Book I
Of
Man's first disobedience, and the fruitOf
that forbidden tree whose mortal tasteBrought
death into the World, and all our woe,With
loss of Eden, till one greater ManRestore
us, and regain the blissful seat,Sing,
Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret topOf
Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspireThat
shepherd who first taught the chosen seedIn
the beginning how the heavens and earthRose
out of Chaos: or, if Sion hillDelight
thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowedFast
by the oracle of God, I thenceInvoke
thy aid to my adventurous song,That
with no middle flight intends to soarAbove
th' Aonian mount, while it pursuesThings
unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.And
chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost preferBefore
all temples th' upright heart and pure,Instruct
me, for thou know'st; thou from the firstWast
present, and, with mighty wings outspread,Dove-like
sat'st brooding on the vast Abyss,And
mad'st it pregnant: what in me is darkIllumine,
what is low raise and support;That,
to the height of this great argument,I
may assert Eternal Providence,And
justify the ways of God to men. Say
first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,Nor
the deep tract of Hell—say first what causeMoved
our grand parents, in that happy state,Favoured
of Heaven so highly, to fall offFrom
their Creator, and transgress his willFor
one restraint, lords of the World besides.Who
first seduced them to that foul revolt? Th'
infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,Stirred
up with envy and revenge, deceivedThe
mother of mankind, what time his prideHad
cast him out from Heaven, with all his hostOf
rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiringTo
set himself in glory above his peers,He
trusted to have equalled the Most High,If
he opposed, and with ambitious aimAgainst
the throne and monarchy of God,Raised
impious war in Heaven and battle proud,With
vain attempt. Him the Almighty PowerHurled
headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky,With
hideous ruin and combustion, downTo
bottomless perdition, there to dwellIn
adamantine chains and penal fire,Who
durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. Nine
times the space that measures day and nightTo
mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,Lay
vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,Confounded,
though immortal. But his doomReserved
him to more wrath; for now the thoughtBoth
of lost happiness and lasting painTorments
him: round he throws his baleful eyes,That
witnessed huge affliction and dismay,Mixed
with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.At
once, as far as Angels ken, he viewsThe
dismal situation waste and wild.A
dungeon horrible, on all sides round,As
one great furnace flamed; yet from those flamesNo
light; but rather darkness visibleServed
only to discover sights of woe,Regions
of sorrow, doleful shades, where peaceAnd
rest can never dwell, hope never comesThat
comes to all, but torture without endStill
urges, and a fiery deluge, fedWith
ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.Such
place Eternal Justice has preparedFor
those rebellious; here their prison ordainedIn
utter darkness, and their portion set,As
far removed from God and light of HeavenAs
from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole.Oh
how unlike the place from whence they fell!There
the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmedWith
floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,He
soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,One
next himself in power, and next in crime,Long
after known in Palestine, and namedBeelzebub.
To whom th' Arch-Enemy,And
thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold wordsBreaking
the horrid silence, thus began:— "If
thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changedFrom
him who, in the happy realms of lightClothed
with transcendent brightness, didst outshineMyriads,
though bright!—if he whom mutual league,United
thoughts and counsels, equal hopeAnd
hazard in the glorious enterpriseJoined
with me once, now misery hath joined
