Stain’d your pure crystal ether, or let fall
A short eclipse from his portentous shade?
O that the fiend had lodged on some broad orb
Athwart his way; nor reach’d his present home,
Then blacken’d earth with footsteps foul’d in hell,
Nor wash’d in ocean, as from Rome he pass’d
To Britain’s isle; too, too, conspicuous there!”
But this is all digression: where is He,
That o’er heaven’s battlements the felon hurl’d
To groans, and chains, and darkness? Where is He, 1830