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Paradiſe loſt.
Book 2.
He reckd not, and theſe words thereafter ſpake. 50
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 60
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
Mixed with Tartarcan Sulphur, and ſtrange fire,
His own invented Torments. But perhaps 70
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 80
We ſunk thus low? Th’ aſcent is eaſie then;
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 60
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
Mixed with Tartarcan Sulphur, and ſtrange fire,
His own invented Torments. But perhaps 70
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 80
We ſunk thus low? Th’ aſcent is eaſie then;
Th'
