So saying, on he led his radiant files, Dazzling the moon; these to the bower direct In search of whom they sought. Him there they found Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve, Assaying by his devilish art to reach The organs of her fancy, and with them forge Illusions as he list, phantasms and dreams; Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint The animal spirits, that from pure blood arise Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise At least distempered, discontented thoughts, Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires, Blown up with high conceits engendering pride. Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear Touched lightly; for no falsehood can endure Touch of celestial temper, but returns Of force to its own likeness: up he starts, Discovered and surprised. As when a spark Lights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid Fit for the tun, some magazine to store Against a rumoured war, the smutty grain, With sudden blaze diffused, inflames the air: So started up in his own shape the Fiend. Back stept those two fair Angels, half amazed