Will visit all your creations, and to all
She comes unprevented, unrequested, and unsought,
Happy for humanity, so she comes; he who needs her aid
Can never seek it, once dead in sins and lost;
No atonement for himself or fitting offering,
Indebted and undone, has nothing to bring:
So here I am, for him, life for life
I offer, let your anger fall on me;
Count me as a man; I will leave
Your embrace and this glory next to you
Freely set aside, and finally die for him
Gladly, let death unleash all his fury on me;
Under his gloomy power, I won't remain
Vanquished for long; you have given me to possess
Life in myself forever; through you I live,
Though now I yield to death and am his due
All that of me can die, yet once that debt is paid,
You won't leave me in the loathsome grave
His prey, nor allow my unblemished soul
To dwell in corruption there forever;
But I will rise victorious and conquer
My vanquisher, stripped of his expected spoils;
Death will then receive his death's wound, and bow
In a disgraceful way, disarmed of his mortal sting.
I will soar through the vast air in triumph,
Leading hell captive despite hell, and show
The powers of darkness bound. You, at the sight,
Pleased, will look down from heaven and smile,
While raised by you, I destroy all my enemies,
Death last, and with his carcass fill the grave:
Then, with the multitude of my redeemed,
I will enter heaven long absent and return,
Father, to see your face, where no shadow
Of anger will remain, but assured peace,
And reconciliation; wrath will be no more
From then on, but in your presence, complete joy.

His words ended here, but his humble appearance
Silent yet spoke, and breathed eternal love
To mortal beings, above which only shone
Childlike obedience: as a sacrifice
Happy to be offered, he follows the will
Of his great Father. Astonishment seized
All of Heaven, wondering what this might mean, and where it would lead
But soon the Almighty replied:

O you in Heaven and Earth, the only peace
Discovered for humanity under wrath, O you
My only comfort! You know how dear
All my work is to me, especially Man,
Though he was the last created, for whom I lay aside
You from my heart and right hand, to save,
By releasing you for a time, the whole lost race.
You, therefore, whom only you can redeem,
Join their nature to your nature;
And be yourself a Man among men on Earth,
Made flesh, when the time comes, from a Virgin seed,
By a miraculous birth: Be you in Adam’s place
The Head of all mankind, though Adam’s Son.
As through him all men perish, so in you
As from a second root, shall be restored,
As many as are restored; without you, none.
His crime makes all his Sons guilty, your merit
Imputed shall absolve those who renounce
Their own righteous and unrighteous deeds,
And live in you transformed, and from you
Receive new life. So Man, as is most just,
Shall satisfy for Man, be judged and die,
And dying rise, and rising with him raise
His Brethren, redeemed with his own dear life.
So Heavenly love will overcome Hellish hate,
Giving to death, and dying to redeem,
So dearly to redeem what Hellish hate
So easily destroyed, and still destroys
In those who, when they can, do not accept grace.
Nor shall you, by descending to take on
Man's Nature, lessen or degrade your own.
Because you have, though Throned in highest bliss,
Equal to God, and equally enjoying
God-like fulfillment, given up everything to save
A World from utter loss, and have been found
By merit more than Birthright Son of God,
Found worthiest to be so by being Good,
Far more than Great or High; because in you
Love has abounded more than Glory abounds,
Therefore your Humiliation shall exalt
With you your Manhood also to this Throne;
Here you shall sit incarnate, here shall reign
Both God and Man, Son of both God and Man,
Anointed universal King; all Power
I give you, reign forever, and take on
Your merits; under you as Supreme Head
Thrones, Principalities, Powers, Dominions I reduce:
All knees to you shall bow, of those that live
In Heaven, or Earth, or under Earth in Hell;
When you, gloriously attended from Heaven,
Shall appear in the Sky, and from you send
The summoning Archangels to proclaim
Your awe-inspiring Tribunal: immediately from all Winds
The living, and immediately the cited dead
Of all past Ages to the general Judgment
Shall hasten, such a sound will awaken their sleep.
Then all your Saints assembled, you shall judge
Bad men and Angels; they arraigned shall sink
Beneath your Sentence; Hell, filled to capacity,
Shall from then on be forever shut. Meanwhile,
The World shall burn, and from her ashes arise
A New Heaven and Earth, where the just shall dwell
And after all their long tribulations
See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds,
With Joy and Love triumphing, and fair Truth.
Then you shall lay aside your royal Scepter,
For a royal Scepter shall no longer be needed,
God shall be All in All. But all you Gods,
Worship him, who to accomplish all this dies,
Worship the Son, and honor him as me.

As soon as the Almighty stopped, all the angels shouted, their voices loud enough to fill the heavens, sweet as blessed voices, ringing out with joy and filling the eternal realms with jubilant Hosannas. Humbly and reverently, they bowed towards each throne and fell to the ground in solemn adoration, casting down their crowns woven with everlasting Amaranth and gold. This immortal Amaranth, a flower that once bloomed near the Tree of Life in Paradise, was removed to Heaven for humanity's offense, where it now grows, flourishing beside the Source of Life. There, the river of Bliss flows through the midst of Heaven, winding over Elysian flowers with its amber stream. With these ever-blooming flowers, the chosen spirits adorn their radiant locks intertwined with beams of light, now loosely thrown off, as the bright pavement shone like a sea of jasper, smoothed over with celestial roses. Then, crowned once more, they took their golden harps, always tuned, glittering by their side like quivers, and with a sweet preamble of enchanting symphony, they began their sacred song, invoking high raptures. Every voice joined in; there wasn’t a single voice that couldn’t contribute to the harmonious melody, such concord exists in Heaven.

The Father first they sang, all-powerful, Unchanging, immortal, infinite, Eternal King; you are the creator of everything, Source of Light, yourself invisible Among the glorious brightness where you sit On a throne that's impossible to approach, but when you cover The full blaze of your rays, and through a cloud Surrounding you like a radiant shrine, Dark with excessive brightness your edges appear, Yet dazzling Heaven, so that the brightest Seraphim Can't come close, but with both wings cover their eyes. Next, they sang of all creation’s first, Begotten Son, Divine Image, In whose clear face, without cloud, The Almighty Father shines visibly, Whom no creature can see otherwise; on you Rests the brilliance of his glory, His abundant Spirit flows through you. You created Heaven of Heavens and all the Powers within Through you, and by you cast down The ambitious Dominations: you that day Did not hold back your Father's dreadful thunder, Nor stop your flaming chariot wheels that shook Heaven's everlasting structure, while you drove The disarmed warring Angels back. Your Powers returned from the pursuit with loud acclaim, Only you praised, Son of your Father's might, To carry out fierce vengeance on his enemies, Not so on Man; him through their malice fallen, Father of Mercy and Grace, you did not condemn So harshly, but leaned much more towards pity: No sooner did your dear and only Son See that you meant not to condemn frail Man So strictly, but leaned more towards pity, He, to appease your wrath, and end the strife Between Mercy and Justice evident in your face, Unconcerned with the bliss where he sat Second to you, offered himself to die For Man's offense. O unmatched love, Love nowhere to be found less than Divine! Hail Son of God, Savior of Men, your name Shall be the rich theme of my song From now on, and my harp shall never forget Your praise, nor be separated from your Father's praise.

Thus they in Heaven, above the starry sphere,
Their happy hours spent in joy and song.
Meanwhile, on the solid, opaque globe
Of this round world, whose first curve divides
The shining lower orbs, enclosed
From chaos and the age-old darkness,
Satan landed and walked: a globe far off
Seemed like a boundless continent,
Dark, desolate, and wild, under the frown of night,
Starless and exposed, ever threatened by storms
Of chaos roaring around, an inhospitable sky;
Except on the side that, from the wall of Heaven,
Though distant far, gained some faint reflection
Of shimmering air less troubled by loud tempests:
Here walked the Fiend freely in open fields.
As when a vulture from Imaus,
Whose snowy ridge the wandering Tartar bounds,
Dislodges from a region scarce of prey
To gorge on the flesh of lambs or newborn kids
On the hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs
Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams;
But on his way, lands on the barren plains
Of Sericana, where the Chinese drive
With sails and wind their light wagons:
So on this windy sea of land, the Fiend
Walked here and there, focused on his prey,
Alone, for no other creature in this place
Living or lifeless could be found,
None yet, but plenty would later rise from the earth
Up here like aerial vapors flew,
Of all things fleeting and vain, when Sin
With vanity filled the works of men:
Both all things vain and all who in vain things
Built their foolish hopes of glory or lasting fame,
Or happiness in this life or the next;
All who have their reward on Earth, the fruits
Of painful superstitions and blind zeal,
Seeking nothing but the praise of men, here find
Fit retribution, empty as their deeds;
All the unfinished works of Nature’s hand,
Abortive, monstrous, or cruelly mixed,
Dissolved on earth, wander here in vain,
Not in the neighboring Moon, as some have dreamed;
Those silver fields more likely hold residents,
Translated saints, or intermediary spirits between
The angelic and human kind:
Here came the ill-fated sons and daughters,
First from the ancient world those giants came
With many a vain exploit, though then renowned:
Next the builders of Babel on the plain
Of Sennaar, who still with vain designs
New Babels would build if they had the means:
Others came alone; he who desired to be deemed
A god leaped foolishly into Aetna’s flames,
Empedocles, and he who, to enjoy
Plato’s Elysium, jumped into the sea,
Cleombrotus, and many more too numerous,
Embryos and fools, hermits and friars,
White, black, and gray, with all their trinkets.
Here roam pilgrims who strayed so far to seek
In Golgotha him dead, who lives in Heaven;
And those who, to be sure of Paradise,
Died dressed in the robes of Dominic,
Or in Franciscan guise thought to pass unrecognized;
They cross the seven planets and pass the fixed,
And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs
The talked-about trepidation, and that first moved;
And now Saint Peter at Heaven's gate seems
To wait for them with his keys, and now at the foot
Of Heaven's ascent they lift their feet, when suddenly
A violent crosswind from either coast
Blows them sideways ten thousand leagues away
Into the wandering air; then you might see
Cowls, hoods, and habits tossed with their wearers
And fluttered into rags, then relics, beads,
Indulgences, dispensations, pardons, bulls,
The sport of winds: all these whirled aloft
Fly over the backside of the world far off
Into a limbo wide and broad, once called
The Paradise of Fools, known to few,
Long after, now uninhabited and untrodden;
All this dark globe the Fiend found as he passed,
And long he wandered, till at last a gleam
Of dawning light turned his travel-worn steps
Toward it; far away, he spotted
Ascending gradually a magnificent
Structure up to the wall of Heaven,
At the top of which, but much more opulent appeared
The work like that of a royal palace gate
With a facade of diamond and gold
Embellished, thick with sparkling oriental gems.
The portal shone, unmatched on Earth
By model or by shaded pencil drawn.
The stairs were like those on which Jacob saw
Angels ascending and descending, bands
Of bright guardians, when he fled from Esau
To Padan-Aram in the field of Luz,
Dreaming by night under the open sky,
And waking cried, “This is the gate of Heaven.”
Each stair was mysteriously intended, nor stood
There always, but drawn up to Heaven sometimes
Invisible, and underneath a bright sea flowed
Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereupon
Those who came from Earth, arriving by sailing,
Wafted by angels, or flew over the lake
Caught up in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds.
The stairs were then let down, either to allow
The Fiend a gentle ascent, or to aggravate
His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss.
Directly against which opened from below,
Just over the blissful seat of Paradise,
A passage down to the earth, a wide passage,
Wider by far than that of later times
Over Mount Zion, and though that were large,
Over the Promised Land dear to God,
By which, to often visit those happy tribes,
On high commands, his angels passed
Frequently, and his eye with careful regard
From Paneas, the source of Jordan’s flood
To Beersheba, where the Holy Land
Borders on Egypt and the Arabian shore;
So wide the opening seemed, where boundaries were set
To darkness, such as bound the ocean's waves.
Satan, from here now on the lower stair
That climbed by steps of gold to Heaven’s gate
Looks down with wonder at the sudden view
Of all this world at once. As when a scout
Through dark and desolate paths with peril gone
All night; at last by break of cheerful dawn
Reaches the brow of some high, climbing hill,
Which to his eye reveals unaware
The lovely sight of some foreign land
First seen, or some renowned metropolis
With glittering spires and pinnacles adorned,
Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams.
Such wonder seized him, though having seen Heaven before,
The malignant spirit felt even more envy
At the sight of all this world perceived so fair.
He surveys his surroundings and well might, where he stood
So high above the circling canopy
Of night’s extended shade; from the eastern point
Of Libra to the fluffy star that bears
Andromeda far off near the Atlantic Sea
Beyond the horizon; then from pole to pole
He views in breadth, and without pausing longer
Downright into the world’s first region throws
His flight headlong, and winds with ease
Through the pure marble air his oblique way
Among countless stars that shone,
Stars distant, but seemed close like other worlds,
Or they seemed other worlds, or happy isles,
Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old,
Fortunate fields, and groves and flowery valleys,
Thrice-happy isles, but who dwelt joyfully there
He did not stop to inquire: above them all
The golden sun in splendor like heaven
Allured his eye: there he directed his course
Through the calm firmament; but up or down
By center, or eccentric, hard to tell,
Or longitude, where the great luminary
From a distance keeps off from the common constellations,
That from his lordly eye maintain due distance,
Dispenses light from afar; as they move
Their starry dance in numbers that compute
Days, months, and years, toward his all-cheering lamp
Turn swiftly their various motions, or are turned
By his magnetic beam, which gently warms
The universe, and to each inner part
With gentle penetration, though unseen,
Shoots invisible virtue even to the deep:
So wondrously was set his bright station.
There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps
An astronomer in the sun’s radiant orb
Through his glazed optic tube has never seen.
The place he found beyond expression bright,
Compared with anything on Earth, metal, or stone;
Not all parts alike, but all alike infused
With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire;
If metal, part seemed gold, part clear silver;
If stone, it was more like a carbuncle or chrysolite,
Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone
In Aaron’s breastplate, and a stone besides
Imagined more often than seen elsewhere,
That stone, or like that which here below
Philosophers in vain have long sought,
In vain, though by their powerful art they bind
Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound
In various shapes old Proteus from the sea,
Drained through a limbeck to his native form.
What wonder then if fields and regions here
Breathe forth pure elixir, and rivers run
With drinkable gold, when with one virtuous touch
The arch-chimic sun so far from us remote
Produces with terrestrial humor mixed
Here in the dark so many precious things
Of glorious colors and rare effects?
Here new matter to gaze the Devil met
Undazzled, far and wide his eye commands,
For sight found no obstacle here, nor shade,
But all sunshine, as when his beams at noon
Culminate from the equator, as they now
Shot upward still directly, whence no way around
Could shadow from opaque body fall, and the air,
Nowhere so clear, sharpened his visual ray
To distant objects, whereby he soon
Saw within sight a glorious angel standing,
The same whom John saw also in the sun:
His back was turned, but not his brightness hidden;
Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiara
Circled his head, nor less his locks behind
Illustrious on his shoulders, feathered with wings
Lay waving around; on some great charge employed
He seemed, or fixed in deep thought.
Glad was the impure spirit, now in hope
To find who might direct his wandering flight
To Paradise, the happy seat of man,
His journey's end and our beginning woe.
But first he plans to change his true shape,
Which otherwise might cause him danger or delay:
And now a young cherub he appears,
Not of the prime, yet such that in his face
Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb
Suitable grace was spread, so well he feigned;
Under a coronet his flowing hair
In curls on either cheek played, wings he wore
Of many colored plumes sprinkled with gold,
His outfit fit for speed was brief, and held
Before his decent steps a silver wand.
He approached unheard, the bright angel,
Before he drew near, his radiant visage turned,
Admonished by his ear, and straight was known
The archangel Uriel, one of the seven
Who in God's presence, nearest to his throne
Stand ready at command, and are his eyes
That run through all the heavens, or down to the earth
Bear his swift errands over moist and dry,
Over sea and land: him Satan thus addresses;

