Breaking the horrid filence thus began.
If thou beest he; But O how fall'n! how chang'd From him, who in the happy Realms of Light Cloth'd with transcendent brightnes didst outshine Myriads though bright: If he whom mutual league, United thoughts and counfels, equal hope, And hazard in the Glorious Enterprize, Joynd with me once, now misery hath joynd 90 In equal ruin into what Pit thou feest From what highth fal'n, so much the stronger provd He with his Thunder: and till then who knew The force of thofe dire Arms? yet not for those Nor what the Potent Victor in his rage Can elfe inflict do I repent or change, Though chang'd in outward luftre; that fixt mind And high disdain, from sence of injur'd merit, That with the mightiest rais'd me to contend, And to the fierce contention brought along Innumerable force of Spirits arm'd
That durft diflike his reign, and me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power oppos'd
In dubious Battel on the Plains of Heav'n,
And shook his throne. What though the field be loft?
All is not loft; the unconquerable Will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is elfe not to be overcome?
That Glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and fue for
grace
With fuppliant knee, and deifie his power
Who from the terrour of this Arm fo late
Doubted his Empire, that were low indeed,
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall; fince by Fate the strength of Gods
And this Empyreal substance cannot fail,
Since through experience of this great event
In Arms not worse, in forefight much advanc't,
We with more successful hope refolve
To wage by force or guile eternal Warr
Irreconcileable, to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the Tyranny of Heav'n.
So fpake th' Apostate Angel, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep defpare: And him thus anfwer'd foon his bold Compeer. O Prince, O Chief of many Throned Powers, That led th' imbattelld Seraphim to Warr Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds Fearless, endanger'd Heav'ns perpetual King; And put to proof his high Supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or Chance, or Fate,
Too well I fee and rue the dire event,
That with fad overthrow and foul defeat
Hath loft us Heav'n, and all this mighty Hoft
In horrible deftruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and Heav'nly Effences
Can Perish for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour foon returns,
Though all our Glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallow'd up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conquerour, (whom I now
Of force believe Almighty, fince no less
Then fuch could hav orepow'rd fuch force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength intire
Strongly to fuffer and fupport our pains,
That we may fo fuffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of Warr, what e're his business be
Here in the heart of Hell to work in Fire,
. Or do his Errands in the gloomy Deep;
What can it then avail though yet we feel
Strength undiminisht, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?
Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-fiend reply'd.
Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miferable
Doing or Suffering: but of this be fure,
To do ought good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our fole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we refift. If then his Providence
Out of our evil feek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which oft times may fucceed, so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmoft counfels from their deftind aim.
But fee the angry Victor hath recall'd
His Ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the Gates of Heav'n: The Sulphurous Hail
Shot after us in storm, oreblown hath laid
The fiery Surge, that from the Precipice
Of Heav'n receiv'd us falling, and the Thunder,
Wing'd with red Lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his fhafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not flip th' occafion, whether fcorn,
Or fatiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seeft thou yon dreary Plain, forlorn and wilde,
The feat of defolation, voyd of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the toffing of these fiery waves,
There reft, if any reft can harbour there,
And reaffembling our afflicted Powers,
Confult how we may henceforth most offend
Our Enemy, our own lofs how repair,
How overcome this dire Calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from Hope,
If not what refolution from despare.
Thus Satan talking to his neerest Mate
With Head up-lift above the wave, and Eyes
That sparkling blaz'd, his other Parts befides
Prone on the Flood, extended long and large
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the Fables name of monftrous fize,
Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove,
Briarios or Typhon, whom the Den
By ancient Tarfus held, or that Sea-beast
Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugest that swim th' Ocean stream:
Him haply flumbring on the Norway foam
The Pilot of fome small night-founder'd Skiff,
Deeming fome Island, oft, as Sea-men tell,
With fixed Anchor in his skaly rind
Moors by his fide under the Lee, while Night
Invests the Sea, and wished Morn delayes:
So ftretcht out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay
Chain'd on the burning Lake, nor ever thence 210
Had ris'n or heav'd his head, but that the will
And high permiffion of all-ruling Heaven
Left him at large to his own dark designs,
That with reiterated crimes he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he fought
Evil to others, and enrag'd might fee
How all his malice serv'd but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace and mercy fhewn
On Man by him feduc't, but on himself
Treble confufion, wrath and vengeance pour'd.
Forthwith upright he rears from off the Pool
His mighty Stature; on each hand the flames
Drivn backward flope their pointing fpires, & rowld
In billows, leave i'th' midst a horrid Vale.
Then with expanded wings he stears his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky Air
That felt unusual weight, till on dry Land
He lights, if it were Land that ever burn'd
With folid, as the Lake with liquid fire;
And fuch appear'd in hue, as when the force 230
Of fubterranean wind transports a Hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd fide
Of thundring Etna, whofe combustible
And fewel'd entrals thence conceiving Fire,
Sublim'd with Mineral fury, aid the Winds,
And leave a finged bottom all involv'd
With stench and fmoak: Such refting found the fole
Of unbleft feet. Him followed his next Mate,
Both glorying to have scap't the Stygian flood
As Gods, and by their own recover'd strength, 240
Not by the fufferance of fupernal Power.
Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime,
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