Thy fate, sweet Proserpine, is sealed by Jove, When Enna is starred by flowers, and the sun Shoots his hot rays strait on the gladsome land, When Summer reigns, then thou shalt live on Earth, And tread these plains, or sporting with your nymphs, Or at your Mother’s side, in peaceful joy. But when hard frost congeals the bare, black ground, The trees have lost their leaves, & painted birds Wailing for food sail through the piercing air; Then you descend to deepest night and reign Great Queen of Tartarus, ’mid (3) shadows dire, Offspring of Hell,—or in the silent groves Of, fair Elysium through which Lethe runs, The sleepy river; where the windless air Is never struck by flight or song of bird,— But all is calm and clear, bestowing rest, After the toil of life, to wretched men, Whom thus the Gods reward for sufferings Gods cannot know; a throng of empty shades! The endless circle of the year will bring Joy in its turn, and seperation sad; Six months to light and Earth,—six months to Hell.

Iris Monologue from Proserpine and Midas

Rehearse Iris's monologue