Classic Poem

Incens'd at this their bold Essay,
God sent our his consuming Fire:
Discomfited they fly away
And from his Wrath retire.
'Till, as preordain'd, they fell
From those glorious Realms of Light,
To the deep Abyss of Hell,
And Everlasting Night.
In Flames of Sulphur Fiery-chains,
With unutterable Pains,
Doom'd for Evermore to dwell;
Full of Impotence and Spight,
Despair and Rage improve their Hell,
And magnific the beatisick Sight
From whence they lately fell.
But if these Spirits, who were blest
With greater Strength than Mortal e'er possest,
Could not their Innocence secure,
While Good and Bad was in their Pow'r;
With how strict a Care ought we
To watch, and fear our own Sincerity;
Who tho' but frail and brittle Clay,
Yet have a Will elective, and as free as they.