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Milton John
«Paradise Lost»

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Decree, The Victors will. To suffer, as to doe, Our strength is equal, nor the Law unjust That so ordains: this was at first resolv'd, If we were wise, against so great a foe Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. I laugh, when those who at the Spear are bold And vent'rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear What yet they know must follow, to endure Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain, The sentence of thir Conquerour: This is now Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear, Our Supream Foe in time may much remit His anger, and perhaps thus farr remov'd Not mind us not offending, satisfi'd With what is punish't; whence these raging fires Will slack'n, if his breath stir not thir flames. Our purer essence then will overcome Thir noxious vapour, or enur'd not feel, Or chang'd at length, and to the place conformd In temper and in nature, will receive Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain; This horror will grow milde, this darkness light, Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, since our present lot appeers For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to our selves more woe. Thus BELIAL with words cloath'd in reasons garb Counsel'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloath, Not peace: and after him thus MAMMON spake. Either to disinthrone the King of Heav'n We warr, if warr be best, or to regain Our own right lost: him to unthrone we then May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yeild To fickle Chance, and CHAOS judge the strife: The former vain to hope argues as vain The latter: for what place can be for us Within Heav'ns bound, unless Heav'ns Lord
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