So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high,

Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell [ 190 ]

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 recoild; the tenth on bended knee

His massie Spear upstaid; as if on Earth [ 195 ]

Winds under ground or waters forcing way

Sidelong, had pusht a Mountain from his seat

Half sunk with all his Pines. Amazement seisd

The Rebel Thrones, but greater rage to see

Thus foild thir mightiest, ours joy filld, and shout, [ 200 ]

Presage of Victorie and fierce desire

Of Battel: whereat Michael bid sound

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