Book XI
Paradise Lost
BOOK X.
THE ARGUMENT.
Man's transgression known, the guardian angels forsake Paradise, and return up to Heaven to approve their vigilance, and are approv'd, God declaring that the entrance of Satan could not be by them prevented. He sends his Son to judge the transgressors, who descends and gives sentence accordingly; then in pity clothes them both, and reascends. Sin and Death sitting till then at the gates of Hell, by wondrous sympathy feeling the success of Satan in this new world, and the sin by man there committed, resolve to sit no longer confin'd in Hell, but to follow Satan their sire up to the place of man: to make the way easier from Hell to this world to and fro, they pave a broad highway or bridge over Chaos, according to the track that Satan first made; then preparing for earth, they meet him proud of his success returning to Hell; their mutual gratulation. Satan arrives at Pandemonium, in full of assembly relates with boasting his success against man; instead of applause is entertained with a general hiss by all his audience, transform'd with himself also suddenly into serpents, according to his doom giv'n in Paradise; then deluded with a show of the forbidden tree springing up before them, they greedily reaching to take of the fruit, chew dust and bitter ashes. The proceedings of Sin and Death; God foretells the final victory of his Son over them, and the renewing of all things; but for the present commands his angels to make several alterations in the heavens and elements. Adam more and more perceiving his fall'n condition heavily bewails, rejects the condolement of Eve; she persists and at length appeases him: then to evade the curse likely to fall on their offspring, proposes to Adam violent ways which he approves not, but conceiving better hope, puts her in mind of the late promise made them, that her seed should be reveng'd on the serpent, and exhorts her with him to seek peace of the offended deity, by repentance and supplication.
Meanwhile the heinous and despiteful act Of Satan done in Paradise, and how He in the serpent, had perverted Eve, Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit, Was known in heav'n; for what can 'scape the eye Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart Omniscient, who in all things wise and just, Hinder'd not Satan to attempt the mind Of man, with strength entire, and free will arm'd, Complete to have discover'd and repuls'd Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend. For still they knew, and ought to have still remember'd The high injunction not to taste that fruit, Whoever tempted; which they not obeying, Incurr'd, what could they less, the penalty, And manifold in sin, deserv'd to fall. Up into heav'n from Paradise in haste Th' angelic guards ascended, mute and sad For man, for of his state by this they knew, Much wond'ring how the subtle fiend had stol'n Entrance unseen. soon as th' unwelcome news From earth arriv'd at Heaven gate, displeas'd All were who heard, dim sadness did not spare That time celestial visages, yet mixed With pity, violated not their bliss. About the new-arriv'd, in multitudes Th' ethereal people ran, to hear and know How all befell: they towards the throne supreme Accountable made haste to make appear With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance, And easily approv'd; when the most High Eternal Father from his secret cloud, Amidst in thunder utter'd thus his voice.
Assembl'd angels, and ye Powers return'd From unsuccessful charge, be not dismaid, Nor troubl'd at these tidings from the earth, Which your sincerest care could not prevent, Foretold so lately what would come to pass, When first this tempter cross'd the gulf from Hell. I told ye then he should prevail and speed On his bad errand, man should be seduc't And flatter'd out of all, believing lies Against his maker; no decree of mine Concurring to necessitate his fall, Or touch with lightest moment of impulse His free will, to her own inclining left In even scale. but fall'n he is, and now What rests but that the mortal sentence pass On his transgression Death denounc't that day, Which he presumes already vain and void, Because not yet inflicted, as he fear'd, By some immediate stroke; but soon shall find Forbearance no acquittance ere day end. Justice shall not return as bounty scorn'd. But whom send I to judge them? whom but thee Vicegerent Son, to thee I have transferr'd All judgement whether in heav'n, or earth, or Hell. Easy it might be seen that I intend Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee Man's friend, his Mediator, his design'd Both ransom and Redeemer voluntary, And destin'd man himself to judge man fall'n.
So spake the Father, and unfoulding bright Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son Blaz'd forth unclouded deity; he full Resplendent all his Father manifest Express'd, and thus divinely answer'd mild.
Father Eternal, thine is to decree, Mine both in heav'n and earth to do thy will Supreme, that thou in me thy Son belov'd Mayst ever rest well pleas'd. I go to judge On earth these thy transgressors, but thou know'st, Whoever judg'd, the worst on me must light, When time shall be, for so I undertook Before thee; and not repenting, this obtain Of right, that I may mitigate their doom On me deriv'd yet I shall temper so Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most Them fully satisfyd, and thee appease. Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none Are to behold the judgment, but the judg'd, Those two; the third best absent is condemn'd, Convict by flight, and rebel to all law Conviction to the serpent none belongs.
Thus saying, from his radiant seat he rose Of high collateral glory: him Thrones and Powers, Princedoms, and Dominations ministrant Accompanied to Heaven gate, from whence Eden and all the coast in prospect lay. Down he descended straight; the speed of Gods Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes wing'd. Now was the sun in western cadence low From noon, and gentle airs due at their hour To fan the earth now wak'd, and usher in The evening cool when he from wrath more cool Came the mild judge and intercessor both To sentence man: the voice of God they heard Now walking in the garden, by soft winds Brought to their ears, while day declin'd, they heard, And from his presence hid themselves among The thickest trees, both man and wife, till God Approaching, thus to Adam call'd aloud.
Where art thou Adam, wont with joy to meet My coming seen far off? I miss thee here. Not pleas'd, thus entertain'd with solitude, Where obvious duty erewhile appear'd unsought: Or come I less conspicuous, or what change Absents thee, or what chance detains? come forth. He came, and with him Eve, more loath, though first To offend, discount'nanc'd both, and discompos'd; Love was not in their looks, either to God Or to each other, but apparent guilt, And shame, and perturbation, and despair, Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. Whence Adam faultring long, thus answer'd brief.
I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice Afraid, being naked, hid my self. to whom The gracious judge without revile repli'd.
My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd, But still rejoiced, how is it now become So dreadful to thee? that thou art naked, who Hath told thee? hast thou eaten of the tree Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat?
To whom thus Adam sore beset repli'd. O heav'n! in evil strait this day I stand Before my judge, either to undergo My self the total crime, or to accuse My other self, the partner of my life; Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, I should conceal, and not expose to blame By my complaint; but strict necessity Subdues me; and calamitous constraint Lest on my head both sin and punishment, However insupportable, be all Devolv'd; though should I hold my peace, yet thou Wouldst easily detect what I conceal. This woman whom thou mad'st to be my help, And gav'st me as thy perfect gift, so good, So fit, so acceptable, so divine, That from her hand I could suspect no ill, And what she did, whatever in it self, Her doing seem'd to justify the deed; She gave me of the tree, and I did eat.
To whom the sovereign Presence thus repli'd. Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey Before his voice, or was she made thy guide, Superior, or but equal, that to her Thou did'st resign thy manhood, and the place Wherein God set thee above her made of thee, And for thee, whose perfection far excell'd Hers in all real dignity: adorn'd She was indeed, and lovely to attract Thy love, not thy subjection, and her gifts Were such as under government well seem'd, Unseemly to bear rule, which was thy part And person, had'st thou known thy self aright.
So having said, he thus to Eve in few: Say woman, what is this which thou hast done?
To whom sad Eve with shame nigh overwhelm'd, Confessing soon, yet not before her judge Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd repli'd.
The serpent me beguil'd and I did eat. Which when the Lord God heard, without delay To judgement he proceeded on th' accus'd Serpent though brute, unable to transfer The guilt on him who made him instrument Of mischief, and polluted from the end Of his creation; justly then accurst, As vitiated in nature: more to know Concern'd not man (since he no further knew) Nor alter'd his offence; yet God at last To Satan first in sin his doom apply'd, Though in mysterious terms, judg'd as then best: And on the serpent thus his curse let fall.
Because thou hast done this, thou art accurst Above all cattle, each beast of the field; Upon thy belly groveling thou shalt go, And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life. Between thee and the woman I will put Enmity, and between thine and her seed; Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel.
So spake this oracle, then verifi'd When Jesus son of Mary second Eve, Saw Satan fall like lightning down from heav'n, Prince of the air; then rising from his Grave Spoil'd principalities and Powers, triumph'd In open show, and with ascension bright Captivity led captive through the air, The realm it self of Satan long usurped, Whom he shall tread at last under our feet; Even he who now foretold his fatal bruise, And to the woman thus his sentence turn'd.
Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply By thy conception; children thou shalt bring In sorrow forth, and to thy husband's will Thine shall submit, he over thee shall rule.
On Adam last thus judgement he pronounc'd. Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife, And eaten of the tree concerning which I charg'd thee, saying: thou shalt not eat thereof, Curs'd is the ground for thy sake, thou in sorrow Shalt eat thereof all the days of thy life; Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth Unbid, and thou shalt eat th' herb of th' field, In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, Till thou return unto the ground, for thou Out of the ground wast taken, know thy birth, For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.
So judg'd he man, both judge and Saviour sent, And th' instant stroke of Death denounc't that day Remov'd far off, then pitying how they stood Before him naked to the air, that now Must suffer change, disdain'd not to begin Thenceforth the form of servant to assume, As when he wash'd his servants' feet so now As Father of his family he clad Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain, Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid; And thought not much to clothe his enemies: Nor he their outward only with the skins Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness, Arraying cover'd from his father's sight. To him with swift ascent he up return'd, Into his blissful bosom reassum'd In glory as of old, to him appeas'd All, though all-knowing, what had past with man Recounted, mixing intercession sweet. Meanwhile ere thus was sin'd and judg'd on earth, Within the gates of Hell sate Sin and Death, In counterview within the gates, that now Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame Far into Chaos, since the fiend pass'd through, Sin opening, who thus now to Death began.
