Awake, arise or be for ever fall’n.

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

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

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

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…

The castironpiles, the castironpiles--to hell with the castironpiles