XV Triumphant conqueror of death and hell,

Behold what legions (though in vain) conspire,

Thy Temple militant to set on fire,

And Saints which in Thy sanctuary dwell

To burn, whilst they against Thy power rebel:

See how like bloody tyrants they desire

Ambitiously to rise, and mount up higher,

Like Lucifer which to perdition fell.

Their forces are addrest against Thy Saints,

Break thou their bows, knap Thou their spears in sunder:

I know their spirit at Thy presence faints,

Against their Cannon plant Thy dreadful thunder,

Thy thunderbolts against their bullets dash,

And on their beavers [48] bright let lightning flash.