Courses

Resumé

E-Mail

NJIT Homepage

Excerpts from John Milton's PARADISE LOST (1667)

 from BOOK ONE (Invocation, Fall of Satan)
     
   Of man's first disobedience and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the world and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man      
Restore us and regain the blissful seat,     
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that on the secret top
Of Oreb or of Sinai didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos
                      . . . I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above the Aeonian mount, while it pursues     
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
                   . . .  what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low, raise and support,
That, to the height of this great argument,
I may assert Eternal Providence,        
And justify the ways of God to men.

 Say first--for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of Hell--say first what cause
Moved our grand Parents in that happy state,
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator and transgress his will,
For one restraint, lords of the world besides?
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
The infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equaled the Most High,
If he opposed, and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
With vain attempt.  Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from the etherial sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion down
To bottomless perdition and penal fire,
Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms.
                 . . .  Now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him.       
                . . .  He views
The dismal situation waste and wild;
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames
No light, but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe. . .
Oh, how unlike the place from whence they fell!

[Satan speaks to his fellow rebel, Beelzebub:]

  "If thou beest he . . . if he whom mutual league
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise,
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest
From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder--and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms?  Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent or change.
        . . .  What though the field be lost?
All is not lost--the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield--
And what is else not to be overcome.
That glory shall never his wrath or might
Extort from me.  To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire--that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall. . . .
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war
Irreconcilable, to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heaven."

 [Beelzebub responds by questioning whether 
 continued resistance might be part of 
 God's Divine Plan:]

"O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led the embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds,
Fearless, endangered Heaven's perpetual King,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, chance, or fate!
Too well I see and rue the dire event
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven. . . .
But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'erpowered such force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire
Strongly to suffer and support our pains
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whatever his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?"
. . . 
  Whereto with speedy words the Arch-field replied:
"Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering--but of this be sure:
To do aught good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being contrary to his high will
Whom we resist.  If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil.
. . . 
Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,"
Said then the lost Archangel, "this the seat
That we must change for Heaven, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light?  Be it so, since he
Who now is sovran can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from him is best,
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals.  Farewell happy fields,
Where joy forever dwells!  Hail, horrors! hail,
Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor--one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself 
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I still be the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater?  Here at least
We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence;
Here we may reign secure, and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell.
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven."

[Satan reassembles the host of fallen angels and
 encourages them to continue their rebellion
 against Heaven:]

"O myriads of immortal Spirits! O Powers 
Matchless, but with the Almighty! . . .
For who can yet believe, though after loss,
That all these puissant legions, whose exile
Hath emptied Heaven, shall fail to reascend,
Self-raised, and repossess their native seat?
                    . . .  But 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 . . .
   Our better part remains
To work in close design, by fraud or guile,
What force effected not; he that no less
At length from us may find, who overcomes
By force hath overcome but half his foe.
Space may produce new 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 . . . 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.

from BOOK FOUR (Satan journeys from Hell to the newly
created universe, finding Eden and its inhabitants)

       The Fiend
Saw undelighted all delight, all kind
Of living creatures, new to sight and strange,
Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,
Godlike erect, with native honour clad
In naked majesty, seemed lords of all,
And worthy seemed, for in their looks divine
The image of their glorious Maker shone.
                    . . .  Though both
Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed;
For contemplation he and valour formed,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him.
. . . So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair
That ever since in love's embraces met--
Adam, the goodliest man of men since born,
His sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve. 

[Envying their love, Satan plots their ruin:]

"Sight hateful, sight tormenting!  Thus these two,
Imparadised in one another's arms,
The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill
Of bliss on bliss, while I to Hell am thrust,
Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire,
Among our other torments not the least,
Still unfulfilled . . .
                    All is not theirs, it seems;
One fatal tree there stands, of Knowledge called,
Forbidden them to taste.  Knowledge forbidden?
Suspicious, reasonless.  Why should their Lord
Envy them that?  Can it be a sin to know?
Can it be death?  And do they only stand
By ignorance?  Is that their happy state,
The proof of their obedience and their faith?
O fair foundation laid whereon to build
Their ruin!   
            . . .  Live while ye may
Yet happy pair; enjoy, till I return,
Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed!"

   from BOOK NINE  (The fall of mankind)

[Adam and Eve have never yet been apart, but Eve
 suggests they spend the morning in separate
 activities.  Then they will meet at noon for
 their lunch and afternoon rest. Adam is fearful
 but finally consents.]

Her long with ardent look his eye pursued
Delighted, but desiring more her stay.
Oft he to her his charge of quick return
Repeated; she to him as oft engaged
To be returned by noon amid the bower,
And all things in best order to invite
Noontide repast, or afternoon's repose.
O much deceived, much failing, helpless Eve,
Of thy presumed return! event perverse!
Thou never from that hour in Paradise
Found'st either sweet repast or sound repose.

