God of the thunder! from whose cloudy seat
  The fiery winds of Desolation flow;
Father of vengeance, that with purple feet
  Like a full wine-press tread’st the world below;
The embattled armies wait thy sign to slay,
Nor springs the beast of havoc on his prey,
Nor withering Famine walks his blasted way,
  Till thou hast marked the...