This is my Son belov'd, in him am pleas'd.
His Mother then is mortal, but his Sire
He who obtains the Monarchy of Heav'n,
And what will he not do to advance his Son?
His first-begot we know, and sore have felt,
When his fierce thunder drove us to the deep;90
Who this is we must learn, for man he seems
In all his lineaments, though in his face
The glimpses of his Fathers glory shine.
Ye see our danger on the utmost edge
Of hazard, which admits no long debate,
But must with something sudden be oppos'd,
Not force, but well couch't fraud, well-woven snares,
E're in the head of Nations he appear
Their King, their Leader, and Supream on Earth.
I, when no other durst, sole undertook 100
The dismal expedition to find out
And ruine Adam, and the exploit perform'd
Successfully; a calmer voyage now
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Paradise Regain'd
Will