The staff of Fate is strong
    And will not lightly bend,
    Nor yet the stubborn gates of steely Hell. 
    Nay, I can see full well
    His life will not be long: 
    Those downward feet no more will earthward wend. 
    What marvel if they lose the light,
    Who make blind Love their guide by day and night!

  SCENE IV

  ORPHEUS, at the gate of Hell.

  Pity, nay pity for a lover’s moan! 
    Ye Powers of Hell, let pity reign in you! 
    To your dark regions led me Love alone: 
    Downward upon his wings of light I flew. 
    Hush, Cerberus!  Howl not by Pluto’s throne! 
    For when you hear my tale of misery, you,
    Nor you alone, but all who here abide
    In this blind world, will weep by Lethe’s tide. 
  There is no need, ye Furies, thus to rage;
    To dart those snakes that in your tresses twine: 
    Knew ye the cause of this my pilgrimage,
    Ye would lie down and join your moans with mine. 
    Let this poor wretch but pass, who war doth wage
    With heaven, the elements, the powers divine! 
    I beg for pity or for death.  No more! 
    But open, ope Hell’s adamantine door!

  [ORPHEUS enters Hell.

  PLUTO.

  What man is he who with his golden lyre
    Hath moved the gates that never move,
    While the dead folk repeat his dirge of love? 
  The rolling stone no more doth tire
    Swart Sisyphus on yonder hill;
    And Tantalus with water slakes his fire;
  The groans of mangled Tityos are still;
    Ixion’s wheel forgets to fly;
    The Danaids their urns can fill: 
  I hear no more the tortured spirits cry;
  But all find rest in that sweet harmony.

  PROSERPINE.

  Dear consort, since, compelled by love of thee,
    I left the light of heaven serene,
    And came to reign in hell, a sombre queen;
  The charm of tenderest sympathy
    Hath never yet had power to turn
    My stubborn heart, or draw forth tears from me. 
  Now with desire for yon sweet voice I yearn;
    Nor is there aught so dear
    As that delight.  Nay, be not stern
  To this one prayer!  Relax thy brows severe,
  And rest awhile with me that song to hear!

  [ORPHEUS stands before the throne.

  ORPHEUS.

  Ye rulers of the people lost in gloom,
    Who see no more the jocund light of day! 
    Ye who inherit all things that the womb
    Of Nature and the elements display! 
    Hear ye the grief that draws me to the tomb! 
    Love, cruel Love, hath led me on this way: 
    Not to chain Cerberus I hither come,
    But to bring back my mistress to her home. 
  A serpent hidden among flowers and leaves
    Stole my fair mistress—­nay, my heart—­from me: 
    Wherefore my wounded life for ever grieves,