The Complete Poems (Penguin Classics)

To union, and firm faith, and firm accord,

  More than can be in Heav’n, we now return

  To claim our just inheritance of old,

  Surer to prosper than prosperity

  40 Could have assured us; and by what best way,

  Whether of open war or covert guile,

  We now debate; who can advise, may speak.

  He ceased, and next him Moloch, sceptred king

  Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest Spirit

  45 That fought in Heav’n; now fiercer by despair:

  His trust was with th’ Eternal to be deemed

  Equal in strength, and rather than be less

  Cared not to be at all; with that care lost

  Went all his fear: of God, or Hell, or worse

  50 He recked not, and these words thereafter spake.

  My sentence is for open war: of wiles,

  More unexpért, I boast not: them let those

  Contrive who need, or when they need, not now.

  For while they sit contriving, shall the rest,

  55 Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait

  The signal to ascend, sit ling’ring here

  Heav’n’s fugitives, and for their dwelling place

  Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame,

  The prison of his tyranny who reigns

  60 By our delay? No, let us rather choose

  Armed with Hell flames and fury all at once

  O’er Heav’n’s high tow’rs to force resistless way,

  Turning our tortures into horrid arms

  Against the Torturer; when to meet the noise

  65 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

  Mixed with Tartarean sulphur, and strange fire,

  70 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,

  75 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 us through the deep,

  80 With what compulsion and laborious flight

  We sunk thus low? Th’ ascent is easy then;

  Th’ event is feared; should we again provoke

  Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find

  To our destruction: if there be in Hell

  85 Fear to be worse destroyed: what can be worse

  Than to dwell here, driv’n out from bliss, condemned

  In this abhorrèd deep to utter woe;

  Where pain of unextinguishable fire

  Must exercise us without hope of end

  90 The vassals of his anger, when the scourge

  Inexorably, and the torturing hour

  Calls us to penance? More destroyed than thus

  We should be quite abolished and expire.

  What fear we then? What doubt we to incense

  95 His utmost ire? Which to the heighth 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,

  100 And cannot cease to be, we are at worst

  On this side nothing; and by proof we feel

  Our power sufficient to disturb his Heav’n,

  And with perpetual inroads to alarm,

  Though inaccessible, his fatal throne:

  105 Which if not victory is yet revenge.

  He ended frowning, and his look denounced

  Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous

  To less than gods. On th’ other side up rose

  Belial, in act more graceful and humane:

  110 A fairer person lost not Heav’n; he seemed

  For dignity composed and high explóit:

  But all was false and hollow; though his tongue

  Dropped manna, and could make the worse appear

  The better reason, to perplex and dash

  115 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,

  120 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,

  125 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 tow’rs of Heav’n are filled

  130 With armèd watch, that render all accéss

  Impregnable; oft on the bordering deep

  Encamp their legions, or with óbscure wing

  Scout far and wide into the realm of Night,

  Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way

  135 By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise

  With blackest insurrection, to confound

  Heav’n’s purest light, yet our great Enemy

  All incorruptible would on his throne

  Sit unpolluted, and th’ ethereal mould

  140 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

  Th’ Almighty Victor to spend all his rage,

  145 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

  150 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.

  155 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?

  160 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?

  165 What when we fled amain, pursued and strook

  With Heav’n’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.

  170 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

  175 Her stores were opened, and this firmament

  Of Hell should spout her cataracts of fire,

  Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall

  One day upon our heads; while we perhaps

  Designing or exhorting glorious war,

  180 Caught in a fiery tempe
st shall be hurled

  Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey

  Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk

  Under yon boiling ocean, wrapped in chains;

  There to converse with everlasting groans,

  185 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

  190 Views all things at one view? He from Heav’n’s heighth

  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 Heav’n

  195 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,

  200 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

  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 their Conqueror: this is now

  Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,

  210 Our súpreme Foe in time may much remit

  His anger, and perhaps thus far removed

  Not mind us not offending, satisfied

  With what is punished; whence these raging fires

  Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames.

  215 Our purer essence then will overcome

  Their noxious vapour, or inured not feel,

  Or changed at length, and to the place conformed

  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 days may bring, what chance,what change

  Worth waiting, since our present lot appears

  For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,

  225 If we procure not to ourselves more woe.

  Thus Belial with words clothed in reason’s garb

  Counselled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth,

  Not peace: and after him thus Mammon spake.

