From what we fear for both, let us make short,- | Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek
Let us seek Death; -or, he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves: Why stand we longer shivering under fears, 'That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, Destruction with destruction to destroy?"
She ended here, or vehement despair Broke off the rest; so much of death her thoughts Had entertain'd, as dy'd her cheeks with pale. But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd, To better hopes his more attentive mind Labouring had rais'd; and thus to Eve replied. "Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems To argue in thee something more sublime And excellent, than what thy mind contemns; But self-destruction therefore sought, refutes That excellence thought in thee; and implies, Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret For loss of life and pleasure overlov'd. Or if thou covet death, as utmost end Of misery, so thinking to evade
The penalty pronounc'd; doubt not but God Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire, than so To be forestall'd; much more I fear lest death, So snatch'd, will not exempt us from the pain We are by doom to pay; rather, such acts Of contumacy will provoke the Highest To make death in us live: then let us seek Some safer resolution, which methinks I have in view, calling to mind with heed Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise The serpent's head; piteous amends! unless Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe, Satan; who, in the serpent, hath contriv'd Against us this deceit: to crush his head Would be revenge indeed! which will be lost By death brought on ourselves, or childless days Resolv'd, as thou proposest; so our foe Shall 'scape his punishment ordain'd, and we Instead shall double ours upon our heads. No more be mention'd then of violence Against ourselves; and wilful barrenness, That cuts us off from hope; and savours only Rancour and pride, impatience and despite, Reluctance against God and his just yoke Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild And gracious temper he both heard, and judg'd, Without wrath or reviling; we expected Immediate dissolution, which we thought
Was meant by death that day; when lo! to
Pains only in child-bearing were foretold, And bringing forth; soon recompens'd with joy, Fruit of thy womb: on me the curse aslope Glanc'd on the ground; with labour I must earn My bread; what harm? Idleness had been
My labour will sustain me; and, lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath, unbesought, provided; and his hands Cloth'd us unworthy, pitying while he judg'd; How much more if we pray him, will his ear Be open, and his heart to pity incline,
And teach us further by what means to shun The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow ? Which now the sky, with various face, begins To show us in this mountain; while the winds Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful
Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish
Our limbs benumm'd, ere this diurnal star Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams Reflected may with matter sere foment; Or, by collision of two bodies, grind The air attrite to fire; as late the clouds [shock, Justling, or push'd with winds, rude in their Tine the slant lightning; whose thwart flame, driven down,
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine; And sends a comfortable heat from far Which might supply the Sun: such fire to use, And what may else be remedy or cure To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought, He will instruct us praying, and of grace Beseeching him; so as we need not fear To pass commodiously this life, sustain'd By him with many comforts, till we end In dust, our final rest and native home. What better can we do, than, to the place Repairing where he judg'd us, prostrate fall Before him reverent; and there confess Humbly our faults, and pardon beg; with tears Watering the ground, and with our sighs the
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek? Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn Froin his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seem'd and most severe, What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone?"
So spake our father penitent; nor Eve Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place Repairing where he judg'd them, prostrate fell Before him reverent; and both confess'd Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd; with
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.
The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first parents now repenting, and inter- cedes for them: God accepts them, but de- clares that they must no longer abide in Pa- radise; sends Michael with a band of cheru- bim to dispossess them; but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael's coming down. Adam shows to Eve certain ominous signs; he discerns Michael's approach; goes out to meet him: the angel denounces their depar- ture. Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: the angel leads him up to a high hill; sets before him in vision what shall hap pen till the Flood.
Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
Seem'd their petition, than when the ancient pair To sound at general doom. The angelic blast
Prevenient grace descending had remov'd The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breath'd Unutterable; which the spirit of prayer [flight Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heaven with speedier Than loudest oratory: yet their port Not of mean suitors; nor important less
As how with peccant angels late they saw, And in their state, though firm, stood more con- firm'd."
He ended, and the Son gave signal high To the bright minister that watch'd; he blew His trumpet, heard in Oreb since perhaps When God descended, and perhaps once more
Fill'd all the regions: from their blissful bowers Of amarantine shade, fountain or spring, By the waters of life, where'er they sat In fellowships of joy, the sons of light Hasted, resorting to the summons high; And took their seats: till from his throne supreme The Almighty thus pronoune'd his sovran will.
In fables old, less ancient yet than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore
The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their
Flew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious winds Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they pass'd Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then clad With incense, where the golden altar fum'd, By their great Intercessor, came in sight Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began. [sprung
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See, Father, what first-fruits on Earth are From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs And prayers, which in this golden censer, mix'd With incense, I thy priest before thee bring; Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed Sown with contrition in his heart, than those Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees Of Paradise could have produc'd ere fall'n From innocence. Now therefore, bend thine ear To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute; Unskilful with what words to pray, let me Interpret for him; me, his advocate And propitiation; all his works on me, Good, or not good, ingraft; my merit those Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay. Accept me; and, in me, from these receive The smell of peace toward mankind: let him live Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days Number'd though sad; till death, his doom, (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse,) To better life shall yield him: where with me All my redeem'd may dwell in joy and bliss; Made one with me, as I with thee am one."
To whom the Father, without cloud, serene. "All thy request for Man, accepted Son, Obtain; all thy request was my decree: But, longer in that Paradise to dwell, The law I gave to Nature him forbids: Those pure immortal elements, that know No gross, no unharmonious mixture foul, Eject him, tainted now; and purge him off, As a distemper, gross, to air as gross, And mortal food; as may dispose him best For dissolution wrought by sin, that first Distemper'd all things, and of incorrupt Corrupted. I, at first, with two fair gifts Created him endow'd; with happiness, And immortality: that fondly lost, This other serv'd but to eternize woe; Till I provided death: so death becomes His final remedy; and, after life, Tried in sharp tribulation, and refin'd By faith and faithful works, to second life, Wak'd in the renovation of the just, Resigns him up with Heaven and Earth renew'd. But let us call to synod all the blest, (not hide Through Heaven's wide bounds: from them I will My judgments; how with mankind I proceed,
"O sons, like one of us Man is become To know both good and evil, since his taste Of that defended fruit; but let him boast Hs knowledge of good lost, and evil got; Happier! had it suffic'd him to have known Good by itself, and evil not at all.
He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite, My motions in him; longer than they move, His heart I know, how variable and vain, Self-left. Lest therefore his now bolder hand Reach also of the tree of life, and eat, And live for ever, dream at least to live For ever, to remove him I decree, And send him from the garden forth to till The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil.
"Michael, this my behest have thou in charge; Take to thee from among the cherubim Thy choice of flaming warriours, lest the fiend, Or in behalf of Man, or to invade
Vacant possession, some new trouble raise: Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God Without remorse drive out the siuful pair; From hallow'd ground the unholy; and denounce To them, and to their progeny, from thence Perpetual banishment. Yet, lest they faint At the sad sentence rigorously urg'd, (For I behold them soften'd, and with tears Bewailing their excess,) all terrour hide, If patiently thy bidding they obey, Dismiss them not disconsolate; reveal To Adam what shall come in future days, As I shall thee enlighten; intermix My covenant in the woman's seed renew'd; So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace: And on the east side of the garden place, Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs, Cherubic watch; and of a sword the flame Wide-waving; all approach far off to fright, And guard all passage to the tree of life: Lest Paradise a receptacle prove To spirits foul, and all my trees their prey; With whose stol'n fruit man once more to delude.”
He ceas'd; and the arch-angelic power prepar'd For swift descent; with him the cohort bright Of watchful cherubim: four faces each Had, like a double Janus; all their shape Spangled with eyes more numerous than those Of Argus, and more wakeful than to dronse, Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Mean while, To re-salute the world with sacred light, Leucothea wak'd; and with fresh dews embalm'd The Earth; when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found
Strength added from above; new hope to spring Out of despair; joy, but with fear yet link'd; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renew'd.
