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 In arms not worse, in foresight much advanc't, Wee may with more successfull hope resolve To wage by force or guile eternall warr Irreconcileable, to our grand Foe, Who now triumphs, & in th' excesse of joy Sole raigning holds the Tyranny of Heaven. So spake th' Apostate Angell, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but wrackt with deep despair: And him thus answer'd soon his bold Compeer: O Prince, O Cheife of many throned powers, That led th' imbattelld Seraphim to warr Under thy Conduct, & in dreadfull deeds Fearless; endanger'd Heavens perpetuall King; And put to proof his high Supremacy, Whither upheld by strength or chance or fate; Too well I see and rue the dire event, That with sad overthrow and foul defeat Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction layd thus low As farr as Gods and heavenly Essences Can perish: for the mind and spirit remaines Invincible, and vigour soon returnes, Though all our glory extinct, and happie state Here swallow'd up in endlesse misery.