IGH on a throne of royal ftate, which far
Outthone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous eaft with richest hand.
Show'rs on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,
Satan exalted fat, by merit rais'd
To that bad eminence; and from defpair ·
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, afpires
Beyond thus high, infatiate to pursue
Vain war with Heav'n, and by fuccefs untaught
His proud imaginations thus display'd.
Pow'rs and Dominions, Deities of Heaven,
For fince no deep within her gulf can hold
Immortal vigor, though opprefs'd and fall'n,
I give not Heav'n for loft. From this defcent
Celestial virtues rifing, will appear
More glorious and more dread than from no fall,
And truft themselves to fear no fecond fate.
Me though juft right, and the fix'd laws of Heaven
Did first create your leader, next free choice,
With what befides, in counfel or in fight,
Hath been achiev'd of merit, yet this lofs
Thus far at leaft recover'd, hath much more
Establish'd in a fafe unenvied throne,
Yielded with full confent. The happier state
In Heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw
Envy from each inferior; but who here
Will envy whom the highest place expofes
Foremost to stand against the Thund'rer's aim
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share
Of endless pain? where there is then no good
For which to ftrive, no ftrife can grow up there
From faction; for none fure will clame 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 clame our juft inheritance of old,
Surer to profper than profperity
Could have affur'd us; and by what best way,
Whether of open war or covert guile,
We now debate; who can advise, may speak.
He ceas'd, and next him Moloch, scepter'd king, Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest Spirit
That fought in Heav'n, now fiercer by despair:
His truft was with th' Eternal to be deem'd
Equal in ftrength, 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 worfe
He reck'd not, and these words thereafter spake.
My fentence is for open war: of wiles,
More unexpert, I boast not: them let those
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.
For while they fit contriving, fhall the rest,
Millions that ftand in arms, and longing wait
The signal to afcend, 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 choose,
Against the torturer; when to meet the noise
Arm'd with Hell flames and fury, all at once
O'er Heav'n's high tow'rs to force refiftless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Of his almighty engin he shall hear
Infernal thunder, and for lightning fee
Black fire and horror fhot with equal rage
Among his Angels, and his throne itself
Mix'd with Tartarean fulphur, and ftrange fire,
His own invented torments. But perhaps
The way seems difficult and steep to scale
With upright wing against a higher foe.
Let fuch bethink them, if the fleepy drench
Of that forgetful lake benumm not still,
That in our proper motion we afcend
Up to our native feat: defcent and fall
To us is adverfe. Who but felt of late,
When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear
Infulting, and purfued us through the deep,
With what compulsion and laborious flight
We funk thus low? Th' afcent is easy then;
Th' event is fear'd; should we again provoke
Our stronger, fome worse his wrath may
To our deftruction; if there be in Hell
Fear to be worfe destroy'd: what can be worse
Than to dwell here, driv'n out from blifs, condemn'd
In this abhorred deep to utter woe;
Where pain of unextinguishable fire
Muft exercise us without hope of end
The vaffals of his anger, when the scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing hour,
Calls us to penance? More deftroy'd than thus
We fhould be quite abolish'd and expire.
What fear we then? what doubt we to incenfe
His utmost ire? which to the highth 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 ceafe to be, we are at worst
On this fide nothing; and by proof we feel
Our pow'r fufficient to disturb his Heaven,
And with perpetual inroads to alarm,
Though inacceffible, his fatal throne:
Which, if not victory, is yet revenge.
He ended frowning, and his look denounc'd
Defp'rate revenge, and battel dangerous
To lefs than Gods. On th' other fide up rofe
Belial, in act more graceful 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 dash
Matureft counfels: for his thoughts were low;
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds
Timorous and flothful: yet he pleas'd the ear,
And with persuasive 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 cast
Ominous conjecture on the whole fuccefs:
When he who moft excels in fact of arms,
In what he counfels and in what excels
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on defpair
And utter diffolution, as the fcope
Of all his aim, after fome dire revenge.
Firft, what revenge? the tow'rs of Heav'n are fill'd
With armed watch, that render all access
Impregnable; oft on the bord'ring deep
Incamp their legions, or with óbfcure wing
Scout far and wide into the realm of night,
Scorning furprife. Or could we break our way
By force, and at our heels all Hell thould rife
With blackest infurrection, to confound
Heav'n's pureft light, yet our great enemy
All incorruptible would on his throne
Sit unpolluted, and th' ethereal mould
Incapable of stain would foon expel
Her mischief, and purge off the bafer fire
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope
Is flat defpair: we must exasperate
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