Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers; Nor grateful evening mild; nor silent night, With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee, is sweet!"
IX.-SATAN'S ADDRESS TO THE SUN.
O THOU, that, with surpassing glory crowned, Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god Of this new world!—at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminished heads !-to thee I call, But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams, That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell,—how glorious once above thy sphere, Till pride, and worse, ambition threw me down, Warring in Heaven against Heaven's matchless King! Ah! wherefore? he deserved no such return From me, whom he created what I was, In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none; nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise, The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks! How due! yet all his good proved ill in me, And wrought but malice: lifted up so high, I disdained subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and in a moment quit The debt immense of endless gratitude- So burdensome; still paying, still to owe! Forgetful what from him I still received; And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not, but still pays, at once Indebted and discharged; what burden then? Oh, had his powerful destiny ordained Me some inferior angel, I had stood
Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised Ambition! Yet why not? some other Power
As great, might have aspired; and me, though mean, Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within Or from without, to all temptations armed.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand? Thou hadst whom hast thou, then, or what to accuse, But Heaven's free love dealt equally to all?
Be, then, his love accursed! since, love or hate, To me alike, it deals eternal woe!
Nay, cursed be thou! since against his thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues. Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell! myself am Hell! And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven! Oh, then, at last relent! is there no place Left for repentance? none for pardon left? None left but by submission: and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced With other promises and other vaunts Than to submit, boasting I could subdue— The Omnipotent! Ah me! they little know How dearly I abide that boast so vain; Under what torments inwardly I groan, While they adore me on the throne of Hell. With diadem and sceptre high advanced, The lower still I fall; only supreme In misery. Such joy ambition finds! But say I could repent, and could obtain,
By act of grace, my former state-how soon
Would height recall high thoughts; how soon unsay
What feigned submission swore! Ease would recant Vows made in pain, as violent and void;
For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep- Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall; so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart! This knows my punisher; therefore as far From granting he, as I from begging peace! All hope excluded thus, behold, instead of us outcast! exiled! his new delight, Mankind created, and for him this world. So, farewell hope! and with hope, farewell fear! Farewell remorse! all good to me is lost. Evil, be thou my good! by thee, at least
Divided empire with Heaven's King I hold; By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign; As man ere long, and this new world, shall know!
X.-SPEECH OF BELIAL IN COUNCIL.
Belial, in act more graceful and humane: A fairer person lost not Heaven; he seemed For dignity composed, and high exploit: But all was false and hollow; though his tongue Dropped 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 Tim'rous 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 filled
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 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, To perish rather, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated night, 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 decreed, 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 struck With Heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought 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, 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 firmament Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire, Impending horrors, threatening hideous fall One day upon our heads: while we perhaps, Designing or exhorting glorious war, Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey Of wracking whirlwinds; or for ever sunk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains; There to converse with everlasting groans, Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,
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 height 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 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 That so ordains: this was at first resolved, 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 And venturous, 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 their conqueror. This is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,
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