Uriel, you are one of the seven Spirits that stand
In sight of God’s high Throne, shining bright,
You are the first to bring His great authentic will
As an interpreter throughout the highest Heaven,
Where all His Sons await your message;
And here you are most likely, by supreme order,
To gain such honor, and as His Eye
To often visit this new Creation here;
A deep desire to see and understand
All of His wondrous works, but especially Man,
His greatest joy and favor, the one for whom
He ordained all these amazing creations,
Has brought me from the Choirs of Cherubim
Wandering alone. Brightest Seraph, tell me
In which of all these shining Orbs does Man
Have his fixed seat, or does he have none,
But instead chooses to dwell in all these shining Orbs;
So I may find him, and with quiet gaze,
Or open admiration, behold him
On whom the great Creator has bestowed
Worlds, and on whom He has poured all these graces;
That both in him and in all things, as is fitting,
We may praise the Universal Maker;
Who justly has driven out His rebellious foes
To the deepest Hell, and to repair that loss
Created this new happy Race of Men
To serve Him better: all His ways are wise.

So spoke the deceitful trickster unnoticed;
For neither human nor angel can see
Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
Invisible, unless to God alone,
By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth:
And often though wisdom is awake, suspicion sleeps
At wisdom's gate, and gives up her charge to
Simplicity, while goodness thinks no ill
Where no ill appears: Which now for once deceived
Uriel, though he was the Regent of the Sun, and had
The sharpest sight of all spirits in Heaven;
Who answered the fraudulent impostor foul
With his uprightness.
Fair Angel, your desire to know
The works of God, in order to glorify
The great Work-Master, leads to no blame
But rather deserves praise
The more it seems like excess, that brought you here
From your Empyreal Mansion all alone,
To witness with your own eyes what some perhaps
Content with hearsay only hear in Heaven:
For truly wonderful are all his works,
Pleasant to know, and most worthy to be
Always remembered with delight;
But what created mind can understand
Their number, or the infinite wisdom
That brought them forth, while hiding their deep causes?
I saw when at his word the formless mass,
This world’s material mold, came together;
Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar
Stood ruled, stood vast infinity confined;
Until at his second command darkness fled,
Light shone, and order sprang from disorder:
Swift to their separate places hastened then
The heavy elements, Earth, Flood, Air, Fire,
And this ethereal essence of Heaven
Flew upward, animated with various forms,
That rolled in spheres, and turned into stars
Countless, as you see, and how they move;
Each had his place assigned, each his course,
The rest orbit within the walls of this Universe.
Look down at that globe whose nearer side
Shines with light from here, though just reflected;
That place is Earth, the home of man, that light
Is his day, which otherwise, like the other hemisphere,
Night would invade, but there the nearby moon
(So call that opposite fair star) timely intervenes,
And her monthly cycle
Still ending, still renewing, through mid Heaven;
With borrowed light her changing face
Thus fills and empties to illuminate the Earth,
And in her pale dominion checks the night.
That spot I point to is Paradise,
Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bower.
You can't miss your way; I need to find mine.

Thus said, he turned, and Satan bowed low,
As is customary for superior Spirits in Heaven,
Where respect is given and no one forgets their honor,
Took his leave, and headed toward the coast of Earth below,
Descending from the Ecliptic, racing with hoped success,
He threw himself into a steep flight with many aerial loops,
And didn’t stop until he landed on Niphates peak.

O For that warning voice, which he who saw
The Apocalypse, heard shout loudly in Heaven,
When the Dragon, defeated for the second time,
Came crashing down, furious and seeking revenge on humanity,
Woe to the Inhabitants of Earth! that now,
While there was still time, our first Parents had been warned
About the arrival of their secret enemy, and perhaps
They narrowly escaped his deadly trap; for now
Satan, now burning with anger, has come down,
The Tempter before the Accuser of mankind,
To wreak havoc on innocent, fragile humans as payback
For that first battle lost, and his fall into Hell:
Yet not relishing his speed, though bold,
Far off and unafraid, and with no reason to boast,
He begins his dreadful attempt, which now brewing,
Swells within his chaotic heart,
And like a wicked engine, recoils back
Upon himself; horror and doubt tear apart
His troubled thoughts, and from the depths stir
The Hell within him, for he carries Hell
Inside himself, and all around him, nor can he escape Hell
Any more than he can escape himself by changing places: Now conscience awakens despair
That lay dormant, bringing forth the bitter memory
Of what he was, what he is, and what must be
Worse; for out of worse deeds, worse sufferings must follow.
Sometimes towards Eden, now in his sight,
He sadly fixes his troubled gaze,
Sometimes toward Heaven and the shining Sun,
Now high in its midday tower:
Then, deep in thought, he begins with sighs.

O you who are crowned with surpassing glory,
Look from your sole dominion like the God
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminished heads; to you I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add your name
O Sun, to tell you how I hate your beams
That remind me of the state
From which I fell, how glorious I once was above your sphere;
Until pride and worse ambition threw me down
Fighting in heaven against Heaven's matchless King:
Ah why! He deserved no such return
From me, whom he created into what I was
In that bright height, and with his goodness
Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.
What could be less than to give him praise,
The easiest reward, and pay him thanks,
How due! Yet all his good proved ill in me,
And turned into malice; lifted up so high
I despised subjection, and thought one step higher
Would set me highest, and in a moment clear
The immense debt of endless gratitude,
So burdensome, still paying, still to owe;
Forgetful of what I still received from him,
And did not understand that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but still pays, at once
Indebted and discharged; what burden then?
O had his powerful destiny ordained
Me some inferior angel, I would have stood
Then happy; no boundless hope had raised
Ambition. Yet why not? Some other power
As great might have aspired, and even though I was low
Drawn to his part; but other powers as great
Did not fall, but stand unshaken, armed
From within or without, to all temptations.
Did you have the same free will and power to stand?
You did: whom do you then or what to accuse,
But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all?
Let then his love be cursed, since love or hate,
To me alike, it brings eternal woe.
No, cursed be you; since against his will
You freely chose what you now rightly regret.
Me miserable! Which way shall I flee
From infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Whichever way I flee is Hell; I am Hell;
And in the lowest deep a deeper deep
Still threatening to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems like Heaven.
O then at last relent: is there no place
Left for repentance, none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the spirits below, whom I seduced
With other promises and other boasts
Then to submit, boasting I could subdue
The Omnipotent. Oh, they little know
How dearly I bear that boast so vain,
Under what torments I groan inside;
While they adore me on the throne of Hell,
With diadem and scepter high advanced
The lower still I fall, only supreme
In misery; such joy ambition finds.
But say I could repent and could obtain
By act of grace my former state; how soon
Would heights recall high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feigned submission swore: ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
For never can true reconciliation grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:
Which would only lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall: thus I would purchase dear
A short break bought with double pain.
This my punisher knows; therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging peace:
All hope excluded thus, behold in place
Of us outcast, exiled, his new delight,
Mankind created, and for him this world.
So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,
Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost;
Evil be thou my good; by you at least
Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold
By you, and perhaps more than half will reign;
As man soon, and this new world shall know.

