The fiery furge, that from the precipice Of Heav'n receiv'd us falling; and the thunder, Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. Let us not flip th' occafion, whether scorn, Or fatiate fury yield it from our foe.
Seeft thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild, The feat of defolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of thefe livid flames Cafts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend From off the toffing of these fiery waves, There rest, if any rest can harbour there, And re-affembling our afflicted Powers, Confult how we may henceforth most offend Our enemy, our own lofs how repair, How overcome this dire calamity, What reinforcement we may gain from hope, If not what refolution from despair.
Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts besides Prone on the flood, extended long and large Lay floting many a rood, in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monftrous fize, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove, Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarfus held, or that fea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works. Created hugeft that swim th' ocean stream:
Him haply flumb'ring on the Norway foam The pilot of fome small night-founder'd skiff Deeming fome iland, oft, as fea-men tell, With fixed anchor in his skaly rind
Moors by his fide under the lee, while night Invests the fea, and wished morn delays:
So ftretch'd out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay Chain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thence Had ris'n or heav'd his head, but that the will And high permiffion of all-ruling Heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs, That with reiterated crimes he might Heap on himself damnation, while he fought Evil to others, and enrag'd might fee How all his malice ferv'd but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace and mercy fhown On Man by him feduc'd, but on himself Treble confufion, wrath and vengeance pour'd. Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty ftature; on each hand the flames Driv'n backward flope their pointing spires, and roll'd In billows, leave i'th' midst a horrid vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air
That felt unusual weight, till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd With folid, as the lake with liquid fire; And fuch appear'd in hue, as when the force Of fubterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd fide
Of thund'ring Ætna, whose combustible
And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire, Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds, And leave a finged bottom all involv'd
With french and smoke: Such refting found the fole Of unbleft feet. Him follow'd his next mate, Both glorying to have 'fcap'd the Stygian flood As Gods, and by their own recover'd strength, Not by the fufferance of fupernal Power.
Is this the region, this the foil, the clime, Said then the loft Arch-Angel, this the feat That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom For that celestial light? Be' it fo, fince he
Who now is Sovran can dispose and bid
What fhall be right: fartheft from him is beft, Whom reas'on hath equal'd, force hath made fupreme
Above his equals. Farewell happy fields,
Where joy for ever dwells: Hail horrors, hail Infernal world, and thou profoundest Hell Receive thy new poffeffor; one who brings A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. What matter where, if I be ftill the fame, And what I should be, all but lefs than he Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at leaft We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell, than ferve in Heaven. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, Th' affociates and copartners of our loss, Lie thus aftonish'd on th' oblivious pool, And call them not to fhare with us their part In this unhappy manfion, or once more With rallied arms to try what may be yet Regain'd in Heav'n, or what more loft in Hell? So Satan fpake, and him Beëlzebub
Thus anfwer'd. 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 so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge Of battel when it rag'd, in all assaults Their fureft fignal, they will foon resume New courage and revive, though now they lie Groveling and proftrate on yon lake of fire, As we ere while, astounded and amaz'd, No wonder, fall'n fuch a pernicious highth. He scarce had ceas'd when the superior Fiend Was moving tow'ard the shore; his pond'rous fhield, Ethereal temper, maffy, large and round,
Behind him caft; the broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fefolé, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers or mountains in her fpotty globe. His fpear, to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, He walk'd with to fupport uneafy steps Over the burning marle, not like those steps On Heaven's azure, and the torrid clime Smote on him fore befides, vaulted with fire: Nathlefs he fo indur'd, till on the beach Of that inflamed fea he stood, and call'd His legions, Angel forms, who lay intranc'd Thick as autumnal leaves that ftrow the brooks In Vallombrofa, where th' Etrurian fhades High over-arch'd imbow'r; or scatter'd sedge Aflote, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd
Hath vex'd the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew Bufiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued The fojourners of Gofhen, who beheld From the fafe fhore their floting carcafes And broken chariot wheels: fo thick beftrown Abject and loft lay thefe, covering the flood, Under amazement of their hideous change. He call'd fo loud, that all the hollow deep Of Hell refounded. Princes, Potentates, Warriors, the flow'r of Heav'n, once your's, now loft, If fuch astonishment as this can feife
Eternal Spirits; or have ye chos'n this place
After the toil of battel to repofe
Your wearied virtue, for the eafe you find To flumber here, as in the vales of Heaven? Or in this abject pofture have ye fworn
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