Book VII
Paradise Lost
BOOK VII.
THE ARGUMENT.
Raphael at the request of Adam relates how and wherefore this world was first created; that God, after the expelling of Satan and his angels out of Heaven, declar'd his pleasure to create another world and other creatures to dwell therein; sends his Son with glory and attendance of angels to perform the work of creation in six days: the angels celebrate with hymns the performance thereof, and his reascension into Heaven.
DEscend from Heav'n Urania, by that name If rightly thou art call'd, whose voice divine Following, above th' Olympian hill I soar, Above the flight of Pegasean wing. The meaning, not the name I call: for thou Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top Of old Olympus dwell'st, but Heav'nly born, Before the hills appear'd, or fountain flow'd, Thou with eternal wisdom didst converse, Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play In presence of th' Almighty Father, pleas'd With thy celestial song. Up led by thee Into the Heav'n of Heav'ns I have presum'd, An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air, Thy temp'ring; with like safety guided down Return me to my native element: Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once Bellerophon, though from a lower clime) Dismounted, on th' Aleian field I fall Erroneous there to wander and forlorn. Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound Within the visible diurnal sphere; Standing on Earth, not rapt above the pole, More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchang'd To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil days, On evil days though fall'n, and evil tongues; In darkness, and with dangers compass'd round, And solitude; yet not alone, while thou Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or when morn Purples the east: still govern thou my song, Urania, and fit audience find, though few. But drive far off the barbarous dissonance Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears To rapture, till the savage clamour drown'd Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend Her son. So fail not thou, who thee implores: For thou art Heav'nly, she an empty dream.
Say, Goddess, what ensu'd when Raphael, The affable archangel, had forewarn'd Adam by dire example to beware Apostasy, by what befell in Heaven To those apostates, lest the like befall In Paradise to Adam or his race, Charg'd not to touch the interdicted tree, If they transgress, and slight that sole command, So easily obey'd amid the choice Of all tastes else to please their appetite, Though wand'ring. He with his consorted Eve The story heard attentive, and was fill'd With admiration, and deep muse to hear Of things so high and strange, things to their thought So unimaginable as hate in Heav'n, And war so near the peace of God in bliss With such confusion: but the evil soon Driv'n back redounded as a flood on those From whom it sprung, impossible to mix With blessedness. Whence Adam soon repeal'd The doubts that in his heart arose: and now Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know What nearer might concern him, how this world Of Heav'n and Earth conspicuous first began, When, and whereof created, for what cause, What within Eden or without was done Before his memory, as one whose drouth Yet scarce allay'd still eyes the current stream, Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites, Proceeded thus to ask his Heav'nly guest.
Great things, and full of wonder in our ears, Far differing from this world, thou hast reveal'd Divine interpreter, by favour sent Down from the Empyrean to forewarn Us timely of what might else have been our loss, Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach: For which to the infinitely Good we owe Immortal thanks, and his admonishment Receive with solemn purpose to observe Immutably his sovereign will, the end Of what we are. But since thou hast vouchsaf'd Gently for our instruction to impart Things above earthly thought, which yet concern'd Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seem'd, Deign to descend now lower, and relate What may no less perhaps avail us known, How first began this Heav'n which we behold Distant so high, with moving fires adorn'd Innumerable, and this which yields or fills All space, the ambient air wide interfus'd Embracing round this florid Earth, what cause Mov'd the Creator in his holy rest Through all eternity so late to build In Chaos, and the work begun, how soon Absolv'd, if unforbid thou mayst unfold What we, not to explore the secrets ask Of his eternal empire, but the more, To magnify his works, the more we know. And the great light of day yet wants to run Much of his race though steep, suspense in Heav'n Held by thy voice, thy potent voice he hears, And longer will delay to hear thee tell His generation, and the rising birth Of Nature from the unapparent deep: Or if the star of evening and the moon Haste to thy audience, Night with her will bring Silence, and Sleep list'ning to thee will watch, Or we can bid his absence, till thy song End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine. Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought: And thus the godlike angel answer'd mild. This also thy request with caution ask'd Obtain; though to recount Almighty works What words or tongue of seraph can suffice, Or heart of man suffice to comprehend? Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve To glorify the Maker, and infer Thee also happier, shall not be withheld Thy hearing, such commission from above I have receiv'd, to answer thy desire Of knowledge within bounds; beyond abstain To ask, nor let thine own inventions hope Things not reveal'd, which th' invisible King, Only Omniscient, hath suppress'd in night, To none communicable in Earth or Heaven: Enough is left besides to search and know. But knowledge is as food, and needs no less Her temperance over appetite, to know In measure what the mind may well contain, Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.
Know then, that after Lucifer from Heav'n (So call him, brighter once amidst the host Of angels, than that star the stars among) Fell with his flaming legions through the deep Into his place, and the great Son return'd Victorious with his saints, th' Omnipotent Eternal Father from his throne beheld Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake.
