“And, when nightDarkens the streets, then wander forth the sonsOf Belial, flown with insolence and wine.”

“The world was all before them, where to chooseTheir place of rest, and Providence their guide:They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,Through Eden took their solitary way.”

“Is it true, O Christ in heaven, that the highest suffer the most?That the strongest wander furthest and most hopelessly are lost?That the mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain?That the anguish of the singer makes the sweetness of the strain?”

“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 lostIn the wide womb of uncreated nightDevoid of sense and motion?”

“Ah, much deluded! lay asideThy threats, and anger misapplied!Art not afraid with sounds like theseTo offend, where thou canst not appease?Death is not (wherefore dream'st thou thus?)The son of night and Erebus:Not was of fell Erynnis bornOn gulfs where Chaos rules forlorn.But sent from God, his presence leaves,To gather home his ripen'd sheaves,To call encumber'd souls awayFrom fleshly bonds to boundless day,(As when the winged hours excited,And summon forth the morning light)And each to convoy to her placeBefore the Eternal Father's face.”

“They, looking back, all the eastern side beheldOf Paradise, so late their happy seat,Waved over by that flaming brand, the gateWith dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms:Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;The world was all before them, where to chooseTheir place of rest, and Providence their guide;They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow,Through Eden took their solitary way.”

“In discourse more sweet(For Eloquence the Soul, Song charms the Sense)Others apart sat on a hill retired,In thoughts more elevate, and reasoned highOf Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate-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:Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy!-Yet, with a pleasing sorcery, could charmPain for a while or anguish, and exciteFallacious hope, or arm th' obdurate breastWith stubborn patience as with triple steel.”