"Lucifer," but common to Dutch dramatic poetry generally. We have in English an exactly analogous example in the "Cleopatra" of Samuel Daniel, a tragedy written in rhymed verse, with solemn choral variations.
In the second act the rebellion has been confined to the desires of a few princes; in the third act it has taken fast hold of the multitude. The whole process is precisely that recounted in Book V., lines 616-710, of "Paradise Lost." Belial and Apollyon have passed far and wide among the ranks of the angels, and, while calling them together under the banner of Lucifer, have 'cast between ambiguous words and jealousies to sound or taint integrity.' The angels are discovered huddling together, with all their beauty tarnished, drowned in grief and deep sunk in their own melancholy thoughts, and, ever and anon, with one voice they cry, -
| Alas! alas! alas! where has our bliss departed? |
The loyal chorus are properly displeased with this excessive and groundless show of depression. They declare that heaven freezes with the wind of their lamentations. The azure ether is not accustomed to hear a music of affliction go up in vapors through its joyous vault. Triumphs, songs, and symphonies on stringed instruments befit the blessed. They call upon their fellow-choristers to aid them in cheering these sorrowful souls. But the Luciferists, as they are now called, only repeat their monotonous cry, -
| Alas! alas! alas! where has our bliss departed? |
The chorus reminds them of their being. They were born to be joyous; brought forth, like flowers, upon a beam of the glory of God; created to hover and flash through the unshadowed light of life. At last the Luciferists enquire if the chorus is really in earnest in asking them why they mourn: is it not well enough known that the angels have fallen from their high estate to make room for the dull brood of man? The charter given by God has been repealed; the sun of spirits is suddenly gone down, and, burying their faces in their folded wings, they repeat once more their miserable refrain. The chorus, excellent persons with whom the readers find it a little difficult to have patience, exclaims: "How dare you censure the high ordinance? This seems like a revolt! Oh, my brothers, cease this lamentation and defiance, and bow yourselves under the inevitable yoke!" This exemplary advice is severely criticised by the Lucifenists; and a long discussion ensues, in which each party says a single line, after the occasional manner of most Greek plays. The ball of argument is tossed from hand to hand, and both speak well, the Luciferist, however, with most point and wit. The great seducers, Belial and Apollyon, then come upon the scene, and affect the greatest surprise at the appearance of the ranks of angels plunged in sorrow and wrapped about with desolation. They enquire, with simulated anxiety, into the cause of this; but the Luciferists are sad beyond speech, and the chorus replies: "They mourn that the state of man triumphs, that God will entwine his being with Adam's, and spirits be subject to human authority. There you learn briefly the ground of their sorrow." The chorus further begs that Belial will settle the dispute; but without advantage to itself, for the angel princes take, of course, the rebel standpoint, and argue with more subtlety than the lower Luciferists. The wrangling progresses further, the one side continually preferring their charge of a promise broken, a charter disannulled, and the other repeating in a variety of shapes the formula that
| Obedience pleases God, the Ruler of our day, Far more than incense clouds or godlike music may. |
Belial at last sums up in saying, -
| Equality of grace would fit the Godhead best; |
a rebellious assumption of superior justice, which rouses the chorus to a somewhat long-winded summary of the contrast between the supremacy of the Creator and the subjection of the created. During the closing words of this harangue, the clouds and lurid fiery blaze increase, and out of the sinister gloom appears Belzebub. On his appearance, the miserable Luciferists repeat their uniform cry. The new-comer consoles them; and bids them be of good cheer.
| O cease from wailing; rend your badges and your robes No longer without cause, but make your faces bright, |
