Page:Paradise Lost (1667).djvu/59

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With warbl’d Hymns, and to his Godhead ſing
Forc’d Halleluiah’s; while he Lordly ſits
Our envied Sovran, and his Altar breathes
Ambroſial Odours and Ambroſial Flowers,
Our ſervile offerings. This muſt be our task
In Heav’n, this our delight; how weariſom
Eternity ſo ſpent in worſhip paid
To whom we hate. Let us not then purſue
250By force impoſſible, by leave obtain’d
Unacceptable, though in Heav’n, our ſtate
Of ſplendid vaſſalage, but rather ſeek
Our own good from our ſelves, and from our own
Live to our ſelves, though in this vaſt receſs,
Free, and to none accountable, preferring
Hard liberty before the eaſie yoke
Of ſervile Pomp. Our greatneſs will appear
Then moſt conſpicuous, when great things of ſmall,
Uſeful of hurtful, proſperous of adverſe
260We can create, and in what place ſo e’re
Thrive under evil, and work eaſe out of pain
Through labour and endurance. This deep world
Of darkneſs do we dread? How oft amidſt
Thick clouds and dark doth Heav’ns all-ruling Sire
Chooſe to reſide, his Glory unobſcur’d,
And with the Majeſty of darkneſs round
Covers his Throne; from whence deep thunders roar
Muſt’ring thir rage, and Heav’n reſembles Hell?
As he our Darkneſs, cannot we his Light
270Imitate when we pleaſe? This Deſart ſoile
Wants not her hidden luſtre, Gemms and Gold;
Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raiſe
Magnificence; and what can Heav’n ſhew more?