Society and the World

Pandemonium, city and proud seat Of Lucifer.

Pandemonium, city and proud seat Of Lucifer.

A dismal universal hiss, the sound Of public scorn.

I shall temper so Justice with mercy.

I shall temper so Justice with mercy.

God so commanded, and left that command Sole daughter of his voice; the rest, we live Law to ourselves, our reason is our law.

God so commanded, and left that command Sole daughter of his voice; the rest, we live Law to ourselves, our reason is our law.

As one who long in populous city pent.

So absolute she seems And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best.

Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo’d, and not unsought be won.

Out of one man a race Of men innumerable.

Freely we serve, Because we freely love, as in our will To love or not; in this we stand or fall.

So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent.

Abash’d the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely.

For contemplation he and valor form’d, For softness she and sweet attractive grace; He for God only, she for God in him.

Long is the way And hard, that out of hell leads up to light.

With grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem’d A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat and public care; And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic though in ruin.

Thus Belial with words cloth’d in reason’s garb Counsel’d ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace.

Thus Belial with words cloth’d in reason’s garb Counsel’d ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace.

But all was false and hollow; through his tongue Dropp’d manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason.

My sentence is for open war.

Which if not victory is yet revenge.

Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell From heaven; for ev’n in heaven his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of heaven’s pavement, trodden gold, Than aught divine or holy else enjoyed In vision beatific.

Let none admire That riches grow in hell; that soil may best Deserve the precious bane.