Page:Paradise lost by Milton, John.djvu/43

The prison of his tyranny who reigns
By our delay? No, let us rather choose,60
Armed 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 Angles, and his throne itself
Mixed with Tartarean suphur and strange fire,
His own invented torments. But perhaps70
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 and 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 flight80
We sunk thus low? The ascent is easy then;
The event is feared. 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 destroyed. What can be worse