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To us enslav'd, but custody severe,

And stripes, and arbitrary punishment
Inflicted? and what peace can we return,
But to our power hostility and hate,
Untam❜d reluctance, and revenge though slow,
Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least
May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice
In doing what we most in suffering feel?
Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need
With dangerous expedition to invade

Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege,
Or ambush from the deep. What if we find
Some easier enterprise? there is a place

(If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven
Err not) another world, the happy seat

Of some new race call'd Man, about this time
To be created like to us, though less

In power and excellence, but favour'd more
Of him who rules above; so was his will
Pronounc'd among the Gods, and by an oath,
That shook Heaven's whole circumference, confirm'd.
Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn
What creatures there inhabit, of what mould,

Or substance, how indued, and what their power,
And where their weakness, how attempted best,
By force or subtlety: though Heaven be shut,
And Heaven's high arbitrator sit secure

In his own strength, this place may lie expos'd
The utmost border of his kingdom, left
To their defence who hold it: here perhaps
Some advantageous act may be atchiev'd
By sudden onset, either with Hell-fire
To waste his whole creation, or possess
All as our own, and drive as we were driven,
The puny habitants, or if not drive,
Seduce them to our party, that their God
May prove their foe, and with repenting hand
Abolish his own works. This would surpass
Common revenge, and interrupt his joy
In our confusion, and our joy up-raise
In his disturbance; when his darling sons
Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse
Their frail original, and faded bliss,
Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth
Attempting, or to sit in darkness here

Hatching vain empires. Thus Beelzebub

Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devis'd
By Satan, and in part propos'd: for whence,
But from the author of all ill could spring
So deep a malice, to confound the race
Of mankind in one root, and earth with hell
To mingle and involve, done all to spite
The great Creator? but their spite still serves
His glory to augment. The bold design
Pleas'd highly those infernal states, and joy
Sparkled in all their eyes; with full assent
They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews.
Well have ye judg'd, well ended long debate,
Synod of Gods, and like to what ye are,
Great things resolv'd, which from the lowest deep
Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate,
Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in view

Of those bright confines, whence with neighbouring arms
And opportune excursion we may chance
Re-enter Heaven; or else in some mild zone
Dwell not unvisited of Heaven's fair light
Secure, and at the brightning orient beam
Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious air,
To heal the scar of these corrosive fires,

Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we send
In search of this new world? whom shall we find
Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet
The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss,

And through the palpable obscure find out
His uncouth way, or spread his aery flight
Upborne with indefatigable wings

Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive

The happy isle? what strength, what art can then
Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe

Through the strict senteries and stations thick
Of Angels watching round? here he had need
All circumspection, and we now no less
Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send,
The weight of all and our last hope relies.
This said, he sat; and expectation held
His look suspence, awaiting who appear'd
To second, or oppose, or undertake

The perilous attempt: but all sate mute,
Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each
In others countenance read his own dismay
Astonish'd: none among the choice and prime

Of those Heaven-warring champions could be found

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So hardy as to proffer or accept

Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last

Satan, whom now transcendent glory rais'd
Above his fellows, with monarchal pride,
Conscious of highest worth, unmov'd thus spake.
O progeny of Heaven, empyreal thrones,
With reason hath deep silence and demur
Seis'd us, though undismay'd: long is the way
And hard, that out of Hell leads up to light;
Our prison strong; this huge convex of fire,
Outrageous to devour, immures us round
Ninefold, and gates of burning adamant
Barr'd over us prohibit all egress.
These past, if any pass, the void profound
Of unessential night receives him next
Wide-gaping, and with utter loss of being
Threatens him, plung'd in that abortive gulph.
If thence he 'scape into whatever world,
Or unknown region, what remains him less.
Than unknown dangers and as hard escape?
But I should ill become this throne, O peers,
And this imperial sovranty, adorn'd

With splendor, arm'd with power, if aught propos'd

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