No More Learning

He who reigns
Monarch in Heaven till then as one secure
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute,
Consent, or custom, and his regal state
Put forth at full, but still his strength concealed--
Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.
Henceforth his might we know, and know our own,
So as not either to provoke, or dread
New war provoked. Our better part remains
To work in close design, by fraud or guile,
What force effected not; that he no less
At length from us may find, Who overcomes
By force hath overcome but half his foe.
Space may produce more Worlds, whereof so rife
There went a fame in Heaven that He ere long
Intended to create, and therein plant
A generation whom his choice regard
Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven.
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
Our first eruption--thither, or elsewhere;
For this infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial Spirits in bondage, nor the Abyss
Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts
Full counsel must mature. Peace is despaired;
For who can think submission? War, then, war
Open or understood, must be resolved. "
He spake; and to confirm his words, out-flew
Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs
Of mighty Cherubim. The sudden blaze
Far round illumined Hell. Highly they raged.
Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arms
Clashed on their sounding shields the din of war,
Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.

The exiled host now led by Mammon, "the least erected Spirit that fell
from Heaven," proceeded to build Pandemonium, their architect being
him whom "men called Mulciber," and here

The great Seraphic Lords and Cherubim
In close recess and secret conclave sat
A thousand demi-gods on golden seats.


_II. --The Fiends' Conclave_

High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted sat, by merit raised
To that bad eminence.
Here his compeers gathered round to advise. First Moloch, the
"strongest and the fiercest Spirit that fought in Heaven," counselled
war. Then uprose Belial--"a fairer person lost not Heaven"--and
reasoned that force was futile.

"The towers of Heaven are filled
With armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable. "

Besides, failure might lead to their annihilation, and who wished for
that?

"Who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
These thoughts that wander through eternity? "

They were better now than when they were hurled from Heaven, or when
they lay chained on the burning lake. Their Supreme Foe might in time
remit his anger, and slacken those raging fires. Mammon also advised
them to keep the peace, and make the best they could of Hell, a policy
received with applause; but then Beelzebub, "than whom, Satan except,
none higher sat," rose, and with a look which "drew audience and
attention still as night," developed the suggestion previously made by
Satan, that they should attack Heaven's High Arbitrator through His
new-created Man, waste his creation, and "drive as we are driven. "

"This would surpass
Common revenge, and interrupt His joy
In our confusion, and our joy upraise
In His disturbance. "

This proposal was gleefully received. But then the difficulty arose
who should be sent in search of this new world? All sat mute, till
Satan declared that he would "abroad through all the coasts of dark
destruction," a decision hailed with reverent applause. The Council
dissolved, the Infernal Peers disperse to their several employments:
some to sports, some to warlike feats, some to argument, "in wandering
mazes lost," some to adventurous discovery; while Satan wings his
way to the nine-fold gate of Hell, guarded by Sin, and her abortive
offspring, Death; and Sin, opening the gate for him to go out, cannot
shut it again. The Fiend stands on the brink, "pondering his voyage,"
while before him appear

The secrets of the hoary Deep--on dark
Illimitable ocean, without bound,
Without dimension; where length, breadth, and highth,
And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold
Eternal anarchy.

At last he spreads his "sail-broad vans for flight," and, directed by
Chaos and sable-vested Night, comes to where he can see far off

The empyreal Heaven, once his native seat,
And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain,
This pendent World.