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.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Defperate revenge, and Battel dangerous
To less than Gods. On th' other fide up rofe
Belial, in act more gracefull and humane;
A fairer perfon loft not Heav'n; he seem'd
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 Reafon, to perplex and ḍash
Matureft Counsels: for his Thoughts were low; 115
To Vice industrious, 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
As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd
Main reafon to perfuade immediate war,
Did not diffuade me moft, and feem to cat
Ominous conje&ture 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.
First, what Revenge? the Towrs of Heav'n are fill'd With armed Wa.ch, that render all accefs 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 fhould rife 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 mischief, 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 must end us, that must be our cure To be no more; fad cure; for who would lofe, Though full of pain, this intellectual being, Thole thoughts that wander through Eternity; To perih rather, fwallow'd up and loft
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of fenfe and motion
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, fo wife, let loofe 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 punifa endles wherefore ceafe 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 155
With Heav'ns affli&ting Thunder, and besought
The Deep to fhelter us; this Hell then seem'd
A refuge from those wounds : or when we lay
Chain'd on the burning Lake? that sure was worse.
What if the breath that kindl'd those grim fires 170
Awak'd should blow them into fevenfold rage
And plunge us in the flames? or from above
Should intermitted Veng'ance arm again
His red right hand to plague us? what if all
Her ftores were open'd, and this Firmament
Of Hell should spout her Cataracts of Fire,
Impendent horrours, threatning hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we perhaps
Designing or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery Tempeft fhall be hurl'd
Each on his Rock transfixt, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever funk
Under yon boyling Ocean, wrapt in Chains;
There to converfe with everlasting groans,
Unrefpited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopeless end? this would be worse.
War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice diffuades; for what can force or guile
With him, or who deceive his mind, whose
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
Chains and thefe Torments? better thefe than worfe By my advice; fince fate inevitable
Subdues us, and omnipotent Decree,
The Victor's Will. To fuffer, as to doe,
Our strength 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
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,
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
Befides 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 felves more woe.
Thus Belial with words cloath'd in Reafon's garb Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful floth, Not peace and after him thus Mammon fpake. Either to difinthrone the King of Heav'n
We war, if war be beft, or to regain
Our own right loft: him to unthrone we then
May hope when everlasting Fate shall 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? Suppofe he should relent
And publish Grace to all, on promise made
Of new Subjection; with what eyes could we
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