Thus here below let man amid these tribes Of fishes, and of birds, And of unnumber'd beasts, Possess a mansion worthy Both of his name, and empire! Eve. In truth when I behold your mighty pomps, Shall be my golden robe, adorn'd with pearl; The troubled water, and rude herbs to me No! no! I will not to my first dread fault O simple fair! come forth! Come forth! ye fair, and gentle virgins all Be you devoted handmaids Around this fair! and midst your tuneful songs Present to her rich robes, adorn'd with gold! SCENE THE SIXTH. CHORUS OF NYMPHS, EVE, THE WORLD, and ADAM. Behold in dance, O joyful World! Little virgins! See these maidens, With their treasure bright, and cheerful! See their robes with gold inwoven ! See their vestments Shedding lustre From the treasure of their jewels! If in heav'n nor sun, nor planet And its radiance, Heav'n would be a mass of horror; Is desirous All that's fair to have before him: Deck thyself then, O thou coy one, Adam. What dost thou Eve not see That if uncautious to these charms thou yieldest Eve. Alas! what do I hear? Adam. Hence ye rebellious crew! By virtue of my God depart confounded. To the infernal realms ! Chorus. Ah thou must then avoid this light of day, Thou sightless mole of hell! Await, O yet await The World. Ah flesh infected! Fit punishment to your presumptuous rage! And hast thou dar'd so highly, Thou creature of corruption, That this bright palace which for Eve I rais'd, Speaking thou hast ingulph'd, And from the day has banish'd A numerous group of fair, and graceful nymphs. Come forth! now all come forth, Ye horrid monsters from the caves of hell! Let us this hour display Our utmost fortitude, and force supreme! Now let this man be chain'd! Fix him a prisoner in the depths of hell! Eve. Succour O God! O Succour ! But hope, still hope in heav'n! hope! for at last SCENE THE SEVENTH. LUCIFER, DEATH, THE WORLD, and CHORUS OF DEMONS, ARM'D WITH VARIOUS arms. Thou fool! in vain thou toil'st To invocate high heav'n! thy God may arm If he is not abas'd, and with him arm His flying warriors all, From our infernal chains, And these sharp talons, now to draw thee forth; To his first loss, and first discomfiture, A second like the first shall soon be join'd. Of his supernal loss has he not heal'd The painful memory, The ruin of his Angels? That now inflam'd with anger He seeks in heav'n another mightier ruin? Satanic warriors all! And let his wretched residue of Angels, All falling out of heav'n, Be all ingulph'd in hell! Lo meteors in the air, and storms at sea I kindle, and I raise : Lo Tartarus his wings Behold the stars of God By Lucifer's proud foot crush'd and extinguish'd! And girt for war and glory Let Tartarus thro' heav'n ploclaim a triumph! SCENE THE EIGHTH. ARCH ANGEL MICHAEL, CHORUS OF ANGELS, Tremble, thou son of wrath, At this sharp dart's inevitable glance! At the dread stroke of the celestial leader! |