Page:Paradise lost by Milton, John.djvu/47

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With heaven's afflicting thunder, and besought
The Deep to shelter us . . . This Hell then seemed
A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay
Chained on the burning lake? . . . that sure was worse.
What if the breath that kindled those grim fires,170
Awaked, should blow them into sevenfold rage,
And plunge us in the flames? or from above
Should intermitted Vengeance arm again
His red right hand to plague us? What if all
Her stores were opened, and this firmament
Of Hell should sprout her cataracts of fire,
Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall,
One day upon our heads! While we, perhaps
Designing or exhorting glorious war,
Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurled,180
Each on his rock transfixed, the sport and prey
Of racking whirlwinds, or forever sunk
Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains;
There to converse with everlasting groans,
Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved,
Ages of hopeless end. This would be worse.
War therefore, open or concealed alike,
My voice dissuades; for what can force or guile
With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye