And trust themfelves to fear no second fate." Me though just right, and the fix'd laws of heav'n Did first create your leader; next, free choice; With what befides, in council or in fight, Hath been atchiev'd of merit; yet this lofs, Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more Eftablifh'd in a fafe unenvi'd throne, Yielded with full confent. The happier ftate In heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior: but who here Will envy whom the highest place expofes Foremost to stand against the Thund'rer's aim, Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good For which to ftrive, no ftrife can grow up there From faction: for none fure will claim in hell Precedence; none, whose portion is so small Of prefent pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more. With this advantage then To union, and firm faith. and firm accord, More than can be in heav'n, we now return To claim our juft inheritance of old, Surer to profper than profperity
Could have affur'd us; and by what beft way, Whether of open war or covert guile,
e now debate: who can advise may speak. He ceas'd; and next him Moloch, fcepter'd king, Stood up, the strongest and the fierceft fp'rit
That fought in heav'n. now fiercer by defpair. His truft was with th' Eternal to be deem'd Equal in ftrength; and rather than be lefs, Car'd not to be at all; with that care loft Went all his fear of GOD, or hell, or worfe He reck'd not: and thefe words thereafter fpake. My fentence is for open war: of wiles,
More unexpert, I boaft not: them let thofe
Contrive who need; or when they need, not now. For while they fit contriving, fhall the refl, Millions that ftand in arms, and long wait
The fignal to afcend, fit ling'ring here
Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling place Accept this dark opprobricus den of fhame,
The prifon of his tyranny who reigns
By our delay? No, let us rather choose,
Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once
O'er heav'n's high tow'rs to force refiftless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his Almighty engine he fhall hear Infernal thunder: and for lightning, fee Black fire and horror fhot with equal rage Among his Angels; and his throne itself Mix'd with Tartarian fulphur, and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps feems difficult and fteep to fcale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let fuch bethink them, if the fleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, That in our proper motion we afcend Up to our native feat: defcent and fall To us is adverfe. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Infulting, and purfu'd us through the deep, With what compulfion and laborious flight We funk thus low? The afcent is eafy then; Th' event is fear'd; fhould we again provoke Our stronger, fome worfe way his wrath may find To our deftruction; if there be in hell
Fear to be worse destroy'd. What can be worfe Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd
In this abhorred deep to utter woe;
Where pain of unextinguishable fire Muft exercife us without hope of end, The vaffals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorably, and the torturing hour
Calls us to penance? More deftroy'd than thus, We fhould be quite abolith'd, and expire.
What fear we then? What doubt we to incenfe His utmost ire? which to the height enrag'd Will either quite confume us, and reduce To nothing this effential; happier far, Than miferable to have eternal being: Or if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
On this fide nothing; and by proof we feel Our pow'r sufficient to disturb his heav'n, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inacceffible, his fatal throne: Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd Defp'rate revenge, and battle dangerous To lefs than gods On th' other side uprose Belial, in act more graceful and humane: A fairer person lost not heav'n; he seem'd For dignity compos'd, and high exploit: But all was falfe and hollow; though his tongue Dropt manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dasḥ Matureft counfels: for his thoughts were low; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds Timorous and slothful: yet he pleas'd the ear, And with perfuafive accent thus began.
I should be much for open war, O peers, As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd Main reason to perfuade immediate war, Did not diffuade me most, and seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success; . When he who most excels in act of arms, In what he counsels, and in what excels, Miftruftful. grounds his courage on defpair And utter diffolution, as the fcope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.
First, what revenge? The tow'rs of Heav'n are fill’d With armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable: oft on the bord'ring deep
Incamp their legions; or with obfcure wing, Scout far and wide into the realm of night,
Scorning furprise. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all Hell fhould rife With blackeft infurrection. to confound Heav'n's purest light; yet our great enemy, All uncorruptible, would on his throne Sit unpolluted; and th' etherial mold, Incapable of ftain, would foon expel Her mischief, and purge off the bafer fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
Is flat defpair; we must exasperate
Th' almighty victor to spend all his rage, And that muft end us: that must be our cure, To be no more. Sad cure! for who would lofe, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Thofe thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, fwallowed up and toit In the wide womb of uncreated night, Devoid of fenfe and motion? and who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry Can give it, or will ever? how he can, Is doubtful; that he never will, is fure. Will he, fo wife, let loofe at once his ire, Belike through impotence, or unaware, To give his enemies their with, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger faves, To punish endlefs? wherefore cease we then? Say they who counsel war; we are decreed, Referv'd, and deftin'd to eternal woe ; Whatever doing, what can we fuffer more? What can we fuffer worfe? Is this then worst, Thus fitting, thus confulting, thus in arms?
What, when we fled amain, purfu'd and ftruck 165 With heav'n's afflicting thunder; and befought The deep to thelter us? this hell then feem'd A refuge from thofe 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, thould 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 horrors, 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 play Of wracking whirlwinds; or for ever funk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains, There to converfe with everlafting groans,
Unrefpited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopeless 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 fruftrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heav'n
Thus trampled, thus expell'd, to fuffer here
Chains and thefe torments? Better thefe 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 resolv'd, If we were wife against so 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, shrink, and fear, What yet they know must 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 sustain and bear, Our fupreme foe in time may much remit His anger and perhaps thus far remov❜d, Not mind us not offending, fatisfi'd
With what is punith'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 horror 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 prefent lot appears For happy, though but ill for ill, not worst; If we procure not to ourfelves more woe.
Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reason's garb
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