All Heav'n appear'd at once in flame; But soon with smoke obscur'd; Now all our force of arms in vain, Tho' now to arms inured,
For from these dev'lish engines belch'd, As though loud thunders spoke, Iron hail and thunderbolts,
And all our ranks soon broke; So swiftly thrown and aimed well, That none they hit could stand, Tho' standing else like rocks; now fell By thousands through our band, And angel on arch-angel roll'd, While arms and shield they broke: And those unhurt at will patroll'd To shun repeated stroke:
Satan high pleas'd beheld our flight, And to his mate thus cried : 'O why not now these victors smite And quell their haughty pride, For we our terms of peace have sent, And some received them well; Others flew off and high resent What our messengers tell.'
To whom Belial: The terms we sent Were terms of force and weight, And well urg'd home, of hard contents And stumbled many of late;
This gift they have besides, in flight Thro' all their ranks, they show Us when our foes walk not upright But in strange vag'ries go.'
Thus they alike in gamesome mood Stood scoffing th' upright at, And had in mind beyond all doubt Eternal might to match;
But they not long thus stood in jeer Rage prompted them at length, And found them arms fit to oppose The rebel angels' strength. For to the seated hills they flew, Which loos'ning to and fro, Quickly upplucked by the roots And on their en'mys throw, And bury deep their engines huge; Themselves escaped none,
For next they saw on their own heads Main promontories flung,
And overwhelm'd whole legions armed, Pent in a gloomy den,
And long they struggled ere they found Their passage out again:
And now ensued wild work in Heav'n And dangerous to the main;
To fight with hills in this uproar War seem'd a civil game.
And now all Heav'n had gone to wreck,
With ruin overspread,
Had not th' eternal King foreseen
This tumult wild and dread,
And all permitted to fulfill His purpose and design. In honoring his only Son Above all angels prime,
And to him thus in glory spake: 'My Son, two days are spent Since Michael with his num'rous pow'rs To tame these rebels went : The third is thine, for the ordain'd In which this war to end:
Go, then, and in thy Father's might My charriot ascend,
And bring thou forth all of my war, My bow and quiver too,
And my almighty arms gird on,
And these rebels pursue,
And drive them out from all Heav'n's bounds,
Into the place of sin:
There let them learn God to despise
And his annointed King."
Here now the filial Godhead spake : 'O, thou Supreme of Heav'n, Frst, highest, holiest, and best, To whom be honors giv'n; Thy Son thou seek'st to glorify Always, I always thee, And this I my glory account, Let this my glory be; But those thou hatest I hate too And can thy terror assume, As I thy mildness do, and drive
Those false unto their doom;
Then shall thy saints unmix'd with those Circle thy holy throne,
And unfeign'd hallelujahs sing
While they in dungeons groan."
So spake the Son, th' annointed King, And girt his armor on;
From the right hand of glory rose At the third sacred morn,
And ascended the charriot 'F paternal Deity,
And on his right hand eagle wing'd Sat certain victory; Beside him o'er his armor hung His quiver and his bow
Which with three bolted thunder stor'd Defi'd the haughty foe;
And with ten thousand thousand saints Attended onward came,
And power divine prepar'd his way, And the upright shout his name, Them unexpected joy surpris'd, Who first beheld his face. At his command the hills retir'd Each to his wonted place: And now this saw his hapless focs And to rebellious fight
Now rallied their insensate pow'rs, Enraged at the sight:
When now th' annointed Son of God, Amidst his potentates,
And all his hosts on either side
Thus to his legions spake :
Stand still in bright array, ye saints; Here stand ye angels bright,
For faithful hath your warfare been; And pleasing in God's sight;
Number to this day's work 's not giv❜n, Stand only and behold
Great God's indignant wrath now pour'd By me upon these bold.'
So said and on his impious foes Drove gloomy as is night,
Where soon arriv'd and in his hand - Ten thousand thunders grip'd, Which he before his face now sent And fell'd whole squadrons down; Nor one so hardy to oppose Among their legions found: Astonish'd quite, all courage lost, And all resistance too, And almost petrified with fear, Away their weapons threw : He over helms and helmed heads, Thron'd seraphim and all,
Rode, who now wish'd the mountains might Again upon them fall,
And hide them from his dreadful wrath.
Nor less on either side
His arrows in thick vollies fell
And spread the ruin wide,
And shot forth fire among th' accurs'd, And withered all their hope,
And all their wonted vigor drain'd And all their fury broke;
Yet half his strength he put not forth, Though they so fiercely driv'n, For he meant them not to destroy But root them out of Heav'n,
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