With speed what force is left, and all employ In our defence; lest unawares we lose This our high place, our sanctuary, our hill. To whom the Son with calm aspect and clear, Lightning divine, ineffable, serene, 735 Made answer. Mighty Father, thou thy foes Justly hast in derision, and, secure, Laughest at their vain designs and tumults vain, Matter to me of glory, whom their hate Illustrates, when they see all regal power 740 Given me to quell their pride, and in event Know whether I be dextrous to subdue Thy rebels, or be found the worst in Heaven. So spake the Son;
