BOOK SECOND
��Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. First, what revenge ? The towers of Hea- j ven are filled 129 I
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 Heaven's purest light, yet our great En- emy,
All incorruptible, would on his throne Sit unpolluted, and the ethereal mould, Incapable of stain, would soon expel 140 Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire, Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope Is flat despair: we must exasperate The 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, Those thoughts that wander through eter- nity,
To perish rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated Night, 150 Devoid of sense and motion ? And who
knows,
Let this be good, whether our angry Foe 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 de- creed, 1 60 Reserved, and destined 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, pursued and
strook
With Heaven's afflicting thunder, and be- sought
��The Deep to shelter us ? This Hell then
seemed A refuge from those wounds. Or when we
lay Chained on the burning lake ? That sure
was worse. What if the breath that kindled those grim
fires, 170
Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold
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 stores were opened, and this firma- ment
Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impendent horrors, threatening hideous
fall
One day upon our heads; while we per- haps,
Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled, Each 011 his rock transfixed, the sport and
prey 181
Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains, There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, uureprieved, Ages of hopeless end ? This would be
worse.
War, therefore, open or concealed, 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
Heaven's highth 190
All these our motions vain sees and de- rides,
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
Heaven Thus trampled, thus expelled, to suffer
here Chains and these torments ? Better these
than worse,
By my advice; since fate inevitable Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, The Victor's will. To suffer, as to do, Our strength is equal; nor the law unjust
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