Chapter 35

"Adam.Lo! the deep azure of yon heaven, where oftThat bright and wandering star,Herald of radiance yet afar,Shall dart its welcome rayTo ope the richer glories of the day.Then the majestic sun,To fill the earth with joy,O'er her glad face shall fling his golden light;Till weary of his reign,The pure and silvery moon,With all her starry train,Shall come to grace the festal pomp of nightLo! where above all other elementsThe subtle flame ascends, outshining all:Lo! where the soft transparent air upliftsBright-plumaged birds, with notes of melodyMeasuring the happy hours!Lo! the vast bosom of propitious earth,With opening flowers, with glowing fruit adorned,And her green tresses that the crown sustainUpon her mountain summits, and her sceptreOf towering trees. Behold! the azure fieldOf ocean's empire! where 'mid humid sands,And his deep valleys, and the myriad hostsOf his mute tribes, and treasures of fair pearls,And purple gems, his billows roll and plough.Bearing to heaven his proud and stormy head,Crowned with the garlands rifled from the deep—Glory and wonder all! Of One they speak.Their great Creator!"

In the second scene, Lucifer rises from the abyss; and at the first glance we recognize the conception which is one of the chief glories ofParadise Lost. The apostate of this piece, like Milton's Satan, is a majestic being, stem, defying, and dreadless, even in despair. Pride, indomitable pride, is still his master passion; in the midst of his blood-chilling irony and impiety, we lose not the awe inspired by a mighty nature, still mighty and commanding, though perverted to evil; nor forget that his "faded splendor wan" is but

"the excessOf glory obscured."

In a bold and haughty strain, well befitting the "lost archangel," "vaunting aloud, though racked with deep despair," he gives vent to the envy and hatred of his rebellious spirit:

"From mine abode of gloomWho calls me to behold this hateful light?What wonders, strange and new,Hast thou prepared, O God! to blast my sight?Art thou, Creator, weary of thy heaven,That thou hast made on earthA paradise so fair?Or why hast thou placed hereBeings of flesh that God's own semblance wear?Say, condescending Architect! who fram'dstSuch work from clay, what destiny awaitsThis naked, helpless man, lone habitantOf caves and woods?Perchance he hopes one day to tread the stars!Heaven is impoverished:[185]I alone the cause.The exulting cause of that vast ruin! AddYet star to star; let suns and moons increase;Toil yet, Creator, to adorn thy skies;To make them bright and glorious as of old;To prove at length how vain and scorned thy toil!I—I alone—supplied that light which sentA thousand splendors to the farthest heaven,To which these lights are shadows, or reflectWith faint and feeble gleam my greater glory.Yet reck I not, whate'er these things may be,Or this new being: stern, unyielding still,My aim, my purpose, is hostilityImplacable 'gainst man, and heaven, and God!"Act i. sc. 2.

Act i. sc. 2.

The partners of his guilt and punishment, who join him in the garden, now surround him; and we have a vivid picture of hell in the midst of Paradise:

"Beelzebub.Fierce is the torturing flame,And deep the flood of venom in my soul.Madness rules all within,And my forced sighs like peals of thunder roll,Each glance is scorching lightning, and my tearsRed drops of fire! From my seared front I wouldShake back the serpent locks that shroud my face,To look upon this boasted work of heaven—On these new demigods!...Spirits! the lustre of eternal dayFor ever quenched for you, and every sunThat fires the empyrean! A lost, sorrowing raceHeaven deems you now. Ye who were wont to treadThe radiant pathways of the skies, now pressThe fields of endless night. For golden locksAnd mien celestial, slimy serpents twineAround your brows, hiding the vengeful glance;Your haggard lips are parted to receiveA hideous air—while on them blasphemiesHang thick, and ever with the damning wordsEscape foul fumes of hell."

The remainder of the picture, in its minuteness of horror, partakes too much of the prevailing want of taste which disfigured the best productions of the Italians of the seventeenth century. We select, of course, some of the striking passages of the poem, though we by no means include all its beauties in our extracts.

Then Satan says:

"In deep abodesOf gloom, and horror, and profound despair,Still are we angels! Still do we excelAll else, even as the haughty lord excelsThe humble, grovelling slave. If we unfoldOur wings so far from heaven, yet, yet rememberThat we are lords, while others wear the yoke;That, losing in yon heaven a lowly seat,We raise instead, stupendous and sublime,A regal throne, whereon our chosen chief,Exalted by high deeds, mocks at his fate!As some vast mountain, bounded by the skies,Murmurs its kindling wrath against high heaven,Threatens the stars, and wields a mighty sceptreOf lurid flame, consuming while it shines,More deadly than the sun's intensest ray,Even when his beams are brightest!"

