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What, when we fled amain, purfu'd, and ftruck 165
With Heaven's afflicting thunder, and befought
The deep to fhelter us? this hell then feem'd
A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay
Chain'd on the burning lake? that fure was worse.
What if the breath that kindled thofe grim fires, 170
Awak'd, fhould blow them into fev'nfold 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 ftores were open'd, and this firmament
Of hell fhould fpout her cataracts of fire,
Impendent horrours, threat'ning hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps
Defigning or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempeft fhall be hurl'd
Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey
Of wracking whirlwinds; or for ever funk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;
There to converfe with everlasting groans,
Unrefpited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopelefs end? this would be worse.
War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice diffuades; for what can force or guile
With him, or who deceive his mind, whofe eye

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Views all things at one view? he from heav'n's height All these our motions vain fees, and derides;

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Not more almighty to refift our might

Than wife to frustrate all our plots and wiles.

Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heaven

Thus trampled, thus expell'd, to fuffer here

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Chains and these torments? Better these than worse,

By my advice; fince fate inevitable

Subdues us, and omnipotent decree,

The Victor's will. To fuffer, as to do,

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Our ftrength is equal, nor the law unjust
That fo ordains: this was at first refolv'd,
If we were wife, against fo great a foe
Contending, and fo doubtful what might fall.
I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold
And vent'rous, if that fail them, fhrink, and fear, 205
What yet they know muft follow, to endure
Exile, or ignominy', or bonds, or pain,
The fentence of their Conqu'ror: this is now
Our doom; which if we can fustain and bear,
Our fupreme foe in time may much remit
His anger; and perhaps thus far remov'd,
Not mind us not offending, fatisfy'd

With what is punish'd; whence thefe raging fires
Will flacken, if his breath ftir not their flames.

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Our purer effence then will overcome

Their noxious vapour; or inur'd, not feel;

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Or chang'd at length, and to the place conform'd

In temper, and in nature, will receive

Familiar the fierce heat; and, void of pain,

This horrour will grow mild, this darkness light; 220 Befides what hope the never-ending flight

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change

Worth waiting; fince our present lot appears

For happy, though but ill; for ill, not worst;
If we procure not to ourselves more woe.

Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reafon's garb
Counsel'd ignoble eafe, and peaceful floth,
Not peace and after him thus Mammon fpake.
Either to difinthrone the King of Heaven
We war, if war be best, or to regain
Our own right loft: him to unthrone we then
May hope, when everlasting Fate fhall yield
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the ftrife:
The former vain to hope, argues as vain

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The latter for what place can be for us
Within heav'n's bound, unless heav'n's Lord fupreme
We overpow'r ? Suppofe he should relent,
And publifh grace to all, on promise made
Of new fubjection; with what eyes could we
Stand in his prefence humble, and receive
Strict laws impos'd, to celebrate his throne
With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead fing
Forc'd hallelujah's; while he lordly fits
Our envied fovereign, and his altar breathes
Ambrofial odours and ambrofial flowers,

Our fervile offerings? This must be our task
In heaven, this our delight; how wearifome
Eternity fo spent in worship paid

To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue,
By force impoffible, by leave obtain❜d,
Unacceptable, though in heav'n, our ftate
Of splendid vaffalage; but rather feek

Our own good from ourselves, and from our own
Live to ourselves, though in this vaft recefs,
Free, and to none accountable, preferring

Hard liberty before the eafy yoke

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Of fervile pomp. Our greatnefs will appear
Then most confpicuous, when great things of small,
Ufeful of hurtful, profpe'rous of adverse

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We can create; and in what place foe'er
Thrive under ev'il, and work ease out of pain,
Through labour and endurance. This deep world
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick clouds and dark doth heav'n's all-ruling Sire
Chufe to refide, his glory unabfcur'd,

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And with the majesty of darkness round

Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar
Muft'ring their rage, and heaven refembles hell?
As he our darkness, cannot we his light

Imitate when we please? This defert foil
Wants not her hidden luftre, gems and gold:
Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raife.
Magnificence; and what can heav'n fhow more?
Our torments also may in length of time
Become our elements; these piercing fires
As foft as now fevere, our temper chang'd
Into their temper; which must needs remove
The fenfible of pain. All things invite
To peaceful counfels, and the fettled ftate
Of order, how in safety best we may
Compose our prefent evils, with regard
Of what we are, and where; difmifling quite
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advife.

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He fcarce had finifh'd, when fuch murmur fill'd
Th' affembly, as when hollow rocks retain.
The found of bluft'ring winds, which all night long
Had rous'd the fea, now with hoarfe cadence lull
Seafaring men o'erwatch'd, whofe bark by chance,
Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay

After the tempeft: fuch applaufe was heard
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleas'd,
Advifing peace for fuch another field

They dreaded worse than hell: fo much the fear
Of thunder and the fword of Michaël

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Wrought ftill within them; and no lefs defire

295

To found this nether empire, which might rife,

By policy, and long procéfs of time,

In emulation oppofite to heaven.

Which when Beelzebub perceiv'd, than whom,
Satan except, none higher fat, with grave

Aspéct he rose, and in his rifing feem'd

A pillar of ftate; deep on his front ingraven
Deliberation fat, and public care;

And princely counfel in his face yet fhone,

300

Majestic though in ruin: fage he stood
With Atlantean fhoulders fit to bear

309

The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
Drew audience and attention ftill as night,
Or fummer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake.
Thrones and imperial powers, offspring of heaven,
Ethereal virtues; or thefe titles now

Must we renounce, and, changing style, be call'd
Princes of hell? for fo the popular vote

Inclines, here to continue', and build up here

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A growing empire; doubtlefs, while we dream, 315 And know not that the King of heav'n hath doom'd This place our dungeon; not our safe retreat

Beyond his potent arm, to live

exempt

From Heaven's high jurifdiction, in new league
Banded against his throne; but to remain
In ftricteft bondage, though thus far remov'd,
Under th' inevitable curb, referv'd

His captive multitude: for he, be fure,

In height or depth, still first and last will reign
Sole king, and of his kingdom lofe no part

By our revolt; but over hell extend
His empire, and with iron fceptre rule
Us here, as with his golden those in heaven.
What fit we then projecting peace and war?

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War hath determin'd us, and foil'd with lofs

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Irreparable; terms of peace yet none

Vouchfaf'd or fought; for what peace will be given To us inflav'd, but cuftody fevere,

And ftripes, and arbitrary punishment

Inflicted? and what peace can we return,
But, to our power, hoftility and hate,
Untam'd reluctance, and revenge, though flow,
Yet ever plotting how the Conqu❜ror least
May reap his conqueft, and may leaft rejoice

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