Pandemonium, the high capital / Of Satan and his peers.

Satan exalted sat, by merit raised / To that bad eminence.

Never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep...

So spake the enemy of mankind, enclosed
In serpent, inmate bad! and toward Eve
Addressed his way: not with indented wave,
Prone on the ground, as since; but on his rear,
Circular base of rising folds, that towered
Fold above fold, a surging maze! his head
Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes;
With burnished neck of verdant gold, erect
Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass
Floated redundant: pleasing was his shape
And lovely; never since of serpent-kind
Lovelier…

Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.

They changed their minds, Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell.