The latter; for what place can be for us
Within Heaven's bound, unless Heaven's Lord supreme We overpower? Suppose he should relent, And publish grace to all, on promise made Of new subjection; with what eyes could we Stand in his presence humble, and receive Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing Forced hallelujahs; while he lordly sits Our envied sovereign, and his altar breathes Ambrosial odors and ambrosial flowers, Our servile offerings? This must be our task In Heaven, this our delight: how wearisome Eternity, so spent in worship paid
To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue By force impossible, by leave obtain'd Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, Free, and to none accountable, preferring Hard liberty before the easy yoke
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small. Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse,
We can create, and in what place soe'er Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain Through labor and endurance. This deep world Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick cloud and dark doth Heaven's all-ruling Sire Choose to reside, his glory unobscured, And with the majesty of darkness round
Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell! As he our darkness, cannot we his light Imitate when we please? This desert soil Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold, Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence; and what can Heaven show more? Our torments also may, in length of time, Become our elements; these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper; which must needs remove
The sensible of pain. All things invite To peaceful counsels, and the settled state Of order, how in safety best we may Compose our present evils, with regard Of what we are and where, dismissing quite All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise." He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'd The assembly, as when hollow rocks retain The sound of blustering winds, which all night long Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull Seafaring men o'erwatch'd, whose bark by chance, Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay
After the tempest: such applause was heard As Mammon ended; and his sentence pleased, Advising peace: for such another field
They dreaded worse than Hell: so much the fear Of thunder and the sword of Michaël
Wrought still within them; and no less desire To found this nether empire, which might rise By policy, and long procéss of time, In emulation opposite to Heaven.
Which when Beelzebub perceived, than whom, Satan except, none higher sat, with grave Aspéct he rose, and in his rising seem'd A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven, Deliberation sat and public care;
And princely counsel in his face yet shone Majestic, though in ruin: sage he stood, With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear
The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
Drew audience and attention, still as night
Or summer's noontide air, while thus he spake.
"Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven,
Ethereal Virtues! or these titles now
Must we renounce, and, changing style, be call'd Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote
Inclines, here to continue, and build up here
A growing empire; doubtless; while we dream,
And know not that the King of Heaven hath dooin'd This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt
From Heaven's high jurisdiction, in new league Banded against his throne, but to remain
In strictest bondage, though thus far removed, Under the inevitable curb, reserved
His captive multitude: for he, be sure,
In height or depth, still first and last will reign Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part By our revolt; but over Hell extend His empire, and with iron sceptre rule Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven. What sit we then projecting peace and war? War hath determin'd us, and foil'd with loss Irreparable; terms of peace yet none Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be given To us, enslaved, but custody severe, And stripes, and arbitrary punishment, Inflicted? and what peace can we return, But to our power hostility and hate,
Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow, Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice In doing what we most in suffering feel? Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need, With dangerous expedition to invade
Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege, Or ambush from the deep. What if we find Some easier enterprise? There is a place, (If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven Err not,) another world, the happy seat Of some new race call'd Man, about this time To be created like to us, though less In power and excellence, but favor'd more Of him who rules above; so was his will Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath, That shook Heaven's whole circumference, confirm'd. Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn What creatures there inhabit, of what mould Or substance, how endued, and what their power, And where their weakness, how attempted best, By force or subtlety. Though Heaven be shut, And Heaven's high Arbitrator sit secure In his own strength, this place may lie exposed, The utmost border of his kingdom, left To their defence who hold it: here perhaps Some advantageous act may be achieved
By sudden onset, either with Hell fire To waste his whole creation, or possess All as our own, and drive, as we were driven, The puny habitants; or, if not drive, Seduce them to our party, that their God May prove their foe, and with repenting hand Abolish his own works. This would surpass Common revenge, and interrupt his joy In our confusion, and our joy upraise In his disturbance; when his darling sons,
Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse Their frail original, and faded bliss, Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth Attempting, or to sit in darkness here Hatching vain empires."
Thus Beelzebub Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devised By Satan, and in part proposed: for whence, But from the author of all ill, could spring So deep a malice, to confound the race Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell To mingle and involve, done all to spite The great Creator? But their spite still serves His glory to augment. The bold design Pleased highly those infernal States, and joy Sparkled in all their eyes; with full assent They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews. "Well have ye judged, well ended long debate, Synod of gods, and, like to what ye are,
Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate,
Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in view
Of those bright confines, whence with neighboring arms And opportune excursion we may chance Re-enter Heaven; or else in some mild zone Dwell, not unvisited of Heaven's fair light, Secure, and at the brightening orient beam Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious air, To heal the scar of these corrosive fires,
Shall breathe her balm. But, first, whom shall we send In search of this new world? whom shall we find
Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss,
And through the palpable obscure find out
His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight, Upborne with indefatigable wings,
Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive
The happy isle? what strength, what art, can then Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe
Through the strict senteries and stations thick Of angels watching round? Here he had need All circumspection, and we now no less Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send The weight of all, and our last hope, relies."
This said, he sat; and expectation held His look suspense, awaiting who appear'd To second, or oppose, or undertake, The perilous attempt: but all sat mute,
Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each In others countenance read his own dismay, Astonish'd: none among the choice and prime
Of those Heaven-warring champions could be found So hardy as to proffer or accept
Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last,
Satan, whom now trascendent glory raised Above his fellows, with monarchal pride Conscious of highest worth, unmoved, thus spake.
O Progeny of Heaven, empyreal Thrones! With reason hath deep silence and demur
Seized us, though undismay'd long is the way, And hard, that out of Hell leads up to light;/ Our prison strong; this huge convex of fire, Outrageous to devour, immures us round Ninefold, and gates of burning adamant, Barr'd over us, prohibit all egress. These pass'd, if any pass, the void profound Of unessential Night receives him next, Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf. If thence he 'scape into whatever world, Or unknown region, what remains him less Than unknown dangers, and as hard escape? But I should ill become this throne, O Peers, And this imperial sovereignty, adorn'd
With splendor, arm'd with power, if aught proposed And judged of public moment, in the shape Of difficulty or danger, could deter
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