And make obeisance with the sons of God.’ 
They answered, naught denying.  Therefore, lord,
’Tis certain that ye have admittance yet;
And what doth hinder?  Nothing but this breath. 
Were it not well to make an end, and die,
And gain admittance to the King of kings? 
What if thy slaves by thy consent should take
And bear thee on their wings above the earth,
And suddenly let fall,—­how soon ’t were o’er! 
We should have fear and sinking at the heart;
But in a little moment we should see,
Rising majestic from a ruined heap,
The stately spirit that we served of yore.”

The serpent turned his subtle deadly eyes
Upon the spirit, and hissed; and sick with shame,
It bowed itself together, and went back
With hidden face.  “This counsel is not good,”
The other twain made answer; “look, my lord,
Whereas ’tis evil in thine eyes, in ours
’Tis evil also; speak, for we perceive
That on thy tongue the words of counsel sit,
Ready to fly to our right greedy ears,
That long for them.”  And Satan, flattered thus
(Forever may the serpent kind be charmed,
With soft sweet words, and music deftly played),
Replied, “Whereas I surely rule the world,
Behoves that ye prepare for me a path,
And that I, putting of my pains aside,
Go stir rebellion in the mighty hearts
O’ the giants; for He loveth them, and looks
Full oft complacent on their glorious strength. 
He willeth that they yield, that He may spare;
But, by the blackness of my loathed den,
I say they shall not, no, they shall not yield;
Go, therefore, take to you some harmless guise,
And spread a rumor that I come.  I, sick,
Sorry, and aged, hasten.  I have heard
Whispers that out of heaven dropped unaware. 
I caught them up, and sith they bode men harm,
I am ready for to comfort them; yea, more,
To counsel, and I will that they drive forth
The women, the abhorred of my soul;
Let not a woman breathe where I shall pass,
Lest the curse fall, and that she bruise my head. 
Friends, if it be their mind to send for me
An army, and triumphant draw me on
In the golden car ye wot of, and with shouts,
I would not that ye hinder them.  Ah, then
Will I make hard their hearts, and grieve Him sore,
That loves them, O, by much too well to wet
Their stately heads, and soil those locks of strength
Under the fateful brine.  Then afterward,
While He doth reason vainly with them, I
Will offer Him a pact:  ’Great King, a pact,
And men shall worship Thee, I say they shall,
For I will bid them do it, yea, and leave
To sacrifice their kind, so Thou my name
Wilt suffer to be worshipped after Thine.’”

“Yea, my lord Satan,” quoth they, “do this thing,
And let us hear thy words, for they are sweet.”