Less than Arch-Angel ruin'd, and th' excess
Of glory' obfcur'd; as when the fun new rifen
Looks through the horizontal misty air
Shorn of his beams, or from behind the moon
In dim eclipse disastrous twilight sheds
On half the nations, and with fear of change
Perplexes monarchs. Darken'd fo, yet fhone
Above them all th' Arch-Angel: but his face
Deep fears of thunder had intrench'd, and care
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows
Of dauntless courage, and confiderate pride
Waiting revenge: cruel his eye, but caft
Signs of remorfe and paffion to behold
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather
(Far other once beheld in blifs) condemn'd
For ever now to have their lot in pain,
Millions of Spirits for his fault amerc’d
Of Heav'n, and from eternal fplendors flung
For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood,
Their glory wither'd: as when Heaven's fire
Hath feath'd the foreft oaks, or mountain pines,
With finged top their stately growth though bare
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepar'd
To speak; whereat their doubled ranks they bend
From wing to wing, and half inclose him round
With all his peers: attention held them mute.
Thrice he affay'd, and thrice in spite of fcorn
Tears, fuch as Angels weep, burft forth: at last
Words interwove with fighs found out their way.
O Myriads of immortal Spi'rits, O Powers
Matchlefs, but with th' Almighty, and that ftrife
Was not inglorious, though th' event was dire,
As this place teftifies, and this dire change
Hateful to utter: but what pow'r of mind
Foreseeing or prefaging, from the depth
Of knowledge paft or prefent, could have fear'd,
How fuch united force of Gods, how fuch
As ftood like thefe, could ever know repulse?
For who can yet believe, though after lofs,
That all these puiffant legions, whofe exile
Hath emptied Heav'n, fhall fail to re-afcend
Self-rais'd, and repoffefs their native seat ?
For me be witness all the host of Heaven,
If counfels different, or danger shunn'd
By me, have loft our hopes. But he who reigns
Monarch in Heav'n, till then as one fecure
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute,
Confent or custom, and his regal state
Put forth at full, but still his ftrength conceal'd,
Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.
Henceforth his might we know, and know our own,
So as not either to provoke, or dread
New war, provok'd; our better part remains
To work in close defign, by fraud or guile,
What force effected not: that he no less
At length from us may find, who overcomes
By force, hath overcome but half his foe.
Space may produce new worlds; whereof so rife
There went a fame in Heav'n that he ere long
Intended to create, and therein plant
A generation, whom his choice regard
Should favor equal to the fons of Heaven:
Thither, if but to pry, fhall be perhaps
Our firft eruption, thither or elsewhere:
For this infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial Spirits in bondage, nor th' abyfs
Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts
Full counfel muft mature: Peace is despair'd,
For who can think fubmiffion? War then, War
Open or understood must be refolv'd.
He fpake: and to confirm his words, out-flew Millions of flaming fwords, drawn from the thighs Of mighty Cherubim; the fudden blaze
Far round illumin'd Hell: highly they rag'd
Against the High'eft, and fierce with grafped arms
Clafh'd on their founding fhields the din of war,
Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heaven.
There ftood a hill not far, whofe grifly top
Belch'd fire and rolling fmoke; the reft entire
Shone with a gloffy fcurf, undoubted fign
That in his womb was hid metallic ore,
The work of fulphur. Thither wing'd with speed
A numerous brigad haften'd: as when bands
Of pioneers with fpade and pickax arm'd
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field,
Or caft a rampart. Mammon led them on,
Mammon, the least erected Spi'rit that fell
From Heav'n, for e'en in Heav'n his looks and thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more
The riches of Heav'n's pavement, trodden gold,
Better to reign in Hell, than ferve in Heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th' affociates and copartners of our lofs,
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 lost 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 fo oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battel when it rag'd, in all affaults
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, aftounded and amaz'd,
No wonder, fall'n fuch a pernicious highth.
He fearce had ceas'd when the fuperior Fiend
Was moving tow'ard the fhore; his pond'rous fhield,
Ethereal temper, maffy, large and round,
Behind him caft; the broad circumference
Hung on his fhoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glafs the Tufcan artist views
At evening from the top of Fefolé,
Or in Valdarno, to defery new lands,
Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe.
His fpear, to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
of fome great ammiral, were but a wand,
He walk'd with to fupport uneasy steps
Over the burning marle, not like those steps.
On Heaven's azure, and the torrid clime
Smote on him fore besides, 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 strow the brooks
In Vallombrofa, where th' Etrurian fhades
High over-arch'd imbow'r; or fcatter'd fedge
Aflote, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd
Hath yex'd the Red-Sea coaft, whofe waves o'erthrew
Bufiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued
The fojourners of Goshen, 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 ease you find
To flumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?
Or in this abject pofture have ye fworn
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