Tagging Milton's Verses

Jo: Dreyden Esq. Poet Laureate, who very much admires him, … went to him to have leave to putt his Paradise-lost into a Drama in Rhyme: Mr. Milton received him civilly, & told him he would give him leave to tagge his Verses.

John Aubrey, 'Minutes of the Life of Mr John Milton'
ed. Helen Darbishire in The Early Lives of Milton (1932)

John Dryden (1631–1700) wrote the libretto for The State of Innocence (1674), an opera based on Paradise Lost. His application to Milton must have taken place not long before Milton died.

Here is the opening to The State of Innocence:

The first Scene represents a Chaos, or a confus'd Mass of Matter; the Stage is almost wholly dark: A symphony of Warlike Music is heard for some time; then from the Heavens, (which are opened) fall the rebellious Angels wheeling in the Air, and seeming transfix'd with Thunderbolts: The bottom of the Stage being open'd, receives the Angels, who fall out of sight. Tunes of Victory are play'd, and an Hymn sung; Angels discover'd above, brandishing their Swords: The Music ceasing, and the Heavens being closed, the Scene shifts, and on a sudden represents Hell: Part of the Scene is a Lake of Brimstone or rowling Fire; the Earth of a burnt colour: The fall'n Angels appear on the Lake, lying prostrate; a Tune of Horrour and Lamentation is heard

Act I.

Scene 1.

Lucifer raising himself on the Lake.

Lucifer.

Is this the Seat our Conqueror has given?
And this the Climate we must change for Heaven?
These Regions and this Realm my Wars have got;
This Mournful Empire is the Loser's Lot:
In Liquid Burnings or on Dry to dwell,
Is all the sad Variety of Hell.
But see, the Victor has recall'd, from far,
Th'Avenging Storms, his Ministers of War:
His Shafts are spent, and his tir'd Thunders sleep;
Nor longer bellow through the Boundless Deep.
Best take th'occasion, and these Waves forsake,
While time is giv'n. Ho, Asmoday, awake,
If thou art he: but Ah! how chang'd from him,
Companion of my Arms! how wan! how dim!
How faded all thy Glories are! I see
My self too well, and my own change, in thee.

Asmoday.

Prince of the Thrones, who, in the Fields of Light,
Led'st forth th'imbattel'd Seraphim to fight,
Who shook the Pow'r of Heavens Eternal State,
Had broke it too, if not upheld by Fate;
But now those hopes are fled: thus low we lie,
Shut from his day, and that contended Skie,
And lost, as far as Heav'nly Forms can die;
Yet, not all perish'd: we defie him still,
And yet wage War, with our unconquer'd Will.

Lucif.

Strength may return.

Asm.
Already of thy Vertue I partake,
Erected by thy Voice.

Lucif.

— See on the Lake
Our Troops like scatter'd Leaves in Autumn, lie:
First let us raise our selves, and seek the drie,
Perhaps more easie dwelling.

Asm.

— From the Beach,
Thy well-known Voice the sleeping Gods will reach,
And wake th'Immortal Sence with Thunders noise
Had quell'd, and Lightning, deep had driv'n within 'em.

Lucif.

With Wings expanded wide, our selves we'll rear,
And fly incumbent on the dusky Air:
Hell thy new Lord receive.
Heaven cannot envy me an Empire here.

[Both fly to dry Land.]

Extract taken from the complete online edition by Jack Lynch of Rutgers University.

Tagging Milton's Verses

Jo: Dreyden Esq. Poet Laureate, who very much admires him, … went to him to have leave to putt his Paradise-lost into a Drama in Rhyme: Mr. Milton received him civilly, & told him he would give him leave to tagge his Verses.

John Aubrey, 'Minutes of the Life of Mr John Milton'
ed. Helen Darbishire in The Early Lives of Milton (1932)

John Dryden (1631–1700) wrote the libretto for The State of Innocence (1674), an opera based on Paradise Lost. His application to Milton must have taken place not long before Milton died.

Here is the opening to The State of Innocence:

The first Scene represents a Chaos, or a confus'd Mass of Matter; the Stage is almost wholly dark: A symphony of Warlike Music is heard for some time; then from the Heavens, (which are opened) fall the rebellious Angels wheeling in the Air, and seeming transfix'd with Thunderbolts: The bottom of the Stage being open'd, receives the Angels, who fall out of sight. Tunes of Victory are play'd, and an Hymn sung; Angels discover'd above, brandishing their Swords: The Music ceasing, and the Heavens being closed, the Scene shifts, and on a sudden represents Hell: Part of the Scene is a Lake of Brimstone or rowling Fire; the Earth of a burnt colour: The fall'n Angels appear on the Lake, lying prostrate; a Tune of Horrour and Lamentation is heard

Act I.

Scene 1.

Lucifer raising himself on the Lake.

Lucifer.

Is this the Seat our Conqueror has given?
And this the Climate we must change for Heaven?
These Regions and this Realm my Wars have got;
This Mournful Empire is the Loser's Lot:
In Liquid Burnings or on Dry to dwell,
Is all the sad Variety of Hell.
But see, the Victor has recall'd, from far,
Th'Avenging Storms, his Ministers of War:
His Shafts are spent, and his tir'd Thunders sleep;
Nor longer bellow through the Boundless Deep.
Best take th'occasion, and these Waves forsake,
While time is giv'n. Ho, Asmoday, awake,
If thou art he: but Ah! how chang'd from him,
Companion of my Arms! how wan! how dim!
How faded all thy Glories are! I see
My self too well, and my own change, in thee.

Asmoday.

Prince of the Thrones, who, in the Fields of Light,
Led'st forth th'imbattel'd Seraphim to fight,
Who shook the Pow'r of Heavens Eternal State,
Had broke it too, if not upheld by Fate;
But now those hopes are fled: thus low we lie,
Shut from his day, and that contended Skie,
And lost, as far as Heav'nly Forms can die;
Yet, not all perish'd: we defie him still,
And yet wage War, with our unconquer'd Will.

Lucif.

Strength may return.

Asm.
Already of thy Vertue I partake,
Erected by thy Voice.

Lucif.

— See on the Lake
Our Troops like scatter'd Leaves in Autumn, lie:
First let us raise our selves, and seek the drie,
Perhaps more easie dwelling.

Asm.

— From the Beach,
Thy well-known Voice the sleeping Gods will reach,
And wake th'Immortal Sence with Thunders noise
Had quell'd, and Lightning, deep had driv'n within 'em.

Lucif.

With Wings expanded wide, our selves we'll rear,
And fly incumbent on the dusky Air:
Hell thy new Lord receive.
Heaven cannot envy me an Empire here.

[Both fly to dry Land.]

Extract taken from the complete online edition by Jack Lynch of Rutgers University.