From “Paradise Lost,” Book VI.
THE ARRAY
NOW went forth the morn,
Such as in highest heaven, arrayed in gold
Empyreal; from before her vanished night,
Shot through with orient beams; when all the plain
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright,
Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,
Reflecting blaze on...
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Anonymous translation from the German
FEAR not, O little flock! the foe
Who madly seeks your overthrow,
Dread not his rage and power;
What though your courage sometimes faints?
His seeming triumph o’er God’s saints
Lasts but a little hour.Be of good cheer; your cause belongs
To him who can avenge your wrongs,...