Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That shew 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 checks with pale. But Adam with such counsel nothing sway'd To better hopes his more attentive mind Lab`ring had rais'd, and thus to Eve reply'd.
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 pronoune'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 suatch'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 serpeut 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 Justead shall double ours upon our heads. No more be mentioned 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 thee Paius 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 [worse; My bread; what harm? Idleness had been
My labour will sustain me; and lest cold Or beat should injure ns, 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 Th' inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow?
Which now the sky with various face begins To shew us in this mountain, while the winds Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks
Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek [cherish
Some better shroud, some better warmth to Our limbs beaumb'd, cre this diurnal star Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd
Reflected, may with matter sere foment
Or by collision of two budies grind The air attrite to fire, as late the clouds Justling or push'd with winds rude in their shock [driv'n down Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame 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
The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our First Parents now repenting, and intercedes for them: God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise, sends Michael with a band of Cherubim 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 departure. Eve's Lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: the angel leads him up to a high hill, sets before him in vision what sha happen till the thood.
Taus they in lowliest plight repentant stood Praying, for from the mercy-seat above Prevenient grace descending had remov'd The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh [breath'd Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now Unutterable, which the spirit of prayer Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight
Than loudest oratory: yet their port Not of mean suiters, vor important less Seem'd their petition, than when th' ancient pair
In fables old, less ancient than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine [pray'rs
Of Themis stood devout. To Heav'n their Flew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious winds Blown vagabond, or frustrate: in they pass'd Dimensionless through heav'nly doors; then clad
With incense, where the golden altar fum'd, By their great Intercessor, came in sight Before the Father's throne: then the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See, Father, what first fruits on earth are sprang
From thy implanted grace in man, these sighs And pray'rs which in this golden censer, mix'd With incense, I thy priest before thee bring, Fruits of more pleasing savor from thy seed Sown with contrition in his heart, thau those Which his own hand manuring all the trees Of Paradise could have produc'd, ere fall'n From innocence. Now therefore bend thine
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,
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, se
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 unharmonial 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
Try'd 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 Heav'n aud Earth renew'd
But let us call to Synod all the blest Through Heav'n's w.de bounds, from them 1
My judgments, how with mankind I proceed. As how with peccant Angels late they saw, And in their state, tho' firm, stood more confirm'd.
He ended, and the Sou 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
To sound at general doom. Th' angelic blast 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 sous of light Hasted, resorting to the summons high,
And took their seats; till from his throne su- preme [will. Th' Almighty thus pronoune'd his sov'reign 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 His knowledge of good lost, and evil got, Happier had it suffie'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 cat, 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 warriors, 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 sinful pair, From hallow'd ground th' unholy, and de-
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 terror bide. 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
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
He ceas'd; and th' angelic Pow'r 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 drowse, Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastral reca Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Mean while To re-salute the world with sacred light Leucothea wak'd, and with fresh dews im-
The earth, when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found Strength added from above, new hopes to spring
Out of despair, joy, but with fear yet link'd; Which thus to Eve his welcome words re. new'd.
Eve, easily may faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy, from Heav'n do scends; [Heaven But that from us ought should ascend to So prevalent as to concern the mind Of God high-blest, or to incline bis will, Hard to belief may seem; yet this will prayer Or one short sigh of human breath, uphorne Ev'n to the seat of God. For since I sought By prayer th' 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 bail 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 demeanonr meck.
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 intitle me vouchsaf'st, Far other name deserving. But the field To labour calls us with sweat impos'd, Though after sleepless night, for see the morn, All unconcerned 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 en- join'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, im. press'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 airy 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, hast 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 Heav'u by these mute signs in nature shews,
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,
[dust, || Who knows, or more than this, that we are And thither must return and be no inore 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 heav'nly 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 Jabob in Mahanaim, where he saw
The field pavillion'd with his guardians bright; [pcar'd Nor that which on the flaming mount ap- In Dothan, cover'd with a camp of fire, Against the Syrian king, who to surprise One man, assasin-like, had levied war, War unproclaim'd. The princely Hierarch In their bright stand there left his Pow'rs 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 perOf 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 heav'nly 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-Augel soon drew
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 Melibeau, or the grain Of Sarrah, worn by kings and heroes old In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof; His starry helm unbuckled shew'd him prime In manhood where youth ended; by his side As in glist'ring 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, Heav'n's high behest no preface
[Death, Sufficient that thy pray'rs are heard, and Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress,
Defeated of his seizure n:any days [pent, Giv'n thee of grace, wherein thou may'st re- And one bad act with many deeds well done May'st cover: well may then thy Lord ap- peas'd [claim;
Redeem thec 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
He added not, for Adam at the news Heart-struck with chilling gripe of sorrow stood,
That all his senses boand; 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
Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, 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 open air Less pure, accustomed 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 [seem
Of them the high'st, for such of shape may Prince above princes, gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound,
And in performing end as; 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 kuown: 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 vouch- saf'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
To whom thus Michael with regard benign. Adam, thou know'st Heav'n 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 aud 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 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 tack divine. Which that thou may'st believe, and be eon- firm'd
Ere thou from hence depart, know I am sent To shew thee what shall come in fature 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. This hill; let Eve (for I have drench'd her eyes) [wak'st; Here sleep below, while thou to foresight As once thou slept, while she to life was form'd.
To whom thus Adam gratefully reply'd. Ascend, I follow thee, safe Guide, the path Thou lead'st me, and to the band of Heav'n submit,
However chast'ning, to the evil turn
My obvious breast, arming to overcome By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, If so I may attain. So both ascend
Offer sweet-smelling gums and fruits and In the vision of God: it was a bill
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. No. VII.-N. S.
Of Paradise the highest, from whose top The hemisphere of earth in clearest ken Strech'd out to th' amplest reach of prospect lay.
Not higher that hill or wider looking round, Whereon for different cause the Tempter set Our second Adam in the wilderness,
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