O Son, why sit we here each other viewing Idly, while Satan our great author thrives In other worlds, and happier seat provides For us his offspring dear? it cannot be But that success attends him; if mishap, Ere this he had return'd, with fury driv'n By his avengers, since no place like this Can fit his punishment, or their revenge. Methinks I feel new strength within me rise, Wings growing, and dominion giv'n me large Beyond this deep; whatever drawes me on, Or sympathy, or some connatural force Powerful at greatest distance to unite With secret amity things of like kind By secretest conveyance. thou my shade Inseparable must with me along: For Death from Sin no power can separate. But lest the difficulty of passing back Stay his return perhaps over this gulf Impassable, impervious, let us try Adventurous work, yet to thy power and mine Not unagreeable, to found a path Over this main from Hell to that new world Where Satan now prevails, a monument Of merit high to all th' infernal host, Easing their passage hence, for intercourse, Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead. Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn By this new felt attraction and instinct.
Whom thus the meager shadow answer'd soon. Go whither fate and inclination strong Leads thee, I shall not lag behind, nor err The way, thou leading, such a scent I draw Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste The savour of Death from all things there that live: Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid,
So saying, with delight he snuff'd the smell Of mortal change on earth. as when a flock Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote, Against the day of battle, to a field, Where armies lie encampt, come flying, lur'd With scent of living carcasses design'd For death, the following day, in bloody fight. So scented the grim feature, and upturn'd His nostril wide into the murky air, Sagacious of his quarry from so far. Then both from out Hell gates into the waste Wide anarchy of Chaos damp and dark Flew divers, and with power (their power was great) Hovering upon the waters; what they met Solid or slimy, as in raging sea Tossed up and down, together crowded drove From each side shoaling towards the mouth of Hell. As when two polar winds blowing adverse Upon the Cronian sea, together drive Mountains of ice, that stop th' imagin'd way Beyond Petsora eastward, to the rich Cathaian coast. the aggregated soil Death with his mace petrific, cold and dry, As with a trident smote, and fixed as firm As Delos floating once; the rest his look Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move, And with Asphaltic slime, broad as the gate, Deep to the roots of Hell the gather'd beach They fasten'd, and the mole immense wrought on Over the foaming deep high arched, a bridge Of length prodigious joying to the wall Immovable of this now fenceless world Forfeit to Death from hence a passage broad, Smooth, easy, inoffensive down to Hell. So, if great thing to small may be compar'd, Xerxes; the liberty of Greece to yoke, From Susa his Momronian palace high Came to the sea, and over Hellespont Bridging his way Europe with Asia join'd, And scourg'd with many a stroke th' indignant waves. Now had they brought the work by wondrous art Pontifical, a ridge of pendent rock Over the vexed abyss, following the track Of Satan, to the self same place where he First lighted from his wing, and landed safe From out of Chaos to the out side bare Of this round world: with pins of adamant And chains they made all fast, too fast they made And durable; and now in little space The confines met of empyrean heav'n And of this world, and on the left hand Hell With long reach interpos'd; three sev'ral ways In sight, to each of these three places led. And now their way to earth they had descri'd, To Paradise first tending; when behold Satan in likeness of an angel bright Betwixt the Centaure and the Scorpion steering His Zenith, while the sun in Aries rose: Disguis'd he came, but those his children dear Their parent soon discern'd, though in disguise. He after Eve seduc't, unminded slunk Into the wood fast by, and changing shape To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded Upon her husband, saw their shame that sought Vain covertures; but when he saw descend The Son of God to judge them terrifi'd He fled, not hoping to escape, but shun The present, fearing guilty what his wrath Might suddenly inflict; that past, return'd By Night, and listening where the hapless pair Sate in their sad discourse, and various plaint, Thence gather'd his own doom, which understood Not instant, but of future time. with joy And tidings fraught, to Hell he now return'd, And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot Of this new wondrous pontifice, unhop't Met who to meet him came, his offspring dear. Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight Of that stupendous bridge his joy increas'd. Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair enchanting daughter, thus the silence broke.
O parent, these are thy magnific deeds, Thy trophies, which thou view'st as not thine own, Thou art their author and prime architect: For I no sooner in my heart divin'd, My heart, which by a secret harmony Still moves with thine, join'd in connexion sweet, That thou on earth hadst prosper'd, which thy looks Now also evidence, but straight I felt Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt That I must after thee with this thy Son; Such fatal consequence unites us three: Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds, Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure Detain from following thy illustrious track. Thou hast achiev'd our liberty, confin'd Within Hell gates till now, thou us empower'd To fortify thus far, and overlay With this portentous bridge the dark abyss. Thine now is all this world, thy virtue hath won What thy hands builded not, thy wisdom gain'd With odds what war hath lost, and fully aveng'd Our foil in heav'n; here thou shalt monarch reign, There didst not; there let him still victor sway, As battle hath adjudg'd, from this new world Retiring, by his own doom alienated, And henceforth monarchy with thee divide Of all things parted by th' empyreal bounds, His quadrature, from thy orbicular world, Or try thee now more dang'rous to his throne.
Whom thus the prince of darkness answer'd glad. Fair daughter, and thou Son and grandchild both, High proof ye now have giv'n to be the race Of Satan (for I glory in the name, Antagonist of heav'n's almighty king) Amply have merited of me, of all Th' infernal empire, that so near heav'n's door Triumphal with triumphal act have met, Mine with this glorious work, and made one realm Hell and this world, one realm, one continent Of easy thorough-fare. therefore while I Descend through darkness, on your road with ease To my associate Powers, them to acquaint With these successes, and with them rejoice, You two this way, among these numerous orbs All yours, right down to Paradise descend; There dwell and reign in bliss, thence on the earth Dominion exercise and in the air, Chiefly on man, sole Lord of all declar'd, Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill. My substitutes I send ye, and create Plenipotent on earth, of matchless might Issuing from me: on your joint vigour now My hold of this new kingdom all depends, Through Sin to Death expos'd by my exploit. If your joint power prevails, th' affairs of Hell No detriment need fear, go and be strong.
So saying he dismiss'd them, they with speed Their course through thickest constellations held Spreading their bane; the blasted stars looked wan, And planets, planet-struck, real eclipse Then suffer'd. th' other way Satan went down The causey to Hell gate; on either side Disparted Chaos over built exclaim'd, And with rebounding surge the bars assail'd, That scorn'd his indignation: through the gate, Wide open and unguarded, Satan pass'd, And all about found desolate; for those Appointed to sit there, had left their charge, Flown to the upper world; the rest were all Far to the inland retir'd, about the walls Of Pandaemonium, city and proud seat Of Lucifer, so by allusion call'd, Of that bright star to Satan paragon'd. There kept their watch the legions, while the grand In council sate, solicitous what chance Might intercept their emperor sent, so he Departing gave command, and they observ'd. As when the Tartar from his Russian foe By Astracan over the snowy plains Retires, or Bactrian Sophi from the horns Of Turkish crescent, leaves all waste beyond The realm of Aladule, in his retreat To Tauris or Casbeen. so these the late Heav'n-banished host, left desert utmost Hell Many a dark league, reduc't in careful watch Round their metropolis, and now expecting Each hour their great adventurer from the search Of foreign worlds: he through the midst unmarked, In show plebeian angel militant Of lowest order, past; and from the door Of that Plutonian hall, invisible Ascended his high throne, which under state Of richest texture spread, at th' upper end Was plac't in regal lustre. down a while He sate, and round about him saw unseen: At last as from a cloud his fulgent head And shape star bright appear'd, or brighter, clad With what permissive glory since his fall Was left him, or false glitter: all amaz'd At that so sudden blaze the Stygian throng Bent their aspect, and whom they wish'd beheld, Their mighty chief return'd: loud was th' acclaim: Forth rush'd in haste the great consulting peers, Rais'd from their dark Divan, and with like joy Congratulant approach'd him, who with hand Silence, and with these words attention won.
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers, For in possession such, not only of right, I call ye and declare ye now, return'd Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth Triumphant out of this infernal pit Abominable, accurst, the house of woe, And dungeon of our tyrant: now possess, As lords, a spacious world, to our native Heaven Little inferior, by my adventure hard With peril great achiev'd. long were to tell What I have done, what suffer'd, with what pain Voyag'd th' unreal, vast, unbounded deep Of horrible confusion, over which By Sin and Death a broad way now is pav'd To expedite your glorious march; but I Toil'd out my uncouth passage, forc't to ride Th' untraceable abyss, plung'd in the womb Of unoriginal Night and Chaos wild, That jealous of their secrets fiercely oppos'd My journey strange, with clamorous uproar Protesting fate supreme; thence how I found The new created world, which same in heav'n Long had foretold, a fabric wonderful Of absolute perfection, therein man Plac't in a Paradise, by our exile Made happy: him by fraud I have seduc'd From his Creator, and the more to increase Your wonder, with an apple; he thereat Offended, worth your laughter, hath giv'n up Both his beloved man and all his world, To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, Without our hazard, labour, or alarm, To range in, and to dwell, and over man To rule, as over all he should have rul'd. True is, me also he hath judg'd, or rather Me not, but the brute serpent in whose shape Man I deceived: that which to me belongs, Is enmity, which he will put between Me and mankind; I am to bruise his heel; His seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head: A world who would not purchase with a bruise, Or much more grievous pain? ye have th' account Of my performance: what remains, ye Gods, But up and enter now into full bliss.
