The followers of Lucifer reply. They are now so enraged that they declare themselves ready to smother man in his own blood, rather than permit his usurpation. They entreat Belzebub to lead them on to battle, and they swear to follow his standard. Belzebub, "than whom, Satan except, none higher sits," with dignified indignation admirably displayed, rejects the proposition of the mutineers, and enters into a long argument with them, in which he pretends slowly to be persuaded of their wrongs. He further feigns to be exceedingly moved by the defalcation of Apollyon and Belial, but he steadily refuses their offer of leadership, unless they will permit him to lead them, as suppliants for mercy, to the throne of grace; and there is a peculiar motive for the unctuous zeal of this last offer, for, while the words are in his mouth, the magnificent presence of Michael is before us. The field-marshal addresses Belzebub in a haughty tone, and, in spite of this last flosculus which has fallen from his lips, roundly accuses him of stirring up rebellion. Belzebub, nothing abashed, humbly rebuts the charge, and prays Michael to assist him in interfering in favor of peace. Michael thereupon offers, in a sufficiently peremptory tone, to lay their petition before the Deity. The Luciferists boldly insist on their right, and blaze up into the most absolute defiance. Michael thereupon warns them that those who fight against him fight against God; but the rebel host shriek back that the stadholder, Lucifer, is on their side. Michael can hardly believe it; and then, in thunderous rhetoric, he calls down divine vengeance upon them, and, gathering the ranks of the faithful about him, soars upward to lay the matter at God's feet. Belzebub raises the courage of the Luciferists by announcing the advent of Lucifer, who approaches on his chariot, and greets them with great dignity of speech. The Luciferists pour out their anguish to him thus: —
| Forbid it, Lucifer, nor suffer that our ranks Be mortified so low and sink without a crime, |
| . . . . . . . . |
| We swear, by force, beneath thy glorious flag combined, To set thee on the throne for Adam late designed! |
Lucifer, however, still deems it politic to feign a loyal and pious mind; but at length he gives way, especially to the arguments of Belzebub. To his own superior intelligence the contest seems hopeless, the battle lost before it is fought. But at last he cries, —
| I will content me, then, force to resist by force! |
But he stops the shouts of delight with which this concession is greeted, to bid the princes take witness that he is forced into this step by the need to protect God's realm against usurpation. Belzebub, then, like some arch-heretic or anti-pope, busies himself to prepare divine honors for the new deity. The crowd take up the idea, and shout, —
| Crown, crown with triumph great god Lucifer. |
At the command of Belzebub, they bring perfumes and burn them before him, and in choral antiphonies they sing his praise.
| Follow the chief, whose trumpet and whose drum Protect the crown of Angeldom! |
They pass away in triumph, and the heavenly chorus descends, filling the vacant scene, and trilling a mournful epode to this dithyrambic passion, full of pain and anxious wonder.
The fourth act opens with a most Miltonic blare of martial melody. All heaven is in a blaze, and Gabriel speeds to bid Michael prepare to defend God's name. The third part of heaven has sworn fealty to the traitorous Morning Star, and lead him on with shouts and singing. Melancholy and depression have now seized the loyal angels, and the unfaded seraphim sit brooding on their woe. To Michael, who demands to learn what effect the news produced at the throne of God himself, Gabriel replies: —
| I saw God's very gladness with a cloud of woe O'ershadowed, and there burst a flame out of the gloom |
