The Seat of Desolation, void of Light,
Save what the glimm'ring of those livid Flames
Casts pale and dreadful—
The Shout of the whole Host of fallen Angels when drawn up in Battel Array:
—The universal Host up sent
A Shout that tore Hell's Concave, and beyond
Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.
The Review, which the Leader makes of his Infernal Army:
—He thro' the armed files
Darts his experienc'd eye, and soon traverse
The whole Battalion mews, their Order due,
Their Visages and Stature as of Gods.
Their Number last he sums; and now his Heart
Distends with Pride, and hard'ning in his strength
Glories—
The Flash of Light which appear'd upon the drawing of their Swords:
He spake: and to confirm his words outflew
Millions of flaming Swords, drawn from the thighs
Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden Blaze
Far round illumin'd Hell—
The sudden Production of the Pandæmonium;
Anon out of the Earth a Fabrick huge
Rose like an Exhalation, with the Sound
Of dulcet Symphonies and Voices sweet.
The Artificial Illuminations made in it: