Hark, to the grateful accents
Of every flying songster,
Inhabitant of air,

That in his flight, now gives

Voice to the woods, and music to the vales
Now, all rejoicing in a day so noble,
To the confusion, and the shame of hell,
Let every spotless ensign rise to heav'n,
And flutt'ring sport with the exulting winds!
Let all the instruments of heav'nly glory
Sound thro' the sky, the victories of heav'n!

SCENE THE NINTH.

ADAM, EVE, CHORUS OF ANGELS.

O sound belov'd, that call us now in joy,
To scenes we left in sorrow; ah! I fear
To taint the fragrance of the heav'nly host,
Stain'd as I am with sin.

O thou, that haply of celestial ruby

Wearest the blazing mail,

Hallow'd, and brave archangel,

Brave, yet compassionate, thy golden locks,

Radiant as light, thy glittering helmet covers,

Thou in thy right hand shak'st the spear of victory,
And raisest in thy left a golden balance ;

Close, close thy painted plumes so rich in gold,
And cast a gentle look

On him, who prostrate, honours, and adores thee.
Eve. O happy dawn of the eternal sun,
Thou courteous kind restorer,

To these my blinded eyes

With sorrow darken'd, and bedew'd with tears;

Now, of thy rays a fixt contemplator,

The mole of error stands,

Now on your voice depends

An asp, once deaf to heav'ns most friendly dictates.

I wavering wanderer,

Who undissembling own,

The fault in which I fell, to thee I bend,

Nor in my speech deny

That I am Eve, the cause
Of human-kind's perdition.

Now let thy guardian hand,

(O in the deeds of God thou faithful servant)

Relieve me from the depth

Of my so great offences.

Adam. Of heav'nly mysteries,

And secret will of God,

Thou hallow'd blest revealer!

Angel of eloquence!

The fatal presages

Of mournful Eve, and Adam,
Now quiet with the breath
Of thy exalted converse!
So that this troubled flood

That strikes the heart, in issuing from the eyes,
No more may make me seem

A rock of sorrow, in a sea of tears!

Michael. Arise! O both arise! you, who of God

Are creatures so regarded:

Dismiss your fears of the infernal portent;

If your eternal lord

Corrects you with one hand,

He with the other proffers your protection.
With happy auspices,

He who delivers souls,

On his light wings directs his flight to you,

In God's dread warfare harbinger of peace;
The mighty fount of life,

Th' artificer of souls,

The architect of worlds,

The mighty lord of heav'n,

Maker of angels, and of all things made,

The infinite creator,

To safety summons you,'

And to short war a lasting peace ordains.

Now from those double fountains

The warm and gushing streams
Of sorrow, Eve, restrain!

VOL. III.

N

Thou hast been culpable

In rashly seizing the forbidden fruit ;

To man thou hast occasion'd

Anguish, and grief; thou hast indeed converted

Peace into war, and life into perdition:

Now by the aid of him,

Whose hand-maid nature is, and servant fate,

Who can restrain the sun,

And motion give to this unmoving mass,

E'en yet may Eve enjoy

In prison liberty;

May be unbound tho' fetter'd,

And triumph, while she is o'ercome, and vanquish.

Now since there shines in heav'n

The star of love, and peace,

And to the shame of hell

The victor to the vanquish'd yields his palm;
Ah now let each, with humble eyes to heav'n,
Incline the knee to earth!

And supplicant in prayer, give God the praise
Of goodness infinite!

For you shall find to recompence your zeal,
That God your father is, your mansion heav'n.

Adam.Thou mighty Lord! who resting high above,

With regulated errors,

And with discordant union guidest heav'n!
O of the fair eternal realms of light

Thou Lord immutable! resplendent pow'r !

Thou dazzler, and obscurer of the sun!
Now in these weeping eyes

And on this humid cheek

I dry my bitter tears, I cheer my heart:

Now, by thy zealous mercy,

Tho' spotted, I have safety;
Security in hazard, love in hate,
And sinking into hell,

Am yet a citizen of highest heav'n.
Eve. With dissolution life,

With strife and contest peace,
With ruin victory,

With deep offence salvation,

With pow'rs of darkness heav'n,

These to unite is not a human talent,

But of the eternal hand

Omnipotence supreme! hence is it, Lord,

That wounded Eve is whole,

Triumphs in loss, and tho' subdued has glory.

My guide! I will obey thee,

Since O benignant Lord!

Thy service is dominion!

And to obey thee, glory!

If pain allow not, that I speak the pain
Which wounds my heart so deeply,

Thou most indulgent father,

Giv'st to the heart, and soul, a new existence: Awaken'd by affliction,