Yielded with full confent. The happier state In Heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place expofes Foremost to stand against the Thund'rer's aim Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share Of endless pain? where there is then no good For which to ftrive, no ftrife can grow up there From faction; for none fure will clame in Hell Precedence, none, whofe portion is fo fmall Of prefent 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 Heav'n, we now return To clame our juft inheritance of old, Surer to profper than profperity
Could have affur'd us; and by what best way, Whether of open war or covert guile, We now debate; who can advise, may speak.
He ceas'd, and next him Moloch, fcepter'd king, Stood up, the strongest and the fierceft Spirit That fought in Heav'n, now fiercer by despair: His truft was with th' Eternal to be deem'd Equal in ftrength, and rather than be lefs iCar'd not to be at all; with that care loft
Went all his fear of God, or Hell, or worfe
He reck'd not, and thefe words thereafter fpake. My fentence is for open war: of wiles,
More unexpert, I boast not: them let thofe
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.
For while they fit contriving, fhall the reft, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, fit ling'ring here Heav'n'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,
Arm'd with Hell flames and fury, all at once O'er Heav'n's high tow'rs to force refiftless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when to meet the noise Of his almighty engin he shall hear Infernal thunder, and for lightning fee Black fire and horror fhot with equal rage Among his Angels, and his throne itself Mix'd with Tartarean fulphur, and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps The way feems difficult and steep to scale With upright wing against a higher foe. Let fuch bethink them, if the fleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumm not still, That in our proper motion we afcend Up to our native feat: defcent and fall To us is adverfe. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Infulting, and pursued us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We funk thus low? Th' afcent is easy then; Th' event is fear'd; fhould we again provoke Our stronger, fome worfe way his wrath may find
To our deftruction; if there be in Hell
Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse
Than to dwell here, driv'n out from blifs, condemn'd
In this abhorred deep to utter woe; Where pain of unextinguishable fire
Muft exercise us without hope of end The vaffals of his anger, when the fcourge Inexorably, and the torturing hour,
Calls us to penance? More deftroy'd than thus We fhould be quite abolish'd and expire. What fear we then? what doubt we to incenfe His utmost ire? which to the highth enrag'd, Will either quite confume us, and reduce To nothing this effential, happier far Than miferable to have eternal being: Or if our fubftance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this fide nothing; and by proof we feel Our pow'r fufficient to disturb his Heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, Though inacceffible, his fatal throne: Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Defp'rate revenge, and battel dangerous
To lefs than Gods. On th' other fide up rofe
Belial, in act more graceful and humane;
'A fairer perfon loft not Heav'n; he seem`d For dignity compos'd and high exploit: But all was falfe and hollow; though his tongue Dropt Manna, and could make the worse appear
The better reafon, to perplex and dafh Matureft counfels: for his thoughts were low; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds Timorous and flothful: yet he pleas'd the ear, And with perfuafive accent thus began.
I should be much for open war, O Peers, As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd Main reafon to perfuade immediate e war, Did not diffuade me moft, and seem to caft Ominous conjecture on the whole fuccefs; When he who moft excels in fact of arms, In what he counsels and in what excels Mistrustful, grounds his courage on defpair. And utter diffolution, as the fcope
Of all his aim, after fome dire revenge.
First, what revenge? the tow'rs of Heav'n are fill'd With armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable; oft on the bord'ring deep Incamp their legions, or with óbfcure wing Scout far and wide into the realm of night, Scorning furprise.. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all Hell should rife With blackeft infurrection, to confound Heav'n's purest light, yet our great enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted, and th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain would foon expel Her mifchief, and purge off the baser fire Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat defpair: we must exasperate
Th' almighty victor to spend all his rage,
And that muft end us, that must be our cure, To be no more; fad cure; for who would lofe, Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through eternity, To perish rather, fwallow'd up and loft
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of fenfe 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 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 counsel war, we are decreed, Referv'd, and deftin'd to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we fuffer 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 shelter us? this Hell then feem'd A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake? that sure was worse. What if the breath that kindled thofe grim fires, 170 Awak'd should blow them into fev'nfold rage,
And plunge us in the flames? or from above Should intermitted vengeance arm again
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