Scorning surprize. Or could we break our way

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

With blackest Insurrection, to confound

Heavns purest Light, yet our great Enemy

All incorruptible would on his Throne

Sit unpolluted, and th Ethereal mould

Incapable of stain would soon expel [ 140 ]

Her mischief, and purge off the baser fire

Victorious. Thus repulsd, our final hope

Is flat despair; we must exasperate

Th Almighty Victor to spend all his rage,

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

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

Though full of pain, this intellectual being,

Those thoughts that wander through Eternity,

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