So having said, a while he stood, expecting Their universal shout and high applause To fill his ear, when contrary he hears On all sides, from innumerable tongues A dismal universal hiss, the sound Of public scorn; he wonder'd, but not long Had leisure, wond'ring at himself now more; His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare, His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining Each other, till supplanted down he fell A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, Reluctant, but in vain, a greater power Now rul'd him, punish'd in the shape he sin'd, According to his doom: he would have spoke, But hiss for hiss return'd with forked tongue To forked tongue, for now were all transform'd Alike, to serpents all as accessories To his bold riot: dreadful was the din Of hissing through the hall, thick swarming now With complicated monsters head and tail, Scorpion and asp, and Amphisbaena dire, Cerastes horn'd, Hydrus, and Ellops drear, And Dipsas (not so thick swarm'd once the soil Bedropped with blood of Gorgon, or the isle Ophiusa) but still greatest he the midst, Now dragon grown, larger than whom the sun Engender'd in the Pythian vale on slime, Huge Python, and his power no less he seem'd Above the rest still to retain; they all Him follow'd issuing forth to th' open field, Where all yet left of that revolted rout Heav'n-fall'n, in station stood or just array, Sublime with expectation when to see In triumph issuing forth their glorious chief; They saw, but other sight instead, a crowd Of ugly serpents; horror on them fell, And horrid sympathy; for what they saw, They felt themselves now changing; down their arms, Down fell both spear and shield, down they as fast, And the dire hiss renew'd, and the dire form Caught by contagion, like in punishment, As in their crime. thus was th' applause they meant, Turn'd to exploding hiss, triumph to shame Cast on themselves from their own mouths. there stood A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change, His will who reigns above, to aggravate Their penance, laden with fruit like that Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve Us'd by the tempter: on that prospect strange Their earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining For one forbidden tree a multitude Now ris'n, to work them further woe or shame; Yet parched with scalding thirst and hunger fierce, Though to delude them sent, could not abstain, But on they rolled in heaps, and up the trees Climbing, sat thicker than the snaky locks That curl'd Megaera: greedily they pluck'd The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flam'd; This more delusive, not the touch, but taste deceived; they fondly thinking to allay Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit Chew'd bitter ashes, which th' offended taste With spattering noise rejected: oft they assay'd, Hunger and thirst constraining, drugg'd as oft, With hatefullest disrelish writh'd their jaws With soot and cinders fill'd; so oft they fell Into the same illusion, not as man Whom they triumph'd once lapsed. thus were they plagu'd And worn with famine, long and ceaseless hiss, Till their lost shape, permitted, they resum'd, Yearly enjoin'd, some say, to undergo This annual humbling certain number'd days, To dash their pride, and joy for man seduc't. However some tradition they dispers'd Among the heathen of their purchase got, And fabl'd how the serpent, whom they call'd Ophion with Eurynome, the wide Encroaching Eve perhaps, had first the rule Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driv'n And Ops, ere yet dictaen Jove was born. Mean while in Paradise the hellish pair Too soon arriv'd, Sin there in power before, Once actual, now in body, and to dwell Habitual habitant; behind her Death Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet On his pale horse: to whom Sin thus began.
Second of Satan sprung, all conquering Death, What thinkst thou of our empire now, though earn'd With travail difficult, not better far Than still at hell's dark threshold to have sate watch, Unnam'd, undreaded, and thy self half starv'd?
Whom thus the Sin-born monster answer'd soon. To me, who with eternal famine pine, Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven, There best, where most with ravin I may meet; Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems To stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corpse.
To whom th' incestuous mother thus repli'd. Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flow'rs Feed first, on each beast next, and fish, and fowl, No homely morsels, and whatever thing The scythe of time mows down, devour unspar'd, Till I in man residing through the race, His thoughts, his looks, words, actions all infect, And season him thy last and sweetest prey.
This said, they both betook them several ways, Both to destroy, or unimmortal make All kinds, and for destruction to mature Sooner or later; which th' almighty seeing, From his transcendent seat the Saints among, To those bright orders utter'd thus his voice.
See with what heat these dogs of Hell advance To waste and havoc yonder world, which I So fair and good created, and had still Kept in that state, had not the folly of man Let in these wasteful Furies, who impute Folly to me, so doth the prince of Hell And his adherents, that with so much ease I suffer them to enter and possess A place so heav'nly, and conniving seem To gratify my scornful enemies, That laugh, as if transported with some fit Of passion, I to them had quitted all, At random yielded up to their misrule; And know not that I call'd and drew them thither My Hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth Which man's polluting Sin with taint hath shed On what was pure, till cramm'd and gorg'd, nigh burst With sucked and glutted offal, at one sling Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son, Both Sin, and Death, and yawning Grave at last Through Chaos hurl'd, obstruct the mouth of Hell For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. Then heav'n and earth renew'd shall be made pure To sanctity that shall receive no stain: Till then the curse pronounc't on both precedes.
He ended, and the heav'nly audience loud Sung Halleluia, as the sound of seas, Through multitude that sung: just are thy ways, Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works; Who can extenuate thee? next, to the Son, Destin'd restorer of mankind, by whom New heav'n and earth shall to the ages rise, Or down from heav'n descend. such was their song, While the Creator calling forth by name His mighty angels gave them several charge, As sorted best with present things. the sun Had first his precept so to move, so shine, As might affect the earth with cold and heat Scarce tolerable, and from the north to call Decrepit winter, from the south to bring Solstitial summer's heat. to the blanc moon Her office they prescrib'd, to th' other five Their planetary motions and aspects In sextile, square, and Trine, and Opposite, Of noxious efficacy, and when to join In synod unbenign, and taught the fixed Their influence malignant when to show'r, Which of them rising with the sun, or falling, Should prove tempestuous: to the winds they set Their corners, when with bluster to confound Sea, air, and shore, the thunder when to roll With terror through the dark aerial hall. Some say he bid his angels turn askance The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more From the sun's axle; they with labour push'd Oblique the centric globe: some say the sun Was bid turn reins from th' equinoctial road Like distant breadth to Taurus with the seven Atlantick sisters, and the Spartan twins Up to the Tropic Crab; thence down amain By Leo and the Virgin and the Scales, A deep as Capricorne, to bring in change Of seasons to each clime; else had the spring Perpetual smil'd on earth with vernant flow'rs, Equal in days and nights, except to those Beyond the polar circles; to them day Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun To recompense his distance, in their sight Had rounded still th' Horizon, and not known Or east or west, which had forbid the snow From cold Estotiland, and south as far Beneath Magellan. at that tasted fruit The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turn'd His course intended; else how had the world Inhabited, though sinless, more than now, Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? These changes in the heav'ns, though slow, produc'd Like change on sea and land, sidereal blast, Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot, Corrupt and pestilent: now from the north Of Normbega, and the Samoed shore Bursting their brazen dungeon, arm'd with ice And snow and hail and stormy gust and flaw, Boreas and Caecias and Argestes loud And Thrascias rend the woods and seas upturn; With adverse blast up-turns them from the south Notus and Afer black with thund'rous clouds From Serraliona; thwart of these as fierce Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds Eurus and Zephir with their lateral noise, Sirocco, and Libecchio, thus began Outrage from lifeless things; but discord first Daughter of Sin, among th' irrational, Death introduc'd through fierce antipathy: Beast now with beast gan war, and fowl with fowl, And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leaving, Devour'd each other; nor stood much in awe Of man, but fled him, or with count'nance grim Glar'd on him passing: these were from without The growing miseries, which Adam saw Already in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, To sorrow abandon'd, but worse felt within, And in a troubl'd sea of passion tossed, Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint.
