High on a throne of royal state, which far Outshone the wealth of Ormus or of Ind, Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold, Satan exalted sat, by merit raised To that bad eminence.
Here his compeers gathered round to advise. First Moloch, the "strongest and the fiercest Spirit that fought in Heaven," counselled war. Then uprose Belial—"a fairer person lost not Heaven"—and reasoned that force was futile.
"The towers of Heaven are filled With armed watch, that render all access Impregnable."
Besides, failure might lead to their annihilation, and who wished for that?
"Who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, These thoughts that wander through eternity?
They were better now than when they were hurled from Heaven, or when they lay chained on the burning lake. Their Supreme Foe might in time remit his anger, and slacken those raging fires. Mammon also advised them to keep the peace, and make the best they could of Hell, a policy received with applause; but then Beelzebub, "than whom, Satan except, none higher sat," rose, and with a look which "drew audience and attention still as night," developed the suggestion previously made by Satan, that they should attack Heaven's High Arbitrator through His new-created Man, waste his creation, and "drive as we are driven."
"This would surpass Common revenge, and interrupt His joy In our confusion, and our joy upraise In His disturbance."
This proposal was gleefully received. But then the difficulty arose who should be sent in search of this new world? All sat mute, till Satan declared that he would "abroad through all the coasts of dark destruction," a decision hailed with reverent applause. The Council dissolved, the Infernal Peers disperse to their several employments: some to sports, some to warlike feats, some to argument, "in wandering mazes lost," some to adventurous discovery; while Satan wings his way to the nine-fold gate of Hell, guarded by Sin, and her abortive offspring, Death; and Sin, opening the gate for him to go out, cannot shut it again. The Fiend stands on the brink, "pondering his voyage," while before him appear
The secrets of the hoary Deep—on dark Illimitable ocean, without bound, Without dimension; where length, breadth, and highth, And time, and place, are lost; where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy.