Apollion:

They even now are murmuring: then we Should act with secrecy, share in their hopes, And nourish their complaints.

Belial:

And then it were Most opportune that Belzebub, a chief 470 Of power and eminence, should tender them His seal, to force their vested Rights and gain Redress of grievances.

Apollion:

Not all at once, But gradually, as if by by-paths won.

Belial:

Then let the Stadtholder himself approach, And in support of such a proud resolve Offer his mighty arm.

Apollion:

We soon shall hear, When in the Council, his opinion And his intent: then let him for a while His thoughts dissemble and, at last, spur on 480 The maddened throng, embarra.s.sed for a head.

Belial:

Upon the head depends the whole affair.

Whatever thy promises, without a chief They'll ne'er commence so hazardous a cause.

Apollion:

What hath been wonk no need to win again!

Who most hath lost in glory and in state, Him doth it most concern. Let him precede, And beat the measure for a myriad feet.

Belial:

Both equity and reason would demand He wear the crown; though, ere we deeper go, 490 Let us all dangers weigh and nothing do Unless all Councillors affix their seals.

Chorus of Angels:

_Strophe_.

How glares the n.o.ble front of Heaven!

Why streams the holy light so red Upon our face, overspread With mournful mists from darkness driven?

What sad cloud hath profaned That pure and never-stained Clear sapphire, wondrous bright.

The fire, the flame, the light 500 Of the resplendent Power, Omnipotence? Why doth that glow Of G.o.d as black as blood thus grow That in our aery bower So pleased our eyes? O Angels, say The cause of this deep gloom now dimming Your radiance? O'er Adam's sway On choral raptures ye were swimming, On Spirit breath, amid a glow That vault and choir and court below 510 And towers and battlements o'erflooded With showers of gold, while joys unclouded Smiled from the brows of all that live: Who is it can the reason give?

Chorus of Angels.

_Antistrophe_.

When Gabriel's trumpet, richly sounding, Inflamed our souls till a new song Of praise burst forth among Those dales, with roses fair abounding, 'Mid the celestial bowers Of Paradise, whose flowers 520 Did ope, joyed by such dew Of praise, then upwards through The vast seemed Envy stealing.

A countless host of Spirits dumb.

And wan and pale and sad and grum, In crowds, dire woe revealing, Crept slowly past, with drooping eye, And forehead smooth now frowning rimple.

The doves of Heaven here on high, Once innocent and pure and simple, 530 Began to sigh, and seemed to grieve As if e'en Heaven they did believe Too small since Adam was created, And man for such a crown was fated.

This stain offends the Eye of Light: It flames the face of the Infinite.

In love we would yet mingle in their ranks: Again to calm this restless discontent. 538

ACT III.

LUCIFERIANS. CHORUS OF ANGELS.

Luciferians:

How oft belief proves but delusive hope!

Alas! how things have changed. We deemed no rank Than ours more happy in this rising Realm,-- Yea, thought our state even like unto G.o.d's own, More blessed than Earth and e'er unchangeable.-- Till Gabriel met us with his trumpet bold, And from the golden port the hosts astounded With this new-made decree, that shall deprive The Angels of the good, the highest good, First from the G.o.dhead's breast to them outpoured. 10 How is our glory dimmed! We now behold The beauty and the dazzling radiance That streamed so proudly from our ancient splendor In darkness quenched. We see the Hierarchies Of Heaven thrown into confusion strange, And man to such a rank, to such proud height Exalted, that we tremble even as slaves Beneath his sway. O unexpected blow And change of lot! Ah! comrades in one grief.

Ah! come and gather round in groups and sigh 20 And weep with us together here. Tis time To rend this shining raiment, meet for feasts, To voice our plaints; for none can this forbid.

Our gladness fades and our first sorrow dawns.

Alas! alas! ye choristers of Heaven, O brothers, tear those garlands from your brows And change the blithesome livery of joy For sorrow's gruesome garb. Oh! droop your eyes.

Seek shadows even as we; for sorrow shuns The light. Let each one raise his voice to ours 30 And utter fearful plaints. Drown in your grief; Sink down in mournful thought. To voice your woe, The burdened heart relieves. Now joy to groan: For groaning heals the smart. Now shout aloud, As with one voice, and follow these our woes: Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?

Chorus of Angels.

What plaint arises here, unpleasant sound?

The Heavens shrink back in fright. This air on high Hath not been wont to hear the wail of woe On sad notes sobbing through these joyful vaults. 40 Nay, wreaths and palms and loud triumphal song And tuneful harps are far more meet for us.

What can this be? Who crouches here with head Down-hanging, sad, forlorn, and needlessly Oppressed? Who gave them food for grief? Who can The reason guess? O fellow choristers, Come then, 'tis needful that we ask the cause Of their lament and this dark cloud of woe, That robs our splendor of its radiance And dims and dulls the bright translucent glow 50 Of the eternal feast. Heaven is a court Where joy and peace and all delights abound.

Grief never nestled 'neath these lucid eaves, Nor woeful pain. Ah! fellow choristers.

Oh! come, console them in their heaviness.

Luciferian.

Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?

Chorus:

Companions dear in our high happiness.

Oh! brothers, why? Oh! sons of the glad Light, Why thus depressed at heart? Who gave you cause Thus to complain and thus to mourn? Ye had 60 Begun to lift your heads aloft to Heaven, To bloom amid the day, whose l.u.s.tre streams From G.o.d's deep glow. The Heavens brought you forth To mount in rapid flight from firmament To firmament beyond, from court to court; To flit amid the shadeless light content, In one delightful life, an endless feast; And e'er to taste the heavenly manna sweet Of G.o.d's eternity, among your friends In peaceful joys. Oh! why? This is not meet 70 For dwellers of the Spirit world. Oh! nay.

Nor meet for Dominations, Powers, and Thrones, Nor for the ruling Heavens. Ye gorge your grief, And sit perplexed and dumb. Give voice to your Necessity: reveal it to your friends.

Reveal your heart-sore, that we may relieve.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?"]

Luciferians: