To scour the sinful world; 'gainst which is bent
Artillery that never can be spent:
Bows strung with vengeance, and flame-feather'd darts
Headed with death, to wound transgressing hearts;
His chariot wheels wrapp'd in the whirlwind's gyre,
His horses hoov'd with flint, and shod with fire:
In which amaze, where'er they fix their eye,
110Or on the melting earth, or up on high,
To seek Heaven's shrunk lights, nothing shall appear,
But night and horror in their hemisphere: