In might or swift prevention. But the sword Of Michael from the armoury of God Was given him tempered so, that neither keen Nor solid might resist that edge: it met The sword of Satan, with steep force to smite Descending, and in half cut sheer; nor stayed, But, with swift wheel reverse, deep entering shared All his right side. Then Satan first knew pain, And writhed him to and fro convolved; so sore The griding sword with discontinuous wound Passed through him; but the ethereal substance closed, Not long divisible, and from the gash A stream of nectarous humour issuing flowed Sanguine, such as celestial Spirits may bleed, And all his armour stained, erewhile so bright Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run By Angels many and strong, who interposed Defence, while others bore him on their shields Back to his chariot, where it stood retired From off the files of war; there they him laid Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame To find himself not matchless, and his pride Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath His confidence to equal God in power.