Thus as he spoke, each emotion dimmed his face, Changing it three times with pale, anger, envy, and despair, Which spoiled his borrowed appearance and betrayed Him as fake, if anyone looked closely. For heavenly minds are always clear from such foul disturbances. Realizing this quickly, he smoothed each disturbance with outward calm, Crafty in deceit; he was the first To practice falsehood under a saintly guise, Deep malice hidden, disguised with revenge: Yet he had not deceived enough Uriel once warned; whose eye followed him down The path he took, and on the Assyrian mountain Saw him disfigured, more than could happen To a happy spirit: he noticed his fierce gestures And mad behavior, then alone, As he thought, all unnoticed, unseen. So he continued on, arriving at the border Of Eden, where the beautiful Paradise, Now closer, crowned with its green enclosure, Like a rural mound at the steep edge Of a wild wilderness, whose hairy sides Were overgrown with thickets, grotesque and wild, Denying access; and above grew An insurmountable height of lofty shade, Cedar, Pine, Fir, and branching Palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascended Shade above shade, a wooded theater Of stately view. Yet higher than their tops The verdant wall of Paradise rose: Which gave our ancestral Father a large view Into his lower realm surrounding it. And higher than that Wall was a circling row Of the finest Trees laden with the fairest Fruit, Blooms and Fruits of golden hue Appeared, with bright colors mixed: On which the Sun shone brighter Than in a fair Evening Cloud, or humid Rainbow, When God has showered the earth; so lovely seemed That landscape: And with purer air Met his approach, inspiring in his heart Springtime delight and joy, capable of driving All sadness but despair: now gentle breezes Fanning their fragrant wings spread Native perfumes, whispering whence they stole Those balmy spoils. As when to those who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and are now past Mozambic, off at Sea the North-East winds blow Sabean scents from the spicy shore Of blessed Arabia, with such delay Well pleased they slow their course, and many a league Cheered by the grateful smell, the old Ocean smiles. So those sweet fragrances entertained the Fiend Who brought their ruin, though with them better pleased Than Asmodeus with the fishy scent, That drove him, though in love, from the Spouse Of Tobit's son, and avenged him, sent From Media to Egypt, fast bound there.

Now, to climb that steep, wild hill, Satan had traveled on, thoughtful and slow; But there was no other path to find, so thickly intertwined, As if it were one continuous thicket, the underbrush Of shrubs and tangled bushes had perplexed All paths for Man or Beast that passed by: There was only one gate, and it faced East On the other side: when the arch-villain saw that, He scorned the proper entrance, and in contempt, With one quick leap, he bounded over all The hill or the highest wall, and landed inside On his feet. Just like a prowling wolf, Driven by hunger to seek new places for prey, Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at dusk In fenced enclosures in the secure field, He leaps over the fence with ease into the fold: Or like a thief intent on stealing the cash From some rich merchant, whose solid doors, Cross-barred and bolted tight, fear no attack, Climbs in through the window or over the tiles; So climbed this first grand thief into God's fold: So now lewd hirelings sneak into His Church. From there he flew up, and on the Tree of Life, The middle tree and the tallest that grew there, Sat like a cormorant; yet not truly gaining life Thereby, but sat scheming death For those who lived; nor did he think Of the virtue of that life-giving plant, but only used It for a viewpoint, what well-used would have been the promise Of immortality. So few know Anything, except God alone, to value correctly The good before them, but twist the best things To the worst abuse, or to their meanest use. Beneath him, now with new wonder, he sees All the delights of human sense exposed In a narrow space, Nature's whole wealth, even more, A Heaven on Earth, for blissful Paradise Was God's garden, planted by Him in the East Of Eden; Eden stretched her line From Auran eastward to the royal towers Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings, Or where the sons of Eden long before Dwelt in Telassar: in this pleasant soil His far more pleasant garden God ordained; From the fertile ground, He caused to grow All trees of the noblest kind for sight, smell, taste; And all among them stood the Tree of Life, High and prominent, blooming ambrosial fruit Of vegetable gold; and next to life Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew nearby: Knowledge of good bought dearly by knowing ill. Southward through Eden flowed a large river, Nor changed its course, but through the shaggy hill Passed underneath, swallowed up, for God had thrown That mountain as His garden mold, high raised Upon the rapid current, which through veins Of porous earth with kindly thirst drawn up, Rose a fresh fountain, and with many rills Watered the garden; from there, it united, fell Down the steep glade, and met the lower flood, Which from its dark passage now appears, And now divided into four main streams, Ran in different directions, wandering to many famous realms And countries whereof here needs no account, But rather to tell how, if art could tell, How from that sapphire fountain the crisped brooks, Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold, With mazy error under hanging shades Ran nectar, visiting each plant and feeding Flowers worthy of paradise, which not delicate art In beds and curious knots, but nature generously Poured forth profusely on hill and dale and plain, Both where the morning sun first warmly struck The open field, and where the impenetrable shade Surrounded the noontide bower: Thus was this place, A happy rural seat of diverse views; Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm, Others whose fruit, polished with golden rind, Hung pleasantly, Hesperian fables true, If true, only here, and of delicious taste: Between them were lawns, or level downs, and flocks Grazing the tender herb, were interposed, Or palm-covered hills, or the flowery lap Of some irrigated valley spread her bounty, Flowers of all hues, and without thorn the rose: On another side, shady grottos and caves Of cool recess, over which the mantling vine Lays forth her purple grapes, and gently creeps Luxuriantly; meanwhile murmuring waters fall Down the sloped hills, dispersed, or into a lake, That to the fringed bank with myrtle crowned, Holds its crystal mirror, united their streams. The birds apply their choir; airs, vernal airs, Breathing the scent of field and grove, attune The trembling leaves, while universal Pan Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance Led on the eternal spring. Not that fair field Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flowers For herself, a fairer flower by gloomy Dis Was gathered, which cost Ceres all that pain To seek her through the world; nor that sweet grove Of Daphne by Orontes, and the inspired Castalian spring could strive with this paradise Of Eden; nor that Nyseian isle Surrounded by the river Triton, where old Cham, Whom Gentiles call Ammon and Libyan Jove, Hid Amalthea and her flourishing son Young Bacchus from his stepmother Rhea’s eye; Nor where Abassin kings guard their descendants, Mount Amara, though this by some supposed True paradise under the Ethiop line By Nilus head, enclosed with shining rock, A whole day's journey high, but far removed From this Assyrian garden, where the fiend Saw undelighted all delight, all kinds Of living creatures new to sight and strange: Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honor clad In naked majesty, seemed lords of all, And worthy seemed, for in their divine looks The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctity severe and pure, Severe, but in true filial freedom placed; Where true authority in men comes from; though both Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed; For contemplation he and valor formed, For softness she and sweet attractive grace, He for God only, she for God in him: His fair large forehead and sublime eye declared Absolute rule; and hyacinth locks Fell from his parted forelock, manly hung Clustered, but not beneath his broad shoulders: She, as a veil down to her slender waist Her unadorned golden tresses wore Disheveled, but in wanton ringlets waved As the vine curls her tendrils, which implied Subjection, but required gentle sway, And by her yielded, by him best received, Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. Nor were those mysterious parts then concealed, Then was not guilty shame, dishonorable shame Of nature’s works, honor dishonorable, Sin-bred, how have you troubled all mankind With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure, And banished from man's life his happiest life, Simplicity and spotless innocence. So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sight Of God or angel, for they thought no ill: So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair That ever since in love’s embraces met, Adam the goodliest man of men since born And his son, the fairest of her daughters, Eve. Under a tuft of shade that stood whispering softly, By a fresh fountain side, They sat down, and after no more toil Than their sweet gardening labor required To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite More enjoyable, they fell to their supper fruits, Nectarine fruits which the yielding boughs Provided them, side by side as they sat reclined On the soft, downy bank decorated with flowers: They chew the savory pulp, and in the rind Still as they thirsted scoop the brimming stream; Nor gentle purpose, nor endearing smiles Were lacking, nor youthful dalliance as befits A fair couple, linked in happy nuptial league, Alone as they. Around them frolicked All beasts of the earth, both wild and of all chase In woods or wilderness, forest or den; Sporting the lion leaped, and in his paw Dangled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces, leopards Frolicked before them, the unwieldy elephant To make them laugh used all his might, and wreathed His flexible trunk; close the sly serpent Insinuatingly wove with Gordian twine His braided tail, and of his fatal guile Gave proof unheeded; others on the grass Crouched, now filled with pasture, gazing sat, Or bedward ruminating: for the sun Had declined was hastening now with a downward course To the ocean isles, and in the ascending scale Of heaven the stars that usher evening rose: When Satan, still in gaze, as first he stood, Scarcely at length gained his sad speech again.

