I also stood in Satan’s bosom & beheld its desolatons: A ruin’d Man, a ruin’d building of God not made with hands; Its plains of burning sand, its mountains of marble terrible; Its pits & declivities flowing with molten ore & fountains Of pitch & nitre; its ruin’d palaces & cities & mighty works; Its furnaces of affliction, in which his Angels & Emanations Labour with blacken’d visages among its stupendous ruins, Arches & pyramids & porches, colonnades & domes, In which dwells Mystery, Babylon; here is her secret place; From hence she comes forth on the Churches in delight; Here is her Cup fill’d with its poisons, in these horrid vales, And here her scarlet Veil woven in pestilence & war; Here is Jerusalem bound in chains, in the Dens of Babylon