Can we not discover in the above passage the same spirit that animates Milton's lines?

"What matter where, if I be still the same,And what I should be, all but less than HeWhom thunder hath made greater? Here, at least,We shall be free; the Almighty hath not builtHere for his envy; will not drive us hence;Here we may reign secure; and, in my choice,To reign is worth ambition, though in hell;Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven!"

The same thought is expressed in Andreini's tragedy:

"Since greater happinessIt is to live, though damned, in liberty,Than subject to be blest."Act iv. sc. 2.

"Since greater happinessIt is to live, though damned, in liberty,Than subject to be blest."

Act iv. sc. 2.

Lucifer, the chief, then discovers himself to his companions in iniquity, and addresses them:

"O ye powersImmortal, valiant, great!Angels, for lofty, warlike daring born!I know the grief that gnaws your inmost hearts,A living death! to see this creature manRaised to a state so highThat each created being bows to him.In your minds' depths the rankling fear is wroughtThat to heaven's vacant seats, and robes of light,(Those seats once ours, that pomp by us disdained,)These earthly minions one day may aspire[186]With their unnumbered hosts of future sons."

Satan then darkly alludes to the future incarnation of the Son of God; and Lucifer answers:

"And can it be that from so feeble dustA deity shall rise?That Flesh—that God—whose power omnipotentShall bind us in these chains of hell for ever?And can it be those who did boast themselvesThe adored must stoop in humble supplianceTo such vile clay?Shall angel bend a worshipper to man?Shall flesh, born from impurity, surpassCelestial nature? Must such wonders be,Nor we divine them, who at price so vastHave bought the boast of knowledge?I—I am he who armed your noble mindsWith haughty daring; to the distant northLeading you from the wrathful will of HimWho boasts to have made the heavens. You I know;I know your soaring pride; your valor too,That almost wrung from heaven's reluctant handThe mighty victory. Yes, the generous loveOf glory fires you still! It cannot beThat He whom you disdained to serve aboveShall now be worshipped in the depths of hell!Ah! matchless is our insult! grave the woundIf we unite not promptly to avenge it!Already on your kindled brows I seeThe soul's high thirst—and hope, by hate inflamed!Already I behold your ample wingsSpread to the air, eager to sweep the worldAnd those stern heavens to the abyss of ruin,And man, new born, with them to overwhelm!Satan.Alas! commandAnd say what thou wouldst do! With hundred tonguesSpeak, speak—that with a hundred mighty deedsSatan may pant, and hell be roused to action."

I—I am he who armed your noble mindsWith haughty daring; to the distant northLeading you from the wrathful will of HimWho boasts to have made the heavens. You I know;I know your soaring pride; your valor too,That almost wrung from heaven's reluctant handThe mighty victory. Yes, the generous loveOf glory fires you still! It cannot beThat He whom you disdained to serve aboveShall now be worshipped in the depths of hell!

Ah! matchless is our insult! grave the woundIf we unite not promptly to avenge it!Already on your kindled brows I seeThe soul's high thirst—and hope, by hate inflamed!Already I behold your ample wingsSpread to the air, eager to sweep the worldAnd those stern heavens to the abyss of ruin,And man, new born, with them to overwhelm!

Satan.Alas! commandAnd say what thou wouldst do! With hundred tonguesSpeak, speak—that with a hundred mighty deedsSatan may pant, and hell be roused to action."

The conspiracy to draw man into sin and prevent the incarnation is then entered into.

"Lucifer.Most easy is the way of human ruinOpened by God to his terrestrial work;Since nature wills with mandate absoluteMan shall his life preserve with various food,And oft partaken. Ay, it well may chance—The bitter ruin in sweet food concealed—That he may taste this day the fruit forbidden,And by the way of death,From naught created, unto naught return."Act i. sc. 3.

Act i. sc. 3.

His plan for the destruction of man is hailed with joy; and Lucifer next calls up the Seven Deadly Sins to assist him in his infernal work. To each of these mysterious impersonations a different task is assigned, and detailed at length in the piece. They are severally commissioned to assail his intended victims with every variety of temptation. Pride and Envy are directed to fill the soul of Eve with discontented thoughts, and awaken vain imaginations of superiority; to suggest regrets that she was not formed before Adam, as every man hereafter must receive his being from woman.

