Paradise Lost. John Milton

peace: for such another Field

      They dreaded worse then Hell: so much the fear

      Of Thunder and the Sword of MICHAEL

      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 BEELZEBUB perceiv’d, then whom,

      SATAN except, none higher sat, with grave

      Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem’d

      A Pillar of State; deep on his Front engraven

      Deliberation sat and publick care;

      And Princely counsel in his face yet shon,

      Majestick though in ruin: sage he stood

      With ATLANTEAN shoulders fit to bear

      The weight of mightiest Monarchies; his look

      Drew audience and attention still as Night

      Or Summers Noon-tide air, while thus he spake.

      Thrones and imperial Powers, off-spring of heav’n,

      Ethereal Vertues; or these Titles now

      Must we renounce, and changing stile be call’d

      Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote

      Inclines, here to continue, and build up here

      A growing Empire; doubtless; while we dream,

      And know not that the King of Heav’n hath doom’d

      This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat

      Beyond his Potent arm, to live exempt

      From Heav’ns high jurisdiction, in new League

      Banded against his Throne, but to remaine

      In strictest bondage, though thus far remov’d,

      Under th’ inevitable curb, reserv’d

      His captive multitude: For he, be sure,

      In highth or depth, still first and last will Reign

      Sole King, and of his Kingdom loose no part

      By our revolt, but over Hell extend

      His Empire, and with Iron Scepter rule

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

      What sit we then projecting Peace and Warr?

      Warr hath determin’d us, and foild with loss

      Irreparable; tearms of peace yet none

      Voutsaf’t or sought; for what peace will be giv’n

      To us enslav’d, but custody severe,

      And stripes, and arbitrary punishment

      Inflicted? and what peace can we return,

      But to our power hostility and hate,

      Untam’d reluctance, and revenge though slow,

      Yet ever plotting how the Conquerour least

      May reap his conquest, and may least rejoyce

      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

      Some easier enterprize? There is a place

      (If ancient and prophetic fame in Heav’n

      Err not) another World, the happy seat

      Of som new Race call’d MAN, about this time

      To be created like to us, though less

      In power and excellence, but favour’d more

      Of him who rules above; so was his will

      Pronounc’d among the Gods, and by an Oath,

      That shook Heav’ns whol circumference, confirm’d.

      Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn

      What creatures there inhabit, of what mould,

      Or substance, how endu’d, and what thir Power,

      And where thir weakness, how attempted best,

      By force or suttlety: Though Heav’n be shut,

      And Heav’ns high Arbitrator sit secure

      In his own strength, this place may lye expos’d

      The utmost border of his Kingdom, left

      To their defence who hold it: here perhaps

      Som advantagious act may be achiev’d

      By sudden onset, either with Hell fire

      To waste his whole Creation, or possess

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

      The punie habitants, or if not drive,

      Seduce them to our Party, that thir God

      May prove thir foe, and with repenting hand

      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

      Hurl’d headlong to partake with us, shall curse

      Thir frail Originals, and faded bliss,

      Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth

      Attempting, or to sit in darkness here

      Hatching vain Empires. Thus BEELZEBUB

      Pleaded his devilish Counsel, first devis’d

      By SATAN, and in part propos’d: for whence,

      But from the Author of all ill could Spring

      So deep a malice, to confound the race

      Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell

      To mingle and involve, done all to spite

      The great Creatour? But thir spite still serves

      His glory to augment. The bold design

      Pleas’d highly those infernal States, and joy

      Sparkl’d in all thir eyes; with full assent

      They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews.

      Well have ye judg’d, well ended long debate,

      Synod of Gods, and like to what ye are,

      Great things resolv’d; which from the lowest deep

      Will once more lift us up, in spight of Fate,

      Neerer our ancient Seat; perhaps in view

      Of those bright confines, whence with neighbouring Arms

      And opportune excursion we may chance

      Re-enter Heav’n; or else in some milde Zone

      Dwell not unvisited of Heav’ns fair Light

      Secure, and at the brightning Orient beam

      Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious Air,

      To