For that warning voice, which he, who faw
The Apocalyps, heard cry in Heav'n aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to fecond rout,
Came furious down to be reveng'd on men,
Wo to the inhabitants on Earth! that now,
While time was, our firft-Parents had been warn'd
The coming of their fecret foe, and fcap'd
Haply fo fcaped his mortal fnare; for now
Satan, now firft in flam'd with rage, came down,
The Tempter e'erth Accufer of mankind,
To wreck on innocent frail Man his lofs
Of that first Bartel, and his flight to Hell:
Yet not rejoyeing in his fpeed, though bold,
Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,
Begins his dire attempt, which nigh the birth
Now rowling, boiles in his tumultuous breft,
And like a devillifh Engine back recoiles
Upon himself horror and doubt diftract
His troubl'd thoughts; and from the bottom ftir
The Hell within him; for within him Hell
He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell
One ftep no more than from himself can fly
By change of place: Now confcience wakes despair
That flumber'd, wakes the bitter memorie
Of what he was, what is, and what must be
Worfe; of worfe deeds worfe fufferings muft enfue.
Sometimes towards Eden which now in his view
Lay pleasant, his griev'd look he fixes fad,
Sometimes towards Heav'n and the full blazing Sun,
Which now fat high in his Meridian Towre:
Then much revolving, thus in fighs began.
O thou that with furpaffing Glory crown'd, Look'ft from thy Sole Dominion like the God Of this new World; at whofe fight all the Stars
Hide their diminisht heads: to Thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name
O Sun, to tell thee how I Hate thy beams
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy Sphere;
Till Pride and worfe Ambition threw me down
Warring in Heav'n against Heav'ns matchlefs King.
Ah wherefore! he deferv'd no fuch return
From me, whom he created what I was
In that bright eminence, and with his good:
Upbraided none; nor was his fervice Hard.
What could be less than to afford him Praise,
The easiest recompence, and pay him Thanks,
How due! yet all his good prov'd ill in me,
And wrought but malice; lifted up so high
I'fdeind fubjection, and thought one step higher,
Would fet me highest, and in a moment quit,
The debt immense of endless gratitude,
So burthenfome ftill paying, ftill to owe;
Forgetful what from him I ftill receiv'd,
And understood not that a grateful mind
By owing owes not, but ftill pays, at once
Indebted and discharg'd; what burden then?
O had his powerful Destiny ordain'd
Me fome inferior Angel, I had ftood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd
Ambition. Yet why not? fome other Power
As great might have afpir'd, and me though mean
Drawn to his part: But other Powers as great
Fell not, but ftand unfhaken, from within
Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
Hadft thou the fame free Will and Power to stand?
Thou hadft: whom haft thou then or what to accufe,
But Heav'ns free Love dealt equally to all?
Bethen his Love accurft, fince love or hate,
To me alike, it deals eternal woe.
Nay curft be thou; fince against his thy will
Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miferable! which way fhall I flie
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I flie is Hell; my self am Hell;
And in the Loweft deep a Lower deep
Still threatning to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I fuffer feems a Heaven.
O then at last relent. Is there no place
Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left?
None left but by Submiffion; and that word
Difdain forbids me, and my dread of Shame
Among the spirits beneath, whom I feduc'd
With Other promises and Other vaunts
Than to Submit, boafting I could fubdue
Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know
How dearly I abide that Boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan ;
While they Adore me on the Throne of Hell.
With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd.
The lower ftill I fall, only fupream
In mifery; fuch joy Ambition finds.
But fay I could repent, and could obtain
By A&t of Grace my Former ftate; how foon
Would heighth recal high thoughts, how soon unfay What Fieign'd fubmiffion swore: Eafe would recant 96 Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
For never can True reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd fo Deep,
Which would but lead me to a Worfe relapse
And Heavier fall; fo fhould I purchase dear
Short intermiffion bought with double fmart.
This knows my Punisher; therefore as far
From Granting he, as I from Begging peace.
All hope excluded thus, behold instead
Of Us out-caft, exil'd, his New delight,
Mankind created, and for him this World.
So farewel Hope, and with Hope farewel Fear,
Farewel Remorfe: all Good to me is loft:
Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least
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