"O

75

80

Mixt with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps 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 beuumb 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 To our destruction: if there be in hell Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse 85 Than to dwell here, driv'n 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 Inexorably, and the torturing hour Calls us to penance? more destroy'd than thus

may

find

90

69 strange fire] See Nonni Dionysiaca, lib. xliv. ver. 153. Εἰ δέ κε πειρήσαιτο καὶ ἡμετέροιο κεραυνοῦ, γνωσέται, οἷον ἔχω χθόνιος σέλας· οὐρανίου γὰρ Θερμοτέρους σπινθήρας ἐμοῦ λαχέν ἀντίτυπον πῦρ.

69

exercise] Vex, trouble: v. Virg. Georg. iv. 453.

Non te nullius exercent numinis iræ.' Newton.

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'a,
Will either quite consume us, and reduce
To nothing this essential; happier far,
Than miserable to have eternal being.
Or if our substance be indeed divine,
And cannot cease to be, we are at worst

Our

On this side nothing; and by proof we feel
power sufficient to disturb his heav'n,
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 battel dangerous
To less than Gods. On th' other side up rose
Belial, in act more graceful and humane ;
A fairer person lost not heav'n; he seem'd
For dignity compos'd and high exploit:

100

105

110

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; 115 To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds

113

worse! Val. Flacc. Arg. lib. iii. ver. 645.

- Rursum instimulat, ducitque faventes Magnanimus Calydone satus; potioribus ille Deteriora fovens, semperque inversa tueri

Durus.'

14 better] τὸν λόγον τὸν ἥττω κρείττω ποιεῖν. Bentley.

120

125

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, 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 heav'n 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, 135 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

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.

130

140

Is flat despair: we must exasperate

Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage,

And that must end us, that must be our cure, 145
To be no more: sad cure; for who would lose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through eternity,
To perish rather, swallow'd up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night,
Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows,

foe

150

155

Let this be good, whether our angry Can give it, or will ever? how he can, Is doubtful; that he never will, is sure. Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire, Belike through impotence or unaware, To give his enemies their wish, and end Them in his anger whom his anger saves To punish endless? Wherefore cease we then? Say they who counsel war;—We are decreed, 160 Reserv'd, and destin'd to eternal woe; Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, What can we suffer worse?—Is this then worst, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What, when we fled amain, pursu'd and struck 165 With heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought The deep to shelter us? this hell then seem'd A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay Chain'd on the burning lake? that sure was

worse.

What if the breath that kindled those grim fires Awak'd should blow them into sevenfold rage,

180

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 stores were open'd, and this firmament 175
Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire,
Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall
One day upon our heads; while we, perhaps
Designing or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurl'd
Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds; or for ever sunk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepriev'd,
Ages of hopeless end? this would be worse.
War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike
My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile
With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye
Views all things at one view? He from heav'n's
highth

All these our motions vain sees and derides;
Not more almighty to resist our might,
Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.
Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heav'n,

185

190

174 His] Consult Bentley, and Newton's Notes on the application of the Relative. Red right hand' is the 'rubente

dextera' of Hor. Od. I. ii. 2.

181 Each on his rock] Illum exspirantem,' &c.

Bentl. MS.

185. Unrespited] Consult the notes of Mr. Thyer, and Mr.

Todd on this line.