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 sleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake benum not still,
That in our proper motion we afcend

Up to our native feat: defcent and fall

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To us is adverse. 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 worse way his wrath may find
To our destruction; if there be in Hell

80

Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse 85 Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorred deep to utter woe;

Where pain of unextinguishable fire

Must exercise us without hope of end,
The vaffals of his anger, when the scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing hour

Calls us to penance? More destroy'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

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To nothing this effential, happier far
Than miferable to have eternal being:
Or if our fubftance be indeed divine,
And cannot ceafe to be, we are at worst

On this fide nothing; and by proof we feel
Our pow'r fufficient to disturb his Heav'n,
And with perpetual inroads to alarm,
Though inacceffible, his fatal throne:
Which if not victory is yet revenge.

rofe

He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Defp'rate revenge, and battel dangerous
To less than gods. On th' other side up
Belial, in act more graceful and humane;
A fairer perfon loft not Heav'n; he feem'd
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:
But all was falfe and hollow; though his tongue
Dropt manna, and could make the worfe appear
The better reafon, to perplex and dash

Maturest counfels: for his thoughts were low; 115
To vice induftrious, but to nobler deeds
Timorous and flothful: yet he pleas'd the ear,
And with persuasive accent thus began.

I fhould be much for open war, O Peers,
As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd
Main reafon to perfuade immediate war,
Did not diffuade me most, and seem to caft
Ominous conjecture on the whole fuccefs:
When he who most excels in fact of arms,

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In what he counsels and in what excels
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair
And utter diffolution, as the scope

Of all his aim, after fome dire revenge.

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140

First, what revenge? the towers 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 blackest infurrection, to confound Heav'n's pureft light, yet our great Enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted, and th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain, would soon expel Her mischief, 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 must end us, that must be our curė, To be no more; fad cure; for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual be’ing, 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 cur angry Fee

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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 destin'd to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we fuffer worse? Is this then worst, Thus fitting, thus confulting, thus in arms? What when we fled amain, pursu'd and struck 165 With Heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought 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 fure was worse. What if the breath that kindled those grim fires, 170 Awak'd should blow them into fev'n-fold 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, threat'ning hideous fall One day upon our heads; while we perhaps Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurl’d T'olume I.

K

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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 worfe.
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, whose eye

Views all things at one view? he from Heav'n's highth

All these our motions vain fees and derides;

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Not more almighty to refift our might

Than wife to frustrate all our plots and wiles.

Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heaven

Thus trampled, thus expell'd to fuffer here

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Chains and these torments? better these than worse

By my advice; fince fate inevitable

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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 first resolv'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, shrink and fear 203
What yet they know must follow, to endure
Exile, or ignominy', or bonds, or pain,
The fentence of their conqu'ror: this is now