Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire Victorious. Thus repuls'd our final hope Is flat despair; we must exasperate
Th' almighty victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us, that must be our cure. To be no more; sad cure; for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night, Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry foe Can give it, or will ever? how he can, Is doubtful; that he never will, is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence, or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger saves To punish endless? Wherefore cease we then? Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, Reserv'd, and destin'd to eternal wo; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse? Is this then worst, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What! when we fled amain, pursu'd and struck With heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? this hell then seem'd A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake? that sure was worse What if the breath, that kindled those grim fires. Awak'd, should blow them into sevenfold rage, And plunge us in the flames? or from above Should intermitted vengeance, arm again His red right hand to plague us? what if all Her stores were open'd, and this firmament Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrors, threat'ning hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we perhaps Designing or exhorting glorious war.
Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurl'd Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey Of wracking whirlwinds, or forever sunk Under yon boiling ocean wrapt in chains; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopeless end? this would be worse. War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye
Views all things at one view? he from heav'n's height All these our motions vain, sees and derides;
Not more almighty to resist our might
Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heav'n
Thus trampled, thus expell'd to suffer here
Chains and these torments? better these than worse By my advice; since fate inevitable Subdues us, and omnipotent decree,
The victor's will. To suffer, as to do, Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust That so ordains: this was at first resolv'd, If we were wise, against so great a foe
Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. I laugh when those who at the spear are bold And vent rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear What yet they know must follow, to endure Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,
The sentence of their conqu'ror: this is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, Our supreme foe in time may much remit His anger, and perhaps thus far remov'd Not mind us not offending, satisfy'd
With what is punish'd; whence these raging fires Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames. Our purer essence then will overcome Their noxious vapour, or innur'd not feel, Or chang'd at length, and to the place conform ́d In temper and in nature, will receive
Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain This horror will grow mild, this darkness light; Besides what hope the never-ending flight
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more wo.
Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reason's garb. Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace and after him, thus Mammon spake Either to disenthrone the king of heav'n We war, if war we best, or to regain Our own right lost him to unthrone we then May hope, when everlasting fate shall yield To fickle chance, and Chaos judge the strife; The former vain to hope argues as vain The latter for what place can be for us Within heav'ns bound, unless heav'n's lord supreme We overpow'r? Suppose he should relent, And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection; with what eyes could we Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his godhead sing Forc'd hallelujahs; while he lordly sits Our envied Sov'reign, and his altar breathes Ambrosial odours, and ambrosial flow'rs, Our servile off'rings? This must be our task In heav'n, this our delight; how wearisome Eternity so spent in worship paid
To whom we hate! Let us not then By force impossible, by leave obtain❜d, Unacceptable, though in heav'n, our state Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, Free and to none accountable, preferring Hard liberty before the easy yoke
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small. Useful of hurtful, prosp'rous of adverse We can create, and in what place soe'er Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain Through labour and endurance. This deep world Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst Thick clouds and dark, doth heav'n's all-ruling Sire Choose to reside his glory unobscur'd,
And with the majesty of darkness round Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar Must'ring their rage, and heav'n resembles hell? As he our darkness, cannot we his light Imitate when we please? This desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold; Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence; and what can heav'n show more? Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires. As soft as now severe, our temper chang'd Into their temper; which must needs remove The sensible of pain.* All things invite To peaceful counsels, and the settled state Of order, how in safety best we may Compose our present evils, with regard Of what we are and were, dismissing quite All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.
He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur till'd Th' assembly, as when hollow rocks retain
The sound of blust'ring winds, which all night long. Had rous'd the seas, now with hoarse cadence lull Sea-faring men o'er-watch'd, whose bark by chance, Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay
After the tempest: such applause was heard As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleas'd, Advising peace for such another field
They dreaded worse than hell: so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michael
"The sensible of pain the sensibility or faculty of felug
Wrought still within them; and no less desire . To found this nether empire, which might rise By policy and long process of time, In emulation opposite to heav'n.
Which when Beelzebub perceiv'd, than whom. Satan except, none higher sat, with grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd A pillar of state, deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat, and public care;
And princely counsel in his face yet shone. Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look Drew audience and attention still as night,
Or summers noontide air, while thus he spake : Thrones and Imperial Pow'rs, offspring of heav'n, Ethereal Virtues; or these titles now
Must we renounce, and changing style be call'd Princes of hell? for so the pop'lar vote
Inclines us, here to continue, and build ap here A growing empire; doubtless, while we dreain, And know not that the King of heav'n hath doom'd This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt
From heav'n's high jurisdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain
In strictest bondage, though thus far remov'd Under the inevitable curb, reserv'd
His captive multitude: for He, be sure, In height or depth, still first and last will reign. Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part By our revolt, but over hell extend
His empire, and with iron sceptre rule Us here, as with his golden those in heav'n. What sit we then projecting peace and war? War hath determin'd us, and foil'd with loss Irreparable; terms of peace yet none
Vouchsaf'd or sought; for what peace will be giv'n To us enslav'd, but custody severe,
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