[Satan sees Eve and is struck by her beauty.]

Such pleasure took the Serpent to behold 
This flowery plat, the sweet recess of Eve
Thus early, thus alone; her heavenly form
Angelic, but more soft and feminine,
Her graceful innocence, her every air
Of gesture or least action, overawed
His malice, and with rapine sweet bereaved
His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought.
That space the Evil One abstracted stood
From his own evil, and for the time remained
Stupidly good, of enmity disarmed,
Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge.
But the hot hell that always in him burns,
Though in mid Heaven, soon ended his delight,
And tortures him now the more he sees
Of pleasure not for him ordained.

 [The serpent speaks to Eve:]

"Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair,
Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine
By gift, and thy celestial beauty adore,
With ravishment beheld, there best beheld
Where universally admired.  But here,
In this enclosure wild, these beasts among,
Beholders rude, and shallow to discern
Half what in thee is fair, one man except,
Who sees thee?(and what is one?)who should'st be seen
A Goddess among Gods, adored and served
By angels numberless, thy daily train?"

[Eve is surprised that a serpent can speak and
 asks how he acquired that power.  He tells her
 he received speech after eating the fruit of a 
 particular tree, which Eve tells him is the very 
 tree God has forbidden Adam and her to eat from, 
 lest they die.  The Serpent responds:]

"Queen of this Universe, do not believe
Those rigid threats of death; ye shall not die.
How should ye? by the fruit? it gives you life
To knowledge; by the Threatener?  look on me,
Me who have touched and tasted, yet both live
And life more perfect have attained than Fate
Meant me, by venturing higher than my lot.
             . . . Knowledge of good and evil?
Of good, how just?  of evil, if what is evil
Be real, why not known, since easier shunned?
God, therefore, cannot hurt ye, and be just;
Not just, not God; not feared them, nor obeyed:
Your fear itself of death removes the fear.
Why then was this forbid?  Why but to awe?
Why but to keep ye low and ignorant,
His worshippers?  He knows that in the day
Ye eat thereof your eyes, that seem so clear
Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be then
Opened and cleared, and ye shall be as Gods,
Knowing both good and evil, as they know.
. . . What can your knowledge hurt him, or this tree
Impart against his will, if all be his?
Or is it envy?  and can envy dwell
In heavenly breasts?  These, these and many more
Causes impart your need of this fair fruit.
Goddess humane, reach, then, and freely taste."
 He ended, and his words, replete with guile,
Into her heart too easy entrance won . . .

[Eve reasons that since the Serpent did not die
 after eating the forfidden fruit but instead
 became wiser and more powerful, she too could 
 eat without fear.]

      So saying, her rash hand in evil hour 
Forth-reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she ate;
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat,
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe
That all was lost. . . .

[Eve, still uncertain as to the significance of
 what has happened, is deciding whether to reveal 
 to Adam what she has done.]

               "But to Adam in what sort
Shall I appear?  Shall I to him make known
As yet my change, and give him to partake
Full happiness with me, or rather not,
But keep the odds of knowledge in my power
Without co-partner?  so to add what wants
In female sex, the more to draw his love,
And render me more equal, and perhaps,
A thing not undesirable, sometime
Superior--for, inferior, who is free?
This may be well; but what if God have seen,
And death ensue?  Then I shall be no more,
And Adam, wedded to another Eve,
Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct--
A death to think.  Confirmed, then, I resolve
Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe.
So dear I love him that with him all deaths
I could endure, without him, live no life."

[Adam has been weaving a garland of roses
 while waiting for Eve, who approaches to tell
 him she has eaten the forbidden fruit:]

