REDEMPTION. 37
Flaming, two-edged, he fear'd, still writhing, sore From late defeat, nor durst th' ethereal temp'r Of his legions, unaided try again. Back to the Stygian pool, inflamed with rage, He quickly hies, summons th' infernal peers, And brief, without prologue, thus sharp begins:
" Awake, ye powers ! arise, and arm for fight ! Our mundane empire shakes, whilst Heav'n outpours His legionary slaves to re-assume
The throne, which through fierce conflicts we have won, By immemorial right, prescriptive held. That other Eve, it seems, has come, destined, For so long since 'twas said, to crush our head, And all mankind to Heaven's fealty Restore. Fresh sport, I trow, and Heav'n's chagrin. But speak as best ye may, and me advise With what dire arms ferine, or deep deceit, This sinister portent may be repell'd, Or turn'd to our own use, secure in pow'r."
Hell, in amaze had heard the sudden call, And trembling at the wrathful countenance Of their dread king, in numbers came, frequent And full. Each to his sev'ral seat repair'd, Anxious to learn what mighty chevisance Now call'd their prowess forth; but when they heard Their vaunted chief a fugitive confess'd From a weak woman, hard was the task Their laughter to refrain ; fear scarce restrain'd them, For soon a universal grin, ghastly, Each visage overspread; whilst inwardly Convulsed, derision ill suppress'd, their sides They shook. Boiling with rage the Devil sat,
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