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A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end Still urges, and a firey Deluge, fed With ever-burning Sulphur unconsum'd Such place Eternal Justice had prepar'd For those rebellious, here their prison ordain'd In utter darkness and their portion set As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n As from the center thrice to th' utmost Pole . . . . Farewell happy Fields 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 chang'd by Place or Time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n. 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 last We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition through in Hell: Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n! |
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Milton Paradise Lost |
