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Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on:
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell

From heav'n; for e'en in heav'n his looks and thoughts 680
Were always downward bent, admiring more

The riches of heav'n's pavement, trodden gold,
Than aught, divine or holy, else enjoy'd
In vision beatific: by him first

Men also, and by his suggestion taught,
Ransack'd the center, and with impious hands
Rifled the bowels of their mother earth
For treasures, better hid. Soon had his crew
Open'd into the hill a spacious wound,
And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire
That riches grow in hell; that soil may best
Deserve the precious bane. And here let those,
Who boast in mortal things, and wond'ring tell
Of Babel, and the works of Memphian kings,
Learn how their greatest monuments of fame,
And strength and art, are easily outdone
By spirits reprobate, and in an hour
What in an age they with incessant toil
And hands innumerable scarce perform.
Nigh on the plain, in many cells prepar'd,
That underneath had veins of liquid fire
Sluic'd from the lake, a second multitude
With wondrous art founded the massy ore,

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Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross:

A third as soon had for'md within the ground

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A various mould, and from the boiling cells,

By strange conveyance, fill'd each hollow nook;

As in an organ, from one blast of wind,

To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes.

Anon, out of the earth a fabric huge

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Rose like an exhalation, with the sound

Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet,

Built like a temple, where pilasters round

Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid

With golden architrave; nor did there want

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Cornice or freeze, with bossy sculptures graven:

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In wealth and luxury. Th' ascending pile

Stood fix'd her stately highth: and straight the doors

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Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide
Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth
And level pavement; from the arched roof
Pendent by subtle magic, many a row
Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed
With naphtha and asphaltus, yielded light
As from a sky. The hasty multitude

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Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise,
And some the architect: his hand was known

In heav'n by many a tower'd structure high,
Where scepter'd angels held their residence,
And sat as princes; whom the supreme King
Exalted to such pow'r, and gave to rule,
Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright.
Nor was his name unheard or unador'd
In ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land

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Men call'd him Mulciber; and how he fell

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From heav'n, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove

Sheer o'er the crystal battlements: from morn

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve,

A summer's day; and with the setting sun
Dropt from the zenith like a falling star,
On Lemnos th' Aegean isle: thus they relate,

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Erring; for he with this rebellious rout

Fell long before; nor aught avail'd him now

To have built in heav'n high tow'rs; nor did he 'scape

By all his engines, but was headlong sent

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With his industrious crew to build in hell.

Meanwhile, the winged heralds, by command

Of sovran pow'r, with awful ceremony

And trumpet's sound, throughout the host proclaim
A solemn council, forthwith to be held

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At Pandemonium, the high capital

Of Satan and his peers: their summons call'd

From every band and squared regiment

By place or choice the worthiest; they anon,

With hundreds and with thousands, trooping came, 760 Attended: all access was throng'd: the gates

And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall

(Though like a cover'd field, where champions bold
Wont ride in arm'd, and at the soldan's chair
Defied the best of panim chivalry

To mortal combat, or career with lance),
Thick swarm'd, both on the ground and in the air
Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees
In spring-time, when the sun with Taurus rides,
Pour forth their populous youth about the hive
In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers
Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank,
The suburb of their straw-built citadel,

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New rubb'd with balm, expatiate and confer

Their state affairs: so thick the aery crowd

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Swarm'd and were straiten'd; till, the signal given,

Behold a wonder! They but now who seem'd
In bigness to surpass earth's giant sons,

Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room

Throng numberless, like that pygmean race

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Beyond the Indian mount; or faery elves,

Whose midnight revels, by a forest-side
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,

Or dreams he sees, while over head the moon

Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth

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Wheels her pale course; they, on their mirth and dance
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear;

At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds.

Thus incorporeal spirits to smallest forms

Reduc'd their shapes immense, and were at large,
Though without number still, amidst the hall
Of that infernal court. But far within,

And in their own dimensions, like themselves,
The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim
In close recess and secret conclave sat,
A thousand demigods on golden seats,
Frequent and full. After short silence then,
And summons read, the great consult began.

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The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of heaven: some advise it, others dissuade: a third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much inferior to themselves, about this time to be created. Their doubt, who shall be sent on this difficult search; Satan, their chief, undertakes alone the voyage, honoured and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways, and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to hell-gates: finds them shut, who sat there to guard them; by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between hell and heaven; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight of this new world which he sought.