"Lucifer.Tell her, the lovely giftsShe hath received do merit not their doom—Submission to the will of haughty man;That she in price doth far exceed her lord,Created of his flesh—as he of dust;She in bright Eden had her gentle birth—He in the meaner fields."

Dulciato, who personates Luxury, declares the heart of woman peculiarly open to his fascinations.

"Even now fair Eve at yonder crystal fountRejoices to behold the blushing roseIn beauty vanquished by her vermil cheek;The regal lily's virgin purityMatched by the whiteness of her heaving breast;Already, charmed, she wreathes her flowing hairLike threads of gold, fanned by the wooing breeze,And deems her lovely eyes two suns of love,To kindle with their beams the coldest heart."

In the beginning of the second act we have a scene quite different. The angelic train descends to hymn the goodness of the Creator and the happiness of man.

"Weave, weave the garlands lightOf fairest flowers,In these primeval bowers,For the new being—and his consort bright!Let each celestial voiceWith melody rejoice,Praising God's work of latest, noblest birth;And let the tide of songTo gratitude belongFor man, the wonder of both heaven and earth."

The picture of the first pair, in their primeval innocence and enjoyment, full of gratitude to heaven and love for each other, is so captivating in its simplicity and beauty that it would alone be sufficient to redeem more sins against taste than the whole book contains. We do not imagine we are saying too much in calling it the original of Milton's delineation, as that of the infernal chief undoubtedly is. The same graceful and feminine qualities blend in the exquisite character of Eve; the same superiority of intellect, protecting gentleness, and exalted devotion are seen in Adam. They are surrounded by invisible spirits, the emissaries of Lucifer, who "with jealous leer malign," mock at the peaceful purity and happiness that blasts their envious sight, and hurl vague threats against the beings who, while innocent, are safe from their hostility. Eve weaves for Adam a garland of flowers, which he places on his brow as a chain of love. In reference to this Lurcone says,

"Chains of infernal workmanshipShall shortly bind you in a subtle foldWhich mortal stroke can never loose."

At the prayers of Adam and Eve, offered with thanksgiving for their blessings, the evil spirits precipitately fly—the agonies of hell burning in their hearts. Adam gives names to the various animals, passing in review before him.

Scene third is occupied by Lucifer, in the form of a serpent, Vainglory, a gigantic figure, magnificently attired, and his attendant spirits. The arch-demon exults over his expected success, the ruin of so smiling a scene:

"Serpent.How lovely smile these flowers,These young fair buds! and ah! how soon my handThese pathways shall despoil of herbs and flowers.Lo! where my feet have pressed their fragrant tops,So graceful, they have drooped; and at my touch,Blasting and burning, the moist spirit is fledFrom the scorched petal. How do I rejoiceAmong these bowers with blighting step to pass,To poison with my breath their buds and leaves,And turn to bitterness their purple fruits!"

Volano acquaints Satan with the decision of the infernal council, and Vainglory and the serpent hide themselves under the tree of knowledge. Eve enters; the wondrous beauty of the tempter, gorgeously described, fascinates her admiring gaze. He is half-hid in the clustering foliage. Unconscious of evil, she approaches nearer, surprised at his aspect; for the fiend exhibits a form like the fabled inhabitants of the sea, human to his breast, the rest of his body enveloped in scaly folds. Vainglory is invisible, but is supposed to be secretly exerting his influence. The serpent, accosting Eve in the accents of flattery, enters into conversation with her, informing her that he was placed in Eden to take charge of its fruits and flowers, and gifted with superiority over the brute creation. He boasts of his knowledge, which he vaunts as superior even to hers and Adam's, notwithstanding that he occupies a lower rank in the scale of the creation. He intimates that her knowledge and Adam's is far from corresponding to their superior excellence of form and high capabilities. Eve inquires how he can regard Adam's knowledge as trifling. "Doth he not know," she cries, "the hidden virtue of each herb and mineral, each beast and bird, the elements, the heavens, the stars, the sun?" The serpent replies:

"Ah! how much worthier to know good and evil!This is the highest knowledge; this doth holdThose mighty secrets dread, sublime, which couldMake you, on earth, like God."[187]

"Doth not this ignorance," he says, "outraging your liberty with unworthy yoke, make you inferior even to the savage beasts, who would not submit to such a law?[188]Or is it that God fears you will equal him in knowledge? in the essence of divinity? No! if you become like him by such means, there would still be difference," etc.[189]

The Serpent then enters upon the immediate object of his design, employing his subtle and persuasive eloquence to overcome Eve's scruples and induce her to eat of the forbidden fruit, whose taste is to impart to her heavenly wisdom. The whole scene of the temptation is admirably managed. The advances of the arch deceiver—now cautiously sounding her, now eagerly urging her to disobedience—the unsuspecting credulity, the increasing curiosity of Eve, are drawn with the pencil of a master.

The Serpent's arguments become still more specious and pressing:

"Thus I liveFeeding on this celestial fruit;Thus to mine eyes all paradise is open—Mine eyes, enlightened by the knowledge storedIn this most wondrous food."[190]

The Serpent speciously insinuates that man is degraded by being compelled to seek his food from the same source with the inferior creation:

"Ah! 'tis too true that drawing sustenanceFrom the same source with brutes that throng the field,In this, at least, renders you like to them.Surely it is not meet or just that ye,Noblest creations of all-forming power,The favored children of the Eternal King,In such unworthy state, 'mid rocks and woods,Should lead a life of vile equalityWith baser animals!"

The temptation takes place necessarily in dialogue. The thoughts are natural and elevated, and the language even magnificent. Eve asks the Serpent what is the cause of his apparent anxiety that she should eat of the prohibited fruit; he explains it by informing her that he will be lord over Eden when she and her partner, by means of the mystic food, shall have ascended to mingle with deities. This is anew and remarkable trait, of which Milton has not availed himself.

"But this, my rightful empire o'er the ground,While man exists and breathes earth's vital air,Is changed to base and grievous vassalage—Since man alone is chosen, by heaven's command,Lord of this lower world, this universeJust sprung from naught.But when, by virtue of this loveliestOf all fair Eden's fruits, secured and tasted,Ye shall be made as gods—full well I knowYe both, forsaking this frail sphere, will soarTo eminence divine, leaving to meThe heritage of power, the sovereigntyO'er every living thing, by your ascentTo higher bliss secured. Full well thou know'stHow pleasing is the consciousness of empire!Pleasing to God, to man, and to the serpent!Eve.I yearn to obey thee. Ah! what would I do?Serpent.Say, rather, leave undone! Pluck it, and makeThyself a goddess in the highest heavens,And me a god on earth!"

Eve.I yearn to obey thee. Ah! what would I do?

Serpent.Say, rather, leave undone! Pluck it, and makeThyself a goddess in the highest heavens,And me a god on earth!"

Here occurs an exquisite touch. Eve, having never before experienced a painful moral emotion, is ignorant of its meaning. The tempter, with consummate art, interprets her very fear into encouragement.

"Eve.Alas! I feelAn icy tremor through my shuddering frame,That chills my heart.Serpent.It is the languishingOf mortal nature 'neath the glorious weightOf that divinity which, like a crown,O'erhangs thy head![191]Behold the lovely tree,More rich and lustrous in its living beautyThan if, indeed, it pointed toward the skiesBranches of gold with emeralds bedecked;Than if its roots were coral, and its trunkUnspotted silver. Lo! the gem-like fruit,Glowing with gifts of immortality!How fair it shows! How to the vivid raysOf sunlight, with a thousand changing huesIt answers, like the train of brilliant birds,When to the sun their broad and painted plumesExpanded, glitter with innumerous eyes!"Act ii. sc. 6.

"Eve.Alas! I feelAn icy tremor through my shuddering frame,That chills my heart.

Serpent.It is the languishingOf mortal nature 'neath the glorious weightOf that divinity which, like a crown,O'erhangs thy head![191]Behold the lovely tree,More rich and lustrous in its living beautyThan if, indeed, it pointed toward the skiesBranches of gold with emeralds bedecked;Than if its roots were coral, and its trunkUnspotted silver. Lo! the gem-like fruit,Glowing with gifts of immortality!How fair it shows! How to the vivid raysOf sunlight, with a thousand changing huesIt answers, like the train of brilliant birds,When to the sun their broad and painted plumesExpanded, glitter with innumerous eyes!"

Act ii. sc. 6.

In evil hour her rash hand plucks the fruit; and the act closes with the exulting gratulations of the Deceiver and Vainglory.

In the succeeding interview with Adam, in Act iii., the intoxicated Eve has not begun to taste the consequences of her crime; she comes to persuade her companion to partake her guilt.

"Eve.How I rejoice, not only to beholdThese flowers, these verdant meads with waving trees,But thee, my Adam!'Tis thou alone in whose blest presence seemsThis scene more fraught with ever new delight,More bright the fruits, and every fount more clear!Adam.No blossom that adorns this blissful plainSuch beauty can unfold to greet mine eyesAs those sweet flowers whose charms I gaze uponIn the fair garden of thy beauteous face!Be calm, ye plants of earth; nor deem my wordsFalse to your loveliness!Ye, with the silvery dews of evening sprinkled,When the sun sends his ardent glance abroad,Make glad the bosom of the grassy earth;But droop ye also with declining day.While the fair living flowers that on the cheekOf my loved Eve are cherished—watered everBy the sweet dews of joy that o'er them flowWhen to her God she bends in grateful praise—Warmed into life by the twin radiant sunsThat light the heaven of her face—there liveIn grace and bloom perennial, and adornTheir own unrivalled paradise."

Adam.No blossom that adorns this blissful plainSuch beauty can unfold to greet mine eyesAs those sweet flowers whose charms I gaze uponIn the fair garden of thy beauteous face!Be calm, ye plants of earth; nor deem my wordsFalse to your loveliness!Ye, with the silvery dews of evening sprinkled,When the sun sends his ardent glance abroad,Make glad the bosom of the grassy earth;But droop ye also with declining day.While the fair living flowers that on the cheekOf my loved Eve are cherished—watered everBy the sweet dews of joy that o'er them flowWhen to her God she bends in grateful praise—Warmed into life by the twin radiant sunsThat light the heaven of her face—there liveIn grace and bloom perennial, and adornTheir own unrivalled paradise."

Death, in the eyes of Adam, is more welcome than separation from his beloved; as inParadise Lost, he rushes on his fate voluntarily, without partaking in any of those dreams of greatness which had beguiled his frail consort. When the mortal sin is completed by his participation, Volano with his trumpet summons the infernal spirits, who crowd the scene with shouts of exultation expressed in lyrical measures. The Serpent and Vainglory are worshipped for their success. The evil spirits vanish before the voice of the Eternal, who descends with his angels to pronounce sentence upon the guilty pair. The solemn account to which the Judge calls them, their guilty evasion and detection, and the stern malediction on the earth cursed for man's sake, with the punishment denounced on the human offenders and on the serpent, are described in the scriptural language, and with a simplicity which is in itself sublime. Noconcettiare here allowed to mar the impressive greatness of the scene. An angel remains after the departure of the Almighty, and clothes the shiveringpair with the skins of wild beasts, reminding them that the roughness of their new raiment signifies the suffering they are to sustain in the journey of life. Then the stern Archangel Michael, the minister of divine vengeance, appears and commands them to leave paradise, while the cherubic host, who had hitherto hovered round them, forsake their accustomed charge and reascend to heaven. The flaming sword of Michael chases the unhappy fugitives from their lost home, and his lips confirm their own apprehensions:

"Michael.These stony fields your naked feet shall press,In place of flowery turf, since fatal sinForbids you longer to inhabit here.Know me the minister of wrath to thoseWho have rebelled against their God. For thisWear I the armor of almighty power,Dazzling and terrible. Yes, I am heWho, in the conflict of immortal hosts,Dragged captive from the north the haughty chiefOf rebel spirits, and to hell's abyssHurled them in mighty ruin.Now to the Eternal King it seemeth goodThat man, rebellious to his sovereign will,I should drive forth from his fair paradiseWith sword of fire.Hence, angels, and with meSpeed back to heaven your flight!Even as like me ye have been wont to joyOn earth with Adam—once a demi-god,Now feeble clay. Then, armed with fiery sword,A cherub guardian of this gate of blissShall take your place."Act iii. sc. 8.

Act iii. sc. 8.

The chant of the departing angels mingles with lamentation over the fall an intimation of peace in the future.

The poem does not end with the expulsion from Eden; a second part, as it were, is contained in the last two acts, in which the dim promise of a Redeemer is shadowed forth, the triumph of hell is turned to rage and shame, and penitence is comforted with hope. This completion of the great plan gives a new grandeur to the piece, since it is thus made to embody the most solemn and striking of all morals.

In Act iv. Volano summons the spirits of the elements to meet Lucifer, who calls a council. The spirits still utter their songs of triumph over the fall of man; but the mien of their leader is deject, his clear-sighted vision already discerns in the just wrath of God against the human offenders the latent promise of mercy. He foresees the pardon of man, and his restoration through a Redeemer to the heavenly blessings from which his destroyer vainly hoped his transgressions had cut him off. He is racked with anguish at the prospect of his work being undone; but it is no time now to pause; he must build up still higher the edifice of his own greatness and his defiance of Omnipotence. The deep pride of his character is further illustrated in the infernal council. He causes to issue from the earth four monsters hurtful to man: Mondo, Carne, Morte, and Demonio—World, Flesh, Death, and Devil.

Adam and Eve appear in their fallen condition, the prey of a thousand fears and ills, haunted by miseries before unknown. They bitterly deplore the changes that have passed on the creation. The animals manifest terror at their presence. Four monsters beset Adam—the impersonations of Hunger, Thirst, Fatigue, and Despair, that threaten to follow him unceasingly. Death menaces them with mortal peril; the heavens grow dark, thunders roll, and the air is convulsed with tempest. The scene closes in gloom and horror.

In the fifth act, Temptation, in alluring forms, invites the fallen pair to new crimes. Flesh, in the figure of a lovely young woman, accosts Adam, showing him how all things breathe of love; and Lucifer, in human shape, persuades him to yield to her enticements. Here occurs one of the most exquisitely delicate and beautiful touches in the poem, and one that none but a true poet couldhave conceived. The guardian angel of man yet hovers, unseen, at a distance; when he sees him thus sore beset, he comes to his assistance. The protector is invisible; but his warning voice, soft as the promptings of a dream, sounds in the sinner's ear:

"Angel.'Tis time to succor man. Alas! what dost thou,Most wretched Adam?Lucifer, (to Adam.) Why remain'st thou mute?Why art thou sad?Adam.I seem a voice to hear,Sorrowful yet mild, which says, 'Alas! what dost thou,Most wretched Adam?'"Act v. sc. 3.

"Angel.'Tis time to succor man. Alas! what dost thou,Most wretched Adam?

Lucifer, (to Adam.) Why remain'st thou mute?Why art thou sad?

Adam.I seem a voice to hear,Sorrowful yet mild, which says, 'Alas! what dost thou,Most wretched Adam?'"

Act v. sc. 3.

Following the promptings of the angel, which are continued through the scene, Adam proposes that Lucifer and his companion shall kneel with him in prayer. Thus he escapes the temptation and danger. Lucifer and his demons refuse to pray, and, assuming their proper shape, next assail him by force; but from this peril he is also guarded.

We then behold Eve wandering desolate and desponding, affrighted at all that meets her eyes. Her lamentation has much simple beauty.

"Eve.Dar'st thou, O wretched Eve!Lift up thy guilty eyes to meet the sun?Oh! no; they are unworthy—well thou know'st!Once, with unfaltering gaze they could beholdHis beams, and revel in their golden light;Now thy too daring lookHis dazzling rays rebuke;Or, if thou gaze upon his face, a veilOf blindness shrouds thy sight. Alas! too trulyI dwell in darkness, if my sin has stainedWith horrid mists the pure and innocent sun!O miserable Eve!If now I turn my feet where fountains gushTo taste the limpid current, I beholdThe crystal wave defiled, or scorching sandsUsurp its place. If, famished, I returnTo pluck the grateful fruit from bending trees,Its taste is bitter to me; or the wormWith blasting touch doth revel on its sweetness.If, wearied, I recline among the flowers,Striving to close my eyes, lo! at my sideThe serpent rears its crest, or hissing glidesAmong the clustering leaves. If, to escapeFaint from the noontide heat, I seek the shadeOf some thick wood, I tremble at the thoughtOf wild beast lurking in the thicket's gloom;And start with dread if but the lightest leafStir with the wind."

She also is assailed by a new temptation personified under the name of World. This allegorical personage, arrayed in rich and gorgeous vestments, crowned with gold and gems, endeavors to captivate her imagination by artful flatteries; by visions of splendor and regal power reserved for "the queen of the universe." From a visioned palace comes a troop of nymphs laden with ornaments, with which they offer to adorn their mistress, dancing and singing around her; but Eve, deaf to World's flatteries, resists and flies from him; both she and her consort are too penitent to listen to evil solicitations, and at Adam's rebuke the troop disappears in confusion. Then Lucifer and his devils, armed for man's destruction, rush in to seize their victims. The fierce and final struggle between the powers of heaven and hell, for the dominion of earth, takes place; for the arch-fiend encounters Michael and his angels, sent to rescue the frail beings of clay, who, in terrified astonishment, witness the battle. It would be doing injustice to the poem not to give some extracts from this striking scene.

