THE CHRISTIAD. 63 



" ' Is It not written,' sternly he replied, 



* Tempt not the Lord thy God ?' Frowning he spal^'B^ 

 And instant sounds, as of the ocean tide, 



Rose, and the whirlwind from its prison brake, 

 And caught me up aloft, till in one flake 

 The sidelong volley met my swift career, 



And smote me earthward. — Jove himself might 

 quake 

 At such a fall ; my sinews cracked, and near, 

 Obscure and dizzy sounds seemed ringing in mine ear. 



'' Senseless and stunn'd I lay ; till casting round 

 My half unconscious gaze, I saw the foe 

 Borne on a car of roses to the ground, 

 By volant angels ; and, as sailing slow, 

 He sunk the hoary battlement below. 

 While on the tall spire slept the slant sunbeam, 

 Sweet on the enamour'd zephyr was the flow 

 Of heavenly instruments. Such strains oft seem. 

 On starlight hill, to soothe the Syrian shepherd's dream. 



" I saw blaspheming. Hate renew'd my strength ; 

 I smote the ether with my iron wing, 

 And left the accursed scene. — Arrived at length 

 In these drear halls, to ye, my jeers ! I bring 

 The tidino:s of defeat. Hell's hauirhtv kins: 

 Thrice vanquish'd, bafiled, smitten, and dismay'd ! 



O shame ! Is this tlie hero who could fling 

 Defiance at his Maker, while array 'd, 

 High o'er the walls of light, rebellion's banners play'd ! 



" Yet shall not Heaven's bland minions triumph long 

 Hell yet shall have revenge. O glorious sight, 

 Prophetic visions on my fancy throng : 

 I see wild Agony's lean finger write 



