Poem 6

“So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high, Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell On the proud crest of Satan that no sight, Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield, Such ruin intercept. Ten paces huge He back recoiled; the tenth on bended knee His massy spear upstayed: as if, on Earth, Winds under ground, or waters forcing way, Sidelong had pushed a mountain from his seat, Half-sunk with all his pines. Amazement seized The rebel Thrones, but greater rage, to see Thus foiled their mightiest; ours joy filled, and shout, Presage of victory, and fierce desire Of battle: whereat Michael bid sound The Archangel trumpet; through the vast of Heaven It sounded, and the faithful armies rung Hosannah to the Highest; nor stood at gaze The adverse legions, nor less hideous joined The horrid shock. Now storming fury rose, And clamour such as heard in Heaven till now Was never; arms on armour clashing brayed Horrible discord, and the madding wheels Of brazen chariots raged; dire was the noise Of conflict; overhead the dismal hiss Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew, And, flying, vaulted either host with fire. So under fiery cope together rushed Both battles main, with ruinous assault And inextinguishable rage; all Heaven Resounded, and, had Earth been then, all Earth Had to her centre shook. What wonder, when Millions of fierce encountering Angels fought On either side, the least of whom could wield These elements, and arm him with the force Of all their regions? How much more of power Army against army numberless to raise Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb, Though not destroy, their happy native seat! Had not the Eternal King Omnipotent From his stronghold of Heaven high overruled And limited their might; though numbered such As each divided legion might have seemed A numerous host; in strength each armed hand A legion; led in fight, yet leader seemed Each warrior single as in chief⁠—expert When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway Of battle, open when, and when to close The ridges of grim war. No thought of flight, None of retreat, no unbecoming deed That argued fear; each on himself relied, As only in his arm the moment lay Of victory. Deeds of eternal fame Were done, but