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HIGH on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Show'rs on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit rais'd

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To that bad eminence: and, from despair

Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires

Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue

Vain war with heav'n; and, by success untaught,
His proud imaginations thus display'd:

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'Pow'rs and dominions, deities of heaven;
For since no deep within her gulf can hold
Immortal vigour, though oppress'd and fall'n,
I give not heav'n for lost. From this descent
Celestial virtues rising, will appear

More glorious and more dread than from no fall,
And trust themselves to fear no second fate.
Me though just right, and the fix'd laws of heaven,
Did first create your leader; next, free choice,

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With what besides, in council or in fight,
Hath been achiev'd of merit; yet this loss,
Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more
Establish'd in a safe unenvied throne,

Yielded with full consent. The happier state
In heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw
Envy from each inferior; but who here
Will envy whom the highest place exposes
Foremost to stand against the Thund'rer's aim,
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share
Of endless pain? Where there is then no good
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there
From faction; for none sure will claim in hell
Precédence, none whose portion is so small
Of present pain, that with ambitious mind
Will covet more. With this advantage then
To union, and firm faith, and firm accord,
More than can be in heav'n, we now return
To claim our just inheritance of old,
Surer to prosper than prosperity

Could have assur'd us; and, by what best way,
Whether of open war, or covert guile,
We now debate: who can advise, may speak.'

He ceas'd; and next him Moloch, scepter'd king,
Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit
That fought in heav'n, now fiercer by despair :
His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd
Equal in strength; and rather than be less
Car'd not to be at all; with that care lost
Went all his fear; of God, or hell, or worse,
He reck'd not; and these words thereafter spake:
'My sentence is for open war: of wiles,
More unexpert, I boast not; them let those
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.
For, while they sit contriving, shall the rest,
Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait
The signal to ascend, sit ling'ring here
Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place
Accept this dark, opprobrious den of shame,
The prison of his tyranny who reigns
By our delay? No, let us rather choose,
Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once,

O'er heav'n's high tow'rs to force resistless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Against the torturer; when to meet the noise

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Of his almighty engine he shall hear

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Infernal thunder; and, for lightning, see

Black fire and horror shot with equal rage

Among his angels; and his throne itself

Mix'd with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire,

His own invented torments. But perhaps

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The way seems difficult and steep to scale
With upright wing against a higher foe.
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still,

That in our proper motion we ascend
Up to our native seat: descent and fall
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late,
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear
Insulting, and pursued us through the deep,
With what compulsion and laborious flight
We sunk thus low? Th' ascent is easy then;
Th' event is fear'd; should we again provoke

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Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find
To our destruction; if there be in hell

Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse

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Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd
In this abhorred deep to utter woe;

Where pain of unextinguishable fire

Must exercise us without hope of end,

The vassals of his anger, when the scourge
Inexorable, and the torturing hour,

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Calls us to penance? More destroy'd than thus,
We should be quite abolish'd, and expire.

What fear we then? what doubt we to incense
His utmost ire? which, to the highth enrag'd,
Will either quite consume us, and reduce
To nothing this essential; happier far
Than miserable to have eternal being:

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Or, if our substance be indeed divine,

And cannot cease to be, we are at worst

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On this side nothing; and by proof we feel
Our pow'r sufficient to disturb his heaven,
And with perpetual inroads to alarm,
Though inaccessible, his fatal throne:
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.'

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He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Desp❜rate revenge, and battle dangerous
To less than gods. On th' other side up rose
Belial, in act more graceful and humane:
A fairer person lost not heav'n; he seem'd
For dignity compos'd, and high exploit:
But all was false and hollow; though his tongue
Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reason , to perplex and dash
Maturest counsels: for his thoughts were low:
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds
Timorous and slothful; yet he pleas'd the ear,
And with persuasive accent thus began:
'I should be much for open war,
O peers,
As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd
Main reason to persuade immediate war,
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast
Ominous conjecture on the whole success;
When he, who most excels in fact of arms,
In what he counsels, and in what excels,
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair
And utter dissolution, as the scope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.

First, what revenge? The tow'rs of heav'n are fill'd

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