O miserable of happy! is this the end Of this new glorious world, and me so late The glory of that glory, who now become Accurst of blessed, hide me from the face Of God, whom to behold was then my height Of happiness: yet well, if here would end The misery, I deserv'd it, and would bear My own deservings; but this will nor serve; All that I eat or drink, or shall beget, Is propagated curse. O voice once heard Delightfully, increase and multiply, Now death to hear! for what can I increase Or multiply, but curses on my head? Who of all ages to succeed, but feeling The evil on him brought by me, will curse My head, ill fare our ancestor impure, For this we may thank Adam; but his thanks Shall be the execration; so besides Mine own that bide upon me, all from me Shall with a fierce reflux on me redound, On me as on their natural centre light Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes! Did I request thee, maker, from my clay To mould me man, did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me, or here place In this delicious garden? as my will Concurr'd not to my being, it were but right And equal to reduce me to my dust, Desirous to resign, and render back All I receiv'd, unable to perform Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold The good I sought not. to the loss of that, Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added The sense of endless woes? inexplicable Thy justice seems; yet to say truth, too late, I thus contest; then should have been refus'd Those terms whatever, when they were propos'd: Thou didst accept them; wilt thou enjoy the good, Then cavil the conditions? and though God Made thee without thy leave, what if thy Son Prove disobedient, and reprov'd, retort, Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee That proud excuse? yet him not thy election, But natural necessity begot. God made thee of choice his own, and of his own To serve him, thy reward was of his grace, Thy punishment then justly is at his will. Be it so, for I submit, his doom is fair, That dust I am, and shall to dust return: O welcome hour whenever! why delays His hand to execute what his decree Fixed on this day? why do I overlive, Why am I mocked with death, and length'nd out To deathless pain? how gladly would I meet Mortality my sentence, and be earth, Insensible, how glad would lay me down As in my mother's lap? there I should rest And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more Would thunder in my ears, no fear of worse To me and to my offspring would torment me With cruel expectation. yet one doubt Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die, Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of man Which God inspir'd, cannot together perish With this corporeal clod; then in the Grave, Or in some other dismal place who knows But I shall die a living Death? O thought Horrid, if true! yet why? it was but breath Of life that sinn'd; what dies but what had life And sin? the body properly hath neither. All of me then shall die: let this appease The doubt since human reach no further knows, For though the Lord of all be infinite, Is his wrath also? be it, man is not so, But mortal doom'd. how can he exercise Wrath without end on man whom Death must end? Can he make deathless Death? that were to make Strange contradiction, which to God himself Impossible is held, as argument Of weakness, not of power. will he, draw out, For anger's sake, finite to infinite In punish'd man, to satisfy his rigour Satisfi'd never; that were to extend His sentence beyond dust and nature's law, By which all causes else according still To the reception of their matter act, Not to th' extent of their own sphere. but say That Death be not one stroke, as I suppos'd, Bereaving sense, but endless misery From this day onward, which I feel begun Both in me, and without me, and so last To perpetuity; ay me, that fear Comes thund'ring back with dreadful revolution On my defenceless head; both Death and I Am sound Eternal, and incorporate both, Nor I on my part single, in me all Posterity stands curst: fair patrimony That I must leave ye, sons; O were I able To waste it all my self, and leave ye none! So disinherited how would ye bless Me now your curse! ah, why should all mankind For one man's fault thus guiltless be condemn'd, If guiltless? but from me what can proceed, But all corrupt, both mind and will deprav'd, Not to do only, but to will the same With me? how can they then acquitted stand In sight of God? him after all disputes Forc't I absolve: all my evasions vain, And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still But to my own conviction: first and last On me, me only, as the source and spring Of all corruption, all the blame lights due; So might the wrath. fond wish! couldst thou support That burden heavier than the earth to bear Than all the world much heavier, though divided With that bad woman? thus what thou desir'st And what thou fearst, alike destroys all hope Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable Beyond all past example and future, To Satan only like both crime and doom. O conscience, into what abyss of fears And horrors hast thou driv'n me; out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plung'd!
Thus Adam to himself lamented loud Through the still Night, not now, as ere man fell, Wholesome and cool, and mild, but with black air Accompanied, with damps and dreadful gloom, Which to his evil conscience represented All things with double terror: on the ground Outstretched he lay, on the cold ground, and oft Curs'd his creation, Death as oft accus'd Of tardy execution, since denounc't The day of his offence. why comes not Death, Said he, with one thrice acceptable stroke To end me? shall truth fail to keep her word, Justice divine not hasten to be just? But Death comes not at call, justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales and bowers, With other echo late I taught your shades To answer, and resound far other song. Whom thus afflicted when sad Eve beheld, Desolate where she sate, approaching nigh, Soft words to his fierce passion she assay'd: But her with stern regard he thus repell'd.
Out of my sight, thou serpent, that name best Befits thee with him leagu'd, thy self as false And hateful; nothing wants, but that thy shape, Like his, and colour serpentine may show Thy inward fraud, to warn all creatures from thee Henceforth; lest that too heav'nly form, pretended To hellish falsehood, snare them. but for thee I had persisted happy, had not thy pride And wand'ring vanity, when least was safe, Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd Not to be trusted, longing to be seen Though by the devil himself, him overweening To over-reach, but with the serpent meeting Fool'd and beguil'd, by him thou, I by thee, To trust thee from my side, imagin'd wise, Constant, mature, proof against all assaults, And understood not all was but a show Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister from me drawn, Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found. O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With men as angels without feminine, Or find some other way to generate Mankind? this mischief had not then befall'n, And more that shall befall, innumerable Disturbances on earth through female snares, And straight conjunction with this sex: for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake, Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain Through her perverseness, but shall see her gain'd By a far worse, or if she love, withheld By parents, or his happiest choice too late Shall meet, already linked and wedlock-bound To a fell adversary, his hate or shame: Which infinite calamity shall cause To human life, and household peace confound.
He added not, and from her turn'd, but Eve Not so repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowing, And tresses all disorder'd, at his feet Fell humble, and embracing them, besought His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint.
Forsake me not thus, Adam, witness heav'n What love sincere, and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, Unhappily deceived; thy suppliant I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Thy counsel in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two let there be peace, both joining, As join'd in injuries, one enmity Against a foe by doom express assign'd us, That cruel serpent: on me exercise not Thy hatred for this misery befall'n, On me already lost, me then thy self More miserable; both have sin'd, but thou Against God only, I against God and thee, And to the place of judgment will return, There with my cries importune Heaven, that all The sentence from thy head remov'd may light On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe, Me me only just object of his ire.
She ended weeping, and her lowly plight, Immoveable till peace obtain'd from fault Acknowledg'd and deplor'd, in Adam wrought Commiseration; soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress, Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, His counsel whom she had displeas'd, his aid; As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus with peaceful words uprais'd her soon.
Unwary, and too desirous, as before, So now of what thou know'st not, who desir'st The punishment all on thy self; alas, Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain His full wrath whose thou feelst as yet least part, And my displeasure bearst so ill. if prayers Could alter high decrees, I to that place Would speed before thee, and be louder heard, That on my head all might be visited, Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiv'n, To me committed and by me expos'd. But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere, but strive In offices of love, how we may light'n Each other's burden in our share of woe; Since this day's Death denounc't, if ought I see, Will prove no sudden, but a slow pac't evil, A long day's dying to augment our pain, And to our seed (O hapless seed!) deriv'd.
To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, repli'd. Adam, by sad experiment I know How little weight my words with thee can find, Found so erroneous, thence by just event Found so unfortunate; nevertheless, Restor'd by thee, vile as I am, to place Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart Living or dying, from thee I will not hide What thoughts in my unquiet breast are ris'n, Tending to some relief of our extremes, Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable, As in our evils, and of easier choice. If care of our descent perplex us most, Which must be born to certain woe, devour'd By Death at last, and miserable it is To be to others cause of misery, Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring Into this cursed world a woeful race, That after wretched life must be at last Food for so foul a monster, in thy power It lies, yet ere conception to prevent The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. Childless thou art, Childless remain: So Death shall be deceived his glut, and with us two Be forc'd to satisfy his rav'nous maw. But if thou judge it hard and difficult, Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain From love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet, And with desire to languish without hope, Before the present object languishing With like desire, which would be misery And torment less than none of what we dread, Then both our selves and seed at once to free From what we fear for both, let us make short, Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply With our own hands his office on our selves; 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 dyed 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 repli'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 saught, 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't, doubt not but God Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire than so To be forestall'd; much more I fear lest Death So snatched 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 our selves, 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 our selves, 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 Pains only in child-bearing were foretold, And bringing forth, soon recompenc't 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 worse; My labour will sustain me; and lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath unbesought provided, and his hands Clothed 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 show us in this mountain, while the winds Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek 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 Jostling or pushed with winds rude in their shock Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame driv'n 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 air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek. Undoubtedly he will relent and turn From 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 beg'd, with tears Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.
BOOK XI.
THE ARGUMENT.
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 shall happ'n till the flood.
THus they in lowliest plight repentant stood Praying, for from the mercy-seat above Prevenient grace descending had remov'd The stony from their hearts, & made new flesh Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breath'd 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 suitors, nor important less Seem'd their petition, then when th' ancient pair In fables old, less ancient yet than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrtha to restore The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine Of Themis stood devout. To Heav'n their prayers 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: them the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See Father, what first fruits on earth are sprung From thy implanted grace in man, these sighs And prayers, which in this golden censer, mixed 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; Unskillful 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 Tri'd in sharp tribulation, and refin'd By faith and faithful works, to second life, Wak't in the renovation of the just, Resigns him up with Heav'n and earth renew'd. But let us call to synod all the blest Through Heav'n's wide bounds; from them I will not hide My judgments, how with mankind I proceed, As how with peccant angels late they saw; And in their state, though firm, stood more confirm'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 To sound at general doom. Th' angelic blast fill'd all the regions: from their blissful bow'rs Of Amarantin shade, fountain or spring, By the waters of life, where ere they sate In fellowships of joy: the sons of light Hasted, resorting to the summons high, And took their seats; till from his throne supreme Th' Almighty thus pronounc'd his sovereign will.
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 suffic'd him to have known Good by it self, 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 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 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 softn'd and with tears Bewailing their excess, all terror 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 th' archangelic 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 Spangl'd with eyes more numerous than those Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drowse, Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Mean while To resalute the world with sacred light Leucothea wak'd, and with fresh dews imbalm'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 linked; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renew'd.
Eve, easily may faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy, from Heav'n descends; But that from us ought should ascend to Heav'n 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, up-borne Ev'n to the seat of God. For since I sought By prayer th' offended deity to appease, Kneel'd and before him humbl'd 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't 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 fall'n state, content.
So spake, so wish'd much-humbl•d Eve, but fate Subscrib'd not; nature first gave signs, impressed On bird, beast, air, air suddenly eclips'd After short blush of morn; nigh in her sight The bird of jove, stooped from his airy tower, 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 Heav'n 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 released 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're the blue firmament a radiant white, And slow descends, with something Heav'nly fraught.
He err'd not, for by this the Heav'nly 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, cover'd with a camp of fire, Against the Syrian king, 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 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 raphael, that I should much confide, But solemn and sublime, whom not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire. He ended; and th' arch-angel 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 Meliboean, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and hero's old In time of truce; Iris had dipped the woof; His starry helm unbuckl'd 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, Heav'n'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 Giv'n thee of grace, wherein thou may'st repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done Mayst cover: well may then thy Lord appeas'd Redeem thee quite from death's rapacious claim; 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 tak'n, fitter soil.
