When Satan saw his re­bel host,
His cause, and Heav’n for ev­er lost,
Malice and wrath his mind pos­sessed,
And fu­ry burned with­in his breast.

He knew how vain th’ at­tempts to rise,
With im­pi­ous rage against the skies;
But bent on ill, an­oth­er way
He turns his arms, and wins the day.

‘Twas in a dark un­guard­ed hour,
That our first par­ents felt his pow­er;
Soft in­no­cence and vir­tue fell
An ea­sy prey to death and hell.

Ye sons of God, the tempt­er fly,
Nor the un­eq­ual con­test try;
By prom­ised bliss the fiend de­coys—
First he al­lures, and then de­stroys.