In spring-time, when the Sun with Taurus The consultation begun, Satan debates whether another battle be to be hazarded for the recovery of Heaven: some advise it, others dissuade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before by Satan-to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in Heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature, equal, or not much inferior, to themselves, about this time to be created. Their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search: Satan, their chief, undertakes alone the voyage; is honored and applauded. The council thus ended, the rest betake them several ways and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, to entertain the time till Satan return. He passes on his journey to Hell-gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them; by whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf between Hell and Heaven; with what difficulty he passes through, directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight of this new World which he sought. Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand More than can be in Heaven, we now return Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and To claim our just inheritance of old, gold, Satan exalted sat, by merit raised 5 To that bad eminence; and, from despair Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue Vain war with Heaven; and, by success1 untaught, His proud imaginations thus displayed:"Powers and Dominions, Deities of Heaven! II Surer to prosper than prosperity Could have assured us; and by what best way, 40 Whether of open war or covert guile, We now debate. Who can advise may speak." He ceased; and next him Moloch, scep tred king, O'er Heaven's high towers to force resistless way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Against the Torturer; when, to meet the noise 65 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 Mixed with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 69 His own invented torments. But perhaps Will either quite consume us, and reduce Desperate revenge, and battle dangerous 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, swallowed up and lost In the wide womb of uncreated Night, 150 Devoid of sense and motion? And who knows, Let this be good, whether our angry Foe Say they who counsel war; 'we are decreed, |