Sonnet Iii Poem by Philip Henry Savage

'MERCY! Justice! Ah, no! Heaven's gate! Heaven's gate!'
Panic above the crash of trampling horse
And rush of wings upright against the course,
A cry of gods confounded under fate!
In tumult deep and inarticulate
The angelic press burst outward, of the Source
Of bulk Omnipotence compelled by force —
Save Lucifer, omnipotent in hate.
Bright as the dying day, with one black cloud
Up-marshalled from the south and crossing o'er
The glory and blotting out the evening star,
So for a space he stood; then silent bowed,
And from the battlements outspringing far
Deep into darkness all his anguish bore.