User:Guildensternenstein/UnPoetia:Paradise Abridged/Book III
Hail Holy Light, offspring of Heav’n’s first-born, [1]
Since God is light, or first created light,
Or is kinda like light I guess, maybe;
Or perhaps I should address God’s voice? Muse,
Holy Muse, not to be confused with light, [5]
Which itself is glorious—eh, fuck it.
Now had the Almighty Father from above,
From the pure Empyrean where he sits
High thron’d above all highth, bent down his eye,
His own works and their works at once to view; [10]
On his right sat his only Son begot,
The spirit and image of his Father.
“Only begotten Son, see you what rage,”
Began God the Father to God the Son,
“Transports our adversary to the Earth? [15]
I’d be willing to bet that he intends
To pervert mankind with all his badness
And make my job that much more difficult.
And whose fault is it? Whose but his own? Man’s!
Ingrate, he had of me all he could have [20]
And then some more! I made him just and right,
Sufficient to have stood (though free to fall)
And this is the thanks I get? Me-dammit!”
Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fill’d
All Heav’n, and in the bless’d spirits elect [25]
Sense of new joy ineffable diffus’d:
Beyond compare the Son of God was seen
Most glorious, in him all his Father shone
Substantially express’d, and in his face
Divine compassion visibly appeared, [30]
Love without end, and without measure grace,
Which uttering thus he to his Father spake:
“Dad, perhaps you should just chill out a bit.
What’re you going to do? Unmake mankind?”
To which the Lord God angrily replied: [35]
“O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight
Son of my bosom, Son who art alone
My word, my wisdom, and effectual might,
Learn yourself some Me-damn respect!
Jesus! I thought I taught you better, Son; [40]
I haven’t been this mad since you started
Talking like those yet-uncreated blacks
And spoke to me the urban speak most foul.
Man shall not quite be lost, but sav’d by Me
Not through his own will, rather through my grace. [45]
Some I have chosen of particular
Grace to receive, so is my will; and the
Rest shall burn in Hell, forever condemned
By the long-dead sins of their parentage.
Even among the most righteous elect [50]
Death shall rear its ugly head; Man must die;
He with his whole posterity must die,
Unless someone else is willing, able
To pay the rigid satisfaction, death.
Say Heav’nly Powers, where shall we find such love? [55]
Which one of you will make such sacrifice?”
He ask’d, but all the heav’nly choir stood mute,
And silence was in Heav'n, when at long last:
“Well…I guess I’ll do it,” spake the Son.
All Heaven, as to what this might mean, stood [60]
Wond’ring, but soon th’ Almighty thus replied:
“Excellent! Angels, I command thee praise
My only begotten Son, my right hand;
But before that happens, Jesus: you will
Be born to a virgin mother, and live [65]
Amongst mankind as one of them, and you
Shall teach my word once more to man, until
You are betrayed by your own pupil, and
Are crucified to die on Calvary,
Which will, my only Son, most surely suck.” [70]
Having thus condemned his only Son to
Mortal pain and fear and betrayal to serve
As ransom for Man’s forever-damning
Sin, there was much rejoicing in Heaven.
Meanwhile, Satan the general Fiend, with all [75]
His malice, was making towards this
Opacious globe, which seem’d to him far off,
A pendant world hung by a golden chain
Off a corner of unassailable
Heaven; he walk’d and flew and made his way [80]
To Earth by way of Chaos up from Hell
And came at last to the orb of the Sun,
Which either makes its way around the Earth
Or stays fixèd, with the Earth revolving,
Which one it is I’m not exactly sure. [85]
Upon arriving at that orb, Satan
Saw within his sight the great Archangel
Uriel, one of the seven angels
Who is most close to God, and at His call;
Satan thus himself disguisèd as a [90]
Zealot diminutive angel seeking
To admire the Lord God’s new creation.
“Say,” spake Uriel, now looking on the
Fiend disguis’d, “You aren’t that rebel angel,
Whom’s name we speaketh not, come here to Earth [95]
To beguile and pervert mankind to foil
God? For I was charg’d by Him Almighty
To guide the Sun and look after the Earth—
Or perhaps it is the other way round,
Of manners astronomical no one [100]
Seems to be too sure of—but in any
Event I’m to stop that nameless angel
From making done his wretched deed most foul.
You be not he? That envious fallen
Cherub?” To which the lying Fiend answer’d: [105]
“No.” “Well then,” spake th’ angel, “Be on your way.”