The adverse legions, nor less hideous join'd
The horrid shock. Now stormy fury rose,
And clamour such as heard in Heaven till now
Was never; arms on armour clashing bray'd
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels
Of brazen chariots raged; dire was the noise
Of conflict; overhead the dismal hiss
Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew,
And, flying, vaulted either host with fire.
So under fiery cope together rush'd
Both battles main, with ruinous assault
And inextinguishable rage. All Heaven
Resounded; and had Earth been then, all Earth
Had to her centre shook. What wonder? when
Millions of fierce encountering Angels fought
On either side, the least of whom could wield
These elements, and arm him with the force
Of all their regions: How much more of Power
Army against army numberless to raise
Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb,
Though not destroy, their happy native seat;
Had not the Eternal King Omnipotent,
From his strong hold of Heaven, high overruled
And limited their might; though number'd such
As each divided legion might have seem'd
A numerous host; in strength each armed hand
A legion; led in fight, yet leader seem'd
Each warrior single as in chief, expert
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway
Of battle, open when, and when to close
The ridges of grim war; No thought of flight,
None of retreat, no unbecoming deed
That argued fear; each on himself relied,
As only in his arm the moment lay
Of victory; Deeds of eternal fame

Were done, but infinite; for wide was spread
That war, and various; sometimes on firm ground
A standing fight, then, soaring on main wing,
Tormented all the air; all air seem'd then
Conflicting fire. Long time in even scale
The battle hung; till Satan, who that day

Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms
No equal, raging through the dire attack
Of fighting Seraphim confused, at length
Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd
Squadrons at once; with huge two-handed sway
Brandish'd aloft, the horrid edge came down
Wide wasting; such destruction to withstand
He hasted, and opposed the rocky orb
Oftenfold adamant, his ample shield,
A vast circumference. At his approach
The great Archangel from his warlike toil
Surceased, and glad as hoping here to end
Intestine war in Heaven, the archfoe subdued
Or captive dragg'd in chains, with hostile frown
And visage all inflamed first thus began.
Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,
Unnamed in Heaven, now plenteous as thou seest
These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all,
Though heaviest by just measure on thyself,
And thy adherents: How hast thou disturb'd
Heaven's blessed peace; and into nature brought
Misery, uncreated till the crime

Of thy rebellion! how hast thou instill'd
Thy malice into thousands, once upright

And faithful, now proved false! But think not here
To trouble holy rest; Heaven casts thee out
From all her confines. Heaven, the seat of bliss,
Brooks not the works of violence and war.
Hence then, and evil go with thee along,
Thy offspring, to the place of evil, Hell;
Thou and thy wicked crew! there mingle broils,
Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom,

Or some more sudden vengeance, wing'd from God,
Precipitate thee with aumented pain.

So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thus The Adversary. Nor think thou with wind

Of airy threats to awe whom yet with deeds

Thou canst not. Hast thou turn'd the least of these To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise Unvanquish'd, easier to transact with me

That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats

To chase me hence? err not, that so shall end
The strife which thou call'st evil, but we style
The strife of glory; which we mean to win,
Or turn this Heaven itself into the Hell
Thou fablest; here however to dwell free,
If not to reign: Meanwhile thy utmost force,
And join him named Almighty to thy aid,
I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh.
They ended parle, and both address'd for fight
Unspeakable; for who, though with the tongue
Of Angels, can relate, or to what things
Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift
Human imagination to such height

Of Godlikepower? for likest Gods they seem'd,
Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms,
Fit to decide the empire of great Heaven.
Now waved their fiery swords, and in the air
Made horrid circles; two broad suns their shields
Blazed opposite, while Expectation stood
In horror: From each hand with speed retired,
Where erst was thickest fight, the angelic throng,
And left large field, unsafe within the wind
Of such commotion; such as, to set forth
Great things by small, if, nature's concord broke,
Among the constellations war were sprung,
Two planets, rushing from aspéct malign
Of fiercest opposition, in mid sky

Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound.

SPEECH OF MR. BURKE ON DECLINING THE POLL.

GENTLEMEN, I decline the election.-It has ever been my rule through life, to observe a proportion between my efforts and my objects. I have not canvassed the whole of this city in form. But I have taken such a view of it as satisfies my own mind, that your choice will not ultimately fall upon me. Your city, gentlemen, is in a state of miserable distraction; and I am resolved to withdraw whatever

share my pretensions have had in its unhappy divisions. I have not been in haste; I have tried all prudent means; I have waited for the effects of all contingencies.

I am not in the least surprised, nor in the least angry at this view of things. I have read the book of life for a long time, and I have read other books a little. Nothing has happened to me, but what has happened to men much better than me, and in times and in nations full as good as the age and the country that we live in. To say that I am no way concerned, would be neither decent nor true. The representation of Bristol was an object on many accounts dear to me; and I certainly should very far prefer it to any other in the kingdom. My habits are made to it; and it is in general more unpleasant to be rejected after long trial, than not to be chosen at all.

But, gentlemen, I will see nothing except your former kindness, and I will give way to no other sentiments than those of gratitude. From the bottom of my heart I thank you for what you have done to me: You have given me a long term, which is now expired. I have performed the conditions, and enjoyed all the profits to the full; and I now surrender your estate into your hands without being in a single tile, or a single stone impaired or wasted by my use. I have served the public for fifteen years. I have served you in particular for six. What is passed is well stored. It is safe, and out of the power of fortune. What is to come, is in wiser hands than ours; and He, in whose hands it is, best knows whether it is best for you and me that I should be in parliament, or even in the world.

Gentlemen, the melancholy event of yesterday reads to us an awful lesson against being too much troubled about any of the objects of ordinary ambition. The worthy gentleman,* who has been snatched from at the moment of the election, and in the middle of the contest, while his desires were as warm, and his hopes as eager as ours, has feelingly told us *Mr. Coombe

what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue. It has been usual for a candidate who declines, to take his leave by a letter to the sheriffs; but I received your trust in the face of day; and in the face of day I accept your dismission. I am not,-I am not at all ashamed to look upon you; nor can my presence discompose the order of business here. I humbly and respectfully take my leave of the sheriffs, the candidates, and the electors; wishing heartily that the choice may be for the best, at a time which calls, if ever time did call, for service that is not nominal. It is no plaything you are about. I tremble when I consider the trust I have presumed to ask. I confided too much in my intentions. They were really fair and upright; and I am bold to say, that I ask no ill thing for you, when on parting from this place, I pray that, whoever you choose to succeed me, he may resemble me exactly in all things, except in my abilities to serve, and my fortune to please

you.

LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN. Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place, Has seen "Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the

face:

Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well

known,

Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.-
Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely,
Hired lodgings that took Single Gentlemen only;
But Will was so fat he appear'd like a tun;-
Or like two Single Gentlemen rolled into One.
He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated:
But all night long he felt fever'd and heated;
And, though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep,
He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep.—

Next night, 'twas the same!—and the next!-and the next!

He perspir'd like an ox; he was nervous, and vex'd