Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,
Unnam’d in Heav’n, now plenteous, as thou seest
These Acts of hateful strife, hateful to all,
Though heaviest by just measure on thy self
And thy adherents: how hast thou disturb’d
Heav’ns blessed peace, and into Nature brought
Miserie, uncreated till the crime
Of thy Rebellion? how hast thou instill’d
Thy malice into thousands, once upright
And faithful, now prov’d false. But think not here
To trouble Holy Rest; Heav’n casts thee out
From all her Confines. Heav’n the seat of bliss
Brooks not the works of violence and Warr.
Hence then, and evil go with thee along
Thy ofspring, to the place of evil, Hell,
Thou and thy wicked crew; there mingle broiles,
Ere this avenging Sword begin thy doome,
Or som more sudden vengeance wing’d from God
Precipitate thee with augmented paine.
So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thus
The Adversarie. Nor think thou with wind
Of airie threats to aw whom yet with deeds
Thou canst not. Hast thou turnd the least of these
To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise
Unvanquisht, easier to transact with mee
That thou shouldst hope, imperious, & with threats
To chase me hence? erre not that so shall end
The strife which thou call’st evil, but wee style
The strife of Glorie: which we mean to win,
Or turn this Heav’n it self into the Hell
Thou fablest, here however to dwell free,
If not to reign: mean while thy utmost force,
And join him nam’d Almightie to thy aid, I flie not, but have sought thee farr and nigh.
They ended parle, and both addrest for fight
Unspeakable; for who, though with the tongue
Of Angels, can relate, or to what things
Liken on Earth conspicuous, that may lift
Human imagination to such highth
Of Godlike Power: for likest Gods they seemd,
Stood they or mov’d, in stature, motion, arms
Fit to decide the Empire of great Heav’n.
Now wav’d thir fierie Swords, and in the Aire
Made horrid Circles; two broad Suns thir Shields
Blaz’d opposite, while expectation stood
In horror; from each hand with speed retir’d
Where erst was thickest fight, th’ Angelic throng,
And left large field, unsafe within the wind
Of such commotion, such as to set forth
Great things by small, If Natures concord broke,
Among the Constellations warr were sprung,
Two Planets rushing from aspect maligne
Of fiercest opposition in mid Skie,
Should combat, and thir jarring Sphears confound.
Together both with next to Almightie Arme,
Uplifted imminent one stroke they aim’d
That might determine, and not need repeate,
As not of power, at once; nor odds appeerd
In might or swift prevention; but the sword
Of Michael from the Armorie of God Was giv’n him temperd so, that neither keen Nor solid might resist that edge: it met The sword of Satan with steep force to smite Descending, and in half cut sheere, nor staid, But with swift wheele reverse, deep entring shar’d All his right side; then Satan first knew pain, And writh’d him to and fro convolv’d; so sore The griding sword with discontinuous wound Pass’d through him, but th’ Ethereal substance clos’d Not long divisible, and from the gash A stream of Nectarous humor issuing flow’d Sanguin, such as Celestial Spirits may bleed, And all his Armour staind ere while so bright. Forthwith on all sides to his aide was run By Angels many and strong, who interpos’d Defence, while others bore him on thir Shields Back to his Chariot; where it stood retir’d From off the files of warr; there they him laid Gnashing for anguish and despite and shame To find himself not matchless, and his pride Humbl’d by such rebuke, so farr beneath His confidence to equal God in power. Yet soon he heal’d; for Spirits that live throughout Vital in every part, not as frail man In Entrailes, Heart or Head, Liver or Reines, Cannot but by annihilating die; Nor in thir liquid texture mortal wound Receive, no more then can the fluid Aire: All Heart they live, all Head, all Eye, all Eare, All Intellect, all Sense, and as they please, They Limb themselves, and colour, shape or size Assume, as likes them best,