While Milton's soaring fancy flies, And sings of feuds above the skies, Dreadfully fills the heavenly plain, With vanquish'd powers, and cherubs slain, Surpriz'd and trembling from afar, We scarce behold th' immortal war; Their fauchions formidably bright, Their swords compos'd of beaten light; And beamy arms with dreadful blaze From each contending van amaze; With dread we view th' apostate foe, Plung'd in the deep abyss below.
