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 shall 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 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 wise 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 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 so doubtful what might fall.
I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold
And ventrous, if that fail them, fhrink and fear 295 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 remoy'd Not mind us not offending, fatisfy'd
With what is punish'd; whence these 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, 220 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 ourfelyes more woe.
Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reafon's garb Counfel'd ignoble cafe, and peaceful floth, 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 everlafting Fate fhall 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, unlefs Heav'n's Lord fupreme We overpow'r? Suppofe he should relent, And publish grace to all, on promife 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 fovran, and his altar breathes Ambrofial odors and ambrofial flowers, Our fervile offerings? This must be our task In Heav'n, this our delight; how wearifome Eternity fo fpent 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 vaft recefs,
Free, and to none accountable, preferring
Hard liberty before the eafy yoke
Of fervile pomp. Our greatnefs will appear Then moft confpicuous, when great things of small, Ufeful of hurtful, profp'rous of adverse
We can create, and in what place fo e'er Thrive under ev'il, and work cafe 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 unobscur'd,
And with the majesty of darkness round
Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar Muft'ring their rage, and Heav'n resembles 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 raise Magnificence; and what can Heav'n fhow more? Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, thefe piercing fires As foft as now fevere, our temper chang'd Into their temper; which muft needs remove The fenfible of pain. All things invite To peaceful counfels, and the settled state Of order, how in safety best we may Compose our present evils, with regard Of what we are and where, difmiffing quite All thoughts of war: ye have what I advise.
He fcarce had finish'd, when fuch murmur fill'd Th' affembly, as when hollow rocks retain 285 The found of bluft'ring winds, which all night long Had rous'd the fea, now with hoarfe cadence lull Sea-fearing men o'er-watch'd, whose bark by chance Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay
After the tempeft: Such applause was heard
As Mammon ended, and his fentence pleas'd,
Advifing peace: for fuch another field
They dreaded worfe than Hell: fo much the fear
Of thunder and the fword of Michaël
Wrought ftill within them; and no lefs defire To found this nether empire, which might rife By policy, and long procéís of time,
In emulation oppofite to Heaven.
Which when Beelzebub perceiv'd, than whom, Satan except, none higher fat, with grave Afpéct he rofe, and in his rifing feem'd A pillar of state; deep on his front ingraven Deliberation fat and public care;
And princely counfel in his face yet fhone, Majeftic though in ruin: fage he ftood With Atlantéan fhoulders fit to bear
The weight of mightieft monarchies; his look Drew audience and attention still as night
Or fummer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake.
Thrones and Imperial Pow`rs, Offspring of Heaven, Ethereal Virtues; or thefe titles now
Muft we renounce, and changing stile be call'd Princes of Hell? for fo the popular vote
Inclines, here to continue', and build up here A growing empire; doubtlefs; while we dream, 3*5 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 Heav'n's high jurifdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain In ftri&teft bondage, though thus far remov'd Under th' inevitable curb, referv'd
His captive multitude; for he, be fure,
« ՆախորդըՇարունակել » |