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,
Awaked should blow them into sev'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 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 for ever sunk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,
Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse.
War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike

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180

185

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:

191

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

195

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 resolved,
If we were wise, against so great a Foe
Contending, and so doubtful what might fall.

200

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

205

210

His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed,

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

215

Their noxious vapour, or inured not feel,

Or changed 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

220

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 woe.

225

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

May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield

We war,
Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then

if war be best, or to regain

230

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

235

Within Heav'n's 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

240

Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne
With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing
Forced hallelujahs, while he lordly sits
Our envied Sovereign, and his altar breathes
Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flow'rs,
Our servile offerings? This must be our task
In Heav'n, this our delight. How wearisome
Eternity so spent in worship paid

245

To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue
By force impossible, by leave obtain'd

250

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

255

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

260

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 unobscured,

265

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

270

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 changed
Into their temper; which must needs remove

275

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 where, dismissing quite
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.

He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'd
Th' assembly, as when hollow rocks retain

The sound of blust'ring winds, which all night long
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull
Seafaring men o'erwatch'd, whose bark by chance
Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay

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285

After the tempest. Such applause was heard
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased,
Advising peace; for such another field

290

They dreaded worse than Hell: so much the fear
Of thunder and the sword of Michaël

Wrought still within them; and no less desire

295

To found this nether empire, which might rise
By policy and long process of time,

In emulation opposite to Heav'n:

Which when Beelzebub perceived, than whom,

Satan except, none higher sat, with grave
Aspéct he rose, and in his rising seem'd

300

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

305

The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look

Drew audience and attention still as night

Or summer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake:

A growing empire; doubtless, while we dream,

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

315

From Heav'n's high jurisdiction, in new league
Banded against his throne, but to remain

320

In strictest bondage, though thus far removed,
Under th' inevitable curb, reserved

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

325

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 determined us, and foil'd with loss
Irreparable: terms of peace yet none

330

Vouchsafed or sought: for what peace will be giv'n
To us enslaved, but custody severe,

And stripes, and arbitrary punishment

Inflicted? And what peace can we return,

335

Heav'n, whose high walls fear no assault or siege,

Or ambush from the deep. What if we find

Some easier enterprise? There is a place,

345

(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heav'n

Err not) another world, the happy seat

Of some new race call'd Man, about this time
To be created like to us, though less

In pow'r and excellence, but favour'd more
Milton's Poetical Works.

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