Th' almighty victor to spend all his rage,
And that must end us, that must be our cure,
To be no more; fad cure! for who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of fenfe and motion? and who knows,
Let this be good, whether our angry
Can give it, or will ever? how he can,
Is doubtful; that he never will, is fure.
Will he, fo wife, let loose at once his ire,
Belike through impotence, or unaware,
To give his enemies their wish, and end
Them in his anger, whom his anger faves
To punish endless? Wherefore cease we then?
Say they who counfel war, we are decreed,
Referv'd, and deftin'd to eternal woe;
Whatever doing, what can we suffer more,
What can we fuffer worfe? Is this then worst,
Thus fitting, thus confulting, thus in arms?
What when we fled amain, pursued and struck
With Heav'n's afflicting thunder, and befought
The deep to fhelter us? this Hell then feem'd
A refuge from thofe wounds: or when we lay
Chain'd on the burning lake? that sure was worse.
What if the breath that kindled those 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 should spout her cataracts of fire,
Impendent horrors, threatning hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps
Designing or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempeft fhall be hurl'd
Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever funk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrefpited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopeless 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
Views all things at one view? he from Heav'n's highth All these our motions vain fees and derides;
Not more almighty to refift our might
Than wife to fruftrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heaven
Thus trampled, thus expell'd to fuffer here
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,
Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust
That fo ordains: this was at firft refolv'd,
If we were wife, against so great a foe
Contending, and fo doubtful what might fall.
I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold
And ventrous, if that fail them, fhrink and fear
What yet they know muft follow, to indure
Exile, or ignominy', or bonds, or pain,
The fentence of their conqu'ror: this is now
Our doom; which if we can fuftain 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.
Our purer effence then will overcome
Their noxious vapor, or inur'd not feel,
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 horror will grow mild, this darkness light:
Befides what hope the never-ending flight
Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, fince our prefent 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 reason's garb
Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth,
Not peace and after him thus Mammon spake.
Either to difinthrone the king of Heaven
We war, if war be beft, or to regain
Our own right loft: him to unthrone we then
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife:
The former vain to hope argues as vain
The latter: for what place can be for us
Within Heav'n's bound, unless Heav'n's Lord fupreme
We overpow'r? Suppose he should relent,
And publish 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 Hallelujahs; while he lordly fits
Our envied sovran, and his altar breathes
Ambrofial odors and ambrofial flowers,
Our fervile offerings? This must be our task
In Heav'n, this our delight; how wearisome
Eternity so 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 state
Of fplendid vaffalage; but rather feek
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 fervile pomp. Our greatnefs will appear
Then moft confpicuous, when great things of small,
Useful of hurtful, profp'rous of adverse
We can create, and in what place foe'er
Thrive under ev'il, and work ease out of pain
Through labor and indurance. This deep world
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick clouds and dark doth Heav'n's all-ruling Sire Choose to refide, his glory unobfcur'd,
And with the majesty of darkness round
Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar
Muft'ring their rage, and Heav'n refembles Hell?
As he our darkness, cannot we his light
Imitate when we please? This desert soil
Wants not her hidden luftre, gems and gold;
Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise
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, difmiffing quite
All thoughts of war.-Ye have what I advise.
He scarce 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 hoarse cadence lull
Sea-faring men o'er-watch'd, whofe bark by chance
Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay
After the tempeft: Such applaufe was heard
As Mammon ended, and his fentence pleas'd,
Advifing peace for fuch another field
They dreaded worse than Hell: fo much the fear
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