worthiest

Built like a Temple, where Pilasters roundWere set, and Doric pillars overlaidWith Golden Architrave; nor did there want [ 715 ]Cornice or Freeze, with bossy Sculptures grav'n,The Roof was fretted Gold. Not Babilon,Nor great Alcairo such magnificenceEqual'd in all thir glories, to inshrineBelus or Serapis thir Gods, or seat [ 720 ]Thir Kings, when Ægypt with Assyria stroveIn wealth and luxurie. Th' ascending pileStood fixt her stately highth, and strait the doresOp'ning thir brazen foulds discover wideWithin, her ample spaces, o're the smooth [ 725 ]And level pavement: from the arched roofPendant by suttle Magic many a rowOf Starry Lamps and blazing Cressets fedWith Naphtha and Asphaltus yeilded lightAs from a sky.

Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighsOf mighty Cherubim

Thrice he assayd, and thrice in spight of scorn,Tears such as Angels weep, burst forth: at last [ 620 ]Words interwove with sighs found out thir way.

Could merit more then that small infantry [ 575 ]Warr'd on by Cranes: though all the Giant broodOf Phlegra with th' Heroic Race were joyn'dThat fought at Theb's and Ilium, on each side

For Spirits when they pleaseCan either Sex assume, or both; so softAnd uncompounded is thir Essence pure, [ 425 ]Not ti'd or manacl'd with joynt or limb,Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones,Like cumbrous flesh; but in what shape they chooseDilated or condens't, bright or obscure,Can execute thir aerie purposes, [ 430 ]

In this unhappy Mansion, or once moreWith rallied Arms to try what may be yetRegaind in Heav'n, or what more lost in Hell?

Here at leastWe shall be free; th' Almighty hath not builtHere for his envy, will not drive us hence: [ 260 ]Here we may reign secure, and in my choyceTo reign is worth ambition though in Hell:Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.

The mind is its own place, and in it selfCan make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.

Farewel happy Fields

Who now is Sovran can dispose and bidWhat shall be right:

How all his malice serv'd but to bring forthInfinite goodness, grace and mercy shewnOn Man by him seduc't, but on himselfTreble confusion, wrath and vengeance pour'd.

Fall'n Cherube, to be weak is miserableDoing or Suffering: but of this be sure,To do ought good never will be our task,But ever to do ill our sole delight, [ 160 ]As being the contrary to his high willWhom we resist. If then his ProvidenceOut of our evil seek to bring forth good,Our labour must be to pervert that end,And out of good still to find means of evil; [ 165 ]Which oft times may succeed, so as perhapsShall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturbHis inmost counsels from thir destind aim.

Or do him mightier service as his thrallsBy right of Warr, what e're his business be [ 150 ]Here in the heart of Hell to work in Fire,

(whom I nowOf force believe Almighty, since no lessThen such could hav orepow'rd such force as ours)

As far as Gods and Heav'nly EssencesCan perish

What though the field be lost? [ 105 ]All is not lost; the unconquerable Will,And study of revenge, immortal hate,And courage never to submit or yield:And what is else not to be overcome?That Glory never shall his wrath or might [ 110 ]Extort from me. To bow and sue for graceWith suppliant knee, and deifie his power,Who from the terrour of this Arm so lateDoubted his Empire, that were low indeed,That were an ignominy and shame beneath [ 115 ]This downfall; since by Fate the strength of GodsAnd this Empyreal substance cannot fail,Since through experience of this great eventIn Arms not worse, in foresight much advanc't,We may with more successful hope resolve [ 120 ]To wage by force or guile eternal WarrIrreconcileable, to our grand Foe,Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joySole reigning holds the Tyranny of Heav'n.

Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate

what time his Pride Had cast him out from Heav'n, with all his Host Of Rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring To set himself in Glory above his Peers,