O hell! What do my eyes see with such grief,
In our room of bliss, now filled
With creatures of a different kind, perhaps born of the earth,
Not spirits, yet not far beneath heavenly beings,
Whom my thoughts chase with wonder, and could love, for they shine
With a divine resemblance, and such grace
The hand that created them has bestowed on their shape.
Ah gentle pair, you little realize how close
Your change is approaching, when all these delights
Will disappear and lead you to misery,
More misery, the more you now enjoy joy;
Happy, but so blissfully secure
For only a little while, and this high seat of your heaven
Is not well protected against a foe
Like the one that has now entered; yet not a purposeful foe
To you whom I could pity, so forlorn
Though I am unfeeling: I seek a bond with you,
A mutual friendship so tight, so close,
That I must dwell with you, or you with me
From now on; my dwelling may not please
You like this beautiful paradise, yet
Accept your Maker's work; he gave it to me,
Which I give freely; hell shall open,
To welcome you both with her widest gates,
And send forth all her kings; there will be room,
Not like these narrow limits, to receive
Your numerous offspring; if there’s no better place,
Thank him who makes me reluctant to take revenge
On you who have done me no wrong for him who did wrong.
And should I, at your innocent nature,
Melt, as I do, yet public reason demands,
Honor and power with revenge enlarged,
By conquering this new world, it compels me now
To do what otherwise, though damned, I should detest.

So spoke the Fiend, and with necessity, The Tyrant's plea excused his devilish deeds. Then from his high perch on that tall Tree He jumped down among the playful Herd Of those four-footed creatures, now one, Now another, as their shape best served his purpose, Closer to view his prey, and unnoticed To see what more about their state he could learn By word or action marked: around them, A Lion now stalks with fiery glare, Then like a Tiger, who by chance has spotted In some thicket two gentle Fawns at play, Immediately crouches low, then rising frequently Alters his hidden watch, as one who chooses his position From where he might most surely seize them both In each paw: when Adam, first of men, To Eve, the first of women, moving to speak, Turned all ears to hear new words flow.

Sole partner and the only source of all this joy,
Dearest of all; surely the Power
That created us, and for us this vast World
Must be infinitely good, and out of His goodness
As generous and free as can be,
That lifted us from the dust and placed us here
In all this happiness, when we have done nothing
To deserve it, nor can we give
Anything He needs. He only asks
From us this one simple task, to keep
This one easy rule, among all the Trees
In Paradise that bear delicious fruit,
So many choices, not to taste that one Tree
Of knowledge, planted next to the Tree of Life,
So close that Death grows next to Life, whatever Death is,
A dreadful thing for sure; for you know well
God has declared it death to taste that Tree,
The only sign of our obedience left
Among so many signs of power and control
Bestowed upon us, and Dominion given
Over all other Creatures that inhabit
Earth, Air, and Sea. Then let us not complain
About one easy prohibition, when we enjoy
The freedom to partake in everything else, and the unlimited choice
Of countless delights:
But let us always praise Him, and celebrate
His generosity, while we joyfully tend
To these growing Plants, and care for these Flowers,
Which, even if it were hard work, would be sweet with you.

To whom Eve replied, “Oh you, for whom
And from whom I was formed, flesh of your flesh,
And without whom I am incomplete, my Guide
And Head, what you’ve said is true and right.
We owe him indeed all our praises,
And daily thanks, especially me, who enjoys
So far the happier fate, enjoying you
So much more, while you
Can find no other partner like yourself.
That day I often remember, when I first
Awoke from sleep and found myself resting
Under a shade on flowers, wondering where
I was, what I was, where I came from, and how.
Not far from there, I heard a murmuring sound
Of water coming from a cave, spreading
Into a still liquid plain, as pure
As the expanse of Heaven; I went there
With untrained thoughts and laid down
On the green bank to look into the clear
Smooth lake that seemed to me another sky.
As I bent down to look, right in front of me,
A shape appeared in the watery reflection,
Bending to look at me. I started back,
It started back, but pleased, I soon returned,
Pleased that it returned with matching looks
Of sympathy and love. I had fixed
My eyes there until now, and longed in vain,
Had not a voice warned me, “What you see,
What you see there, beautiful creature, is yourself.
With you, it came and goes: but follow me,
And I will take you where no shadow stays
Your arrival, and your soft embraces. He,
Whose image you are, you shall enjoy
Inseparably yours; to him you will bear
Countless children like yourself, and you’ll be called
Mother of the human race: what could I do,
But follow straight, invisibly led?
Until I spotted you, indeed fair and tall,
Under a plane tree, yet I thought you less fair,
Less charming, less softly appealing,
Than that smooth watery image; I turned back,
You following, cried out, ‘Return, fair Eve,
Whom do you flee from? Whom do you flee from, but him?
You are his flesh, his bone; to give you life, I took
From my side to you, nearest my heart,
Substantial life, to have you by my side
From now on, a cherished companion;
Part of my soul, I seek you, and claim
My other half.’ With that, your gentle hand
Seized mine, and from that moment, I see
How beauty is surpassed by manly grace
And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.”

So spoke our mother, with eyes full of love, and a soft willingness, half-embracing our first father. Her bare breast, peeking out from beneath her flowing gold hair, met his. He smiled in delight, taken by her beauty and gentle charm, with the kind of love like how Jupiter smiles at Juno when he fills the clouds that bring May flowers, and kissed her lips with pure affection. The devil turned away, feeling envious, yet watching them with a jealous glance, and muttered to himself.

Sight that brings hate, sight that brings torment! Here they are, Paradise found in each other's arms. The happier Eden will indulge in bliss upon bliss, While I'm cast down to Hell, Where there's no joy or love, only fierce desire, Which, among all our other torments, is not the least, Still unfulfilled, paining with longing; Yet let me not forget what I’ve gained From their own words; it seems not everything belongs to them: One fatal Tree stands called Knowledge, Forbidden for them to taste: Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, unreasonable. Why should their Lord Hold that against them? Can it really be a sin to know, Can it mean death? Do they only stand By Ignorance, is that their happy state, The proof of their obedience and their faith? Oh, what a fair foundation laid to build Their ruin! Hence I will stir their minds With more desire to know, and to reject Envious commands, designed to keep them down When knowledge could elevate them to be equal with Gods; Aspiring to be such, they taste and die: what could be more likely? But first, I must carefully explore This Garden, leaving no corner unexamined; Perhaps by chance I might encounter Some wandering Spirit of Heaven, by the Fountain side, Or in thick shade hidden, from him to learn What more I wish to know. Live while you can, Yet happy pair; enjoy, until I return, Short pleasures, for long woes are to follow.

So saying, he turned away with a proud step, full of scorn, But with a sly caution, and started To roam through woods, wastelands, over hills, and across valleys. Meanwhile, at the farthest point of longitude, where heaven Meets earth and ocean, the setting sun Slowly descended, casting its rays Straight against the eastern gate of Paradise, Leveling its evening light: there was a rock Of alabaster, piled up to the clouds, Visible from afar, winding up with one ascent That was accessible from the ground, a single high entrance; The rest was a craggy cliff, overhanging As it rose, impossible to climb. Between these rocky pillars, Gabriel sat, Chief of the angelic guards, waiting for night; Around him, the unarmed youth of heaven engaged In heroic games, but nearby The celestial armory, shields, helmets, and spears Hung high, glittering with diamonds and gold. There came Uriel, gliding through the evening On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star In autumn across the night, when fiery vapors Fill the air, showing the sailor From which point of his compass to beware Of impetuous winds: he began to speak in haste.

Gabriel, your path has been given to you by chance
With a charge and strict watch that nothing evil
Should come near or enter this happy place;
Today, at noon, a spirit came to my realm,
Eager, as he appeared, to learn
More about the Almighty's works, especially Man,
God's latest creation. I described his path,
Focused on speed, and marked his lofty entrance;
But in the mountain that lies north of Eden,
Where he first arrived, I soon noticed his expression
Was different from Heaven’s, clouded by unclean passions:
I kept my eye on him, but in the shade,
I lost sight of him; I fear one of the banished ones
Has ventured out from the deep to cause
New troubles; you must find him.

To whom the winged warrior returned:
Uriel, it’s no surprise that with your perfect vision,
In the bright circle of the Sun where you sit,
You can see far and wide: no one passes through this Gate
Without the vigilance placed here, except those who come
Well-known from Heaven; and since midday,
No creature has come through: if a spirit of another kind,
With that intention, has crossed these earthly boundaries,
You know it’s difficult to exclude
A spiritual being with physical barriers.
But if within the limits of this area,
In whatever shape he hides, the one
You mention, by tomorrow morning I shall know.

So he promised, and Uriel returned to his duty
On that bright beam, which now angled downwards
To the sun that had already set
Below the Azores; where the main Orb,
Incredible how fast, had rolled there
Daily, or this less rapid Earth
By a shorter flight to the East, had left him there
Dressing with reflected purple and gold
The clouds that surround his Western throne:
Now calm evening approached, and gray twilight
Had dressed everything in her sober attire;
Silence accompanied, for beast and bird,
They retired to their grassy beds, these to their nests
All but the alert nightingale;
She sang her passionate melody all night long;
Silence was pleased: now the sky
Sparkled with living sapphires: Hesperus, who led
The starry host, shone brightest, until the Moon
Rising in clouded majesty, finally
Revealed her unmatched light,
And over the dark cast her silver cloak.

When Adam said to Eve: Beautiful partner, it’s nighttime, and everything is now settled into rest. This reminds us of the need for rest, since God has established labor and rest, just like day and night for people. The gentle dew of sleep is now falling, softly weighing down our eyelids; while other creatures wander aimlessly all day and need less rest, humans have daily work for the body or mind assigned to them, which shows their dignity and God's attention to all their actions. Meanwhile, other animals roam without purpose, and God doesn’t keep track of what they do. Tomorrow, before fresh morning light begins to shine in the East, we must rise and get back to our enjoyable work of tending to those flower-filled arbors and those green paths over there, our walks at noon, which are overgrown with branches, mocking our limited care and needing more hands than just ours to trim their wild growth. Those blossoms and the gumdrops scattered all around unsightly and rough need to be cleared away if we want to walk comfortably; for now, as nature wants, night tells us to rest.

To whom thus Eve adorned with perfect beauty.
My Creator and Guide, what You command,
I follow without question; that's how God intends,
God is Your law, and You are mine: to know nothing more
Is a woman's greatest wisdom and her honor.
Talking with You makes me lose track of time,
All seasons and their changes feel the same.
Sweet is the morning's breath, her rise is sweet,
With the charm of the earliest birds; pleasant is the Sun
When he first spreads his golden rays on this lovely Land
Over grass, trees, fruits, and flowers,
Glistening with dew; fragrant is the fertile earth
After gentle showers; and sweet is the approach
Of grateful mild Evening, followed by silent Night
With her solemn bird and this beautiful Moon,
And those gems of Heaven, her starry train:
But neither the breath of Morning at her rise
With the charm of the earliest birds, nor the rising Sun
On this lovely land, nor grass, fruits, or flowers,
Glistening with dew, nor fragrance after showers,
Nor gentle Evening, nor silent Night
With her solemn bird, nor walks by Moon,
Or sparkling starlight without You is sweet.
But why do all these shine all night, for whom
Is this glorious sight, when sleep has closed all eyes?

To whom our general Ancestor replied.
Daughter of God and Man, accomplished Eve,
They must complete their path around the Earth,
By tomorrow evening, and from Land to Land,
In order, even to nations yet unborn,
Bringing light prepared, they set and rise;
So that total darkness doesn't reclaim
Her old possession by night, extinguishing life
In nature and all things, which these soft fires
Not only enlighten, but also with gentle heat
Of various influence foster and warm,
Temper or nourish, or partially shed down
Their stellar virtue on all kinds that grow
On Earth, made hereupon more ready to receive
Perfection from the Sun's more potent rays.
These then, though unseen in the depths of night,
Shine not in vain, nor think that, though there were no men,
Heaven would lack watchers, or God lack praise;
Millions of spiritual Creatures walk the Earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep:
All of these with constant praise behold His works
Both day and night: how often from the steep
Of echoing hills or thickets have we heard
Celestial voices in the midnight air,
Alone, or answering each other's notes,
Singing their great Creator: often in bands
While they keep watch, or nightly walking rounds
With heavenly touches of instrumental sounds
In full harmony joined, their songs
Divide the night and lift our thoughts to Heaven.

As they chatted hand in hand, they walked on to their blissful garden; it was a place chosen by the supreme Creator when He made everything for human enjoyment. The roof of thick foliage was woven with shade from laurel and myrtle, and anything that grew taller with sturdy and fragrant leaves. On either side, Acanthus and each fragrant, bushy plant enclosed the green wall; each beautiful flower, Iris in all colors, roses, and jasmine lifted their flourishing heads in between, creating a mosaic. Below, violets, crocuses, and hyacinths richly decorated the ground with more color than expensive stones. No creature here—beast, bird, insect, or worm—dared to enter; such was their fear of man. In a shadier, more sacred, and secluded area, even though it was imagined, Pan or Silvanus never rested, nor did nymphs or Faunus haunt. Here, in a close retreat surrounded by flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs, Eve first adorned her wedding bed, and heavenly choirs sang the wedding hymn on the day the joyful angel brought her to our Father in naked beauty, more decorated, more lovely than Pandora, who the gods bestowed with all their gifts, too similar in tragic outcome when she was brought by Hermes to the less wise son of Japhet, ensnaring mankind with her beautiful looks, seeking revenge on the one who had stolen Jove's true fire.

So at their shady lodge, they arrived, both stood,
Both turned, and under the open sky adored
The God who made the sky, air, earth, and heaven
Whom they beheld, the moon's bright globe
And starry pole: You also made the night,
Almighty Maker, and You made the day,
Which we, busy with our appointed tasks,
Have completed happily with our mutual help
And mutual love, the crown of all our joy
Ordained by You, and this lovely place
Is too large for us, where Your abundance
Lacks those to share it and falls to the ground unpicked.
But You have promised us a lineage
To fill the earth, who will join us in praising
Your infinite goodness, both when we wake,
And when we seek, like now, Your gift of sleep.

This said, all agreed, and without any rituals
Other than pure adoration,
Which God prefers the most, they entered
Into their innermost sanctuary,
Easing the removal of
These troublesome disguises we wear.
Side by side they lay down, and I don’t think
Adam turned away from his lovely wife, nor
Did Eve refuse the
Mysterious rites of marital love:
No matter what the hypocrites might harshly say
About purity, place, and innocence,
Discrediting as impure what God declares
Pure and commands to some, allowing all.
Our Maker commands us to be fruitful, while who commands us to refrain
But our destroyer, the enemy of God and man?
Hail, wedded love, mysterious law, true source
Of human offspring, sole property,
In paradise where everything else is shared.
Because of you, adulterous lust was driven from men
Among the bestial herds to roam, and because of you
Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure,
Dear relationships, and all the charities
Of father, son, and brother were first known.
Far be it from me to write you as sin or blame,
Or think you unfit for the holiest place,
Perpetual fountain of domestic sweetness,
Whose bed is undefiled and declared chaste,
Present or past, as saints and patriarchs used.
Here love employs his golden arrows, here lights
His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings,
Reigns and revels here; not in the purchased smiles
Of prostitutes, loveless, joyless, unkind,
Casual encounters, nor in courtly affairs,
Mixed dances, or wanton masks, or midnight balls,
Or serenades that the starving lover sings
To his proud lady, who rewards him with disdain.
These lulled by nightingales embraced and slept,
And on their naked limbs the flowery roof
Showered roses, which the morning repaired. Sleep on,
Blessed pair; and oh, how fortunate you are if you seek
No happier state, and know how to know no more.

Now night had measured with her shadowy cone
Halfway up the hill in this vast earthly vault,
And from their ivory gate, the cherubim
Came out at the usual hour, standing armed
For their night watches in a martial parade,
When Gabriel spoke to his next in command like this.

Uzziel, half of these draw back and patrol the South
With the strictest watch; the others head for the North,
Our path meets directly West. As they move apart like flames,
Half turning toward the Shield, half toward the Spear.
From these, he called two strong and clever Spirits
That stood near him and gave them this instruction.

Ithuriel and Zephon, with swift wings
Search through this Garden, leaving no corner unchecked,
But especially where those two beautiful Creatures rest,
Now perhaps asleep and safe from harm.
This evening, having come from the setting sun,
Which speaks of some dark Spirit seen
Heading this way (who would have thought?) escaped
From the gates of Hell, on a bad mission for sure:
So wherever you find him, grab him quickly and bring him here.

So saying, he led his shining group,
Dazzling the Moon; they headed straight for the Bower
In search of the one they were looking for: there they found him
Squatting like a Toad, close to the ear of Eve;
Trying with his devilish skills to reach
The organs of her imagination, and with them create
Illusions at will, phantoms and dreams,
Or if, by injecting poison, he could taint
The animal spirits that arise from pure blood
Like gentle breaths from clear rivers, to raise
At least disturbed, discontented thoughts,
Empty hopes, empty aims, excessive desires
Blown up with high conceits generating pride.
Thus focused, Ithuriel lightly touched him with his spear;
For no falsehood can withstand
The touch of celestial quality, but reverts
Forcefully to its own likeness: he sprang up
Revealed and surprised. Just like when a spark
Lands on a pile of nitrous powder, stacked
Ready for the rumoured war, the sooty grain
Suddenly flares up, igniting the air:
So the fiend leaped up in his true form.
The two fair angels stepped back, half amazed
To see the grim king so suddenly;
Yet, unshaken by fear, they approached him quickly.

Which of those rebellious Spirits sentenced to Hell
Have you come from, escaped your prison, and transformed,
Why do you sit here like an enemy in wait
Watching over those who sleep?

"Are you really that clueless?" said Satan, filled with scorn. "Don't you remember me? You once knew me well back when you dared not take flight. Not knowing me suggests that you’re just the lowest of your group; or if you do know, Why even ask? It's pointless to start Your message if it’s just going to end in futility." To this, Zephon replied, returning the scorn. "Don't think, fallen spirit, that you look the same, Or that your diminished brightness can still be recognized Like when you stood in Heaven, upright and pure. That glory left you the moment you turned bad, And now you reflect your sin and your dark, foul fate. But come, you will have to answer To the one who sent us, whose job is to protect This place and keep it safe from harm."

So spoke the Cherub, and his serious reprimand
Severe in youthful beauty, added invincible grace:
Ashamed, the Devil stood,
And felt how terrifying goodness is, and saw
Virtue in her form how lovely, saw, and ached
For his loss; but mainly to see here noted
His brightness visibly dimmed; yet he seemed
Unfazed. “If I must fight,” he said,
“Then it’s best to take on the best, the Sender not the sent,
Or all at once; more glory will be won,
Or less will be lost. Your fear,” said Zephon boldly,
“Will spare us the trial of what the least can do
Alone against you, wicked one, and thus weak.”

The Fiend didn’t respond, overcome with rage; But like a proud horse restrained, he marched on arrogantly, Chewing on his iron bit: he thought it pointless to fight or flee; Awe from above had quelled his heart, which was otherwise undaunted. Now they approached The western point, where those semi-circular guards Just met and stood together in a joined squad, Waiting for the next command. To them, their Chief Gabriel from the front called out loudly.

O friends, I hear the sound of quick footsteps
coming this way, and now I can catch a glimpse
of Ithuriel and Zephon through the shadows,
and with them comes a third figure of royal stature,
but his faded glory is gone; he walks with such pride
and a fierce attitude that he seems like the Prince of Hell,
not likely to leave here without a fight;
Stand strong, because his expression shows defiance.

He had barely finished when those two came up
and quickly told him who they had brought, where they found them,
what they were busy with, and in what position they were lying.

To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spoke.
Why have you, Satan, broken the limits set
For your wrongdoings and disturbed the duty
Of others, who do not agree with your actions
And have the power and right
To challenge your bold entrance here;
It seems you intend to disrupt sleep and those
Whose home God has established here in bliss?

To whom thus Satan with a contemptuous look.
Gabriel, you were respected in Heaven for your wisdom,
And I held you in the same regard; but this question asked
Leaves me uncertain. Is there anyone who loves their suffering?
Who wouldn’t, if they found a way, escape from Hell,
Even if they were doomed to be there? You would yourself, no doubt,
And boldly venture to any place
Farthest from pain, where you might hope to trade
Suffering for ease, and quickly replace
Sorrow with joy, which is what I sought in this place;
To you, it's no reason; you only know good,
But have not tried evil: and would you question
The will of the one who bound us? Let him secure
His Iron Gates more tightly, if he means for us to remain
In that dark confinement: that much was asked.
The rest is true, they found me where they say;
But that does not imply violence or harm.

So he said in scorn. The warlike Angel moved,
Half-smiling disdainfully, he replied.
Oh, the loss of one in Heaven to judge wisely,
Since Satan fell, whose foolishness brought him down,
And now he returns, escaped from his prison,
Seriously unsure whether to consider them wise
Or not, those who ask what boldness brought him here
Without permission from his prescribed bounds in Hell;
So wisely he thinks it to flee from pain
Nonetheless and escape his punishment.
So judge you still, presumptuous one, until the wrath,
Which you incur by fleeing, meets your flight
Sevenfold, and drives that wisdom back to Hell,
Which taught you no better, that no pain
Can equal the anger that is infinitely provoked.
But why are you alone? Why did all of Hell
Not break loose with you? Is pain for them
Less painful, easier to flee from, or are you,
Less brave to endure than they? Courageous Chief,
The first to flee from pain, had you claimed
This reason for flight to your abandoned host,
You surely would not have come back as a solitary fugitive.

The Fiend replied, frowning seriously.
It's not that I can't handle pain or back down,
Insulting Angel, you know I stood my ground
During your toughest battles when the roaring,
Thundering blasts moved quickly to support you
And backed your otherwise feared spear.
But your words, thrown out randomly like before,
Show your inexperience about what a loyal
Leader should learn from tough trials and past
Failures, not to risk everything
By taking paths of danger he hasn't tested.
So I alone first took on the challenge
To explore the empty Abyss and scout
This newly created World, which has a name
Back in Hell, hoping to find a better place
For my troubled powers to settle here on Earth,
Or in the mid-air; though in pursuit of possession
To see what you and your flashy Legions dare to challenge;
Whose easier task would be to serve their Lord
High up in Heaven, singing hymns to his throne,
And practicing how to be deferential, not to fight.

