LITMIR.BIZ

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Matchless, but with th’ Almighty, and that strife

       Was not inglorious, though th’ event was dire,

       As this place testifies, and this dire change

       Hateful to utter: but what power of mind

       Foreseeing or presaging, from the Depth

       Of knowledge past or present, could have fear’d,

       How such united force of Gods, how such

       As stood like these, could ever know repulse?

       For who can yet beleeve, though after loss,

       That all these puissant Legions, whose exile

       Hath emptied Heav’n, shall faile to re-ascend

       Self-rais’d, and repossess their native seat.

       For me, be witness all the Host of Heav’n,

       If counsels different, or danger shun’d

       By me, have lost our hopes. But he who reigns

       Monarch in Heav’n, till then as one secure

       Sat on his Throne, upheld by old repute,

       Consent or custome, and his Regal State

       Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal’d,

       Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.

       Henceforth his might we know, and know our own

       So as not either to provoke, or dread

       New warr, provok’t; our better part remains

       To work in close design, by fraud or guile

       What force effected not: that he no less

       At length from us may find, who overcomes

       By force, hath overcome but half his foe.

       Space may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife

       There went a fame in Heav’n that he ere long

       Intended to create, and therein plant

       A generation, whom his choice regard

       Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven:

       Thither, if but to prie, shall be perhaps

       Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:

       For this Infernal Pit shall never hold

       Caelestial Spirits in Bondage, nor th’ Abysse

       Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts

       Full Counsel must mature: Peace is despaird,

       For who can think Submission? Warr then, Warr

       Open or understood must be resolv’d.

      He spake: and to confirm his words, out-flew

       Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs

       Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze

       Far round illumin’d hell: highly they rag’d

       Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arm’s

       Clash’d on their sounding shields the din of war,

       Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heav’n.

      There stood a Hill not far whose griesly top

       Belch’d fire and rowling smoak; the rest entire

       Shon with a glossie scurff, undoubted sign

       That in his womb was hid metallic Ore,

       The work of Sulphur. Thither wing’d with speed

       A numerous Brigad hasten’d. As when bands

       Of Pioners with Spade and Pickaxe arm’d

       Forerun the Royal Camp, to trench a Field,

       Or cast a Rampart. Mammon led them on, Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell From heav’n, for ev’n in heav’n his looks & thoughts Were always downward bent, admiring more The riches of Heav’ns pavement, trod’n Gold, Then aught divine or holy else enjoy’d In vision beatific: by him first Men also, and by his suggestion taught, Ransack’d the Center, and with impious hands Rifl’d the bowels of thir mother Earth For Treasures better hid. Soon had his crew Op’nd into the Hill a spacious wound And dig’d out ribs of Gold. Let none admire That riches grow in Hell; that soyle may best Deserve the pretious bane. And here let those Who boast in mortal things, and wondring tell Of Babel, and the works of Memphian Kings, Learn how thir greatest Monuments of Fame, And Strength and Art are easily outdone By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour What in an age they with incessant toyle And hands innumerable scarce perform Nigh on the Plain in many cells prepar’d, That underneath had veins of liquid fire Sluc’d from the Lake, a second multitude With wondrous Art founded the massie Ore, Severing each kinde, and scum’d the Bullion dross: A third as soon had form’d within the ground A various mould, and from the boyling cells By strange conveyance fill’d each hollow nook, As in an Organ from one blast of wind To many a row of Pipes the sound-board breaths. Anon out of the earth a Fabrick huge Rose like an Exhalation, with the sound Of Dulcet Symphonies and voices sweet, Built like a Temple, where Pilasters round Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid With Golden Architrave; nor did there want Cornice or Freeze, with bossy Sculptures grav’n, The Roof was fretted Gold. Not Babilon, Nor great Alcairo such magnificence Equal’d in all thir glories, to inshrine Belus or Serapis thir Gods, or seat Thir Kings, when Aegypt with Assyria strove In wealth and luxurie. Th’ ascending pile Stood fixt her stately highth, and strait the dores Op’ning thir brazen foulds discover wide Within, her ample spaces, o’re the smooth And level pavement: from the arched roof Pendant by suttle Magic many a row Of Starry Lamps and blazing Cressets fed With Naphtha and Asphaltus yeilded light As from a sky. The hasty multitude Admiring enter’d, and the work some praise And some the Architect: his hand was known In Heav’n by many a Towred structure high, Where Scepter’d Angels held thir residence, And sat as Princes, whom the supreme King Exalted to such power, and gave to rule, Each in his Herarchie, the Orders bright. Nor was his name unheard or unador’d In ancient Greece; and in Ausonian land Men call’d him Mulciber; and how he fell From Heav’n, they fabl’d, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o’re the Chrystal Battlements: from Morn To Noon he fell, from Noon to dewy Eve, A Summers day; and with the setting Sun Dropt from the Zenith like a falling Star, On Lemnos th’ Aegaean Ile: thus they relate, Erring; for he with this rebellious rout Fell long before; nor aught avail’d him now To have built in Heav’n high Towrs; nor did he scape By all his Engins, but was headlong sent With his industrious crew to build in hell. Mean while the winged Haralds by command Of Sovran power, with awful Ceremony And Trumpets sound throughout the Host proclaim A solemn Councel forthwith to be held At Pandaemonium, the high Capital Of Satan and his Peers: thir summons call’d From every and Band squared Regiment By place or choice the worthiest; they anon With hundreds and with thousands trooping came Attended: all access was throng’d, the Gates And Porches wide, but chief the spacious Hall (Though like a cover’d field, where Champions bold Wont ride in arm’d, and at the Soldans chair Defi’d the best of Panim chivalry To mortal combat or carreer with Lance) Thick swarm’d, both on the ground and in the air, Brusht with the hiss of russling wings. As Bees In spring time, when the Sun with Taurus rides, Poure forth thir populous youth about the Hive In clusters; they among fresh dews and flowers Flie to and fro, or on the smoothed Plank, The suburb of thir Straw-built Cittadel, New rub’d with Baume, expatiate and confer Thir State affairs. So thick the aerie crowd Swarm’d and were straitn’d; till the Signal giv’n, Behold a wonder! they but now who seemd In bigness to surpass Earths Giant Sons Now less then smallest Dwarfs, in narrow room Throng numberless, like that Pigmean Race Beyond the Indian Mount, or Faerie Elves, Whose midnight Revels, by a Forrest side Or Fountain fome belated Peasant sees, Or dreams he sees, while over head the Moon Sits Arbitress, and neerer to the Earth Wheels her pale course, they on thir mirth & dance Intent, with jocond Music charm his ear;

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