At least our envious foe hath fail'd, who thought All like himself rebellious, by whose aid This inaccessible high strength, the seat Of Deity supreme, us dispossess'd, He trusted to have seiz'd, and into fraud Drew many, whom their place knows here no more; Yet far the greater part have kept, I see, Their station, Heav'n yet populous retains Number sufficient to possess her realms Though wide, and this high temple to frequent With ministries due and solemn rites: But lest his heart exalt him in the harm Already done, to have dispeopl'd Heav'n My damage fondly deem'd, I can repair That detriment, if such it be to lose Self-lost, and in a moment will create Another world, out of one man a race Of men innumerable, there to dwell, Not here, till by degrees of merit rais'd They open to themselves at length the way Up hither, under long obedience tri'd, And Earth be chang'd to Heav'n, and Heav'n to Earth, One kingdom, joy and union without end. Mean while inhabit lax, ye Powers of Heav'n, And thou my Word, begotten Son, by thee This I perform, speak thou, and be it done: My overshadowing Spirit and might with thee I send along, ride forth, and bid the deep Within appointed bounds be Heav'n and Earth, Boundless the deep, because I am who fill Infinitude, nor vacuous the space. Though I uncircumscrib'd myself retire, And put not forth my goodness, which is free To act or not, Necessity and Chance Approach not me, and what I will is Fate.
So spake th' Almighty, and to what he spake His Word, the filial Godhead, gave effect. Immediate are the acts of God, more swift Than time or motion, but to human ears Cannot without process of speech be told, So told as earthly notion can receive. Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heav'n When such was heard declar'd the Almighty's will; Glory they sung to the most High, good will To future men, and in their dwellings peace: Glory to him whose just avenging ire Had driven out th' ungodly from his sight And th' habitations of the just; to him Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordain'd Good out of evil to create, in stead Of spirits malign a better race to bring Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse His good to worlds and ages infinite. So sang the Hierarchies: meanwhile the Son On his great expedition now appear'd, Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crown'd Of majesty divine, sapience and love Immense, and all his Father in him shone. About his chariot numberless were pour'd Cherub and seraph, potentates and thrones, And Virtues, winged spirits, and chariots wing'd, From the armoury of God, where stand of old Myriads between two brazen mountains lodg'd Against a solemn day, harness'd at hand, Celestial equipage; and now came forth Spontaneous, for within them spirit liv'd, Attendant on their Lord: Heav'n open'd wide Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound On golden hinges moving, to let forth The King of Glory in his powerful Word And Spirit coming to create new worlds. On heav'nly ground they stood, and from the shore They view'd the vast immeasurable abyss Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild, Up from the bottom turn'd by furious winds And surging waves, as mountains to assault Heav'n's height, and with the centre mix the pole.
Silence, ye troubl'd waves, and thou Deep, peace, Said then th' Omnific Word, your discord end:
Nor stay'd, but on the wings of Cherubim Uplifted, in paternal glory rode Far into Chaos, and the world unborn; For Chaos heard his voice: him all his train Follow'd in bright procession to behold Creation, and the wonders of his might. Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and in his hand He took the golden compasses, prepar'd In God's eternal store, to circumscribe This universe, and all created things: One foot he centred, and the other turn'd Round through the vast profundity obscure, And said, thus far extend, thus far thy bounds, This be thy just circumference, O world. Thus God the Heav'n created, thus the Earth, Matter unform'd and void: darkness profound Cover'd th' abyss: but on the wat'ry calm His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread, And vital virtue infus'd, and vital warmth Throughout the fluid mass, but downward purg'd The black tartareous cold infernal dregs Adverse to life: then founded, then conglob'd Like things to like, the rest to several place Disparted, and between spun out the air, And Earth self-balanc'd on her centre hung.
Let there be light, said God, and forthwith light Ethereal first of things, quintessence pure Sprung from the deep, and from her native east To journey through the airy gloom began, Spher'd in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle So journ'd the while. God saw the light was good; And light from darkness by the hemisphere Divided: light the day, and darkness night He nam'd. Thus was the first day even and morn: Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung By the celestial choirs, when orient light Exhaling first from darkness they beheld; Birthday of Heav'n and Earth; with joy and shout The hollow universal orb they fill'd, And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning prais'd God and his works, Creator him they sung, Both when first evening was, and when first morn.
Again, God said, let there be firmament Amid the waters, and let it divide The waters from the waters: and God made The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure, Transparent, elemental air, diffus'd In circuit to the uttermost convex Of this great round: partition firm and sure, The waters underneath from those above Dividing: for as Earth, so he the world Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule Of Chaos far remov'd, lest fierce extremes Contiguous might distemper the whole frame: And Heav'n he nam'd the firmament: So even And morning Chorus sung the second day.
The Earth was form'd, but in the womb as yet Of waters, embryon immature involv'd, Appear'd not: over all the face of Earth Main ocean flow'd, not idle, but with warm Prolific humour soft'ning all her globe, Fermented the great mother to conceive, Satiate with genial moisture, when God said Be gather'd now ye waters under Heav'n Into one place, and let dry land appear. Immediately the mountains huge appear Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky: So high as heav'd the tumid hills, so low Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep, Capacious bed of waters: thither they Hasted with glad precipitance, uproll'd As drops on dust conglobing from the dry; Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct, For haste; such flight the great command impress'd On the swift floods: as armies at the call Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard) Troop to their standard, so the wat'ry throng, Wave rolling after wave, where way they found, If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain, Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill, But they, or under ground, or circuit wide With serpent error wand'ring, found their way, And on the washy ooze deep channels wore; Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry, All but within whose banks, where rivers now Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train. The dry land, Earth, and the great receptacle Of congregated waters he call'd seas: And saw that it was good, and said, Let th' Earth Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed, And fruit tree yielding fruit after her kind; Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth. He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorn'd, Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad Her universal face with pleasant green, Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower'd Op'ning their various colours, and made gay Her bosom smelling sweet: and these scarce blown, Forth flourish'd thick the clust'ring vine, forth crept The smelling gourd, up stood the corny reed Embattell'd in her field: and the humble shrub, And bush with frizzl'd hair implicit: last Rose as in dance the stately trees, and spread Their branches hung with copious fruit; or gemm'd Their blossoms: with high woods the hills were crown'd, With tufts the valleys and each fountain side, With borders long the rivers. That Earth now Seem'd like to Heav'n, a seat where gods might dwell, Or wander with delight, and love to haunt Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rain'd Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground None was, but from the Earth a dewy mist Went up and water'd all the ground, and each Plant of the field, which ere it was in the Earth God made, and every herb, before it grew On the green stem; God saw that it was good. So even and morn recorded the third day.
