Page:Paradise lost by Milton, John.djvu/153

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 * "Then when I am thy captive talk of chains,

Proud limitary Cherub! but ere then Far heavier load thyself expect to feel From my prevailing arm, though Heaven's King Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, Used to the yoke, drawest his triumphant wheels In progress through the road of Heaven star-paved."
 * While thus he spake, the angelic squadron bright

Turn'd fiery red, sharpening in mooned horns Their phalanx, and began to hem him round With ported spears, as thick as when a field Of Ceres ripe for harvest waving bends Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Sways them; the careful ploughman doubting stands, Lest on the threshing-floor his hopeful sheaves Prove chaff. On the other side, Satan alarmed, Collecting all his might, dilated stood, Like Teneriffe or Atlas, unremoved. His stature reached the sky, and on his crest Sat Horror plumed; nor wanted in his grasp What seemed both spear and shield. Now dreadful deeds Might have ensued, nor only Paradise In this commotion, but the starry cope Of heaven perhaps, or all the elements