No God like that (_pointing to the sun_)
smiles on the Elysian plains,
The air [is] windless, and all shapes are still.

_Iris._ And must I interpose in this deep joy,
And sternly cloud your hopes? Oh! answer me,
Art thou still, Proserpine, a child of light?
Or hast thou dimmed thy attributes of Heaven
By such Tartarian food as must for ever
Condemn thee to be Queen of Hell & Night?

_Pros._ No, Iris, no,--I still am pure as thee:
Offspring of light and air, I have no stain
Of Hell. I am for ever thine, oh, Mother!

_Cer._ (_to the shades from Hell_)
Begone, foul visitants to upper air!
Back to your dens! nor stain the sunny earth
By shadows thrown from forms so foul--Crouch in!
Proserpine, child of light, is not your Queen!

(_to the nymphs_)

Quick bring my car,--we will ascend to heaven,
Deserting Earth, till by decree of Jove,
Eternal laws shall bind the King of Hell
To leave in peace the offspring of the sky.

_Ascal._ Stay, Ceres! By the dread decree of Jove
Your child is doomed to be eternal Queen [24]