Again th' Almighty spake: Let there be lights High in th' expanse of Heaven to divide The day from night; and let them be for signs, For seasons, and for days, and circling years, And let them be for lights as I ordain Their office in the firmament of Heav'n To give light on the Earth; and it was so. And God made two great lights, great for their use To man, the greater to have rule by day, The less by night alterne: and made the stars, And set them in the firmament of Heav'n To illuminate the Earth, and rule the day In their vicissitude, and rule the night, And light from darkness to divide. God saw, Surveying his great work, that it was good: For of celestial bodies first the sun A mighty sphere he fram'd, unlightsome first, Though of ethereal mould: then form'd the moon Globose, and every magnitude of stars, And sow'd with stars the Heav'n thick as a field: Of light by far the greater part he took, Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and plac'd In the sun's orb, made porous to receive And drink the liquid light, firm to retain Her gather'd beams, great palace now of light. Hither as to their fountain other stars Repairing, in their golden urns draw light, And hence the morning planet gilds her horns; By tincture or reflection they augment Their small peculiar, though from human sight So far remote, with diminution seen, First in his east the glorious lamp was seen: Regent of day, and all th' horizon round Invested with bright rays, jocund to run His longitude through Heav'n's high road: the grey Dawn, and the Pleiades before him danc'd Shedding sweet influence: less bright the moon, But opposite in levell'd west was set His mirror, with full face borrowing her light From him, for other light she needed none In that aspect, and still that distance keeps Till night, then in the east her turn she shines, Revolv'd on Heav'n's great axle, and her reign With thousand lesser lights dividual holds, With thousand thousand stars, that then appear'd Spangling the hemisphere: then first adorn'd With their bright luminaries that set and rose, Glad evening and glad morn crown'd the fourth day.
And God said, let the waters generate Reptile with spawn abundant, living soul: And let fowl fly above the Earth, with wings Display'd on the open firmament of Heav'n. And God created the great whales, and each Soul living, each that crept, which plenteously The waters generated by their kinds, And every bird of wing after his kind; And saw that it was good, and bless'd them, saying, Be fruitful, multiply, and in the seas And lakes and running streams the waters fill; And let the fowl be multiply'd on the Earth. Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals Of fish that with their fins and shining scales Glide under the green wave, in schools that oft Bank the mid sea: part single or with mate Graze the seaweed their pasture, and through groves Of coral stray, or sporting with quick glance Show to the sun their wav'd coats dropped with gold, Or in their pearly shells at ease, attend Moist nutriment, or under rocks their food In jointed armour watch: on smooth the seal, And bended dolphins play: part huge of bulk Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait Tempest the ocean: there Leviathan Hugest, of living creatures, on the deep Stretch'd like a promontory sleeps or swims, And seems a moving land, and at his gills Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea. Meanwhile the tepid caves, and fens and shores Their brood as numerous hatch, from the egg that soon Bursting with kindly rupture forth disclos'd Their callow young, but feather'd soon and fledge They summ'd their pens, and soaring th' air sublime With clang despis'd the ground, under a cloud In prospect; there the eagle and the stork On cliffs and cedar tops their eyries build: Part loosely wing the region, part more wise In common, rang'd in figure wedge their way, Intelligent of seasons, and set forth Their airy caravan high over seas Flying, and over lands with mutual wing Easing their flight; so steers the prudent crane Her annual voyage, born on winds; the air Floats, as they pass, fann'd with unnumber'd plumes: From branch to branch the smaller birds with song Solac'd the woods, and spread their painted wings Till even, nor then the solemn nightingale Ceas'd warbling, but all night tun'd her soft lays: Others on silver lakes and rivers bath'd Their downy breast; the swan with arch'd neck Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows Her state with oary feet; yet oft they quit The dank, and rising on stiff pennons, tower The mid aerial sky: others on ground Walk'd firm; the crested cock whose clarion sounds The silent hours, and th' other whose gay train Adorns him, colour'd with the florid hue Of rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thus With fish replenish'd, and the air with fowl, Evening and morn solemniz'd the fifth day.
