University of Virginia Library

Meanwhile, within the heart of the dead sun,
After that glory angelic had passed out,
Long time reigned silence, night impierceable,
As in the depth of Chaos. Where they had fallen,
There the awe-stricken Spirits of Evil still,
Confounded lay; powerless to move, or speak,
Or of aught clearly think,—as though a stroke
From hand unseen had staggered very life.
At length, permitted so, the astonished Powers
From that dread stun 'gan waken. Satan first,
As mightiest, strength and courage returning felt;
And his great voice sent forth; the downcast host
Exhorting, and emboldening. His old art
Remembering then,—on the substantial night,
Once more that dark clear ruby glow he brought,
Which, solely, during ages long, had been
Their dungeon's radiance. Gladdened by the sight,
And by their leader's summons,—from the floor
Uprose the myriads; yet with motion slow;
Aspects of strange confusion, and dismay;
And, in crowds gathering, their dark fears, and thoughts,
Gloomily muttered. But, in little time,
When he had looked among them, and beheld
Their trampled fires rekindling, Satan then,
Tower-like upon his lofty throne stood up,
Silence awaiting: and, when all was hushed,
Thus spake.

“Companions loved! and still the most,
When in adversity most,—few words now hear;
And treasure them; that they your spirits may lift
Above this gloomy present: for, be assured,
But brief repulse we have suffered,—not defeat.
Right on our course toward godhead go we still;
Not greatly, through this mischief, turned aside.
Oft have I told you, that, though all our might,
As in one arm, we could together wield,
Yet powerless were we, in the strife with Him
Who now Almighty is,—the one sole God,
Because, of all Existences, the first;
By half eternity, eldest of all.
Hence the discomfiture that just hath fallen.
No longer here safe conference may we hold.
That miscreant hath betrayed us; and the eye
Which, else, would ne'er have reached it,—from this hour
Ne'er will turn from it: steadfast as a hill
Upon a plain, here will it ever rest.
Even now, be sure, it sees us; and the ear,
Noteth each word we speak. Some fitter place,
Ere long shall we discover. Unto this,
A farewell everlasting bid we now;
And straight to Earth again; therein to do
As ye all know. When meet it shall become
That we again assemble, council to hold,
Then shall the word go forth,—of time, and place,
Instructing you. Meanwhile, be strong, and bold;
Hopeful,—nay confident; for, every age,
Toward godhead speeds us on assuredly,
As every league, by earthly traveller trod,
Speeds toward his journey's end. His sum of leagues
Accomplished,—well he knoweth that the place
For which he seeketh, must before him lie:
And, all our cycles past,—as truly we,
Know that the godhead looked for will be found.
Not less this knoweth He, the already God;
And His whole might will wield to baffle us.
Henceforth, then, double caution must be ours.
The traitor, doubtless, hath our scheme made known,
Touching that youth and maiden; and 'tis crushed.
Eyes, now, of tenfold vigilance will watch,
If we evade them not, our every act;
Ears, tenfold keen, will hearken even our thoughts,
If heedless be we. Shut your natures up,
As gems shut up in rocks. Let your own eyes
Be sunbeams: but, against angelic gaze,
Stand ye impierceable, as cliff 'gainst wind.
Enough: be wise: and, now, in stillness hence.”