"Eve, easily may faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy, from Heaven descends; But, that from us aught should ascend to Heaven So prevalent as to concern the mind
Of God high-blest, or to incline his will, Hard to belief may seem; yet this will prayer Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne Even to the seat of God. For since I sought By prayer the offended Deity to appease; Kneel'd, and before him humbled all my heart; Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew
That I was heard with favour; peace return'd Home to my breast, and to my memory His promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe; Which, then not minded in dismay, yet now Assures me that the bitterness of death Is past, and we shall live. Whence hail to thee, Eve rightly call'd, mother of all mankind, Mother of all things living, since by thee Man is to live; and all things live for Man." To whom thus Eve with sad demeanour meek,
"Ill-worthy I such title should belong To me transgressor; who, for thee ordain'd A help, became thy snare; to me reproach Rather belongs, distrust, and all dispraise: But infinite in pardon was myjudge, That I, who first brought death on all, am grac'd The source of life; next favourable thou,
Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsaf'st, Far other name deserving. But the field To labour calls us, now with sweat impos'd,
O'er the blue firmament a radiant white, And slow descends with something heavenly
Heerr'd not; for by this the heavenly bands Down from a sky of jasper lighted now In Paradise, and on a hill made halt; A glorious apparition, had not doubt And carnal fear that day dimm'd Adam's eye, Not that inore glorious, when the angels met Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw
The field pavilion'd with his guardians bright; Nor that, which on the flaming mount appear'd In Dothan, cover'd with a camp of fire, Against the Syrianking, who to surprise One man, assassin-like, had levied war, War unproclaim'd. The princely hierarch In their bright stand there left his powers, to seize Possession of the garden; he alone,
To find where Adam shelter'd, took his way, Not unperceiv'd of Adam: who to Eve, While the great visitant approach'd, thus spake. "Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps Of us will soon determine, or impose New laws to be observ'd; for I descry, From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill, One of the heavenly host; and, by his gait, None of the meanest; some great potentate Or of the thrones above; such majesty Invests him coming! yet not terrible, That I should fear; nor sociably mild, As Raphaël, that I should much confide; But solemn and sublime; whom not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire."
He ended; and the arch-angel soon drew nigh, Not in his shape celestial, but as man
Though after sleepless night; for see! the Morn, Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms
All unconcern'd with our unrest, begins Her rosy progress smiling: let us forth;
I never from thy side henceforth to stray, Where'er our day's work lies, though now enjoin'd Laborious till day droop; while here we dwell, What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks ? Here let us live, though in fall'n state, content." So spake, so wish'd much-humbled Eve; but
Subscrib'd not: Nature first gave signs, impress'd On bird, beast, air; air suddenly eclips'd, After short blush of morn: nigh in her sight The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove; Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, First hunter then, pursu'd a gentle brace, Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. Adam observ'd, and with his eye the chase Pursuing, not unmov'd, to Eve thus spake.
"O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, Which Heaven, by these mute signs in Nature, Forerunners of his purpose; or to warn [shows Us, haply too secure, of our discharge From penalty, because from death releas'd
Some days; how long, and what till then our life, Who knows? or more than this, that we are dust, And thither must return, and be no more ? Why else this double object in our sight Of flight pursued in the air, and o'er the ground, One way the self-same hour? why in the east Darkness ere day's mid-course, and morning-light More orient in yon western cloud, that draws
A military vest of purple flow'd, Livelier than Melibœan, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof; His starry helm unbuckled show'd him prime In manhood where youth ended; by his side, As in a glistering zodiac, hung the sword, Satan's dire dread; and in his hand the spear. Adam bow'd low; he, kingly, from his state Inclin'd not, but his coming thus declar'd.
"Adam, Heaven's high behest no preface needs: Sufficient that thy prayers are heard; and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seizure many days
Given thee of grace; wherein thou may'st repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done May'st cover: well may then thy Lord, ap- peas'd, [claim; Redeem thee quite from Death's rapacious But longer in this Paradise to dwell Permits not: to remove thee I am come, And send thee from the garden forth to till The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil."
He added not; for Adam at the news Heart-struck with chilling gripe of sorrow stood, That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen Yet all had heard, with audible lament Discover'd soon the place of her retire.
"O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death! Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil! these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last
At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names! Who now shall rear ye to the Sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount? Thee lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorn'd [thee With what to sight or smell was sweet! from How shall I part, and whither wander down Into a lower world; to this obscure And wild? how shall we breathe in other air Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?"
Whom thus the angel interrupted mild. "Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign What justly thou hast lost, nor set thy heart, Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine: Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound; Where he abides, think there thy native soil."
Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scatter'd spirits return'd, To Michael thus his humble words address'd.
"Celestial, whether among the thrones, or nam'd Of them the highest; for such of shape may seem Prince above princes! gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes! all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate;
Nor knowing us, nor known: and, if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries: But prayer against his absolute decree
No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it Therefore to his great bidding I submit. (forth: This most afflicts me, that, departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, depriv'd
His blessed countenance: here I could frequent With worship place by place where he vouchsaf'd Presence Divine; and to my sons relate,
On this mount he appear'd; under this tree Stood visible; among these pines his voice I heard; here with him at this fountain talk'd: So many grateful altars I would rear
Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory Or monument to ages; and thereon Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flow- In yonder nether world where shall I seek
His bright appearances, or foot-step trace? For though I fled him angry, yet, recall'd To life prolong'd and promis'd race, I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory; and far off his steps adore."
To whom thus Michael with regard benign.
His presence to these narrow bounds confin'd Of Paradise, or Eden: this had been Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread All generations; and had hither come From all the ends of the Earth, to celebrate And reverence thee, their great progenitor. But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down
To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: Yet doubt not but in valley, and in plain, God is, as here; and will be found alike Present; and of his presence many a sign Still following thee, still compassing thee round With goodness and paternal love, his face Express, and of his steps the track divine. Which that thou may'st believe, and be confirm'd Erethou from hence depart; know, I am sent To show thee what shall come in future days To thee, and to thy offspring: good with bad Expect to hear; supernal grace contending With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn True patience, and to temper joy with fear And pious sorrow; equally inur'd By moderation either state to bear, Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead Safest thy life, and best prepar'd endure Thy mortal passage when it comes.-Ascend This hill; let Eve (for I have drench'd her eyes) Here sleep below; while thou to foresight wak'st; As once thou slept'st, while she to life was form'd."
To whom thus Adam gratefully replied. "Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path Thou lead'st me; and to the hand of Heaven However chastening; to the evil turn [submit, My obvious breast; arming to overcome By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, If so I may attain."-So both ascend In the visions of God. It was a hill,
Of Paradise the highest; from whose top The hemisphere of Earth, in clearest ken, Stretch'd out to the amplest reach of prospect lay. Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round, Whereon, for different cause, the tempter set Our second Adam, in the wilderness; (glory. To show him all Earth's kingdoms, and their His eye might there cominand wherever stood City of old or modern fame, the seat Of mightiest empire, from the destin'd walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can,
And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne, To Paquin of Sinæan kings; and thence To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul, Down to the golden Chersonese; or where The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since In Hispahan; or where the Russian ksar In Mosco; or the sultan in Bizance, Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken The empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco, and the less maritim kings Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south;
"Adam, thou know'st Heaven his, and all the Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount
Not this rock only; his Omnipresence fills Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, Fomented by his virtual power and warm'd: All the Earth he gave thee to possess and rule, No despicable gift; surmise not then
The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen; On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway The world: in spirit perhaps he also saw Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume,
And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat
Of Atabalipa; and yet unspoil'd Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons Call El Dorado. But to nobler sights
Michael from Adam's eyes the film remov'd,
Which that false fruit that promis'd clearer
Had bred; then purg'd with euphrasy and rue The visual nerve, for he had much to see; And from the well of life three drops instill'd. So deep the power of these ingredients pierc'd, Even to the inmost seat of mental sight, That Adam, now enforc'd to close his eyes, Sunk down, and all his spirits became entranc'd; But him the gentle angel by the hand
Soon rais'd, and his attention thus recall'd.
"Adam, now ope thine eyes; and first be
The effects, which thy original crime hath wrought In some to spring from thee; who never touch'd The excepted tree; nor with the snake con- spir'd;
Nor sinn'd thy sin; yet from that sin derive Corruption, to bring forth more violent deeds." His eyes he open'd, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves
More terrible at the entrance, than within. Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die; By fire, flood, famine, by intemperance more In meats and drinks, which on the Earth shall
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew Before thee shall appear; that thou may'st What misery the inabstinence of Eve [know Shall bring on men." Immediately a place Before his eyes appear'd, sad, noisome, dark; A lazar-house it seem'd; wherein were laid Numbers of all diseas'd: all maladies
Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, colic-pangs, Demoniac phrenzy, moaping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. Dire was the tossing, deep the groans; Despair Tended the sick busiest from couch to couch; And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invok'd With vows, as their chief good, and final hope.
New reap'd; the other part sheep-walks and Sight so deform what heart of rock could long
P the midst an altar as the land-mark stood Rustic, of grassy sord; thither anon A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought First fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf, Uncull'd, as came to hand; a shepherd next, More meek, came with the firstlings of his flock,
Choicest and best; then, sacrificing, laid
The inwards and their fat, with incense strow'd, On the cleft wood, and all due rights perform'd: His offering soon propitious fire from Heaven Consum'd with nimble glance, and grateful
The other's not, for his was not sincere; Whereat he inly rag'd, and, as they talk'd, Smote him into the midriff with a stone That beat out life! he fell; and, deadly pale, Groan'd out his soul with gushing blood effus'd. Much at that sight was Adam in his heart Dismay'd, and thus in haste to the angel cried. "O teacher, some great mischief hath befall'n To that meek man, who well had sacrific'd; Is piety thus and pure devotion paid "
To whom Michael thus, he also mov'd, re- plied.
"These two are brethren, Adam, and to come Out of thy loins; the unjust the just hath slain, For envy that his brother's offering found
From Heaven acceptance; but the bloody fact Will be aveng'd; and the other's faith, approv'd, Lose no reward; though here thou see him die, Rolling in dust and gore." To which our sire.
"Alas! both for the deed, and for the cause! But have I now seen Death? Is this the way I must return to native dust? O sight Of terrour, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!"
To whom thus Michaël. "Death thou hast
In his first shape on Man; but many shapes Of Death, and many are the ways that lead To his grim cave, all dismal; yet to sense
Dry-ey'd behold ? Adam could not, but wept, Though not of woman born; compassion quell'd His best of man, and gave him up to tears A space, till firmer thoughts restrain'd excess; And, scarce recovering words, his plaint re- new'd.
"O miserable mankind, to what fall Degraded, to what wretched state reserv'd! Better end here unborn. Why is life given To be thus wrested from us? rather, why Obtruded on us thus? who, if we knew What we receive, would either not accept Life offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down; Glad to be so dismiss'd in peace. Can thus The image of God in Man, created once So goodly and erect, though faulty since, To such unsightly sufferings be debas'd Under inhuman pains? Why should not Man, Retaining still divine similitude In part, from such deformities be free, And, for his Maker's image sake, exempt?"
"Their Maker's image," answer'd Michael,
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