He added not, for Adam at the news Heart-strook 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 eev'n, which I bred up with tender hand From the first op'ning bud, and gave ye names, Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from th' 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 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 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 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 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 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 power 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. Which that thou mayst believe, and be confirm'd Ere thou 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 inured 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 drencht her eyes) Here sleep below while thou to foresight wak'st, As once thou slepst, while she to life was form'd.
To whom thus Adam gratefully repli'd. Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path Thou lead'st me, and to the hand 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 In the visions of God: it was a hill Of Paradise the highest, from whose top The hemisphere of earth in clearest ken Stretched 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, To show him all earth's kingdoms and their glory. His eye might there command wherever stood City of old or modern fame, the seat Of mightiest empire, from the destind walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne, To Paquin of Sinaean kings, and thence To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul Down to the golden Chersonese, or where The Persian in Ecbatan sate, or since In Hispahan, or where the Russian Kfar In Mosco, or the sultan in Bizance, Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken Th' empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco and the less maritime kings Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, And Sofala thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south; Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, Marocco 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 Motezume, 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 sight 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't to close his eyes, Sunk down and all his spirits became entranced: But him the gentle angel by the hand Soon rais'd, and his attention thus recall'd.
Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold Th' effects which thy original crime hath wrought In some to spring from thee, who never touch'd Th' excepted tree, nor with the snake conspir'd, Nor sinn'd thy sin, yet from that derive Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds.
His eyes he op'nd, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves New reaped, the other part sheep-walks and folds; Ith' midst an altar as the land-mark stood Rustic, of grassy sward; 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 strew'd, On the cleft wood, and all due rites perform'd. His offering soon propitious fire from Heav'n Consum'd with nimble glance, and grateful steam; 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 th' angel cri'd.
O teacher, some great mischief hath befall'n To that meek man, who well had sacrific'd; Is piety thus and pure devotion paid?
T' whom Michael thus, he also mov'd, repli'd. These two are brethren, Adam, and to come Out of thy loins; th' unjust the just hath slain, For envy that his brother's offering found From Heav'n acceptance; but the bloody fact Will be aveng'd, and th' 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 terror, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
To whom thus Michael. death thou hast seen 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 More terrible at th' 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 bring Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew Before thee shall appear; that thou mayst know What misery th' inabstinence of Eve 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 frenzy, moping 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't With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. Sight so deform what heart of rock could long 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 renew'd,
O miserable mankind, to what fall Degraded, to what wretched state reserv'd! Better end here unborn. Why is life giv'n 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 dismissed in peace. Can thus Th' image of God in man created once So goodly and erect, though faulty since, To such unsightly sufferings be debas't 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 then Forsook them, when themselves they vilifi'd To serve ungovern'd appetite, and took His image whom they serv'd, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. Therefore so abject is their punishment, Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own, Or if his likeness, by themselves defac't While they pervert pure nature's healthful rules To loathsome sickness, worthily, since they God's image did not reverence in themselves.
I yield it just, said Adam, and submit. But is there yet no other way, besides These painful passages, how we may come To death, and mix with our connatural dust?
There is, said Michael, if thou well observe The rule of not too much, by temperance taught In what thou eatst and drinkst, seeking from thence Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return: So maist thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gather'd, not harshly plucked, for death mature: This is old age; but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change To wither'd weak and grey; thy senses then Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgo, To what thou hast, and for the air of youth Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life. To whom our ancestor.
Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong Life much, bent rather how I may be quit Fairest and easiest of this cumbrous charge, Which I must keep till my appointed day Of rend'ring up, and patiently attend My dissolution. Michael repli'd,
Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livst Live well, how long or short permit to Heav'n: And now prepare thee for another sight.
He look'd and saw a spacious plain, whereon Were tents of various hue; by some were herds Of cattle grazing: others, whence the sound Of instruments that made melodious chime Was heard, of harp and organ; and who mov'd Their stops and chords was seen: his volant touch Instinct through all proportions low and high Fled and pursu'd transverse the resonant fugue. In other part stood one who at the forge Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brass Had melted (whether found where casual fire Had wasted woods on mountain or in vale, Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot To some caves mouth, or whether washed by stream From underground) the liquid ore he drain'd Into fit moulds prepar'd; from which he form'd First his own tools; then, what might else be wrought Fusil or grav'n in metal. After these, But on the hither side a different sort From the high neighbouring hills, which was their seat, Down to the plain descended: by their guise Just men they seem'd, and all their study bent To worship God aright, and know his works Not hid, nor those things last which might preserve Freedom and peace to men: they on the plain Long had not walked, when from the tents behold A bevy of fair women, richly gay In gems and wanton dress; to the harp they sung Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on: The men though grave, ey'd them, and let their eyes Rove without rein, till in the amorous net Fast caught, they lik'd, and each his liking chose; And now of love they treat till th' evening star Love's harbinger appear'd; then all in heat They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke Hymen, then first to marriage rites invok't; With feast and music all the tents resound. Such happy interview and fair event Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flowers, And charming symphonies attach'd the heart Of Adam, soon inclin'd to admit delight, The bent of nature; which he thus express'd.
True opener of mine eyes, prime angel blest, Much better seems this vision, and more hope Of peaceful days portends, than those two past; Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse, Here nature seems fulfill'd in all her ends.
To whom thus Michael. judge not what is best By pleasure, though to nature seeming meet, Created, as thou art, to nobler end Holy and pure, conformity divine. Those tents thou saw'st so pleasant, were the tents Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race Who slew his brother; studious they appear Of arts that polish life, inventors rare, Unmindful of their maker, though his Spirit Taught them, but they his gifts acknowledg'd none. Yet they abeauteous offspring shall beget; For that fair female troop thou saw'st, that seem'd Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, Yet empty of all good wherein consists Woman's domestic honour and chief praise; Bred only and completed to the taste Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye. To these that sober race of men, whose lives Religious titl'd them the sons of God, Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles Of these fair atheists, and now swim in joy, (Erelong to swim at large) and laugh; for which The world erelong a world of tears must weep.
To whom thus Adam of short joy bereft. O pity and shame, that they who to live well Enter'd so fair, should turn aside to tread Paths indirect, or in the mid way faint! But still I see the tenor of man's woe Holds on the same, from woman to begin.
From man's effeminate slackness it begins, Said th' angel, who should better hold his place By wisdom, and superior gifts receiv'd. But now prepare thee for another scene.
He look'd and saw wide territory spread Before him, towns, and rural works between, Cities of men with lofty gates and tow'rs, Concourse in arms, fierce faces threat'ning war, Giants of mighty bone, and bold emprise; Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, Single or in array of battle rang'd Both horse and foot, nor idly must'ring stood; One way a band select from forage drives A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine From a fat meadow ground; or fleecy flock, Ewes and their bleating lambs over the plain, Their booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly, But calling aid, which makes a bloody fray; With cruel tournament the squadrons join; Where cattle pastur'd late, now scatter'd lies With carcasses and arms th' ensanguin'd field Deserted: others to a city strong Lay siege, encamped; by battery, scale, and mine, Assaulting; others from the wall defend With dart and jav'lin, stones and sulfurous fire; On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds. In other part the sceptred heralds call To council in the city gates: anon Grey-headed men and grave, with warriors mixed, Assemble, and harangues are heard, but soon In factious opposition, till at last Of middle age one rising, eminent In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong, Of justice, of religion, truth and peace, And judgment from above: him old and young Exploded and had seiz'd with violent hands, Had not a cloud descending snatch'd him thence Unseen amid the throng: so violence Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law Through all the plain, and refuge none was found. Adam was all in tears, and to his guide Lamenting turn'd full sad; o what are these, Death's ministers, not men, who thus deal death Inhumanly to men, and multiply Ten thousand fold the sin of him who slew His brother; for of whom such massacre Make they but of their brethren, men of men? But who was that just man, whom had not Heav'n Rescu'd, had in his righteousness been lost?
To whom thus Michael. these are the product Of those ill mated marriages thou saw'st: Where good with bad were matched, who of themselves Abhor to join; and by imprudence mixed, Produce prodigious births of body or mind. Such were these giants, men of high renown; For in those days might only shall be admir'd, And valour and heroic virtue call'd; To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory, and for glory done Of triumph, to be styl'd great conquerors, Patrons of mankind, Gods, and sons of Gods, Destroyers rightlier call'd and plagues of men. Thus fame shall be achiev'd, renown on earth, And what most merits fame in silence hid. But he the seventh from thee, whom thou beheldst The only righteous in a world perverse, And therefore hated, therefore so beset With foes for daring single to be just, And utter odious truth, that God would come To judge them with his saints: him the most high Rapt in a balmy cloud with winged steeds Did, as thou saw'st, receive, to walk with God High in salvation and the climes of bliss, Exempt from death; to show thee what reward Awaits the good, the rest what punishment? Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold.