To whom the warrior Angel quickly replied.
To say one thing and then take it back, pretending first
To be wise and avoid pain, but next acting the spy,
Shows you’re no leader, just a liar caught,
Satan, and could you add anything faithful? O name,
O sacred name of betrayed faithfulness!
Faithful to whom? To your rebellious crew?
Army of Fiends, matching body to matching head;
Was this your training and commitment,
Your military discipline, to break
Allegiance to the acknowledged supreme power?
And you sly hypocrite, who now pretends
To be a champion of freedom, who more than you
Once fawned, and cringed, and servilely worshiped
Heaven's awesome Monarch? Why? Only because
You hope to dispossess him and reign yourself?
But watch what I command you now, away;
Flee back to where you came from: if from this hour
You appear within these holy limits,
I will drag you back to the infernal pit, chained,
And seal you so that from now on you won’t scorn
The easily opened gates of hell.

So he threatened, but Satan paid no attention to the threats
Instead, growing angrier, he replied.

Then when I am your captive, talk about chains,
Proud boundary angel, but before that
A much heavier burden you can expect to feel
From my overpowering arm, even though Heaven's King
Rides on your wings, and you along with your peers,
Used to the yoke, are pulling his triumphant wheels
On the path through the star-paved road of Heaven.

While he spoke, the Angelic Squadron bright Turned fiery red, sharpening their moon-like horns In formation and began to surround him With ready spears, as thick as a field Of Ceres ripe for harvest, swaying in the wind As it blows through the bearded stalks; the careful farmer stands, Worried that on the threshing floor his hopeful sheaves Will turn out to be chaff. On the other side, Satan, alarmed, Gathering all his strength, stood expanded, Like Teneriff or Atlas, unmoving: His height reached the sky, and on his head Sat horror plumed; he had in his grasp What seemed to be both spear and shield: now dreadful actions Might have followed, not only in Paradise During this turmoil, but perhaps also the Starry Vault Of Heaven, or all the Elements At least could have gone to ruin, disturbed and torn By the violence of this conflict, had not soon The Eternal, to prevent such a dreadful clash, Displayed in Heaven his golden scales, visible Between Astrea and the Scorpio sign, Wherein he first weighed all created things, The round Earth balanced with the air In counterpoise, now weighing all events, Battles and realms: in these he placed two weights, The outcomes of both separation and combat; The latter shot up quickly and tipped the scale; Which Gabriel noticing, spoke to the Fiend.

Satan, I know your strength, and you know mine,
Neither of us has power on our own; it's all given to us. What foolishness then
To brag about what our weapons can do, since yours can do no more
Than what Heaven allows, and mine, even though I'm twice as strong now,
Is only capable of trampling you like dirt: just look up,
And see your fate in that celestial Sign
Where you are weighed and shown how light, how weak,
You become if you resist. The Fiend looked up and understood
His elevated position above: no more; but fled
Murmuring, and with him fled the shadows of night.

Now morning, with her rosy steps in the Eastern sky,
was spreading pearls across the Earth,
When Adam woke, as was his habit, from his sleep,
which was light from pure digestion,
and gentle, pleasant air, where the only sounds
were leaves rustling and bubbling streams, Aurora’s fan,
gently blowing, and the loud morning songs
of birds on every branch; his surprise grew
when he found Eve still asleep,
with her hair disheveled and her cheeks glowing,
as if from restless dreams. He leaned over her,
propped up on one arm, looking at her with loving eyes,
admiring her beauty, which shone with unique grace,
whether she was awake or asleep; then with a voice
soft, as when Zephyrus breathes on Flora,
he gently touched her hand and whispered, “Awake,
my fairest, my beloved, my newest discovery,
Heaven's greatest gift, my ever-renewing joy,
Wake up, the morning is shining, and the fresh fields
are calling us; we’re missing out on the best part of the day to see how our plants are springing up,
how the citron grove is blossoming,
what drops from the myrrh, and what the sweet-scented reed,
how Nature paints her colors, and how the bee
sits on the flower, extracting its sweet nectar.”

Such whispers woke her, but with startled eyes
On Adam, whom she embraced, she said this.

O Sun, in whom my thoughts find all their peace,
My glory, my perfection, I’m glad to see
Your face, and morning return, for this night,
This night like no other I’ve ever spent, I dreamed,
If I dreamed, not as I usually do of you,
Of daily tasks passed, or tomorrow’s plan,
But of offense and trouble, which my mind
Never knew until this tiresome night; I thought
I heard someone call me out to walk
With a gentle voice, I thought it was you; it said,
Why are you sleeping, Eve? Now is the lovely time,
The cool and quiet, except where silence breaks
For the night-singing bird, who now awake
Tunes his sweetest love-laden song; now reigns
Full-orbed the moon, casting a more pleasing light
That beautifully highlights everything; in vain,
If no one notices; Heaven wakes with all its eyes,
Who to behold but you, Nature’s desire,
In whose presence all things rejoice, captivated
By your beauty, still drawn to gaze.
I got up as if called by you, but didn’t find you;
To find you, I then directed my path;
And alone, I thought, I passed through roads
That suddenly brought me to the tree
Of forbidden knowledge: it seemed beautiful,
Much more beautiful to my fancy than by day:
And as I wondered, beside it stood
One shaped and winged like one from Heaven,
Often seen by us; his dewy locks dripped
Ambrosia; he gazed upon that tree;
And O beautiful plant, he said, burdened with fruit,
Does no one deign to ease your load and taste your sweetness,
Neither God, nor man; is knowledge so despised?
Or envy, or what reserve forbids tasting?
Forbid who will, none shall withhold from me
Your offered good any longer, why else are you here?
Saying this, he didn’t pause, but with daring arm
He plucked, he tasted; I froze in horror
At such bold words paired with such a daring act:
But he, overjoyed, exclaimed, O divine fruit,
Sweet in itself, but much sweeter thus picked,
Forbidden here, it seems, as only fitting
For gods, yet able to make gods of men:
And why can’t men be gods, since good, the more
Shared, grows more abundant,
The giver not diminished, but honored more?
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve,
You should also partake; happy though you are,
You can be happier, you can’t be worthier:
Taste this, and henceforth among the gods
Be a goddess yourself, not confined to Earth,
But sometimes in the air, like us, sometimes
Ascend to Heaven, by your merit, and see
What life the gods live there, and live like them.
So saying, he drew near, and to me held,
Even to my mouth, part of that same fruit
Which he had plucked; the pleasant savory smell
Quickened my appetite, so that I thought
I couldn’t help but taste. Immediately, up to the clouds
With him I flew, and underneath I beheld
The Earth stretched out immensely, a wide
And varied view: wondering at my flight and change
To this high elevation; suddenly
My guide was gone, and I, I thought, sank down,
And fell asleep; but O how glad I woke
To find this was just a dream! Thus Eve recounted her night,
And thus Adam answered sadly.

Best image of myself and my dear partner,
The worry in your thoughts tonight during sleep
Affects me too; I can’t stand
This strange dream, which I fear comes from something bad;
But from where could evil come? There’s none in you,
Created pure. But know that in the soul
Are many smaller faculties that serve
Reason as the chief; among these, imagination next
Takes its turn; of all external things,
Which the five watchful senses represent,
It shapes images, airy forms,
Which reason joins or separates, framing
All that we affirm or deny, and call
Our knowledge or opinion; then it retreats
Into its private space when nature rests.
Often in its absence, imagination wakes
To imitate it; but mismatched images,
Wild work is often produced, especially in dreams,
Poorly matching words and deeds from long ago or recently.
I find some resemblance, it seems,
Of our last evening's talk, in this dream of yours,
But with something strange added; still, don’t be sad.
Evil can enter the mind of God or man
And come and go, so unapproved, leaving
No mark or blame behind: This gives me hope
That what you abhorrently dreamed in sleep,
Waking, you will never agree to do.
So don’t be discouraged, nor cloud those looks
That used to be more cheerful and serene
Than when fair morning first smiles on the world,
And let us rise to our fresh tasks
Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers
That now open their choicest, fragrant scents
Reserved from night, and kept for you in store.