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H

IGH on a throne of royal ftate, which
far

Outshone the wealth of ORMUs, and of
IND;

Or where the gorgeous eaft with richest
hand

Showrs on her Kings BARBARIC pearl, and gold,
SATAN exalted fat, by merit rais'd

To that bad eminence: and from despair
Thus high uplifted beyond hope, afpires
Beyond thus high; infatiate to pursue

Vain war with heaven; and, by fuccefs untaught,
His proud imaginations thus difplay'd.

Pow'rs, and Dominions, Deities of heav'n!
(For fince no Deep within her gulph can hold
Immortal vigor, though opprefs'd and fall'n,
I give not heav'n for loft: from this descent
Cœleftial virtues rifing, will appear

More glorious and more dread than from no fall,
And trust themselves to fear no fecond 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 lofs
Thus far at leaft recover'd, hath much more
Establish'd in a safe 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 claim in hell
Precedence; none whofe portion is so small
Of prefent pain, that with ambitious mind
Will covet more! With this advantage then

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To union, and firm faith, and firm accord,

More than can be in heav'n, we now return
To claim our juft inheritance of old,
Surer to profper than profperity

Could have affur'd us: and by what best
Whether of open war, or covert guile,

way,

We now debate: who can advise, may speak.

He ceas'd; and next him MoLoc, fceptred King,
Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit

That fought in heav'n, now fiercer by defpair:
His trust 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 worse,

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He reck'd not; and these words thereafter spake :

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My fentence is for open war: of wiles,
More inexpert, I boaft 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 fignal to afcend, fit ling'ring here
Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place
Accept this dark opprobrious den of fhame,
The prifon of his tyranny who reigns

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By our delay? No! let us rather chufe,

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Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once

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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 feems difficult, and fteep, to scale
With upright wing against a bigher foe.-
Let fuch bethink them, (if the fleepy drench
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of

Of that forgetful lake benumb not fill)
"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 Rere
Infulting, and purfu'd us thro' the Deep,
With what compulfion, and laborious flight,
We funk thus low? Th' afcent is eafie then;
Th' event is fear'd; fhould we again provoke
Our stronger, fome worfe way His wrath may find
"To our deftruction: (if there be in hell

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Fear to be worse destroy'd) What can be worse

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Than to dwell here, driv'n out from blifs, condemn'd
In this abhorred deep to utter woe!

Where pain of inextinguifhable fire

Muft exercife us, without hope of end,

The vaffals of His anger, when the scourge
Inexorable, and the torturing hour,

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Calls us to penance? more defroy'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 height 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 difturb His heav'n,
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
Defperate revenge, and battel dangerous
To lefs than Gods. On th' other fide uprofe
BELIAL, in act more graceful and humane;
A fairer perfon loft not heav'n; he feem'd
For dignity compos'd, and high exploit:
But all was falfe and hollow: though his tongue

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Drop'd

Drop'd Manna, and could make the worfe 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 perfuafive accent thus began.

I should 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 caft
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.

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First, what revenge? The tow'rs of heav'n are fill'd
With armed watch, that render all accefs

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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'n's pureft light; yet our great enemy,
All incorruptible, would on His throne
Sit unpolluted; and th' ethereal mold
Incapable of ftain, would foon expel
Her mifchief, and purge off the bafer fire,.
Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope:
Is flat defpair; we must exafperate

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Th' Almighty victor to fpend all His rage,
And that must end us; that must be our cure,
To be no more.-Sad cure! for who would lofe,
Though full of pain, this intellectual Being;
'Thofe thoughts, that wander through eternity;
To perish rather, fwallow'd up and loft
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of fenfe and motion? And who knows,

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(Let

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(Let this be good) whether our angry foe
Can give it, or will ever: How He can,
Is doubtful, that He never will, is fure.
Will He, fo wife, let loose at once His ire,
Belike thro' impotence, or unaware,
To give His enemies their wish, and end
Them in His anger, whom His anger faves
To punish endless ?- -Wherefore ceafe we then,

Say they who counfel 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, purfu'd, and struck
With heav'n's afflicting thunder, and befought
The Deep to fhelter us? This hell then feem'd
A refuge from thofe wounds. Or, when we lay
Chain'd on the burning lake? That fure was worse.
What if the breath that kindled thofe grim fires,
Awak'd, fhould blow them into fevenfold rage,
And plunge us in the flames? Or, from above,
Should intermitted vengeance arm again
His red right hand to plague us? What if all
Her ftores were open'd, and this firmament
Of hell fhould fpout her cataracts of fire?
Impendent horrors! threatning hideous fall
One day upon our heads: while we perhaps
Defigning or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempeft fhall be hurl'd
Each on his rock transfix'd, the fport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds: or for ever funk
Under yon boiling 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

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My voice diffuades: for what can force or guile

With Him, or who deceive His mind, whofe eye

Views all things at one view? He from heav'n's height All these our motions vain fees, and derides;

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