He look'd, and saw the face of things quite chang'd, The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar, All now was turn'd to jollity and game, To luxury and riot, feast and dance, Marrying or prostituting, as befell, Rape or adultery, where passing fair Allur'd them; thence from cups to civil broils. At length a reverend sire among them came, And of their doings great dislike declar'd, And testifi'd against their ways; he oft Frequented their assemblies, where so met, Triumphs or festivals, and to them preach'd Conversion and repentance, as to souls. In prison under judgments imminent: But all in vain: which when he saw, he ceas'd Contending, and remov'd his tents far off; Then from the mountain hewing timber tall, Began to build a vessel of huge bulk, Measur'd by cubit, length, and breadth, and height, Smear'd round with pitch, and in the side a door Contriv'd, and of provisions laid in large For man and beast: when lo a wonder strange! Of every beast, and bird, and insect small Came sevens, and pairs, and enter'd in, as taught Their order: last the sire, and his three sons With their four wives; and God made fast the door. Meanwhile the southwind rose, and with black wings Wide hovering, all the clouds together drove From under Heav'n; the hills to their supply Vapour, and exhalation dusk and moist, Sent up amain; and now the thick'nd sky Like a dark ceiling stood; down rush'd the rain Impetuous, and continu'd till the earth No more was seen; the floating vessel swum Uplifted; and secure with beaked prow Rode tilting o're the waves, all dwellings else Flood overwhelm'd, and them with all their pomp Deep under water roll'd; sea cover'd sea, Sea without shore; and in their palaces Where luxury late reign'd, sea-monsters whelp'd And stabl'd; of mankind, so numerous late, All left, in one small bottom swum embark'd. How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold The end of all thy offspring, end so sad, Depopulation; thee another flood, Of tears and sorrow a flood thee also drown'd, And sunk thee as thy sons; till gently rear'd By th' angel, on thy feet thou stoodst at last, Though comfortless, as when a Father mourns His children, all in view destroy'd at once; And scarce to th' angel utterdst thus thy plaint.
O visions ill foreseen! Better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne My part of evil only, each day's lot Enough to bear; those now, that were dispensed The burd'n of many ages, on me light At once, by my foreknowledge gaining birth Abortive, to torment me ere their being, With thought that they must be. Let no man seek Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall Him or his children, evil he may be sure, Which neither his foreknowing can prevent, And he the future evil shall no less In apprehension than in substance feel Grievous to bear: but that care now is past, Man is not whom to warne: those few escap't Famine and anguish will at last consume Wand'ring that watery desert: I had hope When violence was ceas't, and war on earth, All would have then gone well, peace would have crown'd With length of happy days the race of man; But I was far deceiv'd; for now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste. How comes it thus? Unfold, celestial guide, And whether here the race of man will end. To whom thus Michael. those whom last thou saw'st In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they First seen in acts of prowess eminent And great exploits, but of true virtue void; Who having spilt much blood, and done much waste Subduing nations, and achiev'd thereby Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey, Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth, Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and pride Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. The conquerd also, and enslav'd by war Shall with their freedom lost all virtue lose And fear of God, from whom their piety feign'd In sharp contest of battle found no aid Against invaders; therefore cool'd in zeal Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure, Worldly or dissolute, on what their Lords Shall leave them to enjoy; for th' earth shall bear More than enough, that temperance may be tri'd: So all shall turn degenerate, all deprav'd, Justice and temperance, truth and faith forgot; One man except, the only Son of light In a dark age, against example good, Against allurement, custom, and a world Offended; fearless of reproach and scorn, Or violence, he of their wicked ways Shall them admonish, and before them set The paths of righteousness, how much more safe, And full of peace, denouncing wrath to come On their impenitence; and shall returne Of them derided, but of God observ'd The one just man alive; by his command Shall build a wondrous ark, as thou beheldst, To save himself and household from amidst A world devote to universal rack. No sooner he with them of man and beast Select for life shall in the ark be lodg'd, And shelter'd round, but all the cataracts Of Heav'n set open on the earth shall pour Rain day and night, all fountains of the deep Broke up, shall heave the ocean to usurp Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise Above the highest hills: then shall this mount Of Paradise by might of waves be mov'd Out of his place, push'd by the horned flood, With all his verdure spoil'd, and trees adrift Down the great river to the op'ning gulf, And there take root an island salt and bare, The haunt of seals and orcs, and sea-mews' clang. To teach thee that God attributes to place No sanctity, if none be thither brought By men who there frequent, or therein dwell. And now what further shall ensue, behold.
He look'd, and saw the ark hull on the flood, Which now abated, for the clouds were fled, Driven by a keen north-wind, that blowing dry Wrinkl'd the face of deluge, as decay'd; And the clear sun on his wide watery glass Gaz'd hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, As after thirst, which made their flowing shrink From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopped His sluices, as the Heav'n his windows shut. The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground Fast on the top of some high mountain fixed. And now the tops of hills as rocks appear; With clamor thence the rapid currents drive Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, And after him, the surer messenger, A dove sent forth once and again to spy Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light; The second time returning, in his bill An olive leaf he brings, pacific sign: Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark The ancient sire descends with all his train; Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout, Grateful to Heav'n, over his head beholds A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a bow Conspicuous with three listed colours gay, Betok'ning peace from God, and covenant new. Whereat the heart of Adam erst so sad Greatly rejoic'd, and thus his joy broke forth.
O thou who future things canst represent As present, Heav'nly instructor, I revive At this last sight, assur'd that man shall live With all the creatures, and their seed preserve. Far less I now lament for one whole world Of wicked sons destroy'd, than I rejoice For one man found so perfect and so just, That God vouchsafes to raise another world From him, and all his anger to forget. But say, what mean those colour'd streaks in Heaven, Distended as the brow of God appeas'd, Or serve they as a flowery verge to bind The fluid skirts of that same watery cloud. Lest it again dissolve and showr the earth?
To whom th' archangel. Dextrously thou aim'st; So willingly doth God remit his ire, Though late repenting him of man deprav'd, Griev'd at his heart, when looking down he saw The whole earth fill'd with violence, and all flesh Corrupting each their way; yet those remov'd, Such grace shall one just man find in his sight, That he relents, nor to blot out mankind, And makes a covenant never to destroy The earth again by flood, nor let the sea Surpass his bounds, nor rain to drown the world With man therein or beast; but when he brings Over the earth a cloud, will therein set His triple-colour'd bow, whereon to look And call to mind his covenant: day and night, Seed time and harvest, heat and hoary frost Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new. Both Heav'n and earth, wherein the just shall dwell.
BOOK XII.
THE ARGUMENT.
The angel Michael continues from the Flood to relate what shall succeed; then, in the mention of Abraham, comes by degrees to explain, who that seed of the woman shall be, which was promised Adam and Eve in the fall; his incarnation, death, resurrection, and ascension; the state of the church till his second coming. Adam greatly satisfied and recomforted by these relations and promises descends the hill with Michael; wakens Eve, who all this while had slept, but with gentle dreams compos'd to quietness of mind and submission. Michael in either hand leads them out of Paradise, the fiery sword waving behind them, and the Cherubim taking their stations to guard the place,
As one who in his journey bates at noon, Though bent on speed, so here the Archangel paus'd Betwixt the world destroy'd and world restor'd, If Adam aught perhaps might interpose; Then with transition sweet new speech resumes.
Thus thou hast seen one world begin and end; And man as from a second stock proceed. Much thou hast yet to see, but I perceive Thy mortal sight to fail; objects divine Must needs impair and weary human sense: Henceforth what is to come I will relate, Thou therefore give due audience, and attend. This second source of men, while yet but few; And while the dread of judgment past remains Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity, With some regard to what is just and right Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace, Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop, Corn wine and oil; and from the herd or flock, Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid, With large wine-offerings pour'd, and sacred feast, Shall spend their days in joy unblam'd, and dwell Long time in peace by families and tribes Under paternal rule; till one shall rise Of proud ambitious heart, who nor content With fair equality, fraternal state, Will arrogate dominion undeserv'd Over his brethren, and quite dispossess Concord and law of nature from the earth, Hunting (and men not beasts shall be his game) With war and hostile snare such as refuse Subjection to his empire tyrannous: A mighty hunter thence he shall be styl'd Before the Lord, as in despite of Heav'n, Or from Heav'n claiming second sovereignty; And from rebellion shall derive his name, Though of rebellion others he accuse. He with a crew, whom like ambition joins With him or under him to tyrannize, Marching from Eden towards the West, shall find The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge Boils out from under ground, the mouth of Hell; Of brick, and of that stuff they cast to build A city and tower, whose top may reach to Heav'n; And get themselves a name, lest far dispers'd In foreign lands their memory be lost Regardless whether good or evil fame. But God who oft descends to visit men Unseen, and through their habitations walks To mark their doings, them beholding soon, Comes down to see their city, ere the tower Obstruct Heav'n's towers, and in derision sets Upon their tongues a various spirit to raze Quite out their native language, and instead To sow a jangling noise of words unknown: Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud Among the builders; each to other calls Not understood, till hoarse, and all in rage, As mock'd they storm; great laughter was in Heav'n And looking down, to see the hubbub strange And hear the din; thus was the building left Ridiculous, and the work Confusion nam'd. Whereto thus Adam fatherly displeas'd. O execrable son so to aspire Above his brethren, to himself assuming Authority usurp'd, from God not giv'n: He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl Dominion absolute; that right we hold By his donation; but man over men He made not lord; such title to himself Reserving, human left from human free. But this usurper his encroachment proud Stays nor on man; to God his tower intends Siege and defiance: Wretched man! what food Will he convey up thither to sustain Himself and his rash army, where thin air Above the clouds will pine his entrails gross, And famish him of breath, if not of bread?
