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Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled
Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapped in chains,
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,

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Belial urges the omnipotence of God, and advocates

submission

185 and hopeful

Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse.
War, therefore, open or concealed, alike
My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile
With Him, or who deceive His mind, whose eye
Views all things at one view! He from Heaven's
highth

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All these our motions vain sees and derides,
Not more almighty to resist our might
Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heaven
Thus trampled, thus expelled, to suffer here
Chains and these torments? Better these than

worse,

By my advice; since fate inevitable

Subdues us, and omnipotent decree,

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The Victor's will. To suffer, as to do,
Our strength is equal; nor the law unjust
That so ordains. This was at first resolved,
If we were wise, against so great a Foe
Contending, and so doubtful what might fall.
I laugh, when those who at the spear are bold
And venturous, if that fail them, shrink, and

fear

What yet they know must follow

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to endure

Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,

The sentence of their Conqueror. This is now

waiting.

Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,
Our Supreme Foe in time may much remit
His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed,
Not mind us not offending, satisfied

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With what is punished; whence these raging fires Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames.

Our purer essence then will overcome

Their noxious vapor; or, inured, not feel;

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Or, changed at length, and to the place conformed In temper and in nature, will receive

Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain;

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light; 220 Besides what hope the never-ending flight

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change

Worth waiting - since our present lot appears
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,

If we procure not to ourselves more woe.'

225

Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason's

garb,

Counseled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth,
Not

peace; and after him thus Mammon spake :Either to disenthrone the King of Heaven We war, if war be best, or to regain

Our own right lost. Him to unthrone we then
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall 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

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Within Heaven's bound, unless Heaven's Lord

Supreme

We overpower? Suppose He should relent,

And publish grace to all, on promise made
Of new subjection; with what eyes could we
Stand in His presence humble, and receive
Strict laws imposed, to celebrate His throne
With warbled hymns, and to His Godhead sing
Forced halleluiahs, while He lordly sits

Our envied Sovran, and His altar breathes
Ambrosial odors and ambrosial flowers,
Our servile offerings? This must be our task
In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome
Eternity so spent, in worship paid

To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue
By force impossible, by leave obtained
Unacceptable - though in Heaven, our state
Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek

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Our own good from ourselves, and from our own
Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess,
Free, and to none accountable, preferring
Hard liberty before the easy yoke

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Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small,
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse,

We can create, and in what place soe'er
Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain,

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Mammon

counsels independence,

organization,

and content

Through labor and endurance. This deep world
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven's all-ruling their lot.

Sire

Choose to reside, His glory unobscured,

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ment with

And with the majesty of darkness round

Covers His throne, from whence deep thunders

roar,

Mammon's speech

applauded.

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Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell!
As He our darkness, cannot we His light
Imitate when we please? This desert soil
Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold;
Nor want we skill or art from whence to raise
Magnificence; and what can Heaven show more?
Our torments also may in length of time
Become our elements, these piercing fires
As soft as now severe, our temper changed
Into their temper; which must needs remove
The sensible of pain. All things invite
To peaceful counsels, and the settled state
Of order, how in safety best we may
Compose our present evils, with regard
Of what we are, and where, dismissing quite
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.'
He scarce had finished, when such murmur

filled

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The assembly, as when hollow rocks retain
The sound of blustering winds, which all night lỏng
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull
Seafaring men o'erwatched, whose bark by chance,
Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay

After the tempest. Such applause was heard 290
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased,
Advising peace for such another field

They dreaded worse than Hell; so much the fear
Of thunder and the sword of Michaël

Wrought still within them; and no less desire 295
To found this nether empire, which might rise,
By policy and long process of time,

In emulation opposite to Heaven.

Which when Beelzebub perceived

than whom,

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Satan except, none higher sat — with grave
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed
A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven
Deliberation sat, and public care;

And princely counsel in his face yet shone,
Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood,
With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
Drew audience and attention still as night
Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake :
Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of
Heaven,

Ethereal Virtues! or these titles now

Description of

305 Beelzebub.

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Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called
Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote
Inclines, here to continue, and build up here

A growing empire; doubtless! while we dream, 315
And know not that the King of Heaven hath
doomed

This place our dungeon not our safe retreat
Beyond His potent arm, to live exempt
From Heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league
Banded against His throne, but to remain
In strictest bondage, though thus far removed,
Under the inevitable curb reserved

His captive multitude. For He, be sure,

In highth or depth, still first and last will reign
Sole King, and of His kingdom lose no part
By our revolt, but over Hell extend

His empire, and with iron sceptre rule

Us here, as with His golden those in Heaven.

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