His own perdition in another's good;

And Heav'n now clos'd to him, to others open'd,

And sighing from the bottom of his heart.

Let him in homage to my pow'er exclaim,
Ah this creative Sire,

(Wretch as I am) I see,

Hath need of nothing but himself alone

To re-establish all.

The Seraphim sing.

O scene worth heavenly musing,

With sun and moon their glorious light diffusing;

Where to Angelic voices,

Sphere circling sphere rejoices,

How dost thou rise, exciting

Man to fond contemplation

Of his benign creation.

The Cherubim sing.

The volume of the stars,

The sov'reign Author plann'd,

Inscribing it with his eternal hand,

And his benignant aim

Their beams in lucid characters proclaim,

And man in these delighting;

Feels their bright beams inviting,

And seems tho' prison'd in these mortal bars,
Walking on earth to mingle with thee stars

God the Father.

Angels desert your Heaven! with you to Earth,

And to thee bending lower

Than this my humble knee.

Now, now, O Lord, in extacy devout,

Let my mind mount, and passing all the clouds, Passing each sphere, e'en up to heav'n ascend, And there behold the stars, a seat for man! Thou Lord who all the fire of genuine love Convertest to thyself;

Transform me into thee, that I a part

E'en of thyself, may thus acquire the power
To offer praises not unworthy thee.

The Angels sing.

To smile in paradise,

Great demigod of earth, direct thy step;

There like the tuneful spheres,

Circle the murm'ring rills

Of limpid water bright;

There the melodious birds,

Rival angelic quires;

There lovely flow'rs profuse,

Appear as vivid stars;

The snowy rose is there

A silver moon, the heliotrope a sun:

What more can be desir'd.

By earth's new lord in fair corporeal vest,

Than in the midst of earth to find a heaven?

Adam. O ye harmonious birds!

Bright scene of lovely flow'rs.

But what delightful slumber

Falls on my closing eyes?

I lay me down, adieu

Unclouded light of day, sweet air adieu.
God the Father.

Adam, behold I come,

Son dear to me, thou son

Of an indulgent sire;

Behold the hand that never works in vain :

Behold the hand that join'd the elements,
That added heav'n to heav'ns,
That fill'd the stars with light,
Gave lustre to the moon,
Prescrib'd the sun his course,

And now supports the world,

And forms a solid stage for thy firm step.
Now sleeping, Adam from thy open'd side
The substance I will take

That shall have woman's name, and lovely form.
The Angels sing.

Immortal works of an immortal maker!

Ye high and blessed seats

Of this delightful world,

Ye starry seats of heav'n,

Trophies divine, productions preordain'd:

O power! O energy!

Which out of shadowy horror form'd the Sun! Eve. What heav'nly melody pervades my heart,

Ere yet the sound my ear! inviting me

To gaze on wonders, what do I behold,
What transformations new;

Is earth become the heaven?

Do I behold his light

Whose splendor dazzles the meridian sun?
Am I the creature of that plastic hand,

Who form'd of nought the angels, and the heav'ns?

Thou sov'reign Lord! whom lowly I adore,

A love so tender penetrates my heart,

That while my tongue ventures on utterance,

And words with difficulty

Find passage from my lips.

For in a tide of tears,

(That sighs have caus'd to flow) they seem absorb'd;

Thou

pure celestial love

Of the benignant power,

Who pleas'd to manifest on earth his glory,

Now to this world descends,

To draw from abject clay

The governour of all created things:

Lord of the hallow'd and concealed affection,

Thou in whom love glows with such fervent flame,

Inspirit ev❜n my tongue

With suitable reply, that these dear vales,

And Sylvan scenes may lear

Thanks, that to thee I should devote, my Sire,

But if my tongue be mute, speak thou my heart.

God the Father.

Adam, awake! and cease

To meditate in rapt'rous trance profound,
Things holy and abstruse,

And the deep secrets of the Trinal Lord.

Adam. Where am I? where have I been? what
Sun

Of triple influence that dims the day

Now from my eye withdraws, where is he vanish'd?. O hallow'd miracles

Of this imperial seat,

Of these resplendant suns,

Which tho' divided, form

A single ray of light immeasurable,
Embellishing all Heaven,
And giving grace and lustre
To every winged Seraph,
Divine mysterious light,
Flowing from sov'reign good,
To him alone thou art known,

Who mounts to thee an eagle in his faith.
What rose of snowy hue and sacred form,
In these celestial bowers,

Wet with Empyreal dews, have I beheld
Op'ning its bosom to these suns! or rather
One of these suns making the rose its Heav'n;

And in a moment's space,

(O marvels most sublime)