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3 In adamantine chaines & penall fire Who durt defie th' Omnipotent to armes. Nine mes the pace that meaures day & night To mortall men, hee with his horrid crue Lay vanquiht, roling in the fi{[ai|e}}ry gulfe Confounded though immortall: But his doome Reservd him to more wrath; for now the thought Both of lot happiness & lating paine Torments him, round he throws his balefull eyes That witnes'd huge affliction & dimay Mix'd with obdurate pride & stedfat hate: At once as farr as Angells kenne he views The dimal cituation wat & wilde A dungeon horrible, on all ides round As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames No light, but rather darknes viible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of orrow, dolefull hades, where peace And rest can never dwell; Hope never comes That comes to all: but torture without end Still urges, & a fiery deluge fed With ever-burning ulphur unconum'd: Such place eternall Justice had prepar'd For these rebellious, here thir prison ordain'd