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 Mix'd 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 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 pursued as through the deep, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then; The event is fear'd: should we again provoke Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may To our destruction, if there be in Hell Fear to be worse destroy'd: what can be worse Than to dwell here, driven out from bliss, condemn'd In this abhorréd 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, We should be quite abolish'd, and expire.
What fear we then? what doubt we to incense His utmost ire? which, to the height enraged, 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 On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his Heaven, And with perpetual inroads to aların, Though inaccessible, his fatal throne: Which, if not victory, is yet revenge."
He ended, frowning; and his look denounced Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous To less than gods. On the other side, up rose Belial, in act more graceful and humane; A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seem'd For dignity composed and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropt 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 pleased 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 urged 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 towers of Heaven are fill'd With arméd 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 enemy, All incorruptible, would on his throne Sit unpolluted, and the ethereal mould, Incapable of stain, would soon expel 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 eternity;
Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurid Each on las rock, transfind the sport and prey Of wracking whiriwnds, or forever sunk Under you boiling ocean.wrapt in chams; There to converse with everlasting groans,
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