Milton - PR3550 .D77 1777 M1

BooK II. PARADISE LOST. Went all his fear: of God, or hell, or worfe, He reck'd not; and thefe words thereafter fpake : 5o My fentence is for open war : of wiles, More unexpert, I boat's not: them let thole Contrive who need, or when they need, not now : For while they fit contriving, thall the reit, Millions that fland in arms, and longing wait The final to afcend, fit ling'riag here Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling place Accept this dark opprobrious den of {Marne, The prifon of his tyranny who reigns By our delay ? No! let us rather chute, 6o Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once O'er heav'n's high tow'rs to force refifilets way, Turning our tortures into horrid arms Againfl the torturer ; when to meet the noile Of his almi4ty engine he than hear Infernal thunder, and for lightning fee Black fire and horror (hot with equal rage Among his Angels ; and his throne it 1:11 Mixt with Tartarean fulphur, and firange fire, His own invented torments. But perhaps The way feems difficult and fleep, to fcale With upright wing againfi a higher foe. Let fuch bethink them, lithe fleepy drench Of that forgetful lake benumb not dill, That in our proper motion we -afcend Up to our native feat : defcent and fall To us is aciverfe. Who but felt of late When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear Infulting, and puifu'd us through the deep, 13, With what compulfiOn and laborious fight We funk thus low ? th' afcent is eafie then ; Th' event is fear'd; (Mould we again provoke 3' 55 7° 75 Our