Irreconcileable, to our grand Foe,Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joySole reigning holds the Tyranny of Heav'n.So spake th' Apostate Angel, though in pain,Vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep despare:And him thus answer'd soon his bold Compeer.O Prince, O Chief of many Throned Powers,That led th' imbattelld Seraphim to Warr
[130]
Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deedsFearless, endanger'd Heav'ns perpetual King;And put to proof his high Supremacy,Whether upheld by strength, or Chance, or Fate,Too well I see and rue the dire event,That with sad overthrow and foul defeatHath lost us Heav'n, and all this mighty HostIn horrible destruction laid thus low,As far as Gods and Heav'nly EssencesCan Perish: for the mind and spirit remains
[140]
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,Though all our Glory extinct, and happy stateHere swallow'd up in endless misery.But what if he our Conquerour, (whom I nowOf force believe Almighty, since no lessThen such could hav orepow'rd such force as ours)Have left us this our spirit and strength intireStrongly to suffer and support our pains,That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,Or do him mightier service as his thralls
[150]
By right of Warr, what e're his business beHere in the heart of Hell to work in Fire,Or do his Errands in the gloomy Deep;What can it then avail though yet we feelStrength undiminisht, or eternal beingTo undergo eternal punishment?Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-fiend reply'd.Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserableDoing or Suffering: but of this be sure,To do ought good never will be our task,
[160]
But ever to do ill our sole delight,As being the contrary to his high willWhom we resist. If then his ProvidenceOut of our evil seek to bring forth good,Our labour must be to pervert that end,And out of good still to find means of evil;Which oft times may succeed, so as perhapsShall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturbHis inmost counsels from their destind aim.But see the angry Victor hath recall'd
[170]
His Ministers of vengeance and pursuitBack to the Gates of Heav'n: The Sulphurous HailShot after us in storm, oreblown hath laidThe fiery Surge, that from the PrecipiceOf Heav'n receiv'd us falling, and the Thunder,Wing'd with red Lightning and impetuous rage,Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases nowTo bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn,Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
[180]
Seest thou yon dreary Plain, forlorn and wilde,The seat of desolation, voyd of light,Save what the glimmering of these livid flamesCasts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tendFrom off the tossing of these fiery waves,