into thousands, once upright And faithful, now proved false! But think not here To trouble holy rest; Heaven casts thee out From all her confines; Heaven, the seat of bliss, Brooks not the works of violence and war. Hence, then, and evil go with thee along, Thy offspring, to the place of evil, Hell, Thou and thy wicked crew! there mingle broils, Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom, Or some more sudden vengeance, winged from God, Precipitate thee with augmented pain.’
“So spake the prince of Angels; to whom thus The Adversary: ‘Nor think thou with wind Of airy threats to awe whom yet with deeds Thou canst not. Hast thou turned the least of these To flight—or, if to fall, but that they rise Unvanquished—easier to transact with me That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats To chase me hence? Err not that so shall end The strife which thou call’st evil, but we style The strife of glory; which we mean to win, Or turn this Heaven itself into the Hell Thou fablest; here, however, to dwell free, If not to reign. Meanwhile, thy utmost force (And join him named Almighty to thy aid) I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh.’