Doubted his empiremdash;that were low indeed;That were an ignominy and shame beneathThis downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,And this empyreal substance, cannot fail;Since, through experience of this great event,In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,We may with more successful hope resolveTo wage by force or guile eternal war,Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,Who now triumphs, and in th excess of joySole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.So spake th apostate Angel, though in pain,Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:O Prince, O Chief of many throned PowersThat led th embattled Seraphim to warUnder thy conduct, and, in dreadful deedsFearless, endangered Heavens perpetual King,And put to proof his high supremacy,Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,
