And lo! two fools have put into my hand
The snare that, wanting most, I might have miss’d;
That shall not him alone en-mesh, but her
Whom I have long and vainly from the ranks
Striv’n to seduce of Him, the woman-born,
Who is one day to bruise the serpent’s head—
So is it written; but meanwhile my hour
On earth is not accomplisht, and I fain
Of this detested race would hinder all
From joining in the triumph of my fall