"Michael.Tremble, thou son of wrath,At the fierce lightning of this barbed spear,The smiting hand of him who leads heaven's host.Nor against God, but 'gainst thyself thou wagestWar, and in thine offence offend'st thyself.Back to the shades, thou wandering spirit of hell,From this celestial light shut out for ever!Drop thy dark wings beneath the glory whichThe Father of all light, who formed the suns,Imparts to me! Hence, with the noxious bandOf God's accursed foes; nor tarry here,An evil host, with your infernal breathThese precincts to pollute, to scatter gloomThrough man's pure air of life!No more thy hissing vile, serpent of hell,Shall harass innocence!Lucifer.Loquacious messengerOf heaven's high will, clothed in the vaunted garbOf splendor—failing in the attributeOf daring soul—minion of heaven's indulgence!Angel of softness! who in solemn ease,In seats of sloth, nests of humility,Dost harbor—on thy face and in thy heartThe coward stamped—a warrior but in name;Spread, spread thy wings, and seek thy Maker's arms,[192]There shelter, there confide thee! too unequalThe strife would be 'twixt fear and bravery:Betwixt the warrior and the unwarlike one,The weak and strong; betwixt a Michael vileAnd a proud Lucifer. But if thy boldnessAspire to rifle from my mighty handThis frail compound of clay,This animated dust, I here declareAgainst thee war, bitter and mortal war,Till thou shalt see, by this avenging hand,The wide creation of thy God laid waste!Michael.The doleful victory,Of fierce and desperate spirit, which thou gainedstAgainst heaven's forces once—against this man,Whom thou confused hast vanquished—conquest poorAlready snatched from thee! while in the chainsFrom which thy prey is freed thou art involved—May teach thee with what justice thou canst claimThe palm of honor!"

Lucifer.Loquacious messengerOf heaven's high will, clothed in the vaunted garbOf splendor—failing in the attributeOf daring soul—minion of heaven's indulgence!Angel of softness! who in solemn ease,In seats of sloth, nests of humility,Dost harbor—on thy face and in thy heartThe coward stamped—a warrior but in name;Spread, spread thy wings, and seek thy Maker's arms,[192]There shelter, there confide thee! too unequalThe strife would be 'twixt fear and bravery:Betwixt the warrior and the unwarlike one,The weak and strong; betwixt a Michael vileAnd a proud Lucifer. But if thy boldnessAspire to rifle from my mighty handThis frail compound of clay,This animated dust, I here declareAgainst thee war, bitter and mortal war,Till thou shalt see, by this avenging hand,The wide creation of thy God laid waste!

Michael.The doleful victory,Of fierce and desperate spirit, which thou gainedstAgainst heaven's forces once—against this man,Whom thou confused hast vanquished—conquest poorAlready snatched from thee! while in the chainsFrom which thy prey is freed thou art involved—May teach thee with what justice thou canst claimThe palm of honor!"

The haughty monarch of hell then reminds Michael of his first great rebellion against the Most High, and his success in dragging into ruin "the third part of heaven's host," (terza parte di stelle.) Vaunting these proofs of his might, he boldly threatens destruction to the throne of God himself: bidding the inhabitants of heaven flee from a place which can no longer afford them a refuge of safety!

