Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of John Milton

  High on a Throne of Royal State, which far

  Outshon the wealth of Ormus1 and of Ind,

  Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand

  Showrs on her Kings Barbaric Pearl and Gold,2

  5

  Satan exalted sat, by merit rais’d

  To that bad eminence; and from despair

  Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires

  Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue

  Vain Warr with Heav’n, and by success untaught

  10

  His proud imaginations thus displaid.

  Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heav’n,

  For since no deep within her gulf can hold

  Immortal vigor, though opprest and fall’n,

  I give not Heav’n for lost. From this descent

  15

  Celestial vertues rising, will appear

  More glorious and more dread then from no fall,

  And trust themselves to fear no second fate:

  Mee though just right, and the fixt Laws of Heav’n

  Did first create your Leader, next, free choice,

  20

  With what besides, in Counsel or in Fight,

  Hath bin achiev’d of merit, yet this loss

  Thus farr at least recover’d, hath much more

  Establisht in a safe unenvied Throne

  Yeilded with full consent. The happier state

  25

  In Heav’n, which follows dignity, might draw

  Envy from each inferior; but who here

  Will envy whom the highest place exposes

  Formost to stand against the Thunderers aim

  Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share

  30

  Of endless pain? where there is then no good

  For which to strive, no strife can grow up there

  From Faction; for none sure will claim in Hell

  Precedence, none, whose portion is so small

  Of present pain, that with ambitious mind

  35

  Will covet more. With this advantage then

  To union, and firm Faith, and firm accord,

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

  To claim our just inheritance of old,

  Surer to prosper then prosperity

  40

  Could have assur’d us; and by what best way,

  Whether of open Warr or covert guile,

  We now debate; who can advise, may speak.

  He ceas’d, and next him Moloc, Scepter’d 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 deem’d

  Equal in strength, and rather then be less

  Car’d not to be at all; with that care lost

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

  50

  He reck’d not, and these words thereafter spake.

  My sentence is for open Warr: Of Wiles,

  More unexpert, 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 lingring here

  Heav’ns fugitives, and for thir dwelling place

  Accept this dark opprobrious Den of shame,

  The Prison of his Tyranny who Reigns

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  By our delay? no, let us rather choose

  Arm’d with Hell flames and fury all at once

  O’re Heav’ns high Towrs to force resistless way,

  Turning our Tortures into horrid Arms

  Against the Torturer; when to meet the noise

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  Of his Almighty Engin he shall hear

  Infernal Thunder, and for Lightning see

  Black fire and horror shot with equal rage

  Among his Angels; and his Throne it self

  Mixt 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 benumm not still,

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  That in our proper motion we ascend

  Up to our native seat: descent and fall

  To us is adverse.3 Who but felt of late

  When the fierce Foe hung on our brok’n Rear

  Insulting, and pursu’d us through the Deep,

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  With what compulsion and laborious flight

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

  Th’ event is fear’d; should we again provoke

  Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find

  To our destruction: if there be in Hell

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  Fear to be worse destroy’d: what can be worse

  Then to dwell here, driv’n out from bliss, condemn’d

  In this abhorred 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 destroy’d then thus

  We should be quite abolisht and expire.

  What fear we then? what doubt we to incense

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  His utmost ire? which to the highth enrag’d,

  Will either quite consume us, and reduce

  To nothing this essential, happier farr

  Then 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 inrodes to Allarm,

  Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne:

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  Which if not Victory is yet Revenge.

  He ended frowning, and his look denounc’d4

  Desperate revenge, and Battel dangerous

  To less then Gods. On th’ other side up rose

  Belial, in act more graceful and humane;

  110

  A fairer person lost not Heav’n; he seemd

  For dignity compos’d 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

  115

  Maturest Counsels: for his thoughts were low;

  To vice industrious, but to Nobler deeds

  Timorous and slothful: yet he pleas’d the ear,

  And with perswasive accent thus began.

  I should be much for open Warr, O Peers,

  120

  As not behind in hate; if what was urg’d

  Main reason to perswade immediate Warr,

  Did not disswade 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 Towrs of Heav’n are fill’d

  130

  With Armed watch, that render all access

  Impregnable; oft on the bordering Deep

  Encamp thir Legions, or with obscure wing

  Scout farr and wide into the Realm of night,

  Scorning surprize. Or could we break our way

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  By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise

 
With blackest Insurrection, to confound

  Heav’ns 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 repuls’d, 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 loose,

  Though full of pain, this intellectual being,

  Those thoughts that wander through Eternity,

  To perish rather, swallowd 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.

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  Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire,

  Belike through impotence, or unaware,

  To give his Enemies thir wish, and end

  Them in his anger, whom his anger saves

  To punish endless? wherefore cease we then?

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  Say they who counsel Warr, we are decreed,

  Reserv’d and destin’d 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?

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  What when we fled amain, pursu’d and strook

  With Heav’ns afflicting Thunder, and besought

  The Deep to shelter us? this Hell then seem’d

  A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay

  Chain’d on the burning Lake? that sure was worse.

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  What if the breath that kindl’d those grim fires

  Awak’d 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?5 what if all

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  Her stores were open’d, and this Firmament

  Of Hell should spout her Cataracts of Fire,

  Impendent horrors, threatning hideous fall

  One day upon our heads; while we perhaps

  Designing or exhorting glorious warr,

  180

  Caught in a fierie Tempest shall be hurl’d

  Each on his rock transfixt,6 the sport and prey

  Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk

  Under yon boyling Ocean, wrapt in Chains;

  There to converse with everlasting groans,

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  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

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  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 yoke8

  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

&
nbsp; 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,