  Either to disenthrone the King of Heav’n

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

  Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then

  May hope when everlasting Fate shall yield

  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’n’s bound, unless Heav’n’s Lord supreme

  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 imposed, to celebrate his throne

  With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing

  Forced hallelujahs; while he lordly sits

  Our envied sov’reign, 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 wearisome

  Eternity so spent in worship paid

  To whom we hate. Let us not then pursue

  250 By force impossible, by leave obtained

  Unácceptáble, though in Heav’n, our state

  Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek

  Our own good from ourselves, and from our own

  Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess,

  255 Free, and to none accountable, preferring

  Hard liberty before the easy yoke

  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 soe’er

  Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain

  Through labour and endurance. This deep world

  Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst

  Thick clouds and dark doth Heav’n’s all-ruling Sire

  265 Choose to reside, his glory unobscured,

  And with the majesty of darkness round

  Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar

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

  As he our darkness, cannot we his light

  270 Imitate when we please? This desert soil

  Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold;

  Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise

  Magnificence; and what can Heav’n show more?

  Our torments also may in length of time

  275 Become our elements, these piercing fires

  As soft as now severe, our temper changed

  Into their temper; which must needs remove

  The sensible of pain. All things invite

  To peaceful counsels, and the settled 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 war: ye have what I advise.

  He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled

  285 Th’ assembly, as when hollow rocks retain

  The sound of blust’ring winds, which all night long

  Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull

  Seafaring men o’erwatched, 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 pleased,

  Advising peace: for such another field

  They dreaded worse than Hell: so much the fear

  Of thunder and the sword of Michaël

  295 Wrought still within them; and no less desire

  To found this nether empire, which might rise

  By policy, and long procéss of time,

  In emulation opposite to Heav’n.

  Which when Beëlzebub perceived, than whom,

  300 Satan except, none higher sat, with grave

  Aspéct he rose, and in his rising seemed

  A pillar of state; deep on his front engraven

  Deliberation sat and public care;

  And princely counsel in his face yet shone,

  305 Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood

  With Atlantéan shoulders fit to bear

  The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look

  Drew audience and attention still as night

  Or summer’s noontide air, while thus he spake.

  310 Thrones and imperial Powers, offspring of Heav’n

  Ethereal Virtues; or these titles now

  Must we renounce, and changing style be called

  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 doomed

  This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat

  Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt

  From Heav’n’s high jurisdiction, in new league

  320 Banded against his throne, but to remain

  In strictest bondage, though thus far removed,

  Under th’ inevitable cu
rb, reserved

  His captive multitude: for he, be sure

  In heighth or depth, still first and last will reign

  325 Sole King, and of his kingdom lose no part

  By our revolt, but over Hell extend

  His empire, and with iron sceptre rule

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

  What sit we then projecting peace and war?

  330 War hath determined us, and foiled with loss

  Irreparable; terms of peace yet none

  Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be giv’n

  To us enslaved, but custody severe,

  And stripes, and arbitrary punishment

  335 Inflicted? and what peace can we return,

  But to our power hostility and hate,

  Untamed reluctance, and revenge though slow,

  Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least

  May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice

  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

  345 Some easier enterprise? There is a place

  (If ancient and prophetic fame in Heav’n

  Err not) another world, the happy seat

  Of some new race called Man, about this time

  To be created like to us, though less

  350 In power and excellence, but favoured more

  Of him who rules above; so was his will

  Pronounced among the gods, and by an oath,

  That shook Heav’n’s whole circumference, confirmed.

  Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn

  355 What creatures there inhabit, of what mould,

  Or substance, how endued, and what their power,

  And where their weakness, how attempted best,

  By force or subtlety: though Heav’n be shut,

  And Heav’n’s high Arbitrator sit secure

  360 In his own strength, this place may lie exposed

  The utmost border of his kingdom, left

  To their defence who hold it: here perhaps

  Some advantageous act may be achieved

  By sudden onset, either with Hell fire

  365 To waste his whole Creation, or possess

  All as our own, and drive as we were driven,

  The puny habitants, or if not drive,

  Seduce them to our party, that their God

  May prove their foe, and with repenting hand

  370 Abolish his own works. This would surpass

  Common revenge, and interrupt his joy

  In our confusion, and our joy upraise

  In his disturbance, when his darling sons

  Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse

  375 Their frail original, and faded bliss,

  Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth