The Vaffals of his anger, when the Scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing hour
Calls us to Penance? More deftroy'd than thus
We should be quite abolish'd and expire.
What fear we then? what doubt we to incenfe
His utmoft Ire? which to the heighth enrag'd,
Will either quite confume us, and reduce
To nothing this effential, happier far
Than 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 allarm,
Though inacceffible, his fatal Throne:
Which, if not Victory, is yet Revenge.

rofe

He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd Desperate revenge, and Battel dangerous To less than Gods. On th' other fide up Belial, in act more gracefull 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 Reason, to perplex and daff

/ IIQ

Matureft Counfels: for his Thoughts were low; 115
To Vice induftrious, but to Nobler deeds
Tim'rous and flothful: yet he pleas'd the Ear,
And with perfuafive accent thus began.

I fhould be much for open War, O Peers?

120

As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd
Main reason to perfuade immediate war,
Did not diffuade me moft, and feem to caft
Ominous conjecture on the whole fuccefs:
When he who moft excells in fact of Arms,
In what he counfels and in what excells
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair
And utter diffolution, as the fcope

Of all his aim, after fome dire revenge.

125

130

Firft, what Revenge? the Towrs of Heav'n are fill'd
With armed Watch, that render all access
Impregnable; oft on the bordering Deep
Encamp their Legions, or with obfcure wing
Scout far and wide into the realm of night,
Scorning furprize. Or could we break our way
By force, and at our heels all Hell should rife 135
With blackest Infurrection, to confound

Heav'ns pureft Light, yet our great Enemy
All incorruptible would on his Throne
Sit unpolluted, and th'Ethereal mold
Incapable of ftain would foon expell
Her mifchief, and purge off the bafer fire
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
Is flat defpair: we must exafperate
Th' Almighty Victor to spend all his rage,
And that muft end us, that must be our cure
To be no more; fad cure; for who would lofe,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through Eternity;
To perish rather, fwallow'd up and loft

140

145

160

Let this be good, whether our angry Foe
Can give it, or will ever; how he can
Is doubtfull; that he never will is fure.
Will he, so wise, 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 endlefs wherefore cease we then?
Say they who counsel War, we are decreed,
Referv'd, and deftin'd to eternal woe;
Whatever doing, what can we fuffer more,
What can we fuffer worfe? is this then worst,
Thus fitting, thus confulting, thus in Arms?
What when we fled amain, pursu'd and strook 165
With Heav'ns afflicting Thunder, and befought
The Deep to shelter us; this Hell then feem'd
A refuge from thofe wounds or when we lay
Chain'd on the burning Lake? that sure was worse.
What if the breath that kindl'd thofe grim fires 170
Awak'd fhould blow them into sevenfold rage
And plunge us in the flames? or from above
Should intérmitted Veng'ance arm again
His red right hand to plague us? what if all
Her ftores were open'd, and this Firmament
Of Hell hould spout her Cataracts of Fire,
Impendent horrours, threatning hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps
Defigning or exhorting glorious war,

175

Caught in a fiery Tempeft fhall be hurl'd
Each on his Rock transfixt, the fport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever funk
Under yon boyling Ocean, wrapt in Chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,

Ages of hopeless end? this would be worse.
War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike

180

185

191

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'ns height
All these our motions vain fees and derides;
Not more Almighty to refift our might
Than wife to fruftrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of Heav'n
Thus trampl'd, thus expell'd to fuffer here

195

Chains and thefe Torments better these than worse By my advice; fince fate inevitable

Subdues us, and omnipotent Decree,

200

The Victor's Will. To fuffer, as to doe,
Our ftrength is equal, nor the Law unjust
That fo ordains: This was at firft refolv'd
If we were wife, against fo 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 205
What yet they know muft follow, to endure
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 remov'd
Not mind us not offending, fatisfi'd

210

With what is punish'd; whence these raging fires
Will flaken, if his breath ftir not their Flames.
Our purer effence then will overcome

Their noxious vapour, or enur'd not feel,

215

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;

This horrour will grow mild, this darkness light, 220
Belides what hope the never-ending flight

Of future days may bring, what chance, what change
Worth waiting, fince our present lot appears
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,
If we procure not to our selves more woe.

225

Thus Belial with words cloath'd in Reason's garb Counsel'd ignoble case, and peaceful floth, Not peace: and after him thus Mammon spake.

Either to difinthrone the King of Heav'n

We war, if war be best, or to regain

1

230

235

Our own right loft: him to unthrone we then
May hope when everlasting Fate fhall yield
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the ftrife:
The former vain to hope argues as vain
The latter: for what place can be for us
Within Heav'ns bound, unless Heav'ns Lord fupream
We overpower? Suppose he should relent
And publish Grace to all, on promise made
Of new Subjection; with what eyes could we