But, more fortunate than I, thou wilt some day, when
earth shall be no more, recline and sleep within the realms of
space.
But I, who have lived so long, have worked so ceaselessly, with
only virtuous loves and solemn thoughts,--I must endure
immortality. Man has his tomb, and glory its oblivion; the day
dies into night but I--!
And I am doomed to lasting solitude upon my way, strewn with the
bones of men and marked by ruins. Angels have fellow-angels;
demons their companions of darkness; but I hear only sounds of a
clanking scythe, my whistling arrows, and my speeding horse.
Always the echo of the surging billows that sweep over and engulf
mankind!
SATAN.
Dost thou complain,--thou, the most fortunate creature under
heaven? The only, splendid, great, unchangeable, eternal one--like
God, who is the only Being that equals thee! Dost thou repine, who
some day in thy turn shalt disappear forever, after thou hast
crushed the universe beneath thy horse's feet?
When God's work of creating has ceased; when the heavens have
disappeared and the stars are quenched; when spirits rise from
their retreats and wander in the depths with sighs and groans;
then, what unpicturable delight for thee! Then shalt thou sit on
the eternal thrones of heaven and of hell--shalt overthrow the
planets, stars, and worlds--shalt loose thy steed in fields of
emeralds and diamonds--shalt make his litter of the wings torn
from the angels,--shalt cover him with the robe of righteousness!
Thy saddle shall be broidered with the stars of the empyrean,--and
then thou wilt destroy it! After thou hast annihilated everything,
--when naught remains but empty space,--thy coffin shattered and
thine arrows broken, then make thyself a crown of stone from
heaven's highest mount, and cast thyself into the abyss of oblivion.
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