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 ought should ascend to heaven
So prevalent as to concern the mind

Of God high-bless'd, or to incline his will
Hard to believe 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 th' offended Deity t' 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 my Judge,

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
Though after sleepless night; for, see! the morn,
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 fallen state, content."

So spake, so wish'd much humbled Eve, but fate 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 th' 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 shows, Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn

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 pursu'd in th' 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

O'er the blue firmament a radiant white,

And slow descends, with something heavenly fraught?"

He err'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 more 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, covered with a camp of fire,
Against the Syrian king, who to surprise
One man, assassin like, had levied war,
War unproclain'd. The princely hierarch
In their bright stand there left his powers to seize
Possession of the garden; he alone,

To find where Adam sheltered, 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 Raphael, that I should much confide;
But solemn and sublime, whom not to' offend,
With reverence I must meet, and thou retire."

THE SAME CONTINUED.

He ended; and the' archangel soon drew nigh, Not in his shape celestial, but as man Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms A military vest of purple flow'd, Livelier than Melibaan, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes oldIn time of truce; Iris had dipp'd the woof; His starry helin, 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, appeas'd,
Redeem the quite from death's rapacious claim;
But longer in this Paradise to dwell
Permits not; to remove thec 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 lamen
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
With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee
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 night 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 pray'r against his absolute decree

No more avails than breath against the wind,
Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth :
Therefore to his great bidding I submit.
This most afflicts me, that departing hence,
As from his face I shall be hid, depriv'd
His blessed count'nance; 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 flowers:
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:
"Adam, thou know'st Heav'n's his, and all the earth
Not this rock only; his omnipresence fills
Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives,
Fomented by his virtual pow'r and warm'd;
All th' earth he gave thee to possess and rule,
No despicable gift; surmise not then

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 th' earth, to celebrate
And reverence thee, their great progenitor.
But this preeminence 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.""

DEPARTURE OF ADAM AND EVE FROM PARADISE.

He ended, and they both descend the hill:

Descended, Adam to the bower, where Eve

Lay sleeping, ran before: but found her wak'd;

And thus with words not sad she him receiv'd :—

"Whence thou return'st, and whither went'st, I know: For God is also' in sleep; and dreams advise, Which he hath sent propitious, some great good Presaging, since with sorrow and heart's distress