作词 : Joost van den Vondel
Belzebub:
 
 My Belial hence hath sped on aery wings
 To see where lingers our Apollion,
 Whom for such flight most fit Chief Lucifer
 Hath sent to Earth that he might gain for him
 A better sense of Adam's bliss, the state,
 Where placed by Powers Omnipotent he dwells.
 And lo! the time draws nigh that he return
 Unto these courts. He cannot now be far.
 A watchful servant heeds his master's glance
 And, faithful, stays his throne with neck and shoulder.
 
 Belial:
 
 Lord Belzebub, thou Privy Councillor
 Of Heaven's Stadtholder, he riseth steep
 And wheels from sphere to sphere into our view;
 The wind he passes by and leaves a track
 Of light and splendor in his wake, where cleave,
 His speedy wings the clouds; and now our air
 He scents in other day and brighter sun,
 Whose glow is mirrored in the crystal blue.
 The heavenly globes beneath behold his flight,
 As up he mounts, and each with wonder sees
 His speed and godlike grace. He seems to them
 No more an Angel but a flying fire.
 No star so swiftly shoots. Behold him now,
 Here upwards soaring, and within his hands
 He bears a golden bough. The steep incline
 He hath accomplished happily.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 What brings
 Apollion?
 
 Apollion:
 
 I have, Lord Belzebub,
 The low terrene observed with keenest eye.
 And now I offer thee the fruits grown there
 So far below these heights, 'neath other skies
 And other sun: now judge thou from the fruit
 The land and garden which even God Himself
 Hath blessed and planted for mankind's delight.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 I see the golden leaves, all laden with
 Ethereal pearls, the sparkling silvery dew.
 What sweet perfume exhale those radiant leaves
 Of tint unfading! How alluring glows
 That pleasant fruit with crimson and with gold!
 'Twere pity to pollute it with the hands.
 The eye doth tempt the mouth. Who would not lust
 For earthly luxury! He loathes our day
 And food celestial, who the fruit may pluck
 Of Earth. One would for Adam's garden curse
 Our Paradise. The bliss of Angels fades
 In that of man.
 
 Apollion:
 
 Too true. Lord Belzebub,
 Though high our Heaven may seem, 'tis far too low,
 For what I saw with mine own eyes deceives
 Me not. The world's delights, yea, Eden's fields
 Alone, our Paradise excel.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 Proceed.
 We'll hear what thou shalt say. We'll hear together.
 
 Apollion:
 
 I'll pass my journey thither by nor tell
 How downward sweeping through nine spheres I sped.
 That swift as arrows round their centre whirl.
 The wheel of sense revolves within our thoughts
 Not with such speed, as I beneath the moon
 And clouds dropped down. Where then aloft I hung,
 On floating pinions, to survey that shore,
 That Eastern landscape far that marks the face
 Of that great sphere the flowing ocean rounds,
 Wherein so many kinds of monsters swarm.
 Afar I saw a lofty mount emerge,
 From which a waterfall, fount of four streams,
 Dashed with a roar into the vale below.
 Headlong I steered my course oblique, with steep
 Descent, until I gained the mountain's brow,
 Whence, resting, all the nether world I viewed,
 Its happy fields and glowing opulence.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 Now picture us the garden and its shape.
 
 Apollion:
 
 Round is the garden, as the world itself.
 Above the centre looms the mount from which
 The fountain gushes that divides in four,
 And waters all the land, refreshing trees
 And fields; and flows in unreflective rills
 Of crystal purity. The streams their rich
 Alluvion bring and nourish all the ground.
 Here Onyx gleams and Bdellion doth shine;
 And bright as Heaven glows with glittering stars;
 So here Dame Nature sowed her constellations
 Of stones that pale our stars. Here dazzle veins
 Of gold; for Nature wished to gather all
 Her treasures in one lap.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 What of the air
 That hovers round whereby that creature lives?
 
 Apollion:
 
 No Angel us among, a breath exhales
 So soft and sweet as the pure draught refreshing
 That there meets man, that lightly cools his face
 And with its gentle, vivifying touch
 All things caresses in its blissful course:
 There swells the bosom of the fertile field
 "With herb and hue and bud and branch and bloom
 And odors manifold, which nightly dews
 Refresh. The rising and the setting sun
 Know and observe their proper, measured time
 And so unto the need of every plant
 Temper their mighty rays that flower and fruit
 Are all within the selfsame season found.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 Now tell me of man's features and his form.
 
 Apollion:
 
 Who would our state for that of man prefer,
 When one beholdeth beings, all-surpassing,
 Beneath whose sway all other beings stand!
 I saw a hundred thousand creatures move
 Before me there: all they that tread the earth
 And they that cleave the clouds, or swim the stream,
 As is their wont, each in his element.
 Who should the nature and the attributes
 Of each one know as Adam! For 'twas he
 That gave them, one by one, their various names.
 The mountain-lion wagged his tail and smiled
 Upon his lord. And, at his sovereign's feet,
 The tiger, too, his fierceness laid. The bull
 Bowed low his horns; the elephant, his trunk.
 The bear forgot his rage. The griffin heard
 His call; the eagle and the dragon dread,
 Behemoth and even great Leviathan.
 Nor shall I tell what praise rings in man's ears,
 Amid those warbling bowers, replete with songs
 in many tongues; while zephyrs rustle through
 The leaves, and brooks purl 'neath their sylvan banks
 A murmurous harmony that wearies never.
 Had but Apollion his mission then
 Accomplished, sooth, in Adam's Paradise
 He soon had lost all memory of Heaven.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 But what, pray, of the twain thou sawest there?
 
