The
Athenians
Answer
.
THeir
Name
is
Legion
,
grinning
from
a
far
Against
the
Throne
,
who
wage
unequal
War
;
Tho'
nearer
,
on
perpetual
Guard
,
attends
A
far
more
numerous
Host
of
brighter
Friends
:
Around
our
Prince
,
Heav'ns
Care
,
the
sacred
Band
With
fiery
Arms
in
firm
Battalia
stand
:
To
him
mild
Light
,
and
Lambent
Beams
they
show
,
But
Wrath
and
Terror
to
his
harden'd
Foe
.
See
the
black
Phalanx
melt
,
they
melt
away
,
As
guilty
Ghosts
slink
from
approaching
Day
,
Behold
their
Leaders
,
deckt
in
horrid
State
,
Nor
wonder
why
they
Heav'n
and
Caesar
hate
.
First
mark
their
haughty
General
,
arm'd
compleat
In
Plates
of
glowing
Steel
!
'tis
Lucifer
the
great
!
See
his
proud
Standard
o're
his
Tent
enlarg'd
!
With
bloated
Toads
,
an
odious
Bearing
,
charg'd
.
The
ancient
Arms
which
once
his
Shield
adorn'd
,
Tho'
'tis
of
late
to
Flour-de-Lis's
turn'd
.
Blasphemous
Belial
!
next
thy
Squadrons
stand
!
Lawless
and
Lewd
,
a
baffled
blasted
band
,
Each
holds
a
kindled
Pamphlet
in
his
hand
.
These
make
the
Gross
,
the
rest
we
may
despise
,
(
Retailers
they
of
Treason
,
and
of
Lies
)
Lucifer's
Friends
,
and
Caesars
Enemies
.
Ah
were
there
none
but
these
,
who
wou'd
not
be
Proud
and
Ambitious
of
their
Enmity
!
There's
one
small
party
,
near
,
too
near
their
Line
,
Which
hover
yet
,
and
scarce
know
which
to
joyn
.
No
black
,
no
ugly
marks
of
Sin
disgrace
Their
nobler
Forms
,
no
malice
in
their
Face
:
A
Duskier
Gleam
they
wear
then
e're
they
fell
,
Their
Plumes
just
scorcht
,
too
near
ally'd
to
Hell
.
What
mad
mistaken
bravery
draws
'em
in
,
Where
Constancy's
no
Virtue
but
a
Sin
?
How
can
they
still
their
fallen
Prince
esteem
?
When
false
to
Heaven
,
why
are
they
true
to
him
?
O
!
must
they
sink
!
a
glorious
Starry
Race
!
They
are
almost
too
good
,
for
that
sad
place
.
That
waits
their
Fall
:
It
must
not
,
cannot
be
,
If
err
we
do
,
wee'l
err
with
Charity
,
Father
!
they
may
be
Sav'd
!
we'll
joyn
with
Thee
!