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Of thy rebellion? How hast thou instilled

Thy malice into thousands, once upright

And faithful, now proved false? But think not here

To trouble holy rest. Heaven casts thee

From all her confines. Heaven, the seat of bliss,

Brooks not the works of violence and war.

Hence, then, and evil go with thee along,

Thy offspring to the place of evil, Hell,

Thou and thy wicked crew—there mingle broils,

Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom,

Or some more sudden vengeance, winged from God,

Precipitate thee with augmented pain.

So spake the prince of Angels; to whom thus

The Adversary: Nor think thou with wind

Of airy threats to awe whom yet with deeds

Thou canst not. Hast thou turned the least of these

To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise

Unvanquished, easier to transact with me,¹

That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats

To chase me hence? Err not² that so shall end

The strife which thou call'st evil, but we style

The strife of glory; which we mean to win,

Or turn this Heaven itself into the Hell

Thou fablest: here, however, to dwell free,

If not to reign. Meanwhile thy utmost force,

And join Him named Almighty to thy aid,

I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh.

They ended parle,³ and both addressed 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 height

Of godlike power? for likest gods they seemed,

Lasier to, dc.—Has this failure against my followers led thee to think it easier to conquer me?

^&lt;sup>2</sup> Err not.—Think not, deceive not thyself by thinking, &c ³ They ended parle.—Talk, debate.