"Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime"
said then the Lost Archangel, "This the Seat
That we must change for Heaven? This mournful gloom
for that celestial light? Be it so, since He
Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest fom Him is best,
Whom reason hath equaled, force had made supreme
Above his Equals. Farewell, Happy Fields,
Where Joy forever dwells! Hail. horrors! Hail,
Infernal World! And thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new Possessor- one who brings
A mind not to be changed by Place or Time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same?
And what I should be, all but less than He
Whom Thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; He Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence;
Here we may reign secure, and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell;
Better to reign in Hell
Than serve in Heaven.