Paradise Lost

by John Milton

for the mind and spirit remains 140 Invincible, and vigour soon returns, Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallowed up in endless misery. But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now Of force believe almighty, since no less 145 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 150 By right of war, whate’er his business be, Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire, Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?

Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, The seat of desolation, void of light, Save what the glimmering of these livid flames Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend From off the tossing of these fiery waves;

“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 245 For that celestial light? Be it so, since he Who now is sovereign 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, 250 Where joy for ever 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 255 Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built 260 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.

Forthwith, form every squadron and each band, The heads and leaders thither haste where stood Their great Commander—godlike Shapes, and Forms Excelling human; princely Dignities; 360 And Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones, Though on their names in Heavenly records now Be no memorial, blotted out and rased By their rebellion from the Books of Life.

Name blotted out from the book of life….

All these and more came flocking; but with looks Downcast and damp; yet such wherein appeared Obscure some glimpse of joy to have found their Chief 525 Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost In loss itself; which on his countenance cast Like doubtful hue. But he, his wonted pride Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised 530 Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears. Then straight commands that, at the warlike sound Of trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared His mighty standard. That proud honour claimed Azazel as his right, a Cherub tall: 535 Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled Th’ imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,

Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind, With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed, Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while 540 Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds: At which the universal host up-sent A shout that tore Hell’s concave, and beyond Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. All in a moment through the gloom were seen 545 Ten thousand banners rise into the air, With orient colours waving: with them rose A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms Appeared, and serried shields in thick array Of depth immeasurable.

Anon they move 550 In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood Of flutes and soft recorders—such as raised To height of noblest temper heroes old Arming to battle, and instead of rage Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved 555 With dread of death to flight or foul retreat; Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, 560 Breathing united force with fixed thought, Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed Their painful steps o’er the burnt soil. And now Advanced in view they stand—a horri...

He through the armed files Darts his experienced eye,...

The whole battalion views—their order due, 570 Their visages and stature as of gods; Their number last he sums. And now his heart Distends with pride, and, hardening in his strength, Glories: for never, since c...

Thus far these beyond Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed Their dread Commander. He, above the rest 590 In shape and gesture proudly eminent, Stood like a tower. His form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than Archangel ruined, and th’ excess Of glory obscured: as when the sun new-risen 595 Looks through the horizontal misty air Shorn of his beams, or, from behind the moon, In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.

Darkened so, yet shone 600 Above them all th’ Archangel: but his face

Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows Of dauntless courage, and c...

Cruel his eye, but cast 605 Signs of remorse and passion, to behold The fellows of his crime, the followers rather (Far other once beheld in bliss), condemned For ever now to have their lot in pain— Millions of Spirits for his fault amerced 610 Of Heaven, and from eternal splendours flung For his revolt—yet faithful how they stood, Their glory withered; as, when heaven’s fire Hath scathed the forest oa...

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 th’ Abyss Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts 660 Full counsel must mature. Peace is despaired; For who can think submission? War, then, war Open or understood, must be resolved.”

Pandemonium,

spacious hall

More destroyed than thus, We should be quite abolished, and expire. What fear we then? what doubt we to incense 95 His utmost ire? which, to the height enraged, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential—happier far Than miserable to have eternal being!— Or, if our substance be indeed divine, 100 And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne: 105 Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.”

our final hope Is flat despair: we must exasperate Th’ Almighty Victor to spend all his rage; 145 And that must end us; that must be our cure— To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallowed up and lost 150 In the wide womb of uncreated Night, Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows, Let this be good,

Belial Belial’s speech in Paradise Lost is Milton’s most unexpectedly existential moment—a passage that anticipates Camus in its clarity about the human condition. When Belial insists that their “final hope is flat despair,” he voices the absurd recognition that suffering is endless and escape impossible, yet immediately recoils from the only true release—non-existence. His lament that no one would willingly surrender “this intellectual being, those thoughts that wander through eternity” captures the paradox at the heart of consciousness: we long for an end to pain, but we cannot bear the thought of losing the very mind that feels it. Even as he imagines annihilation in the “wide womb of uncreated Night,” a whisper of hope breaks through—“And who knows…”—revealing that hope is instinctive, irrepressible, rising even in despair. In this brief moment, Milton uses a fallen angel to articulate the same tension Camus would later define: existence is unbearable, yet we cling to it; the void terrifies us more than suffering, and hope persists even when reason fails.

Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger whom his anger saves To punish endless? “Wherefore cease we, then?”

Suppose he should relent And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection; with what eyes could we 240 Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing Forced hallelujahs, while he lordly sits Our envied sovereign, and his altar breathes 245 Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers, Our servile offerings? This must be our task In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome Eternity so spent in worship paid

Mammon Mammon rejects even the idea of returning to Heaven because it would require subjugation. He can imagine God relenting and offering grace, but he sees that “forgiveness” as a deeper humiliation than damnation. To Mammon, an eternity of “warbled hymns” and “forced hallelujahs” is a kind of spiritual slavery—existence without autonomy, meaning without freedom. His revolt is not passionate like Satan’s or despairing like Belial’s; it’s principled and political. Mammon insists that dignity is impossible under total authority, even benevolent authority, because worship that is mandated becomes hollow. His vision of Heaven is a gilded cage: beautiful, fragrant, ambrosial—but still a cage. So he argues that Hell, though painful, offers liberty, while Heaven would demand obedience so absolute that eternity itself would become “wearisome.” In this moment, Mammon becomes Milton’s voice of proto-enlightenment rebellion, insisting that meaning cannot survive coercion, and that freedom—even in suffering—is preferable to imposed bliss.

Long is the way And hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.

for neither do the Spirits damned Lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, 485 Or close ambition varnished o’er with zeal.

men only disagree Of creatures rational, though under hope Of heavenly grace, and, God proclaiming peace, 500 Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife Among themselves, and levy cruel wars Wasting the earth, each other to destroy: As if (which might induce us to accord) Man had not hellish foes enow besides,

In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned high Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate— 560 Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, And found no end, in wandering mazes lost. Of good and evil much they argued then, Of happiness and final misery, Passion and apathy, and glory and shame: 565 Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy!—