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Mee though just right, and the fixt Laws of Heav'n
Did first create your Leader, next, free choice,
With what befides, in Counsel or in Fight,
Hath bin achievd of merit, yet this lofs
Thus farr at least recover'd, hath much more
Establisht in a safe unenvied Throne

Yeilded with full confent. The happier state
In Heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw
Envy from each inferior; but who here
Will envy whom the highest place expofes
Formoft to stand against the Thunderers aime
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share
Of endless pain? where there is then no good
For which to strive, no ftrife can grow up there
From Faction; for none fure will claim in hell
Precedence, none, whofe portion is so small
Of present pain, that with ambitious mind
Will covet more. With this advantage then
To union, and firm Faith, and firm accord,
More then can be in Heav'n, we now return
To claim our just inheritance of old,
Surer to profper then profperity

Could have affur'd us; and by what beft way,
Whether of open Warr or covert guile,
We now debate; who can advise, may speak.

He ceas'd, and next him Moloc, Scepter'd King
Stood up, the strongest and the fierceft Spirit
That fought in Heav'n; now fiercer by despair:
His truft was with th' Eternal to be deem'd
Equal in ftrength, and rather then be less
Car'd not to be at all; with that care loft
Went all his fear of God, or Hell, or worse

He

He reckd not, and these words thereafter spake.
My fentence is for open Warr: Of Wiles,
More unexpert, I boast not: them let those
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.
For while they fit contriving, fhall the reft,
Millions that stand in Arms, and longing wait
The Signal to afcend, fit lingring here
Heav'ns fugitives, and for thir dwelling place
Accept this dark opprobrious Den of shame,
The Prison of his Tyranny who Reigns
By our delay? no, let us rather choose
Arm'd with Hell flames and fury all at once
O're Heav'ns high Towrs to force refiftless way,
Turning our Tortures into horrid Arms
Against the Torturer; when to meet the noise
Of his Almighty Engin he shall hear
Infernal Thunder, and for Lightning see
Black fire and horror fhot with equal rage
Among his Angels; and his Throne it felf
Mixt with Tartarean Sulphur, and strange fire,
His own invented Torments. But perhaps
The way seems difficult and fteep to scale
With upright wing against a higher foe.
Let fuch bethink them, if the fleepy drench
Of that forgetful Lake benumme 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 brok'n Rear
Infulting, and purfu'd us through the Deep,
With what compulsion and laborious flight

We funk thus low? Th' afcent is eafie then;

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Th'

90

Th' event is fear'd; fhould we again provoke
Our stronger, fome worse way his wrath may find
To our destruction: if there be in Hell

(demn'd

Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse
Then to dwell here, driv'n out from blifs, con-
In this abhorred deep to utter woe;
Where pain of unextinguishable fire
Muft exercise us without hope of end
The Vaffals of his anger, when the Scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing houre

Calls us to Penance? More destroy'd then thus
We should be quite abolisht and expire.

What fear we then? what doubt we to incenfe
His utmost ire? which to the highth enrag'd,
Will either quite confume us, and reduce
To nothing this effential, happier farr
Then miferable to have eternal being :
Or if our fubftance be indeed Divine,
100 And cannot cease to be, we are at worst
On this fide nothing; and by proof we feel
Our power fufficient to difturb his Heav'n,
And with perpetual inrodes to Allarme,
Though inacceffible, his fatal Throne :
Which if not Victory is yet Revenge.

He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Defperate revenge, and Battel dangerous

To lefs then Gods. On th' other fide
up
Belial, in act more graceful and humane;

rofe

A fairer person loft not Heav'n; he seemd
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
But all was falfe and hollow; though his Tongue
Dropt Manna, and could make the worfe

appear

The

The better reason, to perplex and dash
Matureft Counfels: for his thoughts were low;
To vice industrious, but to Nobler deeds
Timorous and slothful: yet he pleas'd the eare,
And with perfwafive accent thus began.

I should be much for open Warr, O Peers,
As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd
Main reason to perfwade immediate Warr,
Did not diffwade me most, and seem to caft
Ominous conjecture on the whole success :
When he who moft excels in fact of Arms,
In what he counfels and in what excels
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair sin
And utter diffolution, as the fcope

Of all his aim, after fome dire revenge.

=

First, what Revenge? the Towrs of Heav'n are fill'd
With Armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable; oft on the bordering Deep
Encamp thir Legions, or with obfcure wing
Scout farr and wide into the Realm of night,
Scorning furprize. Or could we break our way
By force, and at our heels all Hell fhould rife
With blackest Infurrection, to confound
Heav'ns pureft Light, yet our great Enemie
All incorruptible would on his Throne
Sit unpolluted, and th' Ethereal mould
Incapable of ftain would foon expel
Her mischief, and purge off the baser 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,

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To be no more; fad cure; for who would loose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through Eternity,
To perish rather, swallowd up and loft

In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of fenfe 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 fure.
Will he, fo wife, let loofe at once his ire,
Belike through impotence, or unaware,
To give his Enemies thir with, and end
Them in his anger, whom his anger faves
To punish endlefs? wherefore cease we then?
160 Say they who counsel Warr, 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, pursu'd and strook
With Heav'ns afflicting Thunder, and befought
The Deep to fhelter us? this Hell then feem'd
A refuge from those wounds: or when we day
Chain'd on the burning Lake? that sure was worse.
170 What if the breath that kindl'd those grim fires
Awak'd should blow them into fevenfold rage
And plunge us in the Flames? or from above
Should intermitted vengeance Arme again
His red right hand to plague us? what if all
Her ftores were op'n'd, and this Firmament
Of Hell should spout her Cataracts of Fire,
Impendent horrors, threatning hideous fall