From this curst Mine they had that blow decreed,
A Moments dismal blast, as should exceed
All the Storms, Battles, Murders, Massacres,
And all the strokes of Daggers, Swords, or Spears,
Since first _Cain's_ hand at _Abels_ Head was lift:
A Blow more swift than Pestilence, more swift
Than ever a destroying Angel rod,
To pour the Vial of an angry God.

The Train was laid, the very Signal giv'n;
But here th'all-seeing, _Israels_ Guardian, Heav'n
Could hold no longer; and to stop their way,
With a kind Beam from th'Empyræan Day,
Disclos'd their hammering Thunder at the Forge;
And made their Cyclops Cave their Bolts disgorge.

Discover'd thus, thus lost, betray'd, undone,
Yet still untir'd, the Restless Cause goes on;
And to retrieve a yet auspicious day,
A glowing spark even in their Ashes lay,
Which thus burst out in flames. In _Geshur_ Land,
The utmost Bound of _Israels_ Command,
Where _Judah's_ planted Faith but slowly grew,
A Brutal Race that _Israels_ God n'er knew:
A Nation by the Conquerors Mercy grac'd,
Their Gods preserv'd, and Temples undefac'd;
Yet not content with all the Sweets of Peace,
Free their Estates, and free their Consciences;
'Gainst _Israel_ those confederate Swords they drew,
Which with that vast Assassination flew