For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, Millions that stand in arms, and longing wait The signal to ascend, sit lingering here Heaven's fugitives, and for their dewelling-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'er heaven's high towers to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the torturer; when, to meet the noise 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 Mix'd 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 benumb not still, That in our proper motion we ascend Up to our native seat; descent or 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, With what compulsion and laborious flight We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then. The 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
Than to dwell here, driven 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 Inexorable, and the torturing hour,
Call us to penance? More destroy'd than thus We should be quite abolished, and expire. What fear we then? what doubt we to incense His utmost ire? which, to the height enrag'd,
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, And cannot cease to be, we are at worst On this side nothing; and by proof we feel Our power sufficient to disturb his heaven, And with perpetual inroads to alarm, (Though inaccessible,) his fatal throne; Which, if not victory,—is yet revenge.
SPEECH OF BELIAL, ADVISING PEACE. MILTON.
I SHOULD be much for open war, O Peers, 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 feats of arms, 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 towers of heaven are fill'd With armed watch, that render all access Impregnable? oft on the bordering deep Incamp their legions; or, with obscure wing, Scout far and wide into the realm of night, Scorning surprise. Or, could we break our way By force, and at our heels all Hell should rise With blackest insurrection, to confound Heaven's purest light-yet our great enemy, All incorruptible, would on his throne Sit unpolluted; and the ethereal mould, 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
The almighty victor to spend all his rage, 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, swallow'd up and lost 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. 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? Say they who counsel war; 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 worse, Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms? What! when we fled amain, pursued and struck With heaven's 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. What! if the breath that kindled 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? what! if all Her stores were open'd, 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, Caught in a fiery tempest, shall be hurled, Each on his rock transfix'd, the sport and prey Of wracking whirlwinds; or for ever sunk Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains, There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,
Ages of hopeless end? This would be worse.- War, therefore, open or conceal'd, alike, My voice dissuades.
SATAN'S SOLILOQUY ON FIRST BEHOLDING THE SUN AND NEW-CREATED UNIVERSE. MILTON.
O THOU! that, with surpassing glory crown'd, Look'st, from thy sole dominion, like the god Of this new world!* at whose sight all the stars Hide their diminish'd heads! to thee I call,- But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, O Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams That bring to my remembrance from what state I fell how glorious once above thy sphere ! Till pride, and worse ambition threw me down, Warring in heav'n against heav'n's matchless King. Ah! wherefore ?-He deserv'd no such return From me, whom he created what I was In that bright eminence, and with his good Upbraided none: nor was his service hard. What could be less than to afford him praise,-
It will be recollected, that the preposition "of" is commonly pronounced as if it formed a component part of the word to which it belongs, and is sounded uv,-as the "goodness-uv God,"_" the injustice-uv the world;" and before a personal pronoun in the accusative or objective case, and when it ends a sentence, that it is pronounced ov;-for general purposes this information is ample, but there is a certain strikingly-solemn passage in the LITURGY which demands our special attention, and requires a peculiar pronunciation of the otherwise unimportant particle.
Instead of "God-uv/ God; Light-uv/ Light; Very God-uv/ Very God, (the usual manner of reading the extraordinary sentence) the utmost care should be taken to deliver it as impressively as possible, agreeably to the
following marking :-"God/ ov God/; Light/ ov Light/; Very God/ ov/
Very God." It will be borne in mind that thesis (4) is the heavy, and arsis (..) is the light, or unaccented syllable.
The easiest recompence; and pay him thanks, How due! Yet all his good prov'd ill in me, And wrought but malice. Lifted up so high, I disdain'd subjection, and thought one step higher Would set me highest, and, in a moment, quit The debt immense of endless gratitude,- So burthensome, still paying, still to owe— (Forgetful what from him I still receiv'd) And understood not that a grateful mind By owing owes not; but still pays, at once Indebted and discharg'd. What burden then?
[Long pause here, and the voice and manner changed.]
O had his powerful destiny ordain'd Me some inferior angel, I had stood Then happy; no unbounded hope had rais'd Ambition.-
Yet, why not?-Some other power, As great, might have aspir'd, and me, tho' mean, Drawn to his part: but other powers as great Fell not, but stand, unshaken; from within Or from without, to all temptations arm'd.
Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand ?Thou hadst. Whom hast thou then, or what to accuse, But heavn's free love, dealt equally to all?
-Be then his love accurs'd,-since, love, or hate, To me, alike, it deals eternal woe.
-Nay, curs'd be thou; since, against His, thy will Chose freely what it now so justly rues.
Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
-Which way I fly is hell; myself am hell; And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep, Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heav'n.
O, then, at last relent.Is there no place Left for repentance ?-none for pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd With other promises, and other vaunts
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