hcraft! firstborn child of Crime!
Produc'd before the bloom of Time;
Ambition's maiden Sin, in Heaven conceiv'd,
And who could have believ'd
Defilement could in purity begin,
And bright eternal Day be soil'd with Sin?
Tell us, sly penetrating Crime,
How cam'st thou there, thou fault sublime?
How didst thou pass the Adamantine Gate;
And into Spirit thy self insinuate?
From what dark state? from what deep place?
From what strange uncreated race?
Where was thy ancient habitation found
Before void Chaos heard the forming sound?
Wast thou a Substance, or an airy Ghost,
A Vapour flying in the fluid waste
Of unconcocted air?
And how at first didst thou come there?
Sure there was once a time when thou wert not,
By whom wast thou created? and for what?
Art thou a steam from some contagious damp exhal'd?
How should contagion be intail'd,
On bright seraphic Spirits, and in a place
Where all's supreme, and Glory fills the Space?
No noxious vapour there could rise,
For there no noxious matter lies;
Nothing that's evil could appear,
Sin never could Seraphic Glory bear;
The brightness of the eternal Face,
Which fills as well as constitutes the place,
Would be a fire too hot for crime to bear,
'Twould calcine Sin, or melt it into air.
How then did first defilement enter in?
Ambition, thou first vital seed of Sin!
Thou Life of Death, how cam'st thou there?
In what bright form didst thou appear?
In what Seraphic Orb didst thou arise?
Surely that place admits of no disguise,
Eternal Sight must know thee there,
And being known, thou soon must disappear.
But since the fatal Truth we know,
Without the matter whence or manner how:
Thou high superlative of Sin,
Tell us thy nature, where thou didst begin?
The first degree of thy increase,
Debauch'd the Regions of eternal Peace,
And fill'd the breasts of loyal Angels there
With the first Treason and infernal War.

Thou art the high extreme of pride,
And dost o'er lesser crimes preside;
Not for the mean attempt of Vice design'd,
But to embroil the World, and damn Mankind.
Transforming mischief, now hast thou procur'd
That loss that ne'er to be restor'd,
And made the bright Seraphic Morning-star
In horrid monstrous shapes appear?
_Satan_, that while he dwelt in glorious light,
Was always then as pure as he was