The sixth, and of creation last arose With evening harps and matin, when God said, Let th' Earth bring forth soul living in her kind, Cattle and creeping things, and beast of the Earth, Each in their kind. The Earth obey'd, and straight Op'ning her fertile womb teem'd at a birth Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms, Limb'd and full grown: out of the ground up rose As from his lair the wild beast where he wons In forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den; Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walk'd: The cattle in the fields and meadows green: Those rare and solitary, these in flocks Pasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung. The grassy clods now calv'd, now half appear'd The tawny lion, pawing to get free His hinder parts, then springs as broke from bonds, And rampant shakes his brinded mane; the ounce, The libbard, and the tiger, as the mole Rising, the crumbl'd earth above them threw In hillocks; the swift stag from under ground Bore up his branching head: scarce from his mould Behemoth biggest born of earth upheav'd His vastness: fleec'd the flocks and bleating rose, As plants: ambiguous between sea and land The river-horse and scaly crocodile. At once came forth whatever creeps the ground, Insect or worm; those wav'd their limber fans For wings, and smallest lineaments exact In all the liveries deck'd of Summer's pride With spots of gold and purple, azure and green: These as a line their long dimension drew, Streaking the ground with sinuous trace; not all Minims of nature; some of serpent kind Wondrous in length and corpulence involv'd Their snaky folds, and added wings. First crept The parsimonious emmet, provident Of future, in small room large heart enclos'd, Pattern of just equality perhaps Hereafter, join'd in her popular tribes Of commonalty: swarming next appear'd The female bee that feeds her husband drone Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells With honey stor'd: the rest are numberless, And thou their natures know'st, and gav'st them names, Needless to thee repeated; nor unknown The serpent subtl'st beast of all the field, Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes And hairy mane terrific, though to thee Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. Now Heav'n in all her glory shone, and roll'd Her motions, as the great First-Mover's hand First wheel'd their course; Earth in her rich attire Consummate lovely smil'd; air, water, earth, By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was walk'd Frequent; and of the sixth day yet remain'd; There wanted yet the master-work, the end Of all yet done; a creature who not prone And brute as other creatures, but endu'd With sanctity of reason, might erect His stature, and upright with front serene Govern the rest, self-knowing, and from thence Magnanimous to correspond with Heav'n, But grateful to acknowledge whence his good Descends, thither with heart and voice and eyes Directed in devotion, to adore And worship God Supreme, who made him chief Of all his works: therefore the Omnipotent Eternal Father (for where is not he Present) thus to his Son audibly spake.
Let us make now man in our image, man In our similitude, and let them rule Over the fish and fowl of sea and air, Beast of the field, and over all the Earth, And every creeping thing that creeps the ground. This said, he form'd thee, Adam, thee O man Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breath'd The breath of life; in his own image he Created thee, in the image of God Express, and thou becam'st a living soul. Male he created thee, but thy consort Female for race; then bless'd mankind, and said, Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the Earth, Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold Over fish of the sea, and fowl of the air, And every living thing that moves on the Earth. Wherever thus created, for no place Is yet distinct by name, thence, as thou know'st He brought thee into this delicious grove, This garden, planted with the trees of God, Delectable both to behold and taste; And freely all their pleasant fruit for food Gave thee, all sorts are here that all th' Earth yields, Variety without end; but of the tree Which tasted works knowledge of good and evil; Thou may'st not; in the day thou eat'st, thou di'st; Death is the penalty impos'd, beware, And govern well thy appetite, lest sin Surprise thee, and her black attendant Death. Here finish'd he, and all that he had made View'd, and behold all was entirely good; So even and morn accomplish'd the sixth day: Yet not till the Creator from his work Desisting, though unwearied, up return'd Up to the Heav'n of Heav'ns his high abode, Thence to behold this new created world Th' addition of his empire, how it show'd In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair, Answering his great idea. Up he rode Follow'd with acclamation and the sound Symphonious of ten thousand harps that tun'd Angelic harmonies: the Earth, the air Resounded, (thou remember'st, for thou heardst) The Heav'ns and all the constellations rung, The planets in their station list'ning stood, While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung, Open, ye Heav'ns, your living doors; let in The great Creator from his work return'd Magnificent, his six days' work, a world; Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deign To visit oft the dwellings of just men Delighted, and with frequent intercourse Thither will send his winged messengers On errands of supernal grace. So sung The glorious train ascending: He through Heav'n, That open'd wide her blazing portals, led To God's eternal house direct the way, A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear, Seen in the Galaxy, that Milky Way Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars. And now on Earth the seventh Evening arose in Eden, for the sun Was set, and twilight from the east came on, Forerunning night; when at the holy mount Of Heav'n's high-seated top, th' imperial throne Of Godhead, fixed for ever firm and sure, The Filial Power arriv'd, and sate him down With his great Father (for he also went Invisible, yet stay'd (such privilege Hath Omnipresence) and the work ordain'd, Author and end of all things, and from work Now resting, bless'd and hallow'd the seventh day, As resting on that day from all his work, But not in silence holy kept; the harp Had work and rested not, the solemn pipe, And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop, All sounds on fret by string or golden wire Temper'd soft tunings, intermixed with voice Choral or unison: of incense clouds Fuming from golden censers hid the mount. Creation and the six days' acts they sung, Great are thy works, Jehovah, infinite Thy power; what thought can measure thee or tongue Relate thee; greater now in thy return Than from the giant angels; thee that day Thy thunders magnifi'd; but to create Is greater than created to destroy. Who can impair thee, mighty King, or bound Thy empire? easily the proud attempt Of spirits apostate and their counsels vain Thou hast repell'd, while impiously they thought Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw The number of thy worshippers. Who seeks To lessen thee, against his purpose serves To manifest the more thy might: his evil Thou usest, and from thence creat'st more good. Witness this new-made world, another Heav'n From Heaven-gate not far, founded in view On the clear Hyaline, the glassy sea; Of amplitude almost immense, with stars Numerous, and every star perhaps a world Of destin'd habitation; but thou know'st Their seasons: among these the seat of men, Earth with her nether ocean circumfus'd, Their pleasant dwelling-place. Thrice happy men, And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanc'd, Created in his image, there to dwell And worship him, and in reward to rule Over his works, on Earth, in sea, or air, And multiply a race of worshippers Holy and just: thrice happy if they know Their happiness, and persevere upright.
