To that bad eminence: and from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, infatiate to perfue Vain war with Heav'n, and by fuccess untaught His proud imaginations thus display'd.
Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heav'n! For fince no deep within her gulph can hold Immortal vigor, though oppress'd and fall'n, I give not Heav'n for loft. From this defcent Cœleftial virtues rifing, will appear More glorious and more dread than from no fall, And trust themselves to fear no second fate.
Me though just right, and the fix'd laws of Heav'n
Did first create your Leader, next free choice,
With what befides, in council or in fight, Hath been atchiev'd of merit, yet this loss Thus far at least recover'd, hath much more Establish'd in a fafe unenvied throne,
Yielded with full consent. The happier state In Heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw 25 Envy from each inferior; but who here Will envy whom the highest place exposes Foremost to stand against the Thunderer's aim Your bulwark, and condems to greatest share Of endless pain? Where there is then no good 30 For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none fure will claim in Hell Precedence; none, whose portion is so small Of present pain, that with ambitious mind Will covet more! With this advantage then To union, and firm faith, and firm accord, More than can be in Heav'n, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old,
Surer to profper than profperity
Could have affur'd us; and by what best way, 40
Whether of open war or covert guile,
We now debate; who can advise may speak.
He ceas'd; and next him Motoc, sceptred King, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in Heav'n, now fiercer by despair: 45 His truft was with the Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength, and rather than be less Car'd not to be at all; with that care loft Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse, He reck'd not; and these words thereafter spake: 50
My sentence is for open war: of wiles, More inexpert, I boast not: them let those Contrive who need, or when they need, not now: For while they fit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The tignal to ascend, fit ling'ring here Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling place Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame, The prison of his tyranny who reigns By our delay? No! let us rather chuse, Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once O'er Heav'n's high towrs to force resistless 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 see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his Angels; and his throne it felf Mixt with TARTAREAN fulphur, 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 such bethink them, if the sleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, That in our proper motion we afcend Up to our native feat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late
When the fierce foe hung on our broken reer Insulting, and perfu'd us through the deep,
With what compulfion and laborious flight We funk thus low? th' ascent is eafie then; Th'event is fear'd; should we again provoke Our stronger, fome worse way his wrath may find
To our destruction: if there be in Hell
Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse 85 Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorred deep to utter woe; Where pain of inextinguishable fire Must exercise us without hope of end, The vassals of his anger, when the scourge Inexorable and the torturing hour Calls us to penance? more destroy'd than thus, We should be quite abolish'd and expire. What fear we then? what doubt we to incenfe His utmost ire? which to the height enrag'd, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential; happier far, Than miferable to have eternal being. Or if our fubstance 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 alarm, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne: Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd Desperate revenge, and battel dangerous To less than Gods. On the other fide up rose BELIAL, in act more graceful and humane: A fairer perfon lost not Heav'n; he seem'd For dignity compos'd and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropt Manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dath Maturest counsels, for his thoughts were low: 115 To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds
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