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 the 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;
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destined aim
But see! the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid
The fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep
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