"Hast thou not wondered, Adam, at my stay?
                            . . . Strange
Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear:
This tree is not, as we were told, a tree
Of danger tasted, nor to evil unknown
Opening the way, but of divine effect
To open eyes, and make them Gods who taste;
And hath tasted such.  The Serpent wise,
Or not restrained as we, or not obeying,
Hath eaten of the fruit, and is become
Not dead, as we are threatened, but thenceforth
Endued with human voice and human sense,
Reasoning to admiration, and with me
Persuasively hath so prevailed that I
Have also tasted, and have also found
The effects to correspond--opener mine eyes,
Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart,
And growing up to Godhead; which for thee
Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise.
For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss,
Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon.
Thou, therefore, also taste, that equal lot
May join us, equal joy, as equal love,
Lest, thou not tasting, different degree
Disjoin us. . . ."
           Adam, soon as he heard
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed,
Astonied, stood and blank, while horror chill
Ran through his veins, and all his joints relaxed.
From his slack hand the garland wreathed for Eve
Down dropped, and all the faded roses shed.
"O fairest of creation, last and best 
Of all God's works . . . how art thou lost?
                   . . . Some cursed fraud
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,
And me with thee hath ruined; for with thee
Certain my resolution is to die.
How can I live without thee?  . . .
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart.  No, no!  I feel
The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh,
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe. . .
Our state cannot be severed; we are one,
One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself."
 So Adam; and thus Eve to him replied:
. . . This happy trial of thy love, which else
So eminently never had been known.
Were it I thought death menaced would ensue
This my attempt, I would sustain alone
The worst, and not persuade thee--rather die
Deserted. 
                   . . . But I feel
Far otherwise the event: not death but life
Augmented, opened eyes, new hopes, new joys
                  . . . Adam freely taste
And fear of death deliver to the winds."
So saying she embraced him . . .
   He scrupled not to eat,
Against his better knowledge, not deceived,
But fondly overcome with female charm.
Earth trembled from her entrails, as again
In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan.
   . . . But that false fruit
Far other operations first displayed,
Carnal desire inflaming; he on Eve
Began to cast lascivious eyes; she him
As wantonly repaid; in lust they burn . . .
To a shady bank he led her. . . 
There they their fill of love and love's disport
Took largely, of their mutual guilt the seal,
The solace of their sin, till dewy sleep
Oppressed them . . .
    Up they rose
As from unrest, and, each the other viewing,
Soon found their eyes how opened, and their minds
How darkened; innocence, that as a veil
Had shadowed them from knowing ill, was gone.
. . . "O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear
To that false Worm . . .
                                     since our eyes
Opened we find indeed, and find we know
Both good and evil, good lost and evil got:
Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know,
Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void,
Of innocence, of faith, of purity . . . 
        Both together went
Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose
The fig tree . . .
Those leaves they gathered to hide 
Their guilt and dreaded shame; O how unlike
To that first naked glory. . . .
Adam, estranged in look and altered style,
Speech intermitted thus to Eve renewed:
"Wouldst thou hadst hearkened to my words and stayed
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange
Desire of wandering, this unhappy morn
. . . possessed thee . . . "
To whom, soon moved with touch of blame, thus Eve:
"What words hath passed thy lips, Adam severe,
Imput'st thou that to my default . . .
                       Hadst thou been there,
Or here, the attempt, thou couldst not have discerned
Fraud in the Serpent. . .
Being as I am, why didst not thou, the head,
Command me absolutely not to go,
Going into such danger, as thou saidst? . . .
Hadst thou been firm and fixed in thy dissent,
Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me."
    To whom, then first incensed, Adam replied:
"Is this the love, is this the recompense
Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, expressed
Immutable when thou wert lost, not I,
Who might have lived, and joyed immortal bliss,
Yet willingly chose rather death with thee?
Am I now upbraided as the cause 
Of thy transgressing?
    . . . But I rue
That error now, which is become my crime,
And thou the accuser.  Thus it shall befall
Him who, to worth in women overtrusting,
Lets her will rule. . . "
 Thus they in mutual accusation spent
The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning,
And of their vain contest appeared no end.
 

 from BOOK TWELVE  (The expulsion from the Garden)

[Eventually Adam and Eve become reconciled to their
 fate.  The Archangel Michael has revealed to Adam
 that the Son of God will come to Earth to redeem 
 mankind.  Adam responds:]

"O goodness infinite, goodness immense,
That all this good of evil shall produce,
And evil turn to good, more wonderful
Than that by which creation first brought forth
Light out of darkness!  Full of doubt I stand,
Whether I should repent me now of sin
By me done and occasioned, or rejoice
Much more that much more good thereof shall spring.
. . . Henceforth I learn that to obey is best,
And love with fear the only God . . .
Taught this by his example whom I now
Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest."
   To whom thus also the Angel last replied:
"This having learned, thou hast attained the sum
Of wisdom; hope no higher, though all the stars
Thou knewst by name, and all etherial powers,
All secrets of the deep, all Nature's works.
  . . . then wilt thou not be loth
To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess
A Paradise within thee, happier far.
Let us descend now . . .

[Eve too accepts her share of responsibility for
 mankind's fall.  Leaving Eden, she tells Adam:]

                             Thou to me
Art all things under Heaven, all places thou,
Who for my willful crime art banished hence.
This further consolation yet secure
I carry hence: though by me all is lost,
Such favour I unworthy am vouchsafed,
By me the Promised Seed shall all restore."
   . . . The hastening angel caught
Our lingering parents, and to the eastern gate
Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast
To the subjected plain; then disappeared.
They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late their happy seat.
Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate
With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms:
Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;
The world was all before them, where to choose
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide;
They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,
Through Eden took their solitary way.