So sung they, and the Empyrean rung, With Hallelujahs: Thus was Sabbath kept. And thy request think now fulfill'd, that ask'd How first this world and face of things began, And what before thy memory was done From the beginning, that posterity Informed by thee might know; if else thou seek'st Aught, not surpassing human measure, say.
BOOK VIII.
THE ARGUMENT.
Adam inquires concerning celestial motions, is doubtfully answered, and exhorted to search rather things more worthy of knowledge: Adam assents, and still desirous to detain Raphael, relates to him what he remembered since his own creation, his placing in Paradise, his talk with God concerning solitude and fit society, his first meeting and nuptials with Eve, his discourse with the angel thereupon; who after admonitions repeated departs.
THE angel ended, and in Adam's ear So charming left his voice, that he a while Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear; Then as new wak'd thus gratefully replied. What thanks sufficient, or what recompense Equal have I to render thee, divine Historian, who thus largely hast allay'd The thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsaf'd This friendly condescension to relate Things else by me unsearchable, now heard With wonder, but delight, and, as is due, With glory attributed to the high Creator; something yet of doubt remains, Which only thy solution can resolve. When I behold this goodly frame, this world Of Heav'n and Earth consisting, and compute, Their magnitudes, this Earth a spot, a grain, An atom, with the firmament compar'd And all her number'd stars, that seem to roll Spaces incomprehensible (for such Their distance argues and their swift return Diurnal) merely to officiate light Round this opacous Earth, this punctual spot, One day and night; in all their vast survey Useless besides, reasoning I oft admire, How nature wise and frugal could commit Such disproportions, with superfluous hand So many nobler bodies to create, Greater so manifold to this one use, For aught appears, and on their orbs impose Such restless revolution day by day Repeated, while the sedentary Earth, That better might with far less compass move, Serv'd by more noble than herself, attains Her end without least motion, and receives, As tribute such a sumless journey brought Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light; Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails.
So spake our sire, and by his count'nance seem'd Ent'ring on studious thoughts abstruse, which Eve Perceiving where she sat retir'd in sight, With lowliness majestic from her seat, And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers, To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom, Her nursery; they at her coming sprung And touch'd by her fair tendance gladlier grew. Yet went she not, as not with such discourse Delighted, or not capable her ear Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd, Adam relating, she sole auditress; Her husband the relater she preferr'd Before the angel, and of him to ask Chose rather; he, she knew would intermit Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses, from his lip Not words alone pleas'd her. O when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd? With goddess-like demeanour forth she went; Not unattended, for on her as queen A pomp of winning graces waited still, And from about her shot darts of desire Into all eyes to wish her still in sight. And Raphael now to Adam's doubt propos'd Benevolent and facile thus replied.
To ask or search I blame thee not, for Heav'n Is as the book of God before thee set, Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years: This to attain, whether Heav'n move or Earth, Imports not, if thou reckon right, the rest From man or angel the great Architect Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought Rather admire; or if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heav'ns Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions wide Hereafter, when they come to model Heav'n And calculate the stars, how they will wield The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive To save appearances, how gird the sphere With centric and eccentric scribbl'd o'er, Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb: Already by thy reasoning this I guess, Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest That bodies bright and greater should not serve The less not bright, nor Heav'n such journeys run, Earth sitting still, when she alone receives The benefit: consider first, that great Or bright infers not excellence: the Earth Though, in comparison of Heav'n, so small, Nor glistering, may of solid good contain More plenty than the sun that barren shines, Whose virtue on itself works no effect, But in the fruitful Earth; there first receiv'd His beams, unactive else, their vigour find. Yet not to Earth are those bright luminaries Officious, but to thee Earth's habitant. And for the Heav'n's wide circuit, let it speak The Maker's high magnificence, who built So spacious, and his line stretch'd out so far; That man may know he dwells not in his own; An edifice too large for him to fill, Lodg'd in a small partition, and the rest Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known. The swiftness of those circles attribute, Though numberless, to his omnipotence, That to corporeal substances could add Speed almost spiritual; me thou think'st not slow, Who since the morning hour set out from Heav'n Where God resides, and ere mid-day arriv'd In Eden, distance inexpressible By numbers that have name. But this I urge, Admitting motion in the Heav'ns, to show Invalid that which thee to doubt it mov'd; Not that I so affirm, though so it seem To thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth. God to remove his ways from human sense, Plac'd Heav'n from Earth so far, that earthly sight, If it presume, might err in things too high, And no advantage gain. What if the sun Be centre to the world, and other stars By his attractive virtue and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds? Their wand'ring course now high, now low, then hid, Progressive, retrograde, or standing still, In six thou see'st, and what if sev'nth to these The planet Earth, so steadfast though she seem, Insensibly three different motions move? Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe, Mov'd contrary with thwart obliquities, Or save the sun his labour, and that swift Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb suppos'd, Invisible else above all stars, the wheel Of day and night; which needs not thy belief, If Earth industrious of herself fetch day Travelling east, and with her part averse From the sun's beam meet night, her other part Still luminous by his ray. What if that light Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air, To the terrestrial moon be as a star Enlight'ning her by day, as she by night This Earth? reciprocal, if land be there, Fields and inhabitants: her spots thou see'st As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce Fruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eat Allotted there; another suns perhaps With their attendant moons thou wilt descry Communicating male and female light, Which two great sexes animate the world, Stor'd in each orb perhaps with some that live. For such vast room in nature unpossess'd By living soul, desert and desolate, Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far Down to this habitable, which returns Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. But whether thus these things, or whether not, Whether the sun predominant in Heav'n Rise on the Earth, or Earth rise on the sun, He from the east his flaming road begin, Or She from west her silent course advance With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps On her soft axle, while she paces ev'n, And bears thee soft with the smooth air along, Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid, Leave them to God above, him serve and fear; Of other creatures, as him pleases best, Wherever plac'd, let him dispose: joy thou In what he gives to thee, this Paradise And thy fair Eve; Heav'n is for thee too high To know what passes there; be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being; Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition or degree, Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd Not of Earth only but of highest Heav'n.
