So spake the Cherub; and his grave rebuke, Severe in youthful beauty, added grace Invincible. Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely; saw, and pined His loss; but chiefly to find here observed His lustre visibly impaired; yet seemed Undaunted. “If I must contend,” said he, “Best with the best⁠—the sender, not the sent; Or all at once; more glory will be won, Or less be lost.” “Thy fear,” said Zephon bold, “Will save us trial what the least can do Single against thee, wicked and thence weak.”

The Fiend replied not, overcome with rage; But, like a proud steed reined, went haughty on, Champing his iron curb: to strive or fly He held it vain; awe from above had quelled His heart, not else dismayed. Now drew they nigh The western point, where those half-rounding guards Just met, and closing stood in squadron joined, Awaiting next command. To whom their chief, Gabriel, from the front thus called aloud: