The Complete Poetry of John Milton (65 page)

   185     
Unrespited, unpitied, unrepreev’d,

               
Ages of hopeless end; this would be worse.

               
Warr therefore, open or conceal’d, alike

               
My voice disswades; for what can force or guile

               
With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye

   190     
Views all things at one view? he from heav’ns highth

               
All these our motions vain, sees and derides;
⁷

               
Not more Almighty to resist our might

               
Then wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles.

               
Shall we then live thus vile, the Race of Heav’n

   195     
Thus trampl’d, thus expell’d to suffer here

               
Chains and these Torments? better these then worse

               
By my advice; since fate inevitable

               
Subdues us, and Omnipotent Decree,

               
The Victors will. To suffer, as to doe,

   200     
Our strength is equal, nor the Law unjust

               
That so ordains: this was at first resolv’d,

               
If we were wise, against so great a foe

               
Contending, and so doubtful what might fall.

               
I laugh, when those who at the Spear are bold

   205     
And vent’rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear

               
What yet they know must follow, to endure

               
Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain,

               
The sentence of thir Conquerour: This is now

               
Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,

   210     
Our Supream Foe in time may much remit

               
His anger, and perhaps thus farr remov’d

               
Not mind us not offending, satisfi’d

               
With what is punish’t; whence these raging fires

               
Will slack’n, if his breath stir not thir flames.

   215     
Our purer essence then will overcome

               
Thir noxious vapour, or enur’d not feel,

               
Or chang’d at length, and to the place conformd

               
In temper and in nature, will receive

               
Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain;

   220     
This horror will grow mild, this darkness light,

               
Besides what hope the never-ending flight

               
Of future dayes may bring, what chance, what change

               
Worth waiting, since our present lot appeers

               
For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,

   225     
If we procure not to our selves more woe.

           
      
       Thus
Belial
with words cloath’d in reasons garb

               
Counsel’d ignoble ease, and peaceful sloath,

               
Not peace: and after him thus
Mammon
spake.

           
      
       Either to disinthrone the King of Heav’n

   230     
We warr, if warr be best, or to regain

               
Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then

               
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yeild

               
To fickle Chance, and
Chaos
judge the strife:

               
The former vain to hope argues as vain

   235     
The latter: for what place can be for us

               
Within Heav’ns bound, unless Heav’ns Lord supream

               
We overpower? Suppose he should relent

               
And publish Grace to all, on promise made

               
Of new Subjection; with what eyes could we

   240     
Stand in his presence humble, and receive

               
Strict Laws impos’d, to celebrate his Throne

               
With warbl’d Hymns, and to his Godhead sing

               
Forc’t Halleluiahs; while he Lordly sits

               
Our envied Sovran, and his Altar breathes

   245     
Ambrosial Odours and Ambrosial Flowers,

               
Our servile offerings. This must be our task

               
In Heav’n, this our delight; how wearisom

               
Eternity so spent in worship paid

               
To whom we hate. Let us not then pursue

   250     
By force impossible, by leave obtain’d

               
Unacceptable, though in Heav’n, our state

               
Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek

               
Our own good from our selves, and from our own

               
Live to our selves, though in this vast recess,

   255     
Free, and to none accountable, preferring

               
Hard liberty before the easie yoke
⁸

               
Of servile Pomp. Our greatness will appear

               
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small,

               
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse

   260     
We can create, and in what place so e’re

               
Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain

               
Through labour and indurance. This deep world

               
Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst

               
Thick clouds and dark doth Heav’ns all-ruling Sire

   265     
Choose to reside, his Glory unobscur’d,

               
And with the Majesty of darkness round

               
Covers his Throne; from whence deep thunders roar

               
Must’ring thir rage, and Heav’n resembles Hell?

               
As he our darkness, cannot we his Light

   270     
Imitate when we please? This Desart soil

               
Wants not her hidden lustre, Gemms and Gold;

               
Nor want we skill or Art, from whence to raise

               
Magnificence; and what can Heav’n shew more?

               
Our torments also may in length of time

   275     
Become our Elements, these piercing Fires

               
As soft as now severe, our temper chang’d

               
Into their temper; which must needs remove

               
The sensible of pain. All things invite

               
To peaceful Counsels, and the settl’d State

   280     
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 warr: ye have what I advise.

           
      
       He scarce had finisht, when such murmur filld

   285     
Th’ Assembly, as when hollow Rocks retain

               
The sound of blustring winds, which all night long

               
Had rous’d the Sea, now with hoarse cadence lull

               
Sea-faring men orewatcht, whose Bark by chance

               
Or Pinnace anchors
in
a craggy Bay

   290     
After the Tempest: Such applause was heard

               
As
Mammon
ended, and his Sentence pleas’d,

               
Advising peace: for such another Field

               
They dreaded worse then Hell: so much the fear

               
Of Thunder and the Sword of
Michael

   295     
Wrought still within them; and no less desire

               
To found this nether Empire, which might rise

               
By pollicy, and long process of time,

               
In emulation opposite to Heav’n.

               
Which when
Beëlzebub
perceiv’d, then whom,

   300     
Satan
except, none higher sat, with grave

               
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem’d

               
A Pillar of State; deep on his Front engrav’n

               
Deliberation sat and public care;

               
And Princely counsel in his face yet shon,

   305     
Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood

               
With
Atlantean
⁹
shoulders fit to bear

               
The weight of mightiest Monarchies; his look

               
Drew audience and attention still as Night

               
Or Summers Noon-tide air, while thus he spake.

   310  
      
       Thrones and Imperial Powers, off-spring of heav’n,

               
Ethereal Vertues; or these Titles now

               
Must we renounce, and changing stile be call’d

               
Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote

               
Inclines, here to continue, and build up here

   315     
A growing Empire; doubtless; while we dream,

               
And know not that the King of Heav’n hath doom’d

               
This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat

               
Beyond his Potent arm, to live exempt

               
From Heav’ns high jurisdiction, in new League

   320     
Banded against his Throne, but to remain

               
In strictest bondage, though thus far remov’d,

               
Under th’ inevitable curb, reserv’d

               
His captive multitude: For he, be sure,

               
In highth or depth, still first and last will Reign

   325     
Sole King, and of his Kingdom loose no part

               
By our revolt, but over Hell extend

               
His Empire, and with Iron Scepter rule

               
Us here, as with his Golden those in Heav’n.

               
What sit we then projecting peace and Warr?

   330     
Warr hath determin’d us, and foild with loss

               
Irreparable; tearms of peace yet none

               
Voutsaf’t or sought; for what peace will be giv’n

               
To us enslav’d, but custody severe,

               
And stripes, and arbitrary punishment

   335     
Inflicted? and what peace can we return,

               
But to our power hostility and hate,

               
Untam’d reluctance,
¹⁰
and revenge though slow,

               
Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least

               
May reap his conquest, and may least rejoyce

   340     
In doing what we most in suffering feel?

               
Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need

               
With dangerous expedition to invade

               
Heav’n, whose high walls fear no assault or Siege,

               
Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find