Vain argument! for we ourselves unmake After what lapse of time, yet who shall know Dark Asmod, subtlest litigant for ill Submerged and sunk beneath its bottom, comes By whirlwinds trumpeted. Nor did they doubt, Who heard the sound, that, for these atheist scoffs, God, as not seldom in their impious den, Had bared his terrible and still lurking hand. At once for flight, the ethereous army formed Their hovering ranks, and on delayless wing Sought a near mount; and on its farther side Descending, perched, as on a leeward cliff The ominous flocks of ocean wait the storm. BOOK VIII. In earth above, on the celestial round And on that side of the great polar stream, Whose shape by old Ilissus many a one Might equal, none excel; a fresh antique, Birth of the old world and the new, that shows How Orpheus at the twilight doors of hell, Gazed Cecrops: and the hindered Titans stood |