"Michael.Wherefore delay to check the impious vauntsOf this proud rebel?Written indeed with pen of iron, markedIn living characters of blood, uponThe page of everlasting misery,Shall be thy glory for this victory!To arms! to arms, then; for the swift destructionOf outcast devils!—and let man rejoice,Heaven smile, hell weep!Lucifer.To the intemperate boastOf lips too bold, but rarely doth the daringOf truth succeed. To arms! and thou with meSustain the contest. Ye, my other foesInvincible, avoid the impious strife,Effeminate followers of a peaceful chief!... Alas! he who already hath receivedFrom heaven small grace, of ill a plenteous dole,On earth must also prove his strength unequal,Despite the powerful spirit, to the strokeOf power supernal, driving to the abyssOf gloom again! It is well meet, the wretchVanquished in battle should lose too the lightOf this celestial sun!Angels and God!Ye are victorious! Ye at length have conquered!Proud Lucifer and all his vanquished trainHave dearly paid the forfeit. They forsakeThe day; they sink to everlasting night.Michael.Fall from the earth! baffled and wounded fall,Monster of cruel hell,Down to the shades of night, where thou shalt dieAn everlasting death;Nor hope to spread thy wings again toward heaven,Since impious wishes fire thee desperate,Not penitence. And thou art fallen at length,Proud fiend, despairing in thy downward course,Even as exultingly thou thought'st to soarTo height divine: Once more thou know'st to sinkThundering to hell's dark caverns. Thou didst hope,Fool! to bear back with thee thy prisoner, man;Alone thou seek'st thy dungeon vast, profound,Where to its depths pursued, the added flamesOf endless wrath thou bearest, to increaseIts ever-burning fires!...Thou wouldst have made this fair world with thine ireA desolated waste; where at thy breathSummoning to devastation, clouds and winds,And lightnings tempest-winged, and thunders loud,Vengeful should throng the air, should shake the hills;And make the valleys with their din resound.And lo! in skies from thy foul presence freed,The spheres with louder music weave their dance,And the majestic sun with purer raysGladdens the azure fields on high. The seaReclines in tremulous tranquillity,Or joyous pours upon the glistening strandHis pearls and corals. Never wearied sportHis glossy tribes, and swim the liquid sapphire.Lo! in a green and flowery vesture robed,How shine these valleys in rejoicing light!While the sweet, grateful notes of praise ascendFrom every soaring habitant of air,That now, a pilgrim in the scented vale,Makes vocal all the woods with melody.Let all, united on this glorious dayOf scorn and shame to hell, exulting raiseThe hymn of joy to heaven; and widely borneBy eager winds, the golden trumpets soundTo tell in heaven of victory and peace!Adam.O welcome sound that calls me back to joyWhence sad I fled! Ah me! I fear to blot,Tainted by sin, the holy purityOf angels' presence!O thou who wear'st the glorious armor wroughtWith gems celestial! Archangel bright!Dread warrior, yet most mild! thy golden locksHiding with helmet of immortal beams!Wielding in thy right hand the conquering spear!Close the rich gold of thy too dazzling wings,And turn a gentle and a pitying lookOn him who prostrate at thy feet adores!"

Lucifer.To the intemperate boastOf lips too bold, but rarely doth the daringOf truth succeed. To arms! and thou with meSustain the contest. Ye, my other foesInvincible, avoid the impious strife,Effeminate followers of a peaceful chief!... Alas! he who already hath receivedFrom heaven small grace, of ill a plenteous dole,On earth must also prove his strength unequal,Despite the powerful spirit, to the strokeOf power supernal, driving to the abyssOf gloom again! It is well meet, the wretchVanquished in battle should lose too the lightOf this celestial sun!Angels and God!Ye are victorious! Ye at length have conquered!Proud Lucifer and all his vanquished trainHave dearly paid the forfeit. They forsakeThe day; they sink to everlasting night.

Michael.Fall from the earth! baffled and wounded fall,Monster of cruel hell,Down to the shades of night, where thou shalt dieAn everlasting death;Nor hope to spread thy wings again toward heaven,Since impious wishes fire thee desperate,Not penitence. And thou art fallen at length,Proud fiend, despairing in thy downward course,Even as exultingly thou thought'st to soarTo height divine: Once more thou know'st to sinkThundering to hell's dark caverns. Thou didst hope,Fool! to bear back with thee thy prisoner, man;Alone thou seek'st thy dungeon vast, profound,Where to its depths pursued, the added flamesOf endless wrath thou bearest, to increaseIts ever-burning fires!...Thou wouldst have made this fair world with thine ireA desolated waste; where at thy breathSummoning to devastation, clouds and winds,And lightnings tempest-winged, and thunders loud,Vengeful should throng the air, should shake the hills;And make the valleys with their din resound.And lo! in skies from thy foul presence freed,The spheres with louder music weave their dance,And the majestic sun with purer raysGladdens the azure fields on high. The seaReclines in tremulous tranquillity,Or joyous pours upon the glistening strandHis pearls and corals. Never wearied sportHis glossy tribes, and swim the liquid sapphire.Lo! in a green and flowery vesture robed,How shine these valleys in rejoicing light!While the sweet, grateful notes of praise ascendFrom every soaring habitant of air,That now, a pilgrim in the scented vale,Makes vocal all the woods with melody.Let all, united on this glorious dayOf scorn and shame to hell, exulting raiseThe hymn of joy to heaven; and widely borneBy eager winds, the golden trumpets soundTo tell in heaven of victory and peace!

Adam.O welcome sound that calls me back to joyWhence sad I fled! Ah me! I fear to blot,Tainted by sin, the holy purityOf angels' presence!O thou who wear'st the glorious armor wroughtWith gems celestial! Archangel bright!Dread warrior, yet most mild! thy golden locksHiding with helmet of immortal beams!Wielding in thy right hand the conquering spear!Close the rich gold of thy too dazzling wings,And turn a gentle and a pitying lookOn him who prostrate at thy feet adores!"

The archangel is no longer the avenger; and he raises with pity the repentant sinners.

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