Of endless pain? Where there is then no good For which to strive, no strife can grow up there From faction; for none sure 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 heaven, we now return To claim our just inheritance of old, Surer to prosper than prosperity
Could have assur'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 heaven, now fiercer by despair: His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd Equal in strength, and rather than be less Car'd not to be at all; with that care lost Went all his fear: of God, or hell, or worse,
He reck'd not; and these words thereafter spake :
our just inheritance] See Crashaw's Steps to the Temple, p. 64.
And for the never fading fields of light,
My fair inheritance, he confines me here :'
and Beaumont's Psyche, c. i. st. 24.
'Was't not enough against the righteous law
Of primogeniture to throw us down,
From that bright home which all the world does know
Was by confest inheritance our own.'
40 best way] Compare Spenser's F. Queen, vii. vi. 21. and ii. xi. 7. Todd.
My sentence 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 sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here Heaven'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, Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once
O'er heaven's high tow'rs to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Against the torturer; when to meet the noise
Of his almighty engine he shall hear Infernal thunder, and for lightning see Black fire and horror shot with equal rage Among his angels; and his throne itself Mixt with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire,
54 sit contriving] See Milton's Prose Works, vol. ii. 380. iii. 24. 'But to sit contriving.'
67 Black fire] See Eschyli Prometheus, ver. 930.
*Ος δὴ κεραυνοῦ κρέισσον ευρήσει φλόγα,
Βροντῆς θ' ὑπερβάλλοντα καρτερὸν κτύπον.
and see Statii Theb. iv. 133. 'furiarum lampade nigra.' Silv. i. iv.
64. fulminis atri.' Lucan Ph. ii. 301. 'ignes atros.'
'I talk of flames, and yet I call hell dark; Flames I confess they are, but black.'
See M. Stevenson's Poems (1654), p. 113, (A Guesse at Hell.) 69 strange fire] See Nonni Dionysiaca, lib. xliv. ver. 153. Εἰ δέ κε πειρήσαιτο καὶ ἡμετέροιο κεραυνού, γνωσέται, οἷον ἔχω χθόνιος σέλας· οὐρανίου γὰρ Θερμοτέρους σπινθῆρας ἐμοῦ λαχέν ἀντίτυπον πῦρ.
His own invented torments.
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 ascend Up to our native seat: descent and fall To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Insulting, and pursu'd us through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? th' ascent is easy then; Th' event is fear'd; should we again provoke Our stronger, some 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, driven out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorred deep to utter woe;
Where pain of unextinguishable 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 incense His utmost ire? which, to the highth enrag'd, Will either quite consume us, and reduce To nothing this essential; happier far,
89 exercise] Vex, trouble: v. Virg. Georg. iv. 453.
'Non te nullius exercent numinis iræ.' Newton.
Than miserable to have eternal being; Or, if our substance be indeed divine, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his heaven, And with perpetual inroads 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 battle dangerous To less than gods. On th' other side up rose Belial, in act more graceful and humane;
A fairer person lost not heaven; he seem'd For dignity compos'd and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear The better reason, to perplex and dash Maturest counsels; for his thoughts were low; To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds Timorous and slothful: yet he pleas'd the ear, And with persuasive accent thus began.
I should be much for open war, O Peers, As not behind in hate, if what was urg'd Main reason to persuade immediate war,
113 worse] Val. Flacc. Arg. lib. iii. ver. 645
-Rursum instimulat, ducitque faventes Magnanimus Calydone satus; potioribus ille Deteriora fovens, semperque inversa tueri Durus.'
114 better] tòv hóyov tòv httw xọeltтT л018йv. Bentley.
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast Ominous conjecture on the whole success; When he, who most excels in fact of arms, In what he counsels and in what excels Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair And utter dissolution, as the scope
Of all his aim, after some dire revenge.
First, what revenge? the tow'rs of heaven are fill'd With armed watch, that render all access Impregnable; oft on the bordering deep Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing Scout far and wide into the realm of night, Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way By force, and at our heels all hell should rise, With blackest insurrection to confound Heav'n's purest light, yet our great enemy All incorruptible would on his throne Sit unpolluted; and th' ethereal mould Incapable of stain would soon expel Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repuls'd, our final hope Is flat despair: we must exasperate Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage, And that must end us, that must be our cure, To be no more: sad cure; for who would lose, Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
131 bordering deep] See Wither's Campo Musæ, p. 25. 'And to possess the bordering hills.'
142 our hope] Shakesp. K. Hen. VI. act ii. scene iii.
‘Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair. Malone.
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