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      Showrs on her Kings Barbaric Pearl & Gold,

      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

      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

      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,

      With what besides, in Counsel or in Fight,

      Hath bin achievd of merit, yet this loss

      Thus farr at least recover’d, hath much more

      Establisht in a safe unenvied Throne

      Yielded with full consent. The happier state

      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 aime

      Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share

      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

      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

      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

      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

      He reckd 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,

      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

      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

      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,

      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 benumme not still,

      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 brok’n Rear

      Insulting, and pursu’d us through the Deep,

      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

      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

      The Vassals of his anger, when the Scourge

      Inexorably, and the torturing houre

      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

      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,

      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 Allarme,

      Though inaccessible, his fatal Throne:

      Which if not Victory is yet Revenge.

      He ended frowning, and his look denounc’d

      Desperate revenge, and Battel dangerous

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

      Belial, in act more graceful and humane;

      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

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