What blindness and what darkness did there e'er Like this undocile king's appear? Whate'er but that which now does represent And paint the crime out in the punishment? From the deep baleful caves of hell below, Where the old mother Night does grow, Substantial Night, that does disclaim Privation's empty name, Through secret conduits monstrous shapes arose, Such as the sun's whole force could not oppose; They with a solid cloud All heaven's eclipsed face did shroud; Seemed with large wings spread o'er the sea and earth, To brood up a new Chaos his deformed birth; And every lamp, and every fire, Did, at the dreadful sight, wink and expire, To the empyrean source all streams of light seemed to retire. The living men were in their standing houses buried, But the long night no slumber knows, But the short death finds no repose. Ten thousand terrors through the darkness fled, And ghosts complained, and spirits murmured, And fancy's multiplying sight Viewed all the scenes invisible of night. XIV. Of God's dreadful anger these Were but the first light skirmishes; The shock and bloody battle now begins, The plenteous harvest of full-ripened sins. It was the time when the still moon Was mounted softly to her noon, And dewy sleep, which from Night's secret springs arose, Gently as Nile the land o'erflows; When, lo! from the high countries of refined day, The golden heaven without allay, Whose dross, in the creation purged away, Made up the sun's adulterate ray, Michael, the warlike prince, does downwards fly, Swift as the journeys of the sight, Swift as the race of light, And with his winged will cuts through the yielding sky. He passed through many a star, and as he passed Shone (like a star in them) more brightly there Than they did in their sphere: On a tall pyramid's pointed head he stopped at last, And a mild look of sacred pity cast Down on the sinful land where he was sent To inflict the tardy punishment. 'Ah! yet,' said he, 'yet, stubborn King! repent, Whilst thus unarmed I stand, Ere the keen sword of God fill my commanded hand; Suffer but yet thyself and thine to live. Who would, alas! believe That it for man,' said he, 'So hard to be forgiven should be, And yet for God so easy to forgive!' XV.