To whom thus Adam clear'd of doubt, replied. How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure Intelligence of Heav'n, angel serene, And freed from intricacies, taught to live, The easiest way, nor with perplexing thoughts To interrupt the sweet of life, from which God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares, And not molest us, unless we ourselves Seek them with wand'ring thoughts, and notions vain. But apt the mind or fancy is to rove Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end; Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn, That not to know at large of things remote From use, obscure and subtle, but to know That which before us lies in daily life, Is the prime wisdom, what is more, is fume, Or emptiness, or fond impertinence, And renders us in things that most concern Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek. Therefore from this high pitch let us descend A lower flight, and speak of things at hand Useful, whence haply mention may arise Of something not unseasonable to ask By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd. Thee I have heard relating what was done Ere my remembrance: now hear me relate My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard; And day is yet not spent; till then thou see'st How subtly to detain thee I devise, Inviting thee to hear while I relate, Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply: For while I sit with thee, I seem in Heav'n, And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear Than fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirst And hunger both, from labour, at the hour Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill, Though pleasant, but thy words with grace divine Imbu'd, bring to their sweetness no satiety.
To whom thus Raphael answer'd heav'nly meek, Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men, Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd Inward and outward both, his image fair: Speaking or mute all comeliness and grace Attends thee, and each word, each motion forms, Nor less think we in Heav'n of thee on Earth Than of our fellow servant, and inquire Gladly into the ways of God with man: For God we see hath honour'd thee, and set On man his equal love: say therefore on; For I that day was absent, as befell, Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure, Far on excursion toward the gates of Hell; Squar'd in full legion (such command we had) To see that none thence issu'd forth a spy, Or enemy, while God was in his work, Lest he incens'd at such eruption bold, Destruction with creation might have mix'd. Not that they durst without his leave attempt, But us he sends upon his high behests For state, as sovereign king, and to inure Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut The dismal gates, and barricado'd strong; But long ere our approaching heard within Noise, other than the sound of dance or song, Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. Glad we return'd up to the coasts of light Ere Sabbath ev'ning: so we had in charge. But thy relation now; for I attend, Pleas'd with thy words no less than thou with mine.
So spake the godlike power, and thus our sire. For man to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew? Desire with thee still longer to converse Induc'd me. As new wak'd from soundest sleep Soft on the flow'ry herb I found me laid In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun Soon dri'd, and on the reeking moisture fed. Straight toward Heav'n my wond'ring eyes I turn'd, And gaz'd a while the ample sky, till rais'd By quick instinctive motion up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet; about me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these, Creatures that liv'd, and mov'd, and walk'd, or flew, Birds on the branches warbling; all things smil'd, With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflow'd. Myself I then perus'd, and limb by limb Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran With supple joints, and lively vigour led: But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith spake, My tongue obey'd and readily could name What e'er I saw. Thou sun, said I, fair light, And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here? Not of myself; by some great Maker then, In goodness and in power preeminent; Tell me, how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that I am happier than I know. While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither, From where I first drew air, and first beheld This happy light, when answer none return'd, On a green shady bank profuse of flowers Pensive I sat me down; there gentle sleep First found me, and with soft oppression seiz'd My drowsed sense, untroubl'd, though I thought I then was passing to my former state Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve: When suddenly stood at my head a dream, Whose inward apparition gently mov'd My fancy to believe I yet had being, And liv'd: One came, methought, of shape divine, And said, thy mansion wants thee, Adam, rise, First man, of men innumerable ordain'd First Father, call'd by thee I come thy guide To the garden of bliss, thy seat prepar'd. So saying, by the hand he took me rais'd, And over fields and waters, as in air Smooth sliding without step, last led me up A woody mountain; whose high top was plain, A circuit wide, enclos'd, with goodliest trees Planted, with walks, and bowers, that what I saw Of Earth before scarce pleasant seem'd. Each tree Laden with fairest fruit that hung to the eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat; whereat I wak'd, and found Before mine eyes all real, as the dream Had lively shadow'd: Here had new begun My wand'ring, had not he who was my guide Up hither, from among the trees appear'd Presence divine, rejoicing but with awe In adoration at his feet I fell Submiss: he rear'd me, and Whom thou sought'st I am, said mildly, Author of all this thou see'st Above, or round about thee or beneath. This Paradise I give thee, count it thine To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat: Of every tree that in the garden grows Eat freely with glad heart; fear here no dearth: But of the tree whose operation brings Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith, Amid the garden by the tree of life, Remember what I warn thee, shun to taste, And shun the bitter consequence: for know, The day thou eat'st thereof, my sole command Transgress'd, inevitably thou shalt die; From that day mortal, and this happy state Shalt lose, expell'd from hence into a world Of woe and sorrow. Sternly he pronounc'd The rigid interdiction, which resounds Yet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choice Not to incur; but soon his clear aspect Return'd and gracious purpose thus renew'd. Not only these fair bounds, but all the Earth To thee and to thy race I give; as lords Possess it, and all things that therein live, Or live in sea, or air, beast, fish, and fowl. In sign whereof each bird and beast behold After their kinds; I bring them to receive From thee their names, and pay thee fealty With low subjection; understand the same Of fish within their wat'ry residence, Not hither summon'd, since they cannot change Their element to draw the thinner air. As thus he spake, each bird and beast behold Approaching two and two, these cow'ring low With blandishment, each bird stoop'd on his wing. I nam'd them, as they pass'd, and understood Their nature, with such knowledge God endu'd My sudden apprehension: but in these I found not what methought I wanted still; And to the Heav'nly vision thus presum'd.
O by what name, for thou above all these, Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher, Surpassest far my naming, how may I Adore thee, Author of this Universe, And all this good to man, for whose well-being So amply, and with hands so liberal Thou hast provided all things: but with me I see not who partakes. In solitude What happiness, who can enjoy alone, Or all enjoying, what contentment find? Thus I presumptuous; and the vision bright, As with a smile more brighten'd, thus replied.
What call'st thou solitude, is not the Earth With various living creatures, and the air Replenish'd, and all these at thy command To come and play before thee, know'st thou not Their language and their ways, they also know, And reason not contemptibly; with these Find pastime, and bear rule; thy realm is large. So spake the Universal Lord, and seem'd So ordering. I with leave of speech implor'd, And humble deprecation thus replied.
Let not my words offend thee, Heav'nly Power, My Maker, be propitious while I speak. Hast thou not made me here thy substitute, And these inferior far beneath me set? Among unequals what society Can sort, what harmony or true delight? Which must be mutual, in proportion due Giv'n and receiv'd; but in disparity The one intense, the other still remiss Cannot well suit with either, but soon prove Tedious alike: Of fellowship I speak Such as I seek, fit to participate All rational delight, wherein the brute Cannot be human consort; they rejoice Each with their kind, lion with lioness; So fitly them in pairs thou hast combin'd; Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl So well converse, nor with the ox the ape; Worse than can man with beast, and least of all. Whereto th' Almighty answer'd, not displeas'd. A nice and subtle happiness I see Thou to thyself proposest, in the choice Of thy associates, Adam, and wilt taste No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary. What think'st thou then of me, and this my state, Seem I to thee sufficiently possess'd Of happiness, or not? who am alone From all eternity, for none I know Second to me or like, equal much less. How have I then with whom to hold converse Save with the creatures which I made, and those To me inferior, infinite descents Beneath what other creatures are to thee?
He ceas'd, I lowly answer'd. To attain The height and depth of thy eternal ways All human thoughts come short, Supreme of things; Thou in thy self art perfect, and in thee Is no deficience found; not so is man, But in degree, the cause of his desire By conversation with his like to help, Or solace his defects. No need that thou Shouldst propagate, already infinite; And through all numbers absolute, though One; But man by number is to manifest His single imperfection, and beget Like of his like, his image multiplied, In unity defective, which requires Collateral love, and dearest amity. Thou in thy secrecy although alone, Best with thyself accompanied; seek'st not Social communication, yet so pleas'd, Canst raise thy creature to what height thou wilt Of union or communion, deifi'd; I by conversing cannot these erect From prone, nor in their ways complacence find. Thus I embolden'd spake, and freedom us'd Permissive, and acceptance found, which gain'd This answer from the gracious voice divine.
Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleas'd, And find thee knowing not of beasts alone, Which thou hast rightly nam'd, but of thyself, Expressing well the spirit within thee free, My image, not imparted to the brute, Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for thee Good reason was thou freely shouldst dislike, And be so minded still; I, ere thou spak'st, Knew it not good for man to be alone, And no such company as then thou saw'st Intended thee for trial only brought, To see how thou could'st judge of fit and meet? What next I bring shall please thee, be assur'd, Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self, Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire.
He ended, or I heard no more, for now My earthly by his Heav'nly overpower'd, Which it had long stood under, strain'd to the height In that celestial colloquy sublime, As with an object that excels the sense, Dazzl'd and spent, sunk down, and sought repair Of sleep, which instantly fell on me, call'd By nature as in aid, and clos'd mine eyes. Mine eyes he clos'd, but open left the cell Of fancy my internal sight, by which Abstract as in a trance methought I saw, Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape Still glorious before whom awake I stood; Who stooping open'd my left side, and took From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm, And life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the wound, But suddenly with flesh fill'd up and heal'd: The rib he form'd and fashion'd with his hands; Under his forming hands a creature grew, Manlike, but different sex, so lovely fair, That what seem'd fair in all the world, seem'd now Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contain'd And in her looks, which from that time infus'd Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before, And into all things from her air inspir'd The spirit of love and amorous delight. She disappear'd, and left me dark, I wak'd To find her, or for ever to deplore Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure: When out of hope, behold her, not far off, Such as I saw her in my dream, adorn'd With what all Earth or Heaven could bestow To make her amiable: On she came, Led by her Heav'nly Maker, though unseen, And guided by his voice nor uninform'd Of nuptial sanctity and marriage rites: Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love. I overjoy'd could not forbear aloud.
