Nerxenwong Forlorn/Book IEdit

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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