The sensible of pain. All things invite
To peaceful counsels, and the settled state
Of order, how in safety best we may
Compose our present evils, with regard
Of what we are and were, dismissing quite
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.

He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'd
Th' assembly, as when hollow rocks retain

The sound of blust'ring winds, which all night long
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull
Sea-faring men o'er watch'd, whose bark by chance
Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay

After the tempest: such applause was heard
As Mammon ended, and his sentence pleased,
Advising peace: for such another field

They dreaded worse than hell: so much the fear
Of thunder and the sword of Michael

Wrought still within them; and no less desire
To found this nether empire, which might rise,
By policy and long process of time,

In emulation opposite to heav'n.

Which when Beelzebub perceived, than whom,
Satan except, none higher sat, with grave
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd

A pillar of state: deep on his front engraven
Deliberation sat and public care;

And princely counsel in his face yet shone,
Majestic though in ruin: sage he stood,
With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear

The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look
Drew audience and attention still as night

Or summer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake.
Thrones and imperial Powers, offspring of heav'n,
Ethereal Virtues; or these titles now

Must we renounce, and changing style be call'd
Princes of hell? for so the popular vote

Inclines, here to continue, and build up here

A growing empire. Doubtless; while we dream,

And know not that the King of heav'n hath doom'd

This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat

Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt

From heav'n's high jurisdiction, in new league
Banded against his throne, but to remain

In strictest bondage, though thus far removed,

Under the inevitable curb reserv'd

His captive multitude: for he, be sure,

In highth or depth, still first and last will reign
Sole King, and of his kingdom lose no part

By our revolt, but over hell extend

His empire, and with iron sceptre rule,

Us here, as with his golden those in heav'n.
What sit we then projecting peace and war?
War hath determined us, aud foil'd with loss
Irreparable; terms of peace yet none

Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be giv'n
To us enslaved, but custody severe,

And stripes, and arbitrary punishment
Inflicted? and what peace can we return,

But to our power hostility and hate,

Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow,

Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least

May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice
In doing what we most in suffering feel?
Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need
With dangerous expedition to invade

Heav'n, whose high walls fear no assault, or siege,
Or ambush from the deep. What if we find
Some easier enterprize? There is a place,
(If ancient and prophetic fame in heav'n
Err not,) another world, the happy seat
Of some new race call'd Man, about this time

To be created like to us, though less

In power and excellence, but favour'd more

Of Him who rules above; so was His will

Pronounced among the Gods, and by an oath,

That shook heav'n's whole circumference, confirm'd.
Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn
What creatures there inhabit, of what mould

Or substance, how endued, and what their power,
And where their weakness, how attempted best,

By force or subtilty. Though heav'n be shut,

And heav'n's high Arbitrator sit secure

In his own strength, this place may lie exposed,
The utmost border of his kingdom, left
To their defence who hold it: here perhaps
Some advantageous act may be achieved

By sudden onset, either with hell fire
To waste his whole creation, or possess
All as our own, and drive as we were driven
The puny habitants; or if not drive,
Seduce them to our party, that their God
May prove their foe, and with repenting hand
Abolish his own works. This would surpass
Common revenge, and interrupt his joy

In our confusion, and our joy upraise

In his disturbance; when his darling sons,

Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse

Their frail original, and faded bliss.

Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth

Attempting, or to sit in darkness here

Hatching vain empires. Thus Beelzebub
Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devised
By Satan, and in part proposed; for whence,
But from the author of all ill, could spring
So deep a malice, to confound the race
Of mankind in one root, and earth with hell
To mingle and involve, done all to spite
The great Creator? but their spite still serves
His glory to augment. The bold design
Pleased highly those infernal states, and joy
Sparkled in all their eyes; with full assent
They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews.
Well have ye judged, well ended long debate,
Synod of Gods, and, like to what ye are,

Great things resolved; which from the lowest deep
Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate,

Nearer our ancient seat; perhaps in view

Of those bright confines, whence with neighbouring arms
And opportune excursion we may chance
Re-enter heav'n: or else in some mild zone
Dwell, not unvisited of heav'n's fair light,
Secure, and at the bright'ning orient beam
Purge off this gloom; the soft delicious air

To heal the scar of these corrosive fires

Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we send

In search of this new world? whom shall we find

Sufficient? who shall tempt with wand'ring feet

The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss,

And through the palpable obscure find out

His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight,
Upborne with indefatigable wings,

Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive

The happy isle? what strength, what art can then

Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe

Through the strict sentries and stations thick
Of angels watching round? here he had need
All circumspection, and we now no less
Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send
The weight of all, and our last hope, relies.
This said, he sat; and expectation held
His look suspense, awaiting who appear'd
To second, or oppose, or undertake

The perilous attempt: but all sat mute,

Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each

In others' count'nance read his own dismay

Astonish'd; none among the choice and prime

Of those heav'n-warring champions could be found

So hardy, as to proffer or accept

Alone the dreadful voyage; till at last

Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised