Who first seduc'd them to that fowl revolt?
The infernal serpent, he it was, whose quile
Sterd up with emry and revenge, deceiv'd
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his host
Of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers
He trusted to have equal'd the most high
If he oppos'd and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God

Raised in glorious war in Heav'n
And battle day and night to mortal men
He with his horrid crew lay vanquished,
Rowling in the fiery sulfe conflounded though immortal

Round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witness'd huge affliction and dismay
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate
At once as far as angels renn he views
The dismal situation waste and wilbe,
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round
As the great furnace flam'd, yet from those
No light, but rather darkness visible
Serv'd only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge fed
With ever burning sulphur unconsum'd...

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