Scorning surprize. Or could we break our way

    By force, and at our heels all hell should rise [ 135 ]

    it Insurrection, to confound

    Lig our great Enemy

    All incorruptible would on hrone

    Sit unpolluted, and thereal mould

    Incapable of stain would soon expel [ 140 ]

    he baser fire

    Victorious. thus repulsd, our final hope

    Is flat despair;  exasperate

    ty Victor to spend all his rage,

    And t must end us, t must be our cure, [ 145 ]

    to be no more; sad cure; for who would loose,

    tellectual being,

    ts t ernity,

    to peris

    In ted night, [ 150 ]

    Devoid of sense and motion? and who knows,

    Let ther our angry Foe

    Can give it, or will ever? how he can

    Is doubtful; t he never will is sure.

    ill  loose at once his ire, [ 155 ]

    Belike tence, or unaware,

    to give hir wish, and end

    them in his anger, whom his anger saves

    to punishen?

    Say they who counsel arr, we are decreed, [ 160 ]

    Reservd and destind to Eternal woe;

    ever doing, w can we suffer more,

    can ,

    tting, ting, thus in Arms?

    wrook [ 165 ]

    iting t

    to ser us? then seemd

    A refuge from those wounds: or when we lay

    C sure was worse.

    if t kindld those grim fires [ 170 ]

    Awakd so sevenfold rage

    And plunge us in the flames? or from above

    Sermitted vengeance arm again

    o plague