SATAN, PRINCE OF DARKNESS

I sinned, but gloriously. I bore the fall From Heaven’s high places as becomes a king. I did not shrink before the utmost sting Of torture or of banishment. The pall Of Dis, I cried, should be the hall Where sad proud men of men should meet and sing The woes of that defeat ambitions bring Hurled from the last vain fight against the wall. I thought I had been punished. To forego All lovely sights, the whisper of fresh rain, To brood forever endlessly on pain Yet still a Prince, Ah God, I dreamed,—and then I learned my Fate, this wandering to and fro In Devil’s work among the sons of men.