What, when we fled amain, purfu'd, and ftruck 165 With Heaven's afflicting thunder, and befought The deep to fhelter us? this hell then feem'd A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake? that fure was worse. What if the breath that kindled thofe grim fires, 170 Awak'd, fhould blow them into fev'nfold 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 ftores were open'd, and this firmament Of hell fhould fpout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrours, threat'ning hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we perhaps Defigning or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempeft fhall be hurl'd Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey Of wracking whirlwinds; or for ever funk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains; There to converfe with everlasting groans, Unrefpited, unpitied, unrepriev'd, Ages of hopelefs end? this would be worse. War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike My voice diffuades; for what can force or guile With him, or who deceive his mind, whofe eye
Views all things at one view? he from heav'n's height All these our motions vain fees, and derides;
Not more almighty to refift our might
Than wife to frustrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heaven
Thus trampled, thus expell'd, to fuffer here
Chains and these torments? Better these than worse,
By my advice; fince fate inevitable
Subdues us, and omnipotent decree,
The Victor's will. To fuffer, as to do,
Our ftrength is equal, nor the law unjust That fo ordains: this was at first refolv'd, If we were wife, against fo great a foe Contending, and fo doubtful what might fall. I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold And vent'rous, if that fail them, fhrink, and fear, 205 What yet they know muft follow, to endure Exile, or ignominy', or bonds, or pain, The fentence of their Conqu'ror: this is now Our doom; which if we can fustain and bear, Our fupreme foe in time may much remit His anger; and perhaps thus far remov'd, Not mind us not offending, fatisfy'd
With what is punish'd; whence thefe raging fires Will flacken, if his breath ftir not their flames.
Our purer effence then will overcome
Their noxious vapour; or inur'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 horrour will grow mild, this darkness light; 220 Befides what hope the never-ending flight
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change
Worth waiting; fince our present lot appears
For happy, though but ill; for ill, not worst; If we procure not to ourselves more woe.
Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reafon's garb Counsel'd ignoble eafe, and peaceful floth, Not peace and after him thus Mammon fpake. Either to difinthrone the King of Heaven We war, if war be best, or to regain Our own right loft: him to unthrone we then May hope, when everlasting Fate fhall yield To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the ftrife: The former vain to hope, argues as vain
The latter for what place can be for us Within heav'n's bound, unless heav'n's Lord fupreme We overpow'r ? Suppofe he should relent, And publifh grace to all, on promise made Of new fubjection; with what eyes could we Stand in his prefence humble, and receive Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead fing Forc'd hallelujah's; while he lordly fits Our envied fovereign, and his altar breathes Ambrofial odours and ambrofial flowers,
Our fervile offerings? This must be our task In heaven, this our delight; how wearifome Eternity fo spent in worship paid
To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue, By force impoffible, by leave obtain❜d, Unacceptable, though in heav'n, our ftate Of splendid vaffalage; but rather feek
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vaft recefs, Free, and to none accountable, preferring
Hard liberty before the eafy yoke
Of fervile pomp. Our greatnefs will appear Then most confpicuous, when great things of small, Ufeful of hurtful, profpe'rous of adverse
We can create; and in what place foe'er Thrive under ev'il, 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 Chufe to refide, his glory unabfcur'd,
And with the majesty of darkness round
Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar Muft'ring their rage, and heaven refembles hell? As he our darkness, cannot we his light
Imitate when we please? This defert foil Wants not her hidden luftre, gems and gold: Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raife. Magnificence; and what can heav'n fhow more? Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements; these piercing fires As foft as now fevere, our temper chang'd Into their temper; which must needs remove The fenfible of pain. All things invite To peaceful counfels, and the fettled ftate Of order, how in safety best we may Compose our prefent evils, with regard Of what we are, and where; difmifling quite All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advife.
He fcarce had finifh'd, when fuch murmur fill'd Th' affembly, as when hollow rocks retain. The found of bluft'ring winds, which all night long Had rous'd the fea, now with hoarfe cadence lull Seafaring men o'erwatch'd, whofe bark by chance, Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay
After the tempeft: fuch applaufe was heard As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleas'd, Advifing peace for fuch another field
They dreaded worse than hell: fo much the fear Of thunder and the fword of Michaël
Wrought ftill within them; and no lefs defire
To found this nether empire, which might rife,
By policy, and long procéfs of time,
In emulation oppofite to heaven.
Which when Beelzebub perceiv'd, than whom, Satan except, none higher fat, with grave
Aspéct he rose, and in his rifing feem'd
A pillar of ftate; deep on his front ingraven Deliberation fat, and public care;
And princely counfel in his face yet fhone,
Majestic though in ruin: fage he stood With Atlantean fhoulders fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look Drew audience and attention ftill as night, Or fummer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake. Thrones and imperial powers, offspring of heaven, Ethereal virtues; or thefe titles now
Must we renounce, and, changing style, be call'd Princes of hell? for fo the popular vote
Inclines, here to continue', and build up here
A growing empire; doubtlefs, while we dream, 315 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
From Heaven's high jurifdiction, in new league Banded against his throne; but to remain In ftricteft bondage, though thus far remov'd, Under th' inevitable curb, referv'd
His captive multitude: for he, be fure,
In height or depth, still first and last will reign Sole king, and of his kingdom lofe no part
By our revolt; but over hell extend His empire, and with iron fceptre rule Us here, as with his golden those in heaven. What fit we then projecting peace and war?
War hath determin'd us, and foil'd with lofs
Irreparable; terms of peace yet none
Vouchfaf'd or fought; for what peace will be given To us inflav'd, but cuftody fevere,
And ftripes, and arbitrary punishment
Inflicted? and what peace can we return, But, to our power, hoftility and hate, Untam'd reluctance, and revenge, though flow, Yet ever plotting how the Conqu❜ror least May reap his conqueft, and may leaft rejoice
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