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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

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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.

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I laugh,

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;

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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:

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The

The former vain to hope argues as vain

The latter for what place can be for us

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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As Mammon ended, and his fentence pleas'd,

Advifing peace: for fuch another field

They dreaded worfe than Hell: fo much the fear

of

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.

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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,

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