Abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.
Arms on armour clashing bray'd Horrible discord, and the madding wheels Of brazen chariots rag'd: dire was the noise Of conflict.
He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay.
God is thy law, thou mine.
Our torments also may in length of time Become our Elements.
The nodding horror of whose shady brows Threats the forlorn and wandering passenger.