 Apollion:
 
 No creature hath on high mine eye so pleased
 As those below. Who could so subtly soul
 With body weave and two-fold Angels form
 From clay and bone? The body's shapely mould
 Attests the Maker's art, that in the face,
 The mirror of the mind, doth best appear.
 But wonderful! upon the face is stamped
 The image of the soul. All beauty here
 Concentres, while a god looks through the eyes.
 Above the whole the reasoning soul doth hover,
 And while the dumb and brutish beasts all look
 Down towards their feet, man proudly lifts alone
 His head to Heaven, in lofty praise to God.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 His praise is not in vain for gifts so rare.
 
 Apollion:
 
 He rules even like a god whom all must serve.
 The invisible soul consists of spirit and not
 Of matter, and it rules in every limb:
 The brain it makes its seat, and there holds court.
 It is immortal, nor fears aught of rust,
 Or other injury. 'Tis past our sense.
 Knowledge and prudence, virtue and free-will,
 Are its possessions. Dumb all Spirits stand
 Before its majesty. Ere long the world
 Shall teem with men. It waits, from little seed,
 A harvest rich in souls; and therefore God
 Did man to woman join.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 Now say me how
 Thou dost regard his rib—his lovèd spouse?
 
 Apollion:
 
 I covered with my wings mine eyes and face
 That I might curb my thoughts and deep delight,
 When erst she filled my gaze, as Adam led her
 Into their arborous bower with gentle hand:
 From time to time he stopped, in contemplation;
 And gazing thus, a holy fire began
 His pure breast to inflame. And then he kissed
 His bride and she her bridegroom: thus on joy
 Their nuptials fed—on feasts of fiery love,
 Better imagined far than told, a bliss
 Divine beyond all Angel ken. How poor
 Our loneliness! For us no union sweet
 Of two-fold sex, of maiden and of man.
 Alas! how much of good we miss: we know
 No mate or happy marriage in a Heaven
 Devoid of woman.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 Thus in time a world
 Of men shall be begotten there below?
 
 Apollion:
 
 The love of beauty, fashioned in the brain,
 Deeply impressèd by the senses keen,
 This makes their union strong. Their life consists
 Alone in loving and in being loved-
 One sweet, one mutual joy, by them indulged
 Perpetually, yet e'er unquenchable.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 Now picture me the bride, described from life.
 
 Apollion:
 
 That Nature's pencil needs, nor lesser hues
 Than sunbeams. Perfect are both man and wife;
 Of equal beauty they, from head to foot.
 By right doth Adam Eve excel in strength
 Of form and majesty of bearing, as
 One chosen for the sovereignty of Earth:
 But Eve combines all that her bridegroom joys:
 A tenderness of limb and softer skin
 And flesh, a lovelier tint and eyes enchanting,
 A charming, gracious mouth, a sweeter voice,
 Whose power lies in a sound more exquisite;
 Two founts of ivory and what besides
 No tongue should dare to name, lest Spirits should
 Be tempted. And though all the Angels now
 Impress our eyes as beautiful and fair.
 How ill their forms and faces would appear
 If seen within the rosy morning-light
 Of maidenhood!
 
 Belzebub:
 
 It seems that passion for
 This feminine creature hath thy heart inflamed.
 
 Apollion:
 
 In that delightful blaze, my great wing-plumes
 I singed. Most hard it was for me to rise
 And wheel my way to this our high abode.
 I parted, though with pain, and thrice turned back
 My gaze. There shines no Seraph in the courts
 Celestial, here on high, as she amid
 Her hanging hair, that forms a golden niche
 Of sunbeams that in beauteous waves roll down
 From her fair head, and flow along her back.
 So, even as from a light, she comes to view,
 And day rejoices with her radiant face.
 Though pearl and mother-o'-pearl seem purity,
 Her whiteness even theirs surpasses far.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 What profits human glory, if even as
 A flower of the field it fades and dies?
 
 Apollion:
 
 So long their garden fruit doth give, shall this
 Most happy pair live by an apple sweet,
 Grown on the central tree, that nurture finds
 Beside the stream that laves its tender roots.
 This wondrous tree is called the tree of life.
 'Tis incorruptible, and through it man
 Joys life eterne and all immortal things,
 While of his Angel brothers he becomes
 The peer, yea, and shall in the end surpass
 Them all, until his power and sway and realm
 Spread over all. For who can clip his wings?
 No Angel hath the power to multiply
 His being a thousand thousand times, in swarms
 Innumerable. Now do thou calculate
 What shall from this, in time, the outcome be.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 Great is man's might, that thus even ours out-grows!
 
 Apollion:
 
 Soon shall his increase frighten and astound.
 Though now his sway stoops lower than the moon,
 And though 'tis now determinate, he shall
 Yet higher rise and place himself upon
 The highest seat in Heaven. If God prevent
 Not this, how then can we prevent it? For
 God loves man well and for him made all things.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 What hear I there? A trumpet? Surely then
 A voice will follow. Go, see, while we here
 Await.
 
 Apollion:
 
 The Archangel Gabriel is at hand,
 And in his wake the choristers of Heaven,
 In the name of Him, the Highest, to unfold,
 As Herald from the towering Throne of Thrones,
 What there him was enjoined.
 
 Belzebub:
 
 We please to hear
 Whatever the Archangel shall command.