Or could we break our way by force
And at our heels should rise
All Hell enrag'd and sally forth
To win it by surprise ;
Yet Heav'n's king, our enemy,
Would unpolluted sit
Upon his throne in majesty,
Secure of victory yet:
We must exasperate our foe
All of his rage to spend,
And that must end us here in wo,
And be that our cure then :
Sad cure indeed, for who would lose,
Though full of tort'ring pains,
This intellect'al being, whose
Mind so firm remains:
Tis doubtful how he can do this,
Sure that he never will,
For since we now are cast from bliss
Ordain'd to endless ill;
Will he so wise let loose his ire
At once to grant our wish
And end us here in penal fire
Since us he spares for this?
We are reserv'd to endless wo,
What can we suffer more,
What can be worse to undergo
Than what we here endure.
Is this then worse, thus to debate,
Thus sitting, thus for fight,
Than when persu'd to heav'n's gate;
And foil'd our armies bright?
We then the deep of Hell profound
To shelter us besought,
Which seem'd a refuge for our wound
His thunder on us brought:
What if the breath that rais'd those flames
Again awak'd should blow
Them into sevenfold rage again,
The more t' increase our wo,
What if our foe, enrag'd again
Should turn all Hell to fire
And spout her cataracts of flame,
Impendent horrors dire?
We thus designing should be caught
In flames that sullen burst,
In tripple pains, thus doubly bought;
That surely would be worse.
Then all such acts better repeal'd
So dangerous to engage,
War, therefore, open or conceald'd,
My voice alike dissuades."
Thus ended he, Belial wise,
His speech with reason cloth'd,
Couns❜ling less dang'rous enterprise:
And shortly Mammon rose.
"To disenthrone th' high King of Heav'n
Or there our right regain
We war, if unto war we're driv'n
To fly corroding pain;
Nor need we hope him to unthrone
Till everlasting fate,
At will by fickle Chance is thrown
And Chaos judge the scrape;
What rest for us in Heav'n can be,
Till we its king expel,
Which we must do or again flee
If but within its walls:
Supposing yet he should relent
And publish grace to all,
On these plain terms, if we repent,
And supplicating call:
How could we in his presence stand
To chant his praise in hymn,
And to his Godhead, we in bands
Forc'd hallelujahs sing;
While he, our envi'd sovreign sits,
And round his altar breathes
Ambrosial smells, and flow'rs shoot,
As do ambrosial trees:
This in Heaven our task must be,
And this our dear delight;
How wearisome to spend eternity
In worship t' whom we hate!
Let us content tho' rack'd with pain,
Our own sovereigns to be;
Nor yet attempt Heaven t' regain,
Or from this gloom to flee:
Why should we dread this gloom profound,
While often we have seen
Th' eternal king call darkness round
His throne and shut the scene,
From whence we hear deep thunder roar
As we remember well,
Say not elsewhere unknown before ;
Heaven resembles Hell,
As he our darkness, we his light
Will imitate at will,
Make Hell as Heaven ere long as bright,
And riches more will fill;
For this deserted soil lacks not
Her hidden gems or mine,
Her bosom 's full, with min'rals fraught,
While we 've the art t' refine.
In length of time our torments may
Our elements become,
These pinching fires subside away,
Or less corroding burn,
And be as soft as now severe,
Our temper chang'd to theirs,
Remove our pain so keen felt here
While more of rest we share ;
All things invite to peaceful ease,
And easy enterprise,
Then quite all thoughts of war we'll cease;
Ye have what I advise." Thus ended he advising peace
And pleased were they all,
Long had they toil'd, now glad to cease
And rest on desert soil.
Next to him Beelzebub spake;
With aspect grave he rose,
Who, rising, seems a pillar of state,
And thus his sentence flows.
"Thrones, virtues, Imperial pow'rs,
And denominations,
Offspring of highest Heav'n, once ours;
But now this desolation,
Or must we now these titles change,
And changing still be call'd
Princes of Hell, nor ever name
Heaven, since lost, at all;
For so the pop'lar vote inclines
Us to continue here,
And to compose our troubled minds,
Nor foe nor bondage fear;
Doubtless, while here we dream to live
Distinct from our grand foe;
Nor tribute pay nor praises give,
Nor high distinction show;
But are we not his captives still,
In strictest bondage chain'd,
Since by his wrath we 're doom'd to dwell
In mis'ry's black domains?
For he, still first and last will reign,
In height or depth, sole king;
Nor of his reign will be no end;
O'er Hell his empire bring,
And with his iron sceptre here
Rule us, his captives bound,
As with his golden, those who fear
And hymn his throne around.
Why then project we peace or war?
War hath determined us,
And fail'd with loss our pow'rs, therefore,
Why do we counsel thus?
No terms of peace vouchsaf'd or sought,
What peace to us thus bound,
But custody severe, dear bought,
In this dark gloom profound?
|