O Prince, O Chief of many throned Pow'rs,
That led th'imbattel'd Seraphim to War
Under thy Conduct; and, in dreadful Deeds
Fearless, endanger'd Heav'n's perpetual King,
And put to Proof his high Supremacy,
Whether upheld by Strength, or Chance, or Fate;
Too well I'fee and rue the dire Event,
That with fad Overthrow and foul Defeat
Has loft us Heav'n, and all this mighty Hot
In horrible Destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heav'nly Effences
Can perifh: For the Mind and Spirit remains
Invincible; and Vigour foon returns,
Tho' all our Glory extinct, and happy State
Here fwallow'd up in endless Mifery.
But what if he, our Conqu'rour, whom I now
Of Force believe Almighty, fince no lefs
Than fuch could have o'erpower'd fuch Strength as ours,
Have left us this our Spirit and Strength intire,
Strongly to fuffer and fupport our Pains,
That fo we may fuffice his vengeful Ire,
Or do him mightier Service as his Thralls
By Right of War, whate'er his Bus'nefs be
Here in the Heart of Hell to work in Fire,
Or do his Errands in the gloomy Deep:
What can it then avail, tho' yet we feel
Strength undiminish'd, or eternal Being
To undergo eternal Punishment? Milt. Par. Loft. Spoken by Belzebub to Satan.
Thus fpoke th' Apoftate Angel, though in Pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep Defpair. Milt. P. Loft.
Leader of thofe Armies bright;
Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foil'd,
If once they hear that Voice, their livelieft Pledge
Of Hope in Fears and Dangers, heard fo oft
In worft Extreams, and on the perillous Edge
Of Battel when it rag'd, in all Affaults
Their fureft Signal they will foon resume
New Courage and revive, tho' now they lie
Grov'ling and proftrate on yon' Lake of Fire,
As we e'erwhile, aftownded and amaz'd :
No Wonder, fall'n fuch a pernicious Height.
Milt. P. Loft.
Spoken of Saran by Belzebub.
Satan, fo call him now; his former Name
Is heard no more in Heav'n; He of the first,
If not the first Arch-Angel, great in Pow'r,
In Favour and Pre-eminence, yet fraught
With Envy 'gainst the Son of God.
Great indeed
His Name, and high was his Degree in Heav'n:
His Countenance, as the Morning Star that guides
The ftarry Flock, allur'd them, and with Lies
Drew after him the third Part of Heav'n's Hoft.
Satan, alarm'd,
Collecting all his Might, dilated stood,
Like Teneriff or Atlas unremov'd:
His Stature reach'd the Sky, and on his Creft
Sate Horrour plum'd; nor wanted in his Grafp
What feem'd both Spear and Shield.
Atherial Temper, mafie, large, and round,
Behind him caft; the broad Circumference,
Hung on his Shoulders like the Moon, whofe Orb
Through optick Glafs the Tulcan Artist views
At Ev'ning from the Top of Fefole,
Or in Valdarno, to defcry new Lands,
Rivers, or Mountains in her fpotty Globe,
His Spear, to equal which the tallest Pine,
Hewn on Norwegian Hills, to be the Maft
Of fome great Admiral, were but a Wand,
He walk'd with to fupport uneasy Steps
Over the burning Marle. Milt. Par. Loft.
Satan, now firit inflam'd with Rage, came down,
The Tempter, ere th' Accufer, of Mankind:
Nor with Cause to boast
Begins his dire Attempt, which, nigh the Birth
Now rouling, boils in his tumultuous Breaft;
And, like a devillifh Engine, back recoils
Upon himself: Horrour and Doubt distract
His troubled Thoughts, and from the Bottom stir
The Hell within him: for within him Hell
He brings, and round about him; nor from Hell
One Step no more than from himself can fly
By Change of Place: now Confcience wakes Despair
That flumber'd, wakes the bitter Memory
Of what he was, what is, and what must be
Worfe; of worfe Deeds worfe Suff'rings must enfue:
Sometimes tow'rds Eden, which now in his View
Lay pleafant, his griev'd Eyes he fixes fad :
Sometimes tow'rds Heav'n, and the full blazing Sun,
Which now fate high in his Meridian Tow'r :
Then, much revolving thus in Sighs began,
-To thee I call,
But with no friendly Voice, and add thy Name,
O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy Beams,
That bring to my Remembrance from what State
I fell, how glorious once above thy Sphere;
Till Pride and worfe Ambition threw me down
Warring in Heav'n against Heav'n's matchlefs King:
Ah! wherefore? He deferv'd no fuch Return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright Eminence; and with his Good
Upbraided none; nor was his Service hard:
What could be lefs than to afford him Praife,
The easiest Recompenfe, and pay him Thanks,
How due! yet all his Good prov'd Ill in me,
And wrought but Malice: lifted up fo high
I'sdain'd Subjection, and thought one Step higher
Would fet me highest, and in a Moment quit
The Debt immenfe of endless Gratitude,
So burdenfome ftill paying, ftill to owe;
Forgetful what from him I ftill receiv'd,
And understood not that a grateful Mind
By owing owes not, but ftill pays, at once
Indebted and discharg'd; What Burden then?
O had his pow'rful Deftiny ordain'd
Me fome inferiour Angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded Hope had rais'd
Ambition. Yet why not? Some other Pow'r
As great might have afpir'd, and me, tho' mean,
Drawn to his Part: but other Pow'rs as great
Fell not, but ftand unshaken; from within,
Or from without, to all Temptations arm'd:
Hadft thou the fame Free Will and Pow'r to ftand?
Thou hadst: whom haft thou then or what t'accuse,'
But Heav'n's free Love dealt equally to all?
Be then his Love accurft; fince Love or Hate,
To me, alike, it deals eternal Woe:
Nay, curs'd be thou, fince against his thy Will
Chofe freely what it now fo juftly rues.
Me miferable! which Way fhall I fly
Infinite Wrath, and infinite Despair?
Which Way I fly is Hell: my felf am Hell;
And in the loweit Deep a lower Deep,
Still threat'ning to devour me, opens wide,
To which the Hell I fuffer feems a Heav'n.
O then at last relent: Is there no Place
Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left?
None left but by Submiffion: and that Word
Difdain forbids me, and my Dread of Shame
Among the Spirits beneath, whom I feduc'd
With other Promifes, and other Vaunts
Than to fubmit, boafting I could fubdue
Th'Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know
How dearly I abide that Boaft fo vain;
Under what Torments inwardly I groan,
While they adore me on the Throne of Hell,
With Diadem and Sceptre high advanc'd,
The lower ftill I fall; only fupream
In Mifery: fuch Joy Ambition finds!
But fay I could, repent, and could obtain
By Act of Grace my former State; how foon
Would Height recall high Thoughts! how foon unfay
What feign'd Submiffion fwore! Eafe would recant
Vows made in Pain, as violent and void:
For never can true Reconcilement grow,
Where Wounds of deadly Hate have pierc'd fo deep;
Which would but lead me to a worse Relapse,
And heavier Fall; fo fhould I purchase dear
Short Intermiffion bought with double Smart.
This knows my Punisher; therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging, Peace:
So farewel Hope, and with Hope farewel Fear,
Farewel Remorfe: all Good to me is loft:
Evil, be thou my Good; by thee at least
Divided Empire with Heav'n's King I hold;
By thee, and more perhaps than half will reign. Milt. P. Loft.
He ended frowning; and his Look denounc'd
Defp'rate Revenge, and Battel dangerous
He fpake, and to confirm his Words out-flew Millions of flaming Swords, drawn from the Thighs Of mighty Cherubim, the fuddain Blaze
Far round illumin'd Hell: highly they rag'd
Against the Higheft; and, fierce with grafped Arms,
Clafh'd on their founding Shields the Din of War,
Hurling Defiance tow'rd the Vault of Heav'n. Milt. P. Loft.
As when the potent Rod
Of Amram's Son in Egypt's evil Day
Wav'd round the Coaft, up call'd a pitchy Cloud
Of Locufts, warping on the Eastern Wind;
That o'er the Realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like Night, and darken'd all the Land of Nile:
So numberlefs were thofe bad Angels feen
Hov'ring on Wing under the Cope of Hell,
Twixt upper, nether, and furrounding Fires;
Till, as a Signal given, th’uplifted Spear
Of their great Sultan, waving to direct
Their Courfe, in ev'n Ballance down they light
On the firm Brimstone, and fill all the Plain.
A Multitude, like which the pop'lous North
Pour'd never from her frozen Loins, to pafs
Rhene or the Danaw, when her barb'rous Sons
Came like a Deluge on the South, and spread
Beneath Gibraltar to the Lybian Sands.
Forthwith from ev'ry Squadron and each Band
The Heads and Leaders thither hafte, where ftood
Their great Commander: God-like Shapes, and Forms
Excelling human, princely Dignities,
And Pow'rs that erit in Heav'n fate on Thrones:
Tho' of their Names in heav'nly Records now
Be no Memorial, blotted out and raz'd,
By their Rebellion from the Book of Life. Milt. Par. Loft. Then forth
In Order came the grand infernal Peers ;
Midft came their mighty Paramount, and feem'd
Alone th' Antagonist of Heav'n, nor less
Than Hell's dread Emperour with Pomp fupream,
And God-like imitated State: him round
A Globe of firy Seraphim inclos'd
With bright Imblazonry, and horrent Arms. Milt. P. Laft. A Thousand Devils ftrait ran roaring in:
Some with a dreadful Smile deform'dly grin.
Some stamp their cloven Paws; fome frown, and tear
The gaping Snakes from their black knotted Hair;
As all the Grief and all the Rage of Hell
Were doubled now; or that juft now they fell. Cowl. Day.
Ah! never let it be, ye affembled Gods,
For ftill, we ftill th' unconquer'd Spirit fcel
Of that eternal Valour, when of old
Begirt with fhining Arms, and brighter Flames,
Against th' Omnipotent we daring fought.
'Tis true, we loft the Day, but not for Want
Of Valour, equal to the vaft Design:
Fortune gave him the Field; th'immortal Fame
Was ours of having made the brave Attempt:
Th'immortal Fame was ours, who ftill retain
That Fire invincible, with which we fought
And dar'd what never Angels durft before. Den. Taffo.
So, now we are our felves again: an Hoft,
Fit to tempt Fate once more, for what we loft;
To o'erleap th' Etherial Fence; or, if fo high
We cannot climb, to undermine his Sky,
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