Luciferians. Chorus of Angels
Luciferians:
How oft belief proves but delusive hope!
Alas! how things have changed. We deemed no rank
Than ours more happy in this rising Realm,—
Yea, thought our state even like unto God's own,
More blessed than Earth and e'er unchangeable.—
Till Gabriel met us with his trumpet bold,
And from the golden port the hosts astounded
With this new-made decree, that shall deprive
The Angels of the good, the highest good,
First from the Godhead's breast to them outpoured.
How is our glory dimmed! We now behold
The beauty and the dazzling radiance
That streamed so proudly from our ancient splendor
In darkness quenched. We see the Hierarchies
Of Heaven thrown into confusion strange,
And man to such a rank, to such proud height
Exalted, that we tremble even as slaves
Beneath his sway. O unexpected blow
And change of lot! Ah! comrades in one grief.
Ah! come and gather round in groups and sigh
And weep with us together here. Tis time
To rend this shining raiment, meet for feasts,
To voice our plaints; for none can this forbid.
Our gladness fades and our first sorrow dawns.
Alas! alas! ye choristers of Heaven,
O brothers, tear those garlands from your brows
And change the blithesome livery of joy
For sorrow's gruesome garb. Oh! droop your eyes.
Seek shadows even as we; for sorrow shuns
The light. Let each one raise his voice to ours
And utter fearful plaints. Drown in your grief;
Sink down in mournful thought. To voice your woe,
The burdened heart relieves. Now joy to groan:
For groaning heals the smart. Now shout aloud,
As with one voice, and follow these our woes:
Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?
Chorus of Angels.
What plaint arises here, unpleasant sound?
The Heavens shrink back in fright. This air on high
Hath not been wont to hear the wail of woe
On sad notes sobbing through these joyful vaults.
Nay, wreaths and palms and loud triumphal song
And tuneful harps are far more meet for us.
What can this be? Who crouches here with head
Down-hanging, sad, forlorn, and needlessly
Oppressed? Who gave them food for grief? Who can
The reason guess? O fellow choristers,
Come then, 'tis needful that we ask the cause
Of their lament and this dark cloud of woe,
That robs our splendor of its radiance
And dims and dulls the bright translucent glow
Of the eternal feast. Heaven is a court
Where joy and peace and all delights abound.
Grief never nestled 'neath these lucid eaves,
Nor woeful pain. Ah! fellow choristers.
Oh! come, console them in their heaviness.
Luciferian:
Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?
Chorus:
Companions dear in our high happiness.
Oh! brothers, why? Oh! sons of the glad Light,
Why thus depressed at heart? Who gave you cause
Thus to complain and thus to mourn? Ye had
Begun to lift your heads aloft to Heaven,
To bloom amid the day, whose lustre streams
From God's deep glow. The Heavens brought you forth
To mount in rapid flight from firmament
To firmament beyond, from court to court;
To flit amid the shadeless light content,
In one delightful life, an endless feast;
And e'er to taste the heavenly manna sweet
Of God's eternity, among your friends
In peaceful joys. Oh! why? This is not meet
For dwellers of the Spirit world. Oh! nay.
Nor meet for Dominations, Powers, and Thrones,
Nor for the ruling Heavens. Ye gorge your grief,
And sit perplexed and dumb. Give voice to your
Necessity: reveal it to your friends.
Reveal your heart-sore, that we may relieve.
"Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?" "Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?"
Luciferians:
O brothers, can ye ask with earnestness
Why we thus grieve? Did ye also not hear
What Gabriel's trump revealed: how we through this
New-given command, down from our state are thrust
Into a slavery of Earth and of
As many souls as from a little blood
And seed may haply spring? What have we done
Amiss? how erred, that God a water-bubble,
Blown full of vapid air, exalts. His sons,
The Angels, to abase?—a bastardy
Exalts, formed out of clay and dust? But now
We stood as trusty pillars, consecrate
Unto His court, adorned our various place
As faithful members of His Realm; and now,
In one brief hour, we are expelled and shorn
Of all our dignity,—oppressed, alas!
Too sternly and with too much heaviness.
The charter and the primal privilege
Received from God are now by Him repealed.
And there where we had thought to rule with God
And under God, shall now this Adam reign,
Triumphant in his seed and blood forever.
The sun of Spirits hath set for them too soon.
Ah I comrades, hear our sorrow and our woes.
Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?
Chorus:
And doth the charge that Gabriel brought from God
You thus disturb? This but a frenzy seems.
Who dares to reprehend the high command?
Who so presumptuous himself against
The Godhead to oppose? To give to God
His honor and His Right, to rest upon
His law, this is our bounden charge. Who dares
To enter here with God's Omnipotence
In such dispute? His word and nod and will
Serve as our law and pace and precept firm.
Who contradiction breathes doth break the seal
Of the Most High. Obedience doth please
The Ruler of this Realm far more than smell
Of incense or divinest harmonies.
Ye are (oh! be ye not so vain, we pray,
Of boasted lineage) created more
For such subjection than for rulership.
O brothers, cease this wailing and lament.
And bow beneath the yoke of the Power Supreme.
Joost van den Vondel (1587 – 1679) The Netherlands
Translated by Charles Leonard van Noppen
Act III, lines 1-120
Source: Project Gutenberg: J. van Vondel's Lucifer A tragedy 1654
<< Previous Next >> [Further lines from Act III will be posted...]
Luciferians:
How oft belief proves but delusive hope!
Alas! how things have changed. We deemed no rank
Than ours more happy in this rising Realm,—
Yea, thought our state even like unto God's own,
More blessed than Earth and e'er unchangeable.—
Till Gabriel met us with his trumpet bold,
And from the golden port the hosts astounded
With this new-made decree, that shall deprive
The Angels of the good, the highest good,
First from the Godhead's breast to them outpoured.
How is our glory dimmed! We now behold
The beauty and the dazzling radiance
That streamed so proudly from our ancient splendor
In darkness quenched. We see the Hierarchies
Of Heaven thrown into confusion strange,
And man to such a rank, to such proud height
Exalted, that we tremble even as slaves
Beneath his sway. O unexpected blow
And change of lot! Ah! comrades in one grief.
Ah! come and gather round in groups and sigh
And weep with us together here. Tis time
To rend this shining raiment, meet for feasts,
To voice our plaints; for none can this forbid.
Our gladness fades and our first sorrow dawns.
Alas! alas! ye choristers of Heaven,
O brothers, tear those garlands from your brows
And change the blithesome livery of joy
For sorrow's gruesome garb. Oh! droop your eyes.
Seek shadows even as we; for sorrow shuns
The light. Let each one raise his voice to ours
And utter fearful plaints. Drown in your grief;
Sink down in mournful thought. To voice your woe,
The burdened heart relieves. Now joy to groan:
For groaning heals the smart. Now shout aloud,
As with one voice, and follow these our woes:
Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?
Chorus of Angels.
What plaint arises here, unpleasant sound?
The Heavens shrink back in fright. This air on high
Hath not been wont to hear the wail of woe
On sad notes sobbing through these joyful vaults.
Nay, wreaths and palms and loud triumphal song
And tuneful harps are far more meet for us.
What can this be? Who crouches here with head
Down-hanging, sad, forlorn, and needlessly
Oppressed? Who gave them food for grief? Who can
The reason guess? O fellow choristers,
Come then, 'tis needful that we ask the cause
Of their lament and this dark cloud of woe,
That robs our splendor of its radiance
And dims and dulls the bright translucent glow
Of the eternal feast. Heaven is a court
Where joy and peace and all delights abound.
Grief never nestled 'neath these lucid eaves,
Nor woeful pain. Ah! fellow choristers.
Oh! come, console them in their heaviness.
Luciferian:
Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?
Chorus:
Companions dear in our high happiness.
Oh! brothers, why? Oh! sons of the glad Light,
Why thus depressed at heart? Who gave you cause
Thus to complain and thus to mourn? Ye had
Begun to lift your heads aloft to Heaven,
To bloom amid the day, whose lustre streams
From God's deep glow. The Heavens brought you forth
To mount in rapid flight from firmament
To firmament beyond, from court to court;
To flit amid the shadeless light content,
In one delightful life, an endless feast;
And e'er to taste the heavenly manna sweet
Of God's eternity, among your friends
In peaceful joys. Oh! why? This is not meet
For dwellers of the Spirit world. Oh! nay.
Nor meet for Dominations, Powers, and Thrones,
Nor for the ruling Heavens. Ye gorge your grief,
And sit perplexed and dumb. Give voice to your
Necessity: reveal it to your friends.
Reveal your heart-sore, that we may relieve.
"Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?" "Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?"
 |
| Alas! alas! Image source: Project Gutenberg |
Luciferians:
O brothers, can ye ask with earnestness
Why we thus grieve? Did ye also not hear
What Gabriel's trump revealed: how we through this
New-given command, down from our state are thrust
Into a slavery of Earth and of
As many souls as from a little blood
And seed may haply spring? What have we done
Amiss? how erred, that God a water-bubble,
Blown full of vapid air, exalts. His sons,
The Angels, to abase?—a bastardy
Exalts, formed out of clay and dust? But now
We stood as trusty pillars, consecrate
Unto His court, adorned our various place
As faithful members of His Realm; and now,
In one brief hour, we are expelled and shorn
Of all our dignity,—oppressed, alas!
Too sternly and with too much heaviness.
The charter and the primal privilege
Received from God are now by Him repealed.
And there where we had thought to rule with God
And under God, shall now this Adam reign,
Triumphant in his seed and blood forever.
The sun of Spirits hath set for them too soon.
Ah I comrades, hear our sorrow and our woes.
Alas! alas! where is our bliss departed?
Chorus:
And doth the charge that Gabriel brought from God
You thus disturb? This but a frenzy seems.
Who dares to reprehend the high command?
Who so presumptuous himself against
The Godhead to oppose? To give to God
His honor and His Right, to rest upon
His law, this is our bounden charge. Who dares
To enter here with God's Omnipotence
In such dispute? His word and nod and will
Serve as our law and pace and precept firm.
Who contradiction breathes doth break the seal
Of the Most High. Obedience doth please
The Ruler of this Realm far more than smell
Of incense or divinest harmonies.
Ye are (oh! be ye not so vain, we pray,
Of boasted lineage) created more
For such subjection than for rulership.
O brothers, cease this wailing and lament.
And bow beneath the yoke of the Power Supreme.
Joost van den Vondel (1587 – 1679) The Netherlands
Translated by Charles Leonard van Noppen
Act III, lines 1-120
Source: Project Gutenberg: J. van Vondel's Lucifer A tragedy 1654
<< Previous Next >> [Further lines from Act III will be posted...]
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