To wage by force or guile eternal war, Irreconcileable to our grand foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heav'n. So spake th'apostate angel, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep defpair : And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer.
d. O prince, O chief of many throned powers, That led th'imbattell'd seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds Fearless, endanger'd heav'n's perpetual king; And put to proof his high fupremacy, Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate, Too well I fee and rue the dire event, That with fad overthrow and foul defeat Hath loft us heav'n, and all this mighty hoft In horrible destruction laid thus low, As far as gods and heav'nly essences Can perish; for the mind and spirit remains Invincible, and vigour foon returns, Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallow'd up in endless mifery. But what if he our conqueror, (whom I now Of force believe almighty, fince no less Than fuch could have o'erpow'r'd such force as ours) Have left us this our spirit and strength intire Strongly to fuffer and fupport our pains, That we may fo suffice his vengeful ire, Or do him mightier service as his thralls By right of war, whate'er his business be Here in the heart of hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy deep; What can it then avail though yet we feel Strength undeminisht, or eternal being To undergo eternal punishment ? Whereto with speedy words th'arch-fiend reply'd. Fall'n cherub, to be weak is miferable Doing or fuffering: but of this be sure, To do ought good never will be our task, But ever to do ill our fole delight, As being the contrary to his high will Whom we resist. If then his providence Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, Our labour must be to pervert that end, And out of good still to find means of evil; Which oft times may succeed, so as perhaps Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb His inmost councils from their destin'd aim. But fee the angry victor hath recall'd His minifters of vengeance and pursuit Back to the gates of heav'n: the fulphurous hail Shot after us in storm, o'reblown hath laid The fiery furge, that from the precipice Of heav'n receiv'd us falling, and the thunder, Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, Perhaps has spent his shafts, and ceases now To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. Let us not flip th'occasion, whether scorn, Or fatiate fury yield it from our foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wilde, The feat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? thither let us tend From off the toffing of these fiery waves, There rest, if any rest can harbour there, And reassembling our afficted powers, Consult how we may henceforth moft offend Our enemy, our own loss how repair, How overcome this dire calamity, What reinforcement we may gain from hope, If not what resolution from despair.
Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts besides, Prone on the flood, extended long and large, Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge As whom the fables name of monstrous fize, Titanian, or earth-born, that warr'd on Jove, Briareos or Typhon, whom the den By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea beaft Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim the ocean stream: Him haply slumbering on the Norway foam, The pilot of some small night-founder'd skiff, Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his skaly rind, Moors by his fide under the lee, while night Invests the fea, and wished morn delays : So stretcht out huge in length the arch-fiend lay, Chain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thence Had ris'n or heav'd his head, but that the will And high permission of all-ruling heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs,
That with reiterated crimes he might Heap on himself damnation, while he fought Evil to others, and enrag'd might fee How all his malice ferv'd but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shew'n On man by him seduc'd, but on himself Treble confufion, wrath and vengeance pour'd. Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty stature; on each hand the flames Driv'n backward flope their pointing spires and rowl'd In billows, leave i'th' midst a horrid vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air That felt unusual weight, till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd With folid, as the lake with liquid fire; And fuch appear'd in hue, as when the force Of fubterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd fide Of thundring Aetna, whose combustible And fewel'd intrals thence conceiving fire, Sublim'd with mineral fury, aid the winds, And leave a finged bottom all involv'd With stench and smoak: fuch refting found the fole Of unbleft feet. Him followed his next mate, Both glorying to have scap't the Stygian flood As gods, and by their own recover'd strength, Not by the fufferance of fupernal power. Is this the region, this the foil, the clime, Said then the loft arch-angel, this the feat That we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? be it so, fince he Who now is sov'rain can dispose and bid What shall be right: farthest from him is best Whom reason hath equal'd, force hath made fupream Above his equals. Farewell happy fields, Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, haił Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell Receive thy new poffeffor: one who brings A mind not to be chang'd by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n. What matter where, if I be still the fame, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? here at leaft We shall be free; th'almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence : Here we may reign fecure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition tho' in hell: Better to reign in hell, than ferve in heav'n. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, Th'associates and copartners of our loss, Ly thus astonish't on th'oblivious pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy manfion, or once more With rallied arms to try what may be yet Regain'd in heav'n, or what more loft in hell? So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub
Thus answer'd. Leader of those armies bright, Which but th'Omnipotent none could have foyl'd, If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft
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