Lucifer. Loquacious messenger
Of heaven's high will, clothed in the vaunted garb
Of splendor—failing in the attribute
Of 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 heart
The coward stamped—a warrior but in name;
Spread, spread thy wings, and seek thy Maker's arms,[192]
There shelter, there confide thee! too unequal
The strife would be 'twixt fear and bravery:
Betwixt the warrior and the unwarlike one,
The weak and strong; betwixt a Michael vile
And a proud Lucifer. But if thy boldness
Aspire to rifle from my mighty hand
This frail compound of clay,
This animated dust, I here declare
Against 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 gainedst
Against heaven's forces once—against this man,
Whom thou confused hast vanquished—conquest poor
Already snatched from thee! while in the chains
From which thy prey is freed thou art involved—
May teach thee with what justice thou canst claim
The 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 vaunts
Of this proud rebel?
Written indeed with pen of iron, marked
In living characters of blood, upon
The page of everlasting misery,
Shall be thy glory for this victory!
To arms! to arms, then; for the swift destruction
Of outcast devils!—and let man rejoice,
Heaven smile, hell weep!
Lucifer. To the intemperate boast
Of lips too bold, but rarely doth the daring
Of truth succeed. To arms! and thou with me
Sustain the contest. Ye, my other foes
Invincible, avoid the impious strife,
Effeminate followers of a peaceful chief!
... Alas! he who already hath received
From heaven small grace, of ill a plenteous dole,
On earth must also prove his strength unequal,
Despite the powerful spirit, to the stroke
Of power supernal, driving to the abyss
Of gloom again! It is well meet, the wretch
Vanquished in battle should lose too the light
Of this celestial sun!
Angels and God!
Ye are victorious! Ye at length have conquered!
Proud Lucifer and all his vanquished train
Have dearly paid the forfeit. They forsake
The 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 die
An 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 soar
To height divine: Once more thou know'st to sink
Thundering 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 flames
Of endless wrath thou bearest, to increase
Its ever-burning fires!...
Thou wouldst have made this fair world with thine ire
A desolated waste; where at thy breath
Summoning 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 rays
Gladdens the azure fields on high. The sea
Reclines in tremulous tranquillity,
Or joyous pours upon the glistening strand
His pearls and corals. Never wearied sport
His 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 ascend
From 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 day
Of scorn and shame to hell, exulting raise
The hymn of joy to heaven; and widely borne
By eager winds, the golden trumpets sound
To tell in heaven of victory and peace!
Adam. O welcome sound that calls me back to joy
Whence sad I fled! Ah me! I fear to blot,
Tainted by sin, the holy purity
Of angels' presence!
O thou who wear'st the glorious armor wrought
With gems celestial! Archangel bright!
Dread warrior, yet most mild! thy golden locks
Hiding 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 look
On him who prostrate at thy feet adores!"
The archangel is no longer the avenger; and he raises with pity the repentant sinners.
"Michael. Rise both, ye works of God
Thus favored; banish from your bosoms dread
Of portents unpropitious. If our Master
With one hand smite, the other offers you
Healing—salvation!"
Adam and Eve, delivered from their foes, are comforted by the heavenly messenger, who assures them of forgiveness on condition of future obedience. With his promise we conclude our extracts.