Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue
Vain war with Heaven, and by success untaugnt His proud imaginations thus displayed.
Powers and dominions,' deities of Heaven, For since no deep within her gulf can hold Immortal vigour, though oppressed and fallen, I give not Heaven for lost. From this descent Celestial virtues rising, will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate. Me, though just right, and the fixed laws of Heaven, Did first create your leader, next free choice, With what besides, in council or in fight, Hath been achieved of merit, yet this loss, Thus far at least recovered, hath much more Established in a safe unenvied throne Yielded with full consent. The happier state In Heaven, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none sure will claim in Hell
custom used at the coronation of some kings in the east, of showering gold and precious stones upon their heads. And the same sort of metaphor is used in Shakespear, Ant. and Cleop. act. ii.
"I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail
Rich pearls upon thee."
And this pearl and gold is called "barbaric pearl and gold," after the manner of the Greeks and Romans, who accounted all other nations barbarous; as Virgil, Æn. ii. 504.
"Barbarico postes auro spoliisque superbi."
"Hinc ope barbarica variisque Antonius armis Victor ab aurora populis."-Newton.
2 He means that the higher in dignity any being was in heaven, the happier his state was; and that therefore inferiors might there envy superiors, because they were happier too.-Pearce.
Precedence; none, whose portion is so small Of present pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more. With this advantage then To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, More than can be in Heaven, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old, Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assured us; and by what best way, Whether of open war or covert guile,
We now debate: who can advise, may speak." He ceased; and next him Moloch, sceptred king, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in Heaven, now fiercer by despair: His trust was with the Eternal to be deemed Equal in strength, and rather than be less Cared not to be at all; with that care lost Went all his fear of God, or Hell, or worse, He reck'd not, and these words thereafter spake. My sentence is for open war: of wiles,
More inexpert, I boast not: them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here Heaven's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny, who reigns By our delay? No, let us rather choose, Armed with Hell's flames and fury, all at once O'er Heaven's high towers to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engine he shall hear Infernal thunder, and for lightning see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels, and his throne itself, Mixed with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire, His own invented torments. But, perhaps,
Whose portion is so small
Of present pain that with ambitious mind He'll covet more? With."-Bentley.
The way seems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumn not still, That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then, The event is feared: should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find To our destruction; if there be in hell
Fear to be worse destroyed: what can be worse Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemned In this abhorréd deep to utter woe;
Where pain of unextinguishable fire
Must exercise1 us without hope of end,
The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorable, and the torturing hour,
Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus We should be quite abolished and expire. What fear we, then? what doubt we to incense His utmost ire? which, to the height enraged, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential (happier far 3 Than miserable to have eternal being): Or if our substance bé indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne: Which, if not victory, is yet revenge." He ended frowning, and his look denounced Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous To less than gods. On the other side up rose
2 Or, perhaps, " vessels," from Rom. ix. 22.-Bentley. 3 Cf. Matt. xxvi. 24. Mark xiv. 21.
i. e. his throne upheld by fate.
Belial, in act more graceful and humane; A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seemed For dignity composed and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropped manna,' and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash Maturest counsels, for his thoughts were low; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds Timorous and slothful; yet he pleased the ear, And with persuasive accent thus began.
"I should be much for open war, O peers, As not behind in hate; if what was urged Main reason to persuade immediate war, Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success; When he who most excels in fact of arms,3 In what he counsels and in what excels Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair And utter dissolution, as the scope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.
First, what revenge? The towers of Heaven are filled With arméd 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 surprise. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise With blackest insurrection, to confound Heaven's purest light, yet our great enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted, and the ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope Is flat despair; we must exasperate The Almighty Victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us; that must be our cure,
1 So, Shakspeare, Merchant of Venice, act v.
"Fair ladie, you drop manna in the way
2 This was the well known profession of the Sophists, ròv λóyov τὸν ἤττω κρείττω ποιεῖν.
To be no more-sad cure! for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night, Devoid of sense 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 sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence,1 or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger, whom his anger saves To punish endless? Wherefore cease we then? Say they who counsel war, we are decreed, Reserved, and destined to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse? Is this then worst, Thus fitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What when we fled amain, pursued and struck With Heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? this Hell then seemed A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay Chained on the burning lake? that sure was worse, What if the breath 2 that kindled those grim fires, Awaked should blow them into sevenfold 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 stores were opened, and this firmament Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we, perhaps, Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurled Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,
1 i. e. weakness of mind, want of self-restraint.
3" Et rubenti dextera sacras jaculatus arces."-Hor. Od. 1. 2
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