4

Scorning surprize. Or could we break our way

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

With blackest Insurrection, to confound

Heavns purest Light, yet our great Enemy

All incorruptible would on his Throne

Sit unpolluted, and th Ethereal mould

Incapable of stain would soon expel [ 140 ]

Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire

Victorious. Thus repulsd, our final hope

Is flat despair; we must exasperate

Th Almighty Victor to spend all his rage,

And that must end us, that must be our cure, [ 145 ]

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

In the wide womb of uncreated night, [ 150 ]

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, [ 155 ]

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?

Say they who counsel Warr, we are decreed, [ 160 ]

Reservd and destind 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, pursud and strook [ 165 ]

With Heavns afflicting Thunder, and besought

The Deep to shelter us? this Hell then seemd

A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay

Chaind on the burning Lake? that sure was worse.

What if the breath that kindld those grim fires [ 170 ]

Awakd 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 opend, and this Firmament [ 175 ]

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,

Caught in a fierie Tempest shall be hurld [ 180 ]

Each on his rock transfixt, the sport and prey

Of racking whirlwinds, or for ever sunk

Under yon boyling Ocean, wrapt in Chains;

There to converse with everlasting groans,

Unrespited, unpitied, unrepreevd, [ 185 ]

Ages of hopeless end; this would be worse.