For while they fit contriving, shall the rest,
Millions that stand in Arms, and longing wait
The Signal to afcend, fit lingring here
Heav'ns fugitives, and for thir 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're Heav'ns high Towrs to force refistless 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 it self
Mixt with Tartarean Sulphur, and strange fire,
His own invented Torments. But perhaps
The way seems difficult and steep to scale
With upright wing against a higher foe.
Let fuch bethink them, if the fleepy drench
Of that forgetful Lake benumme not still,
That in our proper motion we afcend
Up to our native feat: descent and fall
To us is adverfe. Who but felt of late
When the fierce Foe hung on our brok'n Rear
Insulting, and pursu'd us through the Deep,
With what compulfion and laborious flight
We funk thus low? Th' ascent is easie then;
Th' event is fear'd; fhould we again provoke
Our stronger, fome worse way his wrath
To our deftruction: if there be in Hell
Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse
Then 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 Scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing houre
Calls us to Penance? More destroy'd then thus
We should be quite abolisht 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 farr
Then 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 power fufficient to disturb his Heav'n,
And with perpetual inrodes to Allarme,
Though inacceffible, his fatal Throne:
Which if not Victory is yet Revenge.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Desperate revenge, and Battel dangerous
To lefs then Gods. On th' other fide
Belial, in act more graceful and humane;
A fairer person loft not Heav'n; he seemd
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 reason, to perplex and dash
Matureft Counfels: for his thoughts were low;
To vice industrious, but to Nobler deeds
Timorous and flothful: yet he pleas'd the eare,
And with perfwafive accent thus began.
I should be much for open Warr, O Peers,
As not behind in hate; if what was urg'd
Main reason to perfwade immediate Warr,
Did not diffwade me most, and seem to caft
Ominous conjecture on the whole fuccefs;
When he who most excels in fact of Arms,
In what he counfels and in what excels
Miftrustful, grounds his courage on despair
And utter diffolution, as the scope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.
First, what Revenge? the Towrs of Heav'n are fill'd
With Armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable; oft on the bordering Deep
Encamp thir Legions, or with obfcure wing
Scout farr and wide into the Realm of night,
Scorning furprize. Or could we break our way
By force, and at our heels all Hell fhould rife
With blackest Infurrection, to confound
Heav'ns pureft Light, yet our great Enemie
All incorruptible would on his Throne
Sit unpolluted, and th' Ethereal mould
Incapable of stain would foon expel
Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
Is flat despair; we must exasperate
Th' Almighty Victor to spend all his rage,
And that must end us, that must be our cure,
To be no more; fad cure; for who would loose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through Eternity,
To perish rather, fwallowd up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of sense 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 thir wish, and end
Them in his anger, whom his
whom his anger faves
To punish endless? wherefore cease we then?
Say they who counsel Warr, we are decreed,
Referv'd and deftin'd to Eternal woe;
Whatever doing, what can we fuffer more,
What can we fuffer worse? is this then worst,
Thus fitting, thus confulting, thus in Arms?
What when we fled amain, purfu'd and strook
With Heav'ns afflicting Thunder, and befought
The Deep to fhelter 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 kindl'd thofe grim fires
Awak'd should blow them into sevenfold rage 171
And plunge us in the Flames? or from above
Should intermitted vengeance Arme again
His red right hand to plague us? what if all
Her stores were op'n'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 Warr,
Caught in a fierie Tempest shall be hurl'd
Each on his rock transfixt, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk
Under
yon boyling Ocean, wrapt in Chains ;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrefpited, unpitied, unrepreevd,
Ages of hopeless end; this would be worse.
Warr therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice diffwades; for what can force or guile
With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye
Views all things at one view? he from heav'ns highth
All these our motions vain, sees and derides; 191
Not more Almighty to resist our might
Then wife to frustrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heav'n
Thus trampl'd, thus expell'd to suffer here
Chains & these Torments? better these then worse
By my advice; fince fate inevitable
Subdues us, and Omnipotent Decree
The Victors will. To fuffer, as to doe,
Our strength is equal, nor the Law unjust
That fo ordains: this was at first refolv'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 vent'rous, if that fail them, fhrink and fear
What yet they know must follow, to endure
Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,
The sentence of thir Conquerour: This is now
Our doom; which if we can fuftain and bear,
Our Supream Foe in time may much remit
anger, and perhaps thus farr remov'd
Not mind us not offending, fatisfi'd
With what is punish't; whence these raging fires
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