The vaffals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorably, and the torturing hour
Calls us to penance? more destroy'd than thus We fhould 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 far Than miferable to have eternal being : Or if our fubftance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this fide nothing; and by proof we feel Our power fufficient to disturb his heav'n, And with perpetual inrodes to allarm, Though inacceffible, his fatal throne: Which if not victory is yet revenge.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous To less than gods. On th'other side up rose Belial, in act more graceful and humane; A fairer perfon loft not heav'n; he feem'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 dash Matureft counfels: for his thoughts were low; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds Timorous and flothful; yet he pleas'd the ear, And with perfwafive 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 perfwade immediate war, Did not diffwade me most, and seem to caft Ominous conjecture on the whole fuccefs : When he who most excells in fact of arms, In what he counfels and in what excells Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair And utter diffolution, as the scope
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 their legions, or with obscure wing Scout far 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 insurrection, to confound Heav'n's pureft light, yet our great enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted, and th’ethereal mould Incapable of stain would foon expell Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat defpair: we muft exafperate Th'almighty victor to spend all his rage,
And that must end us, that must be our cure, To be no more; fad cure; for who would lofe, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, fwallow'd 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 loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence, or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger faves To punish endless? 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 suffer more, What can we suffer worse? is this then worst, Thus fitting, thus confulting, thus in arms ? What when we fled amain, purfu'd and strook With heav'ns afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to fhelter 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 kindi'd thofe grim fires Awak'd fhould blow them into fevenfold 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 should spout her cataracts of fire, Impending horrors, threatning hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we perhaps Defigning or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fierie tempest shall be hurl’d Each on his rock transfixt, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever funk
Under yon boyling ocean, wrapt in chains; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrefpited, unpitied, unrepriv'd,
Ages of hopeless end; this would be worse. War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice diffwades; for what can force or guile With him, or who deceive his mind, whofe eye Views all things at one view? he from heav'ns hightli All these our motions vain, fees and derides; Not more almighty to resist our might
Than wife to frustrate all our plots and wiles. Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heav'n Thus trampl'd, thus expell'd to fuffer here Chains and these torments ? better these than worfe 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 wise, 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 conqueror: this is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, Our fupream foe in time may much remit His anger, and perhaps thus far remov'd Not mind us not offending, fatisfi'd
With what is punish't; whence these raging fires
Will flack'n, if his breath ftir not their flames. Our purer effence then will overcome
Their noxious vapour, or enur'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, 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 cloath'd in reason's garb Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful floth, Not peace: and after him thus Mammon spake. Either to difenthrone the king of heav'n
We war, if war be best, or to regain
Our own right loft: him to unthrone we then May hope, when everlasting fate shall yield 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 Within heav'n's bound, unless heav'n's lord fupream We overpower? fuppofe 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 Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne With warbl'd hymns, and to his godhead fing Forc't halleluias; while he lordly fits Our envied fov'ran, and his altar breaths
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