Our moral lion’s not destroyed by tricks refined.
Our flesh, a hell; that hell a fiery dragon is.
Whole oceans can’t extinguish those fierce flames of his.
Earth’s seven oceans all were lost within his maw;
His raging fires would still burn high, to mankind’s awe.
Pitcoal, hard-hearted miscreants; these are its food;[178]
They sink within it, miserable, abject brood.5
Withal, its craving hunger ne’er will be appeased,
Until the voice of God cry unto it: “Art eased?”
“Eased?” will it answer; “No; not yet awhile by far;