In horrible destruction laid thus low, Can perish; for the mind and spirit remains Though all our glory extinct, and happy state But what if He our Conquerour (whom I now Than such could have o'er-power'd such force as ours) Strongly to suffer and support our pains, To undergo eternal punishment ? Whereto with speedy words the Arch-Fiend replied. Fallen Cherub! to be weak is miserable, Doing or suffering: but of this be sure, Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps His ministers of vengeance and pursuit Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail, Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate Prone on the flood, extended long and large, By ancient Tarsus held; or that sea-beast Moors by his side under the lee, while night So stretch'd out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay, |