This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfill'd Thy words, Creator bounteous and benign, Giver of all things fair, but fairest this Of all thy gifts; nor enviest. I now see Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself Before me; woman is her name, of man Extracted; for this cause he shall forgo Father and mother, and to his wife adhere; And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.
She heard me thus, and though divinely brought, Yet innocence and virgin modesty, Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won, Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retir'd, The more desirable, or to say all, Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, Wrought in her so, that seeing me, she turn'd; I follow'd her, she what was honour knew, And with obsequious majesty approv'd My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower I led her blushing like the morn: all Heav'n, And happy constellations on that hour Shed their selectest influence; the Earth Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill; Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub, Disporting, till the amorous bird of night Sung spousal, and bid haste the ev'ning star On his hill top, to light the bridal lamp. Thus I have told thee all my state, and brought My story to the sum of earthly bliss Which I enjoy, and must confess to find In all things else delight indeed, but such As us'd or not, works in the mind no change, Nor vehement desire, these delicacies I mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers, Walks, and the melody of birds; but here Fair otherwise, transported I behold, Transported touch; here passion first I felt, Commotion strange, in all enjoyments else Superior and unmov'd, here only weak Against the charm of beauty's powerful glance. Or nature fail'd in me, and left some part Not proof enough such object to sustain, Or from my side subducting, took perhaps More than enough; at least on her bestow'd Too much of ornament, in outward show Elaborate, of inward less exact. For well I understand in the prime end Of nature her th' inferior, in the mind And inward faculties, which most excel, In outward also her resembling less His image who made both, and less expressing The character of that dominion giv'n O'er other creatures; yet when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say, Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best; All higher knowledge in her presence falls Degraded, wisdom in discourse with her Loses discount'nanc't, and like folly shows; Authority and reason on her wait, As one intended first, not after made Occasionally; and to consummate all, Greatness of mind and nobleness their seat Build in her loveliest, and create an awe About her, as a guard angelic plac'd. To whom the angel with contracted brow.
Accuse not nature, she hath done her part; Do thou but thine, and be not diffident Of wisdom, she deserts thee not, if thou Dismiss not her, when most thou need'st her nigh, By attributing overmuch to things Less excellent, as thou thyself perceiv'st. For what admir'st thou, what transports thee so, An outside? fair no doubt, and worthy well Thy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love, Not thy subjection: weigh with her thyself; Then value: Ofttimes nothing profits more Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right Well manag'd; of that skill the more thou know'st, The more she will acknowledge thee her head, And to realities yield all her shows: Made so adorn for thy delight the more, So awful, that with honour thou may'st love Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise, But if the sense of touch whereby mankind Is propagated seem such dear delight Beyond all other, think the same vouchsaf'd To cattle and each beast; which would not be To them made common and divulg'd, if aught Therein enjoy'd were worthy to subdue The soul of man, or passion in him move. What higher in her society thou find'st Attractive, human, rational, love still; In loving thou dost well, in passion not, Wherein true love consists not; love refines The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath his seat In reason, and is judicious, is the scale By which to heav'nly love thou may'st ascend, Not sunk in carnal pleasure, for which cause Among the beasts no mate for thee was found.
To whom thus half abash't Adam replied. Neither her outside form'd so fair, nor aught In procreation common to all kinds (Though higher of the genial bed by far, And with mysterious reverence I deem) So much delights me as those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies that daily flow From all her words and actions mix'd with love And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd Union of mind, or in us both one soul; Harmony to behold in wedded pair More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. Yet these subject not; I to thee disclose What inward thence I feel, not therefore foil'd, Who meet with various objects, from the sense Variously representing; yet still free Approve the best, and follow what I approve. To love thou blam'st me not, for love thou say'st Leads up to Heav'n, is both the way and guide; Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask; Love not the heav'nly spirits, and how their love Express they, by looks only, or do they mix Irradiance, virtual or immediate touch?
To whom the angel with a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue, Answer'd. Let it suffice thee that thou know'st Us happy, and without love no happiness. Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy'st (And pure thou wert created) we enjoy In eminence, and obstacle find none Of membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bars: Easier than air with air, if spirits embrace, Total they mix, union of pure with pure Desiring; nor restrain'd conveyance need As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul. But I can now no more; the parting sun Beyond the Earth's green cape and verdant isles Hesperian sets, my signal to depart. Be strong, live happy, and love, but first of all Him whom to love is to obey, and keep His great command; take heed lest passion sway Thy judgment to do aught, which else free will Would not admit; thine and of all thy sons The weal or woe in thee is plac'd; beware. I in thy persevering shall rejoice, And all the blest: stand fast; to stand or fall Free in thine own arbitrement it lies. Perfect within, no outward aid require; And all temptation to transgress repel.
So saying, he arose; whom Adam thus Follow'd with benediction. Since to part, Go heavenly guest, ethereal messenger, Sent from whose sovereign goodness I adore. Gentle to me and affable hath been Thy condescension, and shall be honour'd ever With grateful memory: thou to mankind Be good and friendly still, and oft return.
So parted they, the angel up to Heav'n From the thick shade, and Adam to his bower.