That with the Mightiest rais'd me to contend,
And to the fierce contention brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits arm'd,

That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What, though field be lost!
All is not lost: th' unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield,
And what is else not to be overcome;
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power,
Who from the terror of this arm so late
Doubted his empire; that were low indeed,
That were an ignominy, and shame beneath
This downfall: since, by fate, the strength of Gods
And this empyreal substance cannot fail:
Since through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanc'd,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcileable to our grand foe,

Who now triumphs, and, in th' excess of joy
Sole reigning, holds the tyranny of Heaven. »

So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair:
And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer.

O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers, That led th' embattled Seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds

Che con l'Eccelso a battagliar mi spinse,
Meco traendo alla crudel tenzone

Forza infinita di guerrieri spirti

Che osar spregiarne il regno, e me preferto,
Sua possa estrema urtar con possa avversa
In dubbia pugna ne' celesti piani

E il soglio ne crollar. Perduto è il campo?
Tutto non si perdè: volere invitto

E studio di vendetta, odio immortale
E coraggio a non mai piegare o cedere,
O s'altro v'è che non domar si possa,
Non mai il suo sdegno o il suo poter tal vanto
Torrà da me. Che io bassi e umil prostrato
Chiegga mercede ed al suo scettro adori
Che dal terror di questo braccio or ora
Temè al suo regno; inver ciò fia viltade
Ciò fia grave onta e di peggior vergogna
Che il mio cader. Poichè per fato il divo
Vigor e questo esser celeste è eterno;
Poiché per prova di tal grande evento
Siam pari in armi, in preveder più accorti,
Osar possiamo con miglior speranza
Trattar per forza o inganno eterna guerra
Sempre più acerba al nostro gran nemico,
Che ora trionfa ed in sua gioia estrema
Solo regnando fia tiranno in cielo. »

Cosi l'angel rubel sebben tra pene,
Con baldo dir, ma in core disperato :
E a lui di botto il prode suo compagno.
« O prence o primo di cotanti eroi
Che gli schierati serafini in guerra
Guidar te duce, ed in tremendi fatti

Fearless, endanger'd Heaven's perpetual king,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate;
Too well I see, and rue the dire event,
That with sad overthrow, and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heavenly essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,

Though all our glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallow'd up in endless misery.

But what if He, our conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe Almighty, since no less

Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as ours),
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate'er his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy deep?
What can it in then avail, though yet we feel
Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being

To undergo eternal punishment? >

Whereto with speedy words the'Arch-fiend replied. « Fall'n Cherub, to be weak is miserable,

Doing or suffering: but of this be sure,

To do aught good never will be our task;
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then His providence

Impavidi assaliro il Rege eterno

E cimentaro l'alto suo primato

Se in valor poggi in fato od in fortuna;
Ben troppo io veggo e esècro il diro caso
Che con dolente sorte e rotta infame
Rapinne il ciel, e si grand' oste tutta
Precipitò in si orribile ruina,

Per quanto perir ponno e numi e essenze
Celesti: chè la vita sta e lo spirto
Invitto, e tosto la virtù ritorna;

Benchè ogni nostra spenta gloria e stato
Felice assorban qui infiniti danni.
Ma che, se ei nostro vincitor (quale io
Sforzato or credo onnipossente, chè altri
Non vinto avria cotanta nostra possa)
Questo lasciocei spirto e forza intègra
Forte a soffrir e tolerare affanni
Acciò bastiam alla sua rabbia ultrice,
O più serviggio gli prestiam quai schiavi
A gius di guerra, in ogni suo talento,
Nel cor d'inferno qui a stentar nel foco
O far suoi messi per gli oscuri abissi?
Dunque che può giovar benchè vigore
Sentiamo ancor intègro, o eterna essenza
A qui durar eterna pena? » A tanto
Con pronto dir l' arcidemòn ripiglia.

« Caduto Cherubin, chi langue è misero
Nell' oprar nel patir; ma intanto apprendi
Che il ben mai più non fia la nostra parte;
Ma il nostro sol piacer fia oprare il male
Che avverso è all'alta volontà di lui
Cui riluttiam. Se poi sua provvidenza

Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil,
Which oft-times may succeed; so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destin'd aim.
But see, the angry victor hath recall'd

His ministers of vengeance and pursuit,

Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown, hath laid
The fiery surge, that from the precipice

Of Heaven receiv'd us falling; and the thunder,
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless deep.
Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn,
Or satiate fury, yield it from our foe.

Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,

Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there,
And re-assembling our afflicted Powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy; our own loss how repair;
How overcome this dire calamity;

What reinforcement we may gain from hope;
If not, what resolution from despair. »

Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts besides,