Paradise Lost/Book I

 Nerxenwong Forlorn/Book I

	Of Man's first overhearness, and the blede
	Of that forbidden tree whose waleblete smack
	Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
	With loss of Eden, outh one greater Man
5	Ednew us, and edstreen the blissful seld,
	Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the digheltop
	Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inbreird
	That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
	In the beginning how the heavens and earth
10	Rose out of Dwolmen: or, if Sion hill
	Alist thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed,
	Yaregangand by the Godispeech, I thence
	Aclepe thy fultom to my daring song,
	That with no middle flight mints up to stigh
15	Above th' Aonish barrow, while it hents
	Things not yet undergun in spell or leeth.
	And foremost thou, lo Gost, that dost foretee
	Before all herries th' upright heart and clean,
	Elere me, for thou know'st; thou from the first
20	Wast andward, and, with mighty fithren spread
	Dove-like sat'st brooding on the Offgrind yen,
	And mad'st it eken: what in me is dark
	Inlighten, what is low aheave and bear;
	That, to the upness of this redelse great,
25	I may yet Eche Foreglewness well eseethe,
	And so rightwise the ways of God to men.

	Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy sean,
	Nor Hell's deep broadness—say first what orsake
	Drove our great elders, in that blithe tostand,
30	So highly blessed of Heaven, down to afall
	From their Eshippand, and forgey his will
	For one ethwing, lords of the World besides.
	Who first bedrew them to that frate uproar?

	The hellcound Nadder; he it was whose braid,
35	Stirred up with nithe and bitter wrake, beswoke
	The mother of mankind, what time his yelp
	Had thrown him out from Heaven, with all his heap
	Of Ores withfightand, founding, by their fulst,
	To set himself in ore above his like,
40	He trewed that the Most High he evenleight,
	If he esook, and with might-giver goal
	Against God's kingly breestool and onewald,
	Ahove in Heaven andew esleight and wigh,
	With idle till. Him the Almighty Main
45	Beshoved headlong afire from welkin's lift,
	With attle fell and blazing burnet, down
	To bottomless forspilledness, there to dwell
	In unabighing bonds and witely fire,
	Who durst beclepe th' Alwaldand to efight.

50	Nine times the fack that fathoms day and night
	To deathly men, he, with his grisly werd
	Lay seyered, wherftling in the fiery fleet,
	Ashended, though undeathly. But his doom
	Eheld him to more wrath; for now the thought
55	Of forlorn blissfulness and lasting ache
	Toquelms him: emb he throws his baleful eyes,
	That witnessed overmetely drake and fear,
	Yet blanden with hard yelp and steadfast hate.
	At once, as far as Engles ken, he hows
60	The swarth, unhearly atstall ithe and wild.
	On all sides emb a grirely dimhouse there,
	As one great oven blazed; yet from those blasts
	No light; but rather darkness to be seen
	Borne only to ebeckon sights of woe,
65	Againths of sorrow, wooply shades, where frith
	And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
	That comes to all, but thrasting without end
	Still drives forth, and a fiery weythreat, fed
	With unformolten swevel always afire.
70	Such attle stead Eche Rightwiseness has yarked
	For those withfightand; here their ding astelled
	In utter thester, and their todeal set,
	As far afered from God and light of Heaven
	As from the middle thrice to th' upmost steng.
75	Lo how unlike the stow from whence they fell!
	There the fele gathelings of his fall o'erwhelmed
	With thodens and rough floods of whothering fire
	He soon esheds; and, writhing by his side,
	One next himself in might, and next in yelt,
80	Long after known in Palestine, and named
	Beelzebub. To whom the lonk Erstfiend,
	And thence in Heaven clept Satan, with bold words
	Breaking the grisly swighness, thus began:—

	"If thou beest he—but lo how fallen! how whirved
85	From him who, in the blissful ricks of light
	Clothed with o'ertheeing brightness, didst outshine
	Great thrims, though bright!—if he whom thoftship mean,
	Foroned thoughts and thoughtings, even hope
	And freechness in the wulderly agin
90	Feighed with me once, now drightenbale hath feighed
	In like erore; into what seath thou seest
	From what height fallen: so much the stronger seethed
	He with his thunder; and outh then who knew
	That beetly sarrow's main? Yet not for that,
95	Nor what the mighty Seyerand in his grame
	Can else atfast, do I beruse, or whirve,
	Though whirved in outward shimmer, that fast mind,
	And hatred high from seave of dered forthainst
	That with the Mightiest hove me to enast,
100	And to the keen enastings brought along
	Unrimedly mainthise of eweaponed Gosts,
	That durst mislike his rick, and, me foreteeing,
	His utmost might with thweerly withermight
	In twennel badow on the wongs of Heaven,
105	And shook his stool. What though the field be lost?
	All is not lost—the uno'erswithand will,
	And knerdness of tornwrake, undeathly hate,
	And ellen never to ebow or yield:
	And what is else not to be overcome?
110	That wulder never shall his wrath or might
	Offgang from me. To bend and ask for eest
	With frimthy knee, and godledge his onewald
	Who, from the breighness of this arm, so late
	Did tween his rickdom—that were low indeed;
115	That were an orworth and dim shame beneath
	This downfall; since, by weird, the strength of Gods,
	And this atwist of rother cannot burst;
	Since through andkitheness of this great belimp,
	In gare not worse, in foresight much ethung,
120	We may with more esoundful hope ethreed
	To dree by maincraft or by braid eche wigh,
	And ne'er eftthinging to our swithely Foe,
	Who now seyfasts, and in th' o'erfill of mirth
	Lone rixing holds the neediwald of Heaven."

125	So spake the andsake Engle, though in ache,
	Reeming aloud, but wracked with deep forthought;
	And him thus answered soon his bold efere:—

	"Lo Bree, lo Dright of many selded Mains
	That led the badowcoaf Seraphs to wigh
130	Under thy hiring, and, in dreadful deeds
	Fearless, efreckoned Heaven's throughwondle King,
	And stold to beighth his eldership so high
	Whether upheld by strength, or limp, or weird,
	Too well I see and rue the grim egang
135	That, with sad overthrow and foul downlay,
	Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty troom
	In nithequalm so athrackly laid thus low,
	As far as Heaven's Aweesings and Heaven's Gods
	Can brosten: for the mind and gost abides
140	Unoverswithand, and streng soon eftwherves,
	Though all our wulder dead, and blithe tostand
	Here swallowed up in unendedly ermth.
	But what if our O'erswither (whom I now
	Of strength believe almighty, since no less
145	Than such could have o'ercome such strength as ours)
	Have left us this our gost and main altew,
	Strongly to quilm and underwreethe our aches,
	That we may so enough his wrakeful and,
	Or do him mightier thaining as his thees
150	By right of wigh, 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 then forstand though yet we feel
	Strength unashorted, or unwhilen being
155	To undergo unwhilen witening's wrack?"

	Whereto with speedy words th' Erstfiend withquoth:—
	"Fallen Cherub, to be weak is sorrowly,
	Doing or quilming: but of this be wis—
	To do aught good will never be our work,
160	But ever to do bale our only win,
	As being the withermeed to his high will
	Whom we asake. If then his foreglewness
	Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
	Our swink must be yet to outhchare that end,
165	And out of good still to find way of evil;
	Which ofttimes may so spow as weenings shall
	Abreird him, if I tire not, and edreeve
	His inmost thoughtings from their foresaid till.
	But see! The bellowing Seyerand hath eftkighed
170	His embightmen of wrackness and of yeight
	Back to the gates of Heaven: the swevlen hail,
	Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid
	The fiery whelm that from the freckonstigh
	Of Heaven andfeng us falling; and the thunder,
175	Feathright with lightning red and forthyearn grame,
	Hath weenings doled his shafts, and blinneth now
	To bellow through the yen and groundless Deep.
	Let us not slipe the toweird, whether hux
	Or saded reethship yield it from our Foe.
180	Seest thou yon dreary wong, forlorn and wild,
	The seld of dim atletness, leer of light,
	Forout what these wan blazes' glimmering heat
	Warps bloak and dreadful? Thither let us held
	From off th' ebraid of these throughfiery waves;
185	There rest, if any rest can there bewike;
	And, efttosamening our atfasted mights
	Embthought how we may henceforth most egreme
	Our fiend, how we may botet our own loss,
	How overcome this attle arvethsithe,
190	What ready herding we may streen from hope,
	If not, what bold fastredeness from ortrewing."

	Thus Satan talking to his nighest gathe,
	With head upheaved above the wave, and eyes
	That sparkling blazed; his other deals besides
195	Forth on the flood, eretchly long and stoor,
	Lay floating many a rood, in met unlittle
	As whom the byspells name of seldly leng,
	Titanish or Earth-born, that wough on Jove,
	Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
200	By fromold Tarsus held, or that seadeer
	Leviathan, which God of all his works
	Eshepped unlittlest swimming th' eyerstream.
	Him, weenings slumbering on the Northway foam,
	The shipsteer of some small night-sunken ked,
205	Deeming some ighland, oft, as seamen tell,
	With fastened hakeweight in his oasty rind,
	Mores by his side under the lee, while night
	Berides the sea, and wished morn forelks.
	So stretched out stoor in length the Erstfiend lay,
210	Clammed on the burning lake; nor ever thence
	Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will
	And high ethaving of all-walding Heaven
	Left him at room to his own dark orthanks,
	That with edleight wamshildy deeds he might
215	Heap on himself fordeemedness, while he sought
	Evil to others, and might maddened see
	How all his foken thained but to bring forth
	Unending goodness, eest, and miltsing, shewn
	On Man by him bedrawn, but on himself
220	Thrifold forshending, wrath, and wrackness shed.

	Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
	His mighty upwastom; on each hand the gleeds
	Driven backward slope their marking broards, and, wound
	In wathoms, leave i' th' midst a grirely dell.
225	Then with broad fithren out he steers his flight
	On high, eteng upon the dusky lift,
	That felt unwonted weight; outh on dry land
	He lights—if it were land that ever burned
	With trumly, as the lake with flowand fire,
230	And such abloke in hue as when the thrake
	Of underground windblands o'erferes a hill
	Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side
	Of thundering Etna, whose forswealbere depths
	And tindered backtharms, thence begetting fire,
235	Upheaved with oorly reethship, fulst the winds,
	And leave a singed bottom all forthilmed
	With stench and smoke. Such resting found the wolm
	Of unblest feet. Him followed his next gathe;
	Both yelping to 've edeighed the Stygish flood
240	As gods, and by their own edworped strength,
	Not by the tholing of upcound Almain.

	"Is this th' againth, this th' earth, the mold, the ard,"
	Said then the lost Erstengle, "this the seld
	We must awend for Heaven?—this mournful gloom
245	For that light ovencound? Be it so, since he
	Who now is lording can efade and bid
	What shall be right: farthest from him is best
	Whom hath eshed ev'nleight, highest thrake hath made
	Above his likelings. Farewell, blissful fields,
250	Where mirth forever dwells! Healse, attles! healse,
	Hellwendly world! and thou, lo neelest Hell,
	Andfang now thy new ownand—one who brings
	A mind not to be whirved by stow or time.
	The mind is its own stow, and in itself
255	Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
	What andwork where, if I be still the same,
	And what I should be, all but less than he
	Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
	We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built
260	Here for his nithe, will never drive us hence:
	Here we may rix orsorrow; in my cure,
	To rix is worth great yearning, though in Hell:
	Better to rix in Hell than thain in Heaven.
	But wherefore let we then our trowfast friends,
265	The drightisithes and gathelings of our loss,
	Lie thus offwondered on th' o'ergettle pool
	And clepe them not to share with us their deal
	In this unblissful homestall, or once more
	With eftloughed weapons to fand that we may
270	Edstreen in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?"

	So Satan spake; and him Beelzebub
	Thus answered:—"Leader of those heres so bright
	Which, but th' Alwaldand, none could have emirred!
	If once they hear that steven, their liveliest plight
275	Of hope in fears and freckons—heard so oft
	In worst utmosts, and on the pleely edge
	Of badow, when it bremmed, in all atleaps
	Their soundest token—they will soon nim up
	New ellen and edquick, though now they lie
280	Etang and breddowing on yon lake of fire,
	As we erewhile, ayellowed and amazed;
	No wonder, fallen such a quildful height!"

	He gnithe had blun when the outhhoven Fiend
	Was scrithing toward the stathe; his findy shield,
285	His rotherly woodthraugh, broad, trendled, stoor,
	Behind him thrown. The muchel embgang hung
	Upon his shoulders like the moon, whose ring
	Through eeish glass the Toskish listwright hows
	At evening, from the top of Fesole,
290	Or in Valdarno, to eshed new lands,
	New eas, or barrows, in her splotty clew.
	His spear—to ev'nledge which the tallest fir
	Hewn on Northwayish hills, to be the mast
	Of some great headfrumlide, were but a twig—
295	He walked with, to andwrethe his uneath steps
	Over the burning loam, not like those steps
	On Heaven's swailhewn; and the hoatwend ard
	Smote on him sore besides, awhelved in fire.
	Nathless he so etholed, outh on the beach
300	Of that ewheled sea he stood, and clept
	His Eereds—Orish Hews, who lay besung
	Thick as leaves harvestly that strow the brooks
	In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurish shades
	High overwhelved inbower; or strowden sedge
305	Afloat, when with gram winds Orion gared
	Hath tined the Redsea strand, whose waves o'erthrew
	Busiris King and his Memphish ridehere,
	While with etrewless hatred they bedrove
	The whiling leed of Goshen, who beheld
310	From the ehildly stathe their floating rews
	And broken rathewainwheels. So thick bestrown,
	Forsewn and lost, lay these, thetching the flood,
	Under amazedness of their liteless wherf.
	He clept so loud that all the hollow deep
315	Of Hell aleethered:—"Athelings, Drightens, Brees,
	Bold Drengs, the Blossom of Heaven—once yours; now lost,
	If such forstiltedness as this can fedge
	Eche Gosts! Or have ye chosen this wrackstow
	After the swink of badow to erest
320	Your wearied douth, for th' eathness that you find
	To slumber here, as in the dales of Heaven?
	Or in this forsewn stretching have ye sworn
	To eathmeed th' O'erswithand, who, strongmood, beholds
	Seraph and Cherub now wallowing in the flood
325	With strowden gares and cumbles, outh anon
	His eightands swift from Heavengates toknow
	The freeming, and, stighing nether, tread us down
	Thus niping, or with feighed thunderbolts
	Throughfasten us to the bottom of this seath?
330	Awake, arise, or be forever fallen!"

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