With warbled hymns, and to His Godhead sing Forced hallelujahs, while He lordly sits Our envied Sovereign, and His altar breathes Ambrosial odors and ambrosial flowers,
Our servile offerings? This must be our task In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome Eternity so spent, in worship paid
To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue By force impossible, by leave obtained
Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state
Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, Free, and to none accountable, preferring
Hard liberty before the easy yoke
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear Then most conspicuous when great things of small, Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse,
We can create; and in what place soe'er Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain, Through labor and endurance. This deep world Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven's all-ruling Sire Choose to reside, His glory unobscured, And with the majesty of darkness round Covers His throne; from whence deep thunders roar, Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell? As He our darkness, cannot we His light Imitate, when we please? This desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold; Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence; and what can Heaven show more? Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements; these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper; which must needs remove
The sensible of pain. All things invite To peaceful counsels, and the settled state Of order, how in safety best we may Compose our present evils, with regard Of what we are, and where, dismissing quite All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.
He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled The assembly, as when hollow rocks retain The sound of blustering winds, which all night long Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull Seafaring men o'erwatched, whose bark by chance Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay After the tempest, such applause was heard As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased, Advising peace. For such another field They dreaded worse than Hell, so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michaël
Wrought still within them. And no less desire To found this nether empire, which might rise By policy, and long process of time, In emulation opposite to Heaven. Which when Beëlzebub perceived, than whom, Satan except, none higher sat, with grave Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven Deliberation sat, and public care;
And princely counsel in his face yet shone, Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear The weight of mightiest monarchies. His look Drew audience and attention still as night Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake:
Thrones, and imperial powers, offspring of Heaven, Ethereal virtues! or these titles now Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called Princes of Hell? For so the popular vote
Inclines, here to continue, and build up here
A growing empire. Doubtless, while we dream,
And know not that the King of Heaven hath doomed
This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat
Beyond His potent arm, to live exempt
From Heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league
Banded against His throne, but to remain
In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, Under the inevitable curb reserved,
His captive multitude: for he, be sure,
In height or depth, still first and last will reign Sole king and of His kingdom lose no part By our revolt, but over Hell extend His empire, and with iron scepter rule
Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven. What sit we then projecting peace and war? War hath determined us, and foiled with loss Irreparable; terms of peace yet none
Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be given To us enslaved, but custody severe, And stripes, and arbitrary punishment, Inflicted? and what peace can we return, But to our power hostility and hate, Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow, Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice In doing what we most in suffering feel? Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need With dangerous expedition to invade Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, Or ambush from the deep. What if we find Some easier enterprise? There is a place— If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven Err not, another world, the happy seat Of some new race, called Man, about this time To be created like to us, though less
In power and excellence, but favored more Of Him who rules above. So was His will Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath, That shook Heaven's whole circumference, confirmed. Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn What creatures there inhabit, of what mold Or substance, how endued, and what their power, And where their weakness, how attempted best, By force or subtlety. Though Heaven be shut, And Heaven's high Arbitrator sit secure In His own strength, this place may lie exposed, The utmost border of His kingdom, left To their defense who hold it. Here perhaps Some advantageous act may be achieved By sudden onset, either with hell-fire
To waste His whole creation, or possess All as our own, and drive, as we were driven, The puny habitants. Or, if not drive, Seduce them to our party, that their God May prove their foe, and with repenting hand Abolish His own works. This would surpass Common revenge, and interrupt His joy In our confusion, and our joy upraise In His disturbance; when His darling. sons, Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse Their frail original, and faded bliss, Faded so soon. Advise, if this be worth Attempting, or to sit in darkness here Hatching vain empires. Thus Beëlzebub Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devised By Satan, and in part proposed. For whence, But from the author of all ill, could spring So deep a malice, to confound the race Of mankind in one root, and earth with Hell To mingle and involve, done all to spite
The great Creator? But their spite still serves
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