Book II, 60: On a great Battaile

When my rebellious Flesh doth disagree
With my resisting Spirit; me thinks, I see
Two mighty Princes draw into the Field,
Where one must win the Day; the other, yeeld:
They both prepare; Both strike up their Alarmes;
Both march; Both well appointed in their Armes;
They both advance their Banners: T'one displayes
A bloody Crosse: The other Colours blaze
A Globe terrestriall: Nature carries one,
And Grace the other: Each by's Ensigne's knowne:
They meet, encounter, blowes exchange for blowes:
Dart is returnd for Dart: They grapple, Close:
Their Fortune's hurryed with unequall Sailes,
Somtimes the Crosse; somtimes, the Globe prevailes.
We are that Field; And they that strive to win us,
Are God and Sathan; Those, that warre within us,
The Flesh, the Spirit: No parting of the Fray,
Till one shall win: the other, lose the Day:
My God, O weaken this rebellious Flesh,
That dares oppose: O, quicken and refresh
My dull and coward Spirit, that would yeeld,
And make proud Sathan Master of the Field:
Deare Lord, the Field's thy own; thou thoughtst it good
To purchas't with my dying Saviours Blood:
'Tis thine, Great God, by title, and by right;
Why should thou question, what's thy owne, by fight?
Lord, keepe possession thou, and let th'accurst
And base Vsurper doe his best, his worst.