Milton - PR3550 .D77 1777 M1

BOOK V. PARADISE LOST. 145 Son, Thou in whom my glory I behold In full refplendence, Heir of all My might ! Nearly it now concerns Us to be lure Of our Omnipotence ; and with what arms We mean to hold what antiently We claim Of Deity or empire fuch a foe Is riling, who intends eret his throng Equal to Ours, throughout the fpacious north Nor fo content, hash in his thought to try In battel, what our pow'r is, or,our right. Let us advife, and to this hazard draw With fpeed what force is left, and all employ In our defence, left unawares we lofe This our high place, our fanduary, our hill. To whom the Son with calm afped, and clear, (Light'ning divine, ineffable, ferene !) Made anfwer. Mighty Father, Thou Thy foes Juftly haft in derition, and fecure Laugh'it at their vain defigns, and tumults vain Matter to Me of glory, whom their hate illuftrates, when they fee all regal pow'r Giv'n Me to quell their pride; and in event Know whether I be dextrous to fubdue Thy rebels, or be found the worft in heav'n. So fpake the Son but Satan with his Povy'ra Far was advanc'd on winged fpeed ; an hoft Innumerable as the ftars of night, Or ((tars of morning) dew-drops, which the fun Impearis on every leaf and every flow'r. Regions they paled, and mighty regencies Of Seraphim, and Potentates, and Thrones, In their triple degrees ; (Regions to which All thy dominion, Adam, is no more X