Adam. Ne'er be it true, ah never I prove to Heaven rebellious and ungrateful. So disobey my Maker and my God! Then did not death denounced With terror's icy paleness blanch thy cheek? Were but the food of death, The great producer would have raised it there, Thinkest thou, that if of error This fruit-tree were the cause, In man's delighted eye So fertile and so fair, He would have formed it flourishing in air. Ah, were it so, he would indeed have given Since nature has ordained, (A monitress sagacious), That to support his being, man must eat, Who the fair face of Heaven Amidst so many plants fruitful and fair, As a wise keeper of his heavenly law, This garden were supplied; But this abounding in so many sweets, Man ought not to renounce The clear command of Heaven. Eve. And is it thus you love me? Ne'er be it true, ah never, That I address you as my heart, my life! From you I'll only wander, Bathed in my tears, and sighing, And hating even myself, I'll hide me from the sun. Adam. Dear Eve! my sweetest love! My spirit and my heart! Oh, haste to dry thine eyes! For mine are all these tears That bathe thy cheek, and stream upon thy bosom. Eve. Ah, my unhappy state! I that so much have said, so much have done Above the highest Heaven, and now so little Adam. Ah, do not grieve, my life! To see thee in affliction. Eve. I know your sole desire Is to be witness to my sighs and tears; I pay this bitter tribute. Adam. Alas! my heart is splitting. Even to my bones oppress me, Anxious alone to guard the heavenly precept: I share her tears and echo back her sighs. 'Tis torture and distraction To wound her with refusal my kind heart Would teach my opening hand to seize the apple. But in my doubtful breast My spirit bids it close. Adam! thou wretch! how many Various desires besiege thy trembling heart! One prompts thee now to sigh, Another to rejoice; nor canst thou know Which shall incline thee most, Or sighs, or joyous favour, From woman, or from God. Eve. Yet he reflects, and wishes That Eve should now forsake Her hope of being happy In elevating man, Even while I hold the fruit of exaltation! Adam. Though mute, yet eloquent Are all your looks, my love; Alas! whate'er you ask You're certain to obtain ; And my heart grants, before your tongue can speak. Eyes, that to me are suns, The Heaven of that sweet face No more, no more obscure! Return! alas! return To scatter radiance o'er that cloudy cheek! Lift up, O lift thy brow From that soft mass of gold that curls around it, Locks like the solar rays, Chains to my heart and lightning to my eyes! O let thy lovely tresses, Now light and unconfined, Sport in the air and all thy face disclose, That paradise, that speaks a heart divine! Thy prayers are all commands: Dry, dry thy streaming eyes, and on thy lips Be now a kind receiver Of this delightful fruit! Hasten, now hasten to extend thy hand Now banish from his heart The whirlpool of affliction, turned to him Which 'midst thy flowers and fruits, What sayest thou? I have tasted, and yet live. And make us equal to our God in Heaven. But first the fruit entire We must between us eat, And when we have enjoyed it, Then to a radiant throne, a throne of stars, Exalting Angels will direct our flight. Adam. Give me the pilfered fruit, Thou courteous pilferer! Give me the fruit that charms thee, And let me yield to her, Who to make me a God has toiled and wept! Alas! what have I done? How sharp a thorn is piercing to my heart With instantaneous anguish! How am I o'erwhelmed In a vast flood of sorrow! Eve. Alas! what do I see? Oh, bitter knowledge! unexpected sight! All is prepared for human misery. Adam. O precious liberty! where art thou fled? Eve. O precious liberty! O dire enthralment! Adam. Is this the fruit so sweet, The source of so much bitter? Say why wouldst thou betray me? Ah why of heaven deprive me! My state of innocence, Where cheerful I enjoy a blissful life? Why make me thus a slave To the fierce arms of death, Thou, whom I deemed my life? Eve. I have been blind to good, A rebel to my God, For daring to exalt me To the high gates of heaven, I fall presumptuous to the depths of hell. Adam. Alas, what dart divine appears in heaven, Eve. What punishment, Wretch that I am, hangs o'er me? Am I naked! And speaking still to Adam? Adam. Am I too naked? hide me! hence! Eve. I fly. SCENE II. Volano. Thou'rt fallen, at length thou'rt fallen, O thou presuming With new support from the resplendent stars, To mount to seats sublime ! Adam, at length thou'rt fallen to the deep, As far as thy ambition hoped to soar; Now see thou hast attained To learn the distance between heaven and hell. To the hoarse sound of the funereal trumpet! Joyful arise to light, And pay your homage to the prince of hell! SCENE III.-Satan, Volano, Chorus of SPIRITS, with their flags flying, and infernal instruments. Volano. Man is subdued, subdued ! Palms of eternal glory! Why pause ye now? to your infernal reeds And pipes of hoarsest sound, with pitch cemented, And various instruments of discord, Now let the hand and lip be quick applied ! Behold how triumph now to us returns, As rightly he foretold Our Stygian Emperor! Spread to the wind Your fluttering banners! Oh, thou festive day, To Hell of glory, and to Heaven of shame! SCENE IV.-SERPENT, VAIN GLORY, SATAN, VOLANO, and SPIRITS. Serpent. To pleasures and to joys, Ye formidable dark sulphureous warriors! Let Fame to heaven now on her raven plumes Direct her rapid flight, Of man's completed crime The mournful messenger. Satan. Behold, again expanded in the air The insignia of hell! Hear now the sounds of triumph, And voices without number That raise to heaven the shout of victory? Serpent. Lo, I return, ye Spirits of Avernus, Forced his aspiring crown of fragile glass; Vain Glory, whom to my proud heart I press. Satan. The torrent hastes not to the sea so rapid, Nor yet so rapid in the realm of fire As the quick circling hours In life's corrupted state; The work of my great Lord, nor less the work To show ourselves of both the blest adorers! Serpent. Now, from their bended knees let all arise, And to increase our joys Let thy glad song, Canoro, Now memorise the prosperous toil of hell. Canoro. Happy Canoro, raised to matchless bliss, Since 'tis thy lot to speak The prosperous exploits of Lucifer! Behold I bend the knee, And sing thy triumph in a joyous strain; Behold, the glorious triumph Of that unconquered power, Who every power surpasses, The mighty monarch of the deadly realm! Now raise the tumid form, Avernus, banish grief; Man is involved in snares, And Death is glutted with his frail existence. This is the potent, brave, And ancient enemy Of man, the dauntless foe, And dread destroyer of the starry court. No more contentment dwell In the terrestrial seat: Thou moon, and sun, be darkened, And every element to chaos turn! Man is at length subdued. From a corrupted source, A weak and hapless offspring, |