To whom thus Michael. Justly thou abhorr'st That son, who on the quiet state of men Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue Rational liberty; yet know withal, Since thy original lapse, true liberty Is lost, which always with right reason dwells Twinn'd, and from her hath no dividual being: Reason in man obscur'd, or not obey'd, Immediately inordinate desires And upstart passions catch the government From reason, and to servitude reduce Man till then free. Therefore since he permits Within himself unworthy powers to reign Over free reason, God in judgment just Subjects him from without to violent lords; Who oft as undeservedly enthrall His outward freedom: Tyranny must be, Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse. Yet sometimes nations will decline so low From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong But justice, and some fatal curse annex'd Deprives them of their outward liberty, Their inward lost: witness th' irreverent son Of him who built the ark, who for the shame Done to his father, heard this heavy curse, Servant of Servants, on his vicious race. Thus will this latter, as the former world, Still tend from bad to worse, till God at last Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw His presence from among them, and avert His holy eyes; resolving from thenceforth To leave them to their own polluted ways; And one peculiar nation to select From all the rest, of whom to be invok'd, A nation from one faithful man to spring: Him on this side Euphrates yet residing, Bred up in idol-worship; O that men (Canst thou believe?) should be so stupid grown, While yet the patriarch liv'd, who 'scap'd the Flood, As to forsake the living God, and fall To worship their own work in wood and stone For gods! yet him God the most High vouchsafes To call by vision from his father's house, His kindred and false gods, into a land Which he will show him, and from him will raise A mighty nation, and upon him shower His benediction so, that in his seed All nations shall be blest; he straight obeys, Not knowing to what land, yet firm believes: I see him, but thou canst not, with what faith He leaves his gods, his friends, and native soil Ur of Chaldaea, passing now the ford To Haran, after him a cumbrous train Of herds and flocks, and numerous servitude; Not wand'ring poor, but trusting all his wealth With God, who call'd him, in a land unknown. Canaan he now attains, I see his tents Pitch'd about Sechem, and the neighbouring plain Of Moreh; there by promise he receives Gift to his progeny of all that land; From Hamath Northward to the desert South (Things by their names I call, though yet unnam'd) From Hermon East to the great Western Sea, Mount Hermon, yonder sea, each place behold In prospect, as I point them; on the shore Mount Carmel; here the double-founted stream Jordan, true limit Eastward; but his sons Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills. This ponder, that all nations of the earth Shall in his seed be blessed; by that seed Is meant thy great deliverer, who shall bruise The Serpent's head; whereof to thee anon Plainlier shall be reveal'd. This patriarch blest, Whom faithful Abraham due time shall call, A son, and of his son a grandchild leaves, Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown; The grandchild with twelve sons increas'd, departs From Canaan, to a land hereafter call'd Egypt, divided by the river Nile; See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths Into the sea: to sojourn in that land He comes invited by a younger son In time of dearth, a son whose worthy deeds Raise him to be the second in that realm Of Pharaoh: there he dies, and leaves his race Growing into a nation, and now grown Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests Too numerous; whence of guests he makes them slaves Inhospitably, and kills their infant males: Till by two brethren (those two brethren call Moses and Aaron) sent from God to claim His people from enthralment, they return With glory and spoil back to their promis'd land. But first the lawless tyrant, who denies To know their God, or message to regard, Must be compell'd by signs and judgments dire; To blood unshed the rivers must be turn'd, Frogs, lice and flies must all his palace fill With loath'd intrusion, and fill all the land; His cattle must of rot and murrain die, Botches and blains must all his flesh emboss, And all his people; thunder mixed with hail, Hail mixed with fire must rend th' Egyptian sky And wheel on th' earth, devouring where it rolls; What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain, A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down Must eat, and on the ground leave nothing green: Darkness must overshadow all his bounds, Palpable darkness, and blot out three days; Last with one midnight stroke all the first-born Of Egypt must lie dead. Thus with ten wounds The river-dragon tam'd at length submits To let his sojourners depart, and oft Humbles his stubborn heart, but still as ice More hard'nd after thaw, till in his rage Pursuing whom he late dismiss'd, the sea Swallows him with his host, but them lets pass As on dry land between two crystal walls, Aw'd by the rod of Moses so to stand Divided, till his rescu'd gain their shore: Such wondrous power God to his saint will lend, Though present in his angel, who shall go Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire, By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire, To guide them in their journey, and remove Behind them, while th' obdurate king pursues: All night he will pursue, but his approach Darkness defends between till morning watch; Then through the fiery pillar and the cloud God looking forth will trouble all his host And craze their chariot wheels: when by command Moses once more his potent rod extends Over the sea; the sea his rod obeys; On their embattl'd ranks the waves return, And overwhelm their war: the race elect Safe towards Canaan from the shore advance Through the wild desert, not the readiest way, Lest ent'ring on the Canaanite alarm'd War terrify them inexpert, and fear Return them back to Egypt, choosing rather Inglorious life with servitude; for life To noble and ignoble is more sweet Untrain'd in arms, where rashness leads not on. This also shall they gain by their delay In the wide wilderness, there they shall found Their government, and their great senate choose Through the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordain'd: God from the mount of Sinai, whose grey top Shall tremble, he descending, will himself In thunder lightning and loud trumpets' sound Ordain them laws; part such as appertain To civil justice, part religious rites Of sacrifice, informing them, by types And shadows, of that destin'd seed to bruise The Serpent, by what means he shall achieve Mankind's deliverance. But the voice of God To mortal ear is dreadful; they beseech That Moses might report to them his will, And terror cease; he grants what they besought Instructed that to God is no access Without Mediator, whose high office now Moses in figure bears, to introduce One greater, of whose day he shall foretell, And all the prophets in their age the times Of great Messiah shall sing. Thus laws and rites Establish'd, such delight hath God in men Obedient to his will, that he vouchsafes Among them to set up his tabernacle, The Holy One with mortal men to dwell: By his prescript a sanctuary is fram'd Of cedar, overlaid with gold, therein An ark, and in the ark his testimony, The records of his cov'nant, over these A mercy-seat of gold between the wings Of two bright Cherubim, before him burn Seven lamps as in a zodiac representing The Heav'nly fires; over the tent a cloud Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night, Save when they journey, and at length they come, Conducted by his angel to the land Promis'd to Abraham and his seed: the rest Were long to tell, how many battles fought, How many kings destroy'd, and kingdoms won, Or how the sun shall in mid Heav'n stand still A day entire, and night's due course adjourn, Man's voice commanding, sun in Gibeon stand, And thou moon in the vale of Aialon, Till Israel overcome; so call the third From Abraham, son of Isaac, and from him His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win.
Here Adam interpos'd. O sent from Heav'n, Enlightner of my darkness, gracious things Thou hast reveal'd, those chiefly which concern Just Abraham and his seed: now first I find Mine eyes true op'ning, and my heart much eas'd, Erewhile perplexed with thoughts what would become Of me and all mankind; but now I see His day, in whom all nations shall be blest, Favour unmerited by me, who sought Forbidd'n knowledge by forbidd'n means. This yet I apprehend not, why to those Among whom God will deign to dwell on earth So many and so various laws are giv'n; So many laws argue so many sins Among them; how can God with such reside?
To whom thus Michael. Doubt not but that sin Will reign among them, as of thee begot; And therefore was law given them to evince Their natural pravity, by stirring up Sin against law to fight; that when they see Law can discover sin, but not remove, Save by those shadowy expiations weak, The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude Some blood more precious must be paid for man, Just for unjust, that in such righteousness To them by faith imputed, they may find Justification towards God, and peace Of conscience, which the law by ceremonies Cannot appease, nor man the moral part Perform, and not performing cannot live. So law appears imperfect, and but giv'n With purpose to resign them in full time Up to a better cov'nant, disciplin'd From shadowy types to truth, from flesh to spirit, From imposition of strict laws, to free Acceptance of large grace, from servile fear To filial, works of law to works of faith. And therefore shall not Moses, though of God Highly belov'd, being but the minister Of law, his people into Canaan lead; But Joshua whom the Gentiles Jesus call, His name and office bearing, who shall quell The adversary Serpent, and bring back Through the world's wilderness long wander'd man Safe to eternal Paradise of rest. Meanwhile they in their earthly Canaan plac'd Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins National interrupt their public peace, Provoking God to raise them enemies: From whom as oft he saves them penitent By judges first, then under kings; of whom The second, both for piety renown'd And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive Irrevocable, that his regal throne For ever shall endure; the like shall sing All prophecy, that of the royal stock Of David (so I name this king) shall rise A son, the Woman's seed to thee foretold, Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trust All nations, and to kings foretold, of kings The last, for of his reign shall be no end. But first a long succession must ensue, And his next son for wealth and wisdom fam'd, The clouded ark of God till then in tents Wand'ring, shall in a glorious temple enshrine. Such follow him, as shall be register'd Part good, part bad, of bad the longer scroll, Whose foul idolatries, and other faults Heap'd to the popular sum, will so incense God, as to leave them, and expose their land, Their city, his temple, and his holy ark With all his sacred things, a scorn and prey To that proud city, whose high walls thou saw'st Left in confusion, Babylon thence call'd. There in captivity he lets them dwell The space of seventy years, then brings them back, Rememb'ring mercy, and his cov'nant sworn To David, stablish'd as the days of Heav'n. Return'd from Babylon by leave of kings Their lords, whom God dispos'd, the house of God They first re-edify, and for a while In mean estate live moderate, till grown In wealth and multitude, factious they grow; But first among the priests dissension springs, Men who attend the altar, and should most Endeavor peace: their strife pollution brings Upon the temple itself: at last they seize The sceptre, and regard not David's sons, Then lose it to a stranger, that the true Anointed king Messiah might be born Barr'd of his right; yet at his birth a star Unseen before in Heav'n proclaims him come, And guides the Eastern sages, who enquire His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold; His place of birth a solemn angel tells To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night; They gladly thither haste, and by a choir Of squadron'd angels hear his carol sung. A virgin is his mother, but his sire The Power of the most High; he shall ascend The throne hereditary, and bound his reign With earth's wide bounds, his glory with the Heav'ns.
