Belzebub:

But what, pray, of the twain thou sawest there?

Apollion:

No creature hath on high mine eye so pleased As those below. Who could so subtly soul With body weave and two-fold Angels form From clay and bone? The body's shapely mould Attests the Maker's art, that in the face, The mirror of the mind, doth best appear.

But wonderful! upon the face is stamped The image of the soul. All beauty here 130 Concentres, while a G.o.d looks through the eyes.

Above the whole the reasoning soul doth hover, And while the dumb and brutish beasts all look Down towards their feet, man proudly lifts alone His head to Heaven, in lofty praise to G.o.d.

Belzebub:

His praise is not in vain for gifts so rare.

Apollion:

He rules even like a G.o.d whom all must serve.

The invisible soul consists of spirit and not Of matter, and it rules in every limb: The brain it makes its seat, and there holds court. 140 It is immortal, nor fears aught of rust, Or other injury. 'Tis past our sense.

Knowledge and prudence, virtue and free-will, Are its possessions. Dumb all Spirits stand Before its majesty. Ere long the world Shall teem with men. It waits, from little seed, A harvest rich in souls; and therefore G.o.d Did man to woman join.

Belzebub:

Now say me how Thou dost regard his rib--his loved spouse?

Apollion:

I covered with my wings mine eyes and face 150 That I might curb my thoughts and deep delight, When erst she filled my gaze, as Adam led her Into their arborous bower with gentle hand: From time to time he stopped, in contemplation; And gazing thus, a holy fire began His pure breast to inflame. And then he kissed His bride and she her bridegroom: thus on joy Their nuptials fed--on feasts of fiery love, Better imagined far than told, a bliss Divine beyond all Angel ken. How poor 160 Our loneliness! For us no union sweet Of two-fold s.e.x, of maiden and of man.

Alas! how much of good we miss: we know No mate or happy marriage in a Heaven Devoid of woman.

Belzebub:

Thus in time a world Of men shall be begotten there below?

Apollion:

The love of beauty, fashioned in the brain, Deeply impressed by the senses keen, This makes their union strong. Their life consists Alone in loving and in being loved-- 170 One sweet, one mutual joy, by them indulged Perpetually, yet e'er unquenchable.

Belzebub:

Now picture me the bride, described from life.

Apollion:

That Nature's pencil needs, nor lesser hues Than sunbeams. Perfect are both man and wife; Of equal beauty they, from head to foot.

By right doth Adam Eve excel in strength Of form and majesty of bearing, as One chosen for the sovereignty of Earth: But Eve combines all that her bridegroom joys: 180 A tenderness of limb and softer skin And flesh, a lovelier tint and eyes enchanting, A charming, gracious mouth, a sweeter voice, Whose power lies in a sound more exquisite; Two founts of ivory and what besides No tongue should dare to name, lest Spirits should Be tempted. And though all the Angels now Impress our eyes as beautiful and fair.

How ill their forms and faces would appear If seen within the rosy morning-light 190 Of maidenhood!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Perfect are both man and wife; Of equal beauty they from head to foot."]

Belzebub:

It seems that pa.s.sion for This feminine creature hath thy heart inflamed.

Apollion:

In that delightful blaze, my great wing-plumes I singed. Most hard it was for me to rise And wheel my way to this our high abode.

I parted, though with pain, and thrice turned back My gaze. There shines no Seraph in the courts Celestial, here on high, as she amid Her hanging hair, that forms a golden niche Of sunbeams that in beauteous waves roll down 200 From her fair head, and flow along her back.

So, even as from a light, she comes to view, And day rejoices with her radiant face.

Though pearl and mother-o'-pearl seem purity, Her whiteness even theirs surpa.s.ses far.

Belzebub:

What profits human glory, if even as A flower of the field it fades and dies?

Apollion:

So long their garden fruit doth give, shall this Most happy pair live by an apple sweet, Grown on the central tree, that nurture finds 210 Beside the stream that laves its tender roots.

This wondrous tree is called the tree of life.

'Tis incorruptible, and through it man Joys life eterne and all immortal things, While of his Angel brothers he becomes The peer, yea, and shall in the end surpa.s.s Them all, until his power and sway and realm Spread over all. For who can clip his wings?

No Angel hath the power to multiply His being a thousand thousand times, in swarms 220 Innumerable. Now do thou calculate What shall from this, in time, the outcome be.

Belzebub:

Great is man's might, that thus even ours out-grows!

Apollion:

Soon shall his increase frighten and astound.

Though now his sway stoops lower than the moon, And though 'tis now determinate, he shall Yet higher rise and place himself upon The highest seat in Heaven. If G.o.d prevent Not this, how then can we prevent it? For G.o.d loves man well and for him made all things. 230

Belzebub:

What hear I there? A trumpet? Surely then A voice will follow. Go, see, while we here Await.

Apollion:

The Archangel Gabriel is at hand, And in his wake the choristers of Heaven, In the name of Him, the Highest, to unfold, As Herald from the towering Throne of Thrones, What there him was enjoined.

Belzebub:

We please to hear Whatever the Archangel shall command.

GABRIEL. CHORUS OF ANGELS.

Gabriel: