For No Falsehood Can Endure Touch Of

Awake, Arise Or Be For Ever Fall’n.

How Gladly Would I Meet Mortality, My Sentence, And Be Earth In Sensible! How Glad Would Lay Me Down, As In My Mother's Lap! There I Should Rest, And Sleep Secure.

Pandemonium, The High Capital Of Satan And His Peers.

Never Can True Reconcilement Grow Where Wounds Of Deadly Hate Have Pierced So Deep.

In Discourse More Sweet; For Eloquence The Soul, Song Charms The Sense. Others Apart Sat On A Hill Retir'd, In Thoughts More Elevate, And Reason'd High Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, And Fate, Fix'd Fate, Free-will, Foreknowledge Absolute; And Found No End, In Wand'ring Mazes Lost.