He ceas'd, discerning Adam with such joy Surcharg'd, as had like grief been dew'd in tears, Without the vent of words, which these he breath'd.
O prophet of glad tidings, finisher Of utmost hope! now clear I understand What oft my steadiest thoughts have search'd in vain, Why our great expectation should be call'd The seed of woman: Virgin Mother, Hail, High in the love of Heav'n, yet from my loins Thou shalt proceed, and from thy womb the Son Of God most High; so God with man unites. Needs must the Serpent now his capital bruise Expect with mortal pain: say where and when Their fight, what stroke shall bruise the Victor's heel.
To whom thus Michael. Dream not of their fight, As of a duel, or the local wounds Of head or heel: not therefore joins the Son Manhood to Godhead, with more strength to foil Thy enemy; nor so is overcome Satan, whose fall from Heav'n, a deadlier bruise, Disabl'd not to give thee thy death's wound: Which he, who comes thy Saviour, shall recure, Not by destroying Satan, but his works In thee and in thy seed: nor can this be, But by fulfilling that which thou didst want, Obedience to the law of God, impos'd On penalty of death, and suffering death, The penalty to thy transgression due, And due to theirs which out of thine will grow: So only can high justice rest appaid. The law of God exact he shall fulfil Both by obedience and by love, though love Alone fulfil the law; thy punishment He shall endure by coming in the flesh To a reproachful life and cursed death, Proclaiming life to all who shall believe In his redemption, and that his obedience Imputed becomes theirs by faith, his merits To save them, not their own, though legal works. For this he shall live hated, be blasphem'd, Seiz'd on by force, judg'd, and to death condemn'd A shameful and accurst, nail'd to the cross By his own nation, slain for bringing life; But to the cross he nails thy enemies, The law that is against thee, and the sins Of all mankind, with him there crucifi'd, Never to hurt them more who rightly trust In this his satisfaction; so he dies, But soon revives, death over him no power Shall long usurp; ere the third dawning light Return, the stars of morn shall see him rise Out of his grave, fresh as the dawning light, Thy ransom paid, which man from death redeems, His death for man, as many as offer'd life Neglect not, and the benefit embrace By faith not void of works: this God-like act Annuls thy doom, the death thou shouldst have dy'd, In sin for ever lost from life; this act Shall bruise the head of Satan, crush his strength Defeating sin and death, his two main arms, And fix far deeper in his head their stings Than temporal death shall bruise the Victor's heel, Or theirs whom he redeems, a death like sleep, A gentle wafting to immortal life. Nor after resurrection shall he stay Longer on earth than certain times to appear To his disciples, men who in his life Still follow'd him; to them shall leave in charge To teach all nations what of him they learn'd And his salvation, them who shall believe Baptizing in the profluent stream, the sign Of washing them from guilt of sin to life Pure, and in mind prepar'd, if so befall, For death, like that which the Redeemer dy'd. All nations they shall teach; for from that day Not only to the sons of Abraham's loins Salvation shall be preach'd, but to the sons Of Abraham's faith wherever through the world; So in his seed all nations shall be blest. Then to the Heav'n of Heav'ns he shall ascend With victory, triumphing through the air Over his foes and thine; there shall surprise The Serpent, prince of air, and drag in chains Through all his realm, and there confounded leave; Then enter into glory, and resume His seat at God's right hand, exalted high Above all names in Heav'n; and thence shall come, When this world's dissolution shall be ripe, With glory and power to judge both quick and dead, To judge th' unfaithful dead, but to reward His faithful, and receive them into bliss, Whether in Heav'n or earth, for then the earth Shall all be Paradise, far happier place Than this of Eden, and far happier days.
So spake th' Archangel Michael, then paus'd, As at the world's great period; and our sire Replete with joy and wonder thus repli'd.
O goodness infinite, goodness immense! That all this good of evil shall produce, And evil turn to good; more wonderful Than that which by creation first brought forth Light out of darkness! full of doubt I stand, Whether I should repent me now of sin By me done and occasion'd, or rejoice Much more, that much more good thereof shall spring, To God more glory, more good will to men From God, and over wrath grace shall abound. But say, if our deliverer up to Heav'n Must reascend, what will betide the few His faithful, left among th' unfaithful herd, The enemies of truth; who then shall guide His people, who defend? will they not deal Worse with his followers than with him they dealt?
Be sure they will, said th' angel; but from Heav'n He to his own a Comforter will send, The promise of the Father, who shall dwell His Spirit within them, and the law of faith Working through love, upon their hearts shall write, To guide them in all truth, and also arm With spiritual armour, able to resist Satan's assaults, and quench his fiery darts, What man can do against them, not afraid, Though to the death, against such cruelties With inward consolations recompens'd, And oft supported so as shall amaze Their proudest persecutors: for the Spirit Pour'd first on his apostles, whom he sends To evangelize the nations, then on all Baptiz'd, shall them with wondrous gifts endue To speak all tongues, and do all miracles, As did their Lord before them. Thus they win Great numbers of each nation to receive With joy the tidings brought from Heav'n: at length Their ministry perform'd, and race well run, Their doctrine and their story written left, They die; but in their room, as they forewarn, Wolves shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves, Who all the sacred mysteries of Heav'n To their own vile advantages shall turn Of lucre and ambition, and the truth With superstitions and traditions taint, Left only in those written records pure, Though not but by the Spirit understood. Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names, Places and titles, and with these to join Secular power, though feigning still to act By spiritual, to themselves appropriating The Spirit of God, promis'd alike and giv'n To all believers; and from that pretense, Spiritual laws by carnal power shall force On every conscience; laws which none shall find Left them enroll'd, or what the Spirit within Shall on the heart engrave. What will they then But force the Spirit of Grace itself, and bind His consort liberty; what, but unbuild His living temples, built by faith to stand, Their own faith not another's: for on earth Who against faith and conscience can be heard Infallible? yet many will presume: Whence heavy persecution shall arise On all who in the worship persevere Of spirit and truth; the rest, far greater part, Well deem in outward rites and specious forms Religion satisfi'd; truth shall retire Bestuck with sland'rous darts, and works of faith Rarely be found: so shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning till the day Appear of respiration to the just, And vengeance to the wicked, at return Of him so lately promis'd to thy aid The woman's seed, obscurely then foretold, Now amplier known thy Saviour and thy Lord, Last in the clouds from Heav'n to be reveal'd In glory of the Father, to dissolve Satan with his perverted world, then raise From the conflagrant mass, purg'd and refin'd, New heav'ns, new earth, ages of endless date Founded in righteousness and peace and love To bring forth fruits joy and eternal bliss.
He ended; and thus Adam last reply'd. How soon hath thy prediction, Seer blest, Measur'd this transient world, the race of time, Till time stand fixed: beyond is all abyss, Eternity, whose end no eye can reach. Greatly instructed I shall hence depart, Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill Of knowledge, what this vessel can contain; Beyond which was my folly to aspire. Henceforth I learn, that to obey is best, And love with fear the only God, to walk As in his presence, ever to observe His providence, and on him sole depend, Merciful over all his works, with good Still overcoming evil, and by small Accomplishing great things, by things deem'd weak Subverting worldly strong, and worldly wise By simply meek; that suffering for truth's sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life; Taught this by his example whom I now Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest.
To whom thus also th' angel last repli'd: This having learnt, thou hast attain'd the sum Of wisdom; hope no higher, though all the stars Thou knewst by name, and all th' ethereal powers, All secrets of the deep, all nature's works, Or works of God in Heav'n, air, earth, or sea, And all the riches of this world enjoy'dst, And all the rule, one empire; only add Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith, Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love, By name to come call'd charity, the soul Of all the rest: then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A paradise within thee, happier far. Let us descend now therefore from this top Of speculation; for the hour precise Exacts our parting hence; and see the guards, By me encamp'd on yonder hill, expect Their motion, at whose front a flaming sword, In signal of remove, waves fiercely round; We may no longer stay: go, waken Eve; Her also I with gentle dreams have calm'd Portending good, and all her spirits compos'd To meek submission: thou at season fit Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard, Chiefly what may concern her faith to know, The great deliverance by her seed to come (For by the Woman's seed) on all mankind. That ye may live, which will be many days, Both in one faith unanimous though sad, With cause for evils past, yet much more cheer'd With meditation on the happy end.
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 returnst, and whither wentst, 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 Wearied I fell asleep: but now lead on; In me is no delay; with thee to go, Is to stay here; without thee here to stay, Is to go hence unwilling; thou to me Art all things under Heav'n, all places thou, Who for my wilful crime art banished hence. This further consolation yet secure I carry hence; though all by me is lost, Such favour I unworthy am vouchsaf'd, By me the promis'd seed shall all restore.
So spake our mother Eve, and Adam heard Well pleas'd, but answer'd not; for now too nigh Th' Archangel stood, and from the other hill To their sixth station, all in bright array The Cherubim descended; on the ground Gliding meteorous, as ev'ning mist Ris'n from a river o'er the marish glides, And gathers ground fast at the labourer's heel Homeward returning. High in front advanc'd, The brandish'd sword of God before them blaz'd Fierce as a comet; which with torrid heat, And vapour as the Libyan air adust, Began to parch that temperate clime; whereat, In either hand the hast'ning angel caught Our ling'ring parents, and to th' Eastern gate Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast To the subjected plain; then disappear'd. They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Wav'd over by that flaming brand, the gate With dreadful faces throng'd and fiery arms: Some natural tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand with wand'ring steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.