Thou wast on th’ other side, so long as I
Descended; when I turn’d, thou didst o’erpass
That point, to which from ev’ry part is dragg’d
All heavy substance.  Thou art now arriv’d
Under the hemisphere opposed to that,
Which the great continent doth overspread,
And underneath whose canopy expir’d
The Man, that was born sinless, and so liv’d. 
Thy feet are planted on the smallest sphere,
Whose other aspect is Judecca.  Morn
Here rises, when there evening sets:  and he,
Whose shaggy pile was scal’d, yet standeth fix’d,
As at the first.  On this part he fell down
From heav’n; and th’ earth, here prominent before,
Through fear of him did veil her with the sea,
And to our hemisphere retir’d.  Perchance
To shun him was the vacant space left here
By what of firm land on this side appears,
That sprang aloof.”  There is a place beneath,
From Belzebub as distant, as extends
The vaulted tomb, discover’d not by sight,
But by the sound of brooklet, that descends
This way along the hollow of a rock,
Which, as it winds with no precipitous course,
The wave hath eaten.  By that hidden way
My guide and I did enter, to return
To the fair world:  and heedless of repose
We climbed, he first, I following his steps,
Till on our view the beautiful lights of heav’n
Dawn’d through a circular opening in the cave: 
Thus issuing we again beheld the stars.