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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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