Book VIII
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.
BOOK IX.
THE ARGUMENT.
Satan having compassed the Earth, with meditated guile returns as a mist by Night into Paradise, enters into the Serpent sleeping. Adam and Eve in the Morning go forth to their labours, which Eve proposes to divide in several places, each labouring apart: Adam consents not, alleging the danger, lest that enemy, of whom they were forewarn'd, should attempt her found alone: Eve loath to be thought not circumspect or firm enough, urges her going apart, the rather desirous to make trial of her strength; Adam at last yields: The Serpent finds her alone; his subtle approach, first gazing, then speaking, with much flattery extolling Eve above all other creatures. Eve wondering to hear the Serpent speaks, asks how he attained to human speech and such understanding not till now; the Serpent answers, that by tasting of a certain Tree in the Garden he attained both to speech and Reason, till then void of both: Eve requires him to bring her to that Tree, and finds it to be the Tree of Knowledge forbidden: The Serpent now grown bolder, with many wiles and arguments induces her at length to eat; she pleas'd with the taste deliberates a while whether to impart thereof to Adam or not, at last brings him of the Fruit, relates what persuaded her to eat thereof: Adam at first amazed, but perceiving her lost, resolves through vehemence of love to perish with her; and extenuating the trespass, eats also of the Fruit: The Effects thereof in them both; they seek to cover their nakedness; then fall to variance and accusation of one another.
NO more of talk where God or angel guest With man, as with his friend, familiar us'd To sit indulgent, and with him partake Rural repast, permitting him the while Venial discourse unblam'd: I now must change Those notes to tragic; foul distrust, and breach Disloyal on the part of man, revolt, And disobedience: on the part of heav'n Now alienated, distance and distaste, Anger and just rebuke, and judgement giv'n, That brought into this world a world of woe, Sin and her shadow Death, and misery Death's harbinger: sad task, yet argument Not less but more heroic than the wrath Of stern Achilles on his foe pursu'd Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd, Or Neptun's ire or Juno's, that so long Perplex'd the Greek and Cytherea's son; If answerable style I can obtain Of my celestial patroness, who deigns Her nightly visitation unimplor'd, And dictates to me slumbring, or inspires Easy my unpremeditated verse: Since first this subject for heroic song Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late; Not sedulous by Nature to indite Wars, hitherto the only argument Heroic deem'd, chief mastery to dissect With long and tedious havoc fabl'd knights In battles feign'd; the better fortitude Of patience and heroic martyrdom Unsung; or to describe races and games, Or tilting furniture, emblazon'd shields, Impreses quaint, caparisons and steeds; Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights At joust and tournament; then marshal'd feast Serv'd up in hall with sewers, and seneschals; The skill of artifice or office mean, Not that which justly gives heroic name To person or to poem. me of these Nor skilled nor studious, higher argument Remaines, sufficient of it self to raise That name, unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years damp my intended wing Depressed, and much they may, if all be mine, Not hers who brings it nightly to my ear.
The sun was sunk, and after him the star Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring Twilight upon the earth, short arbiter Twixt day and night, and now from end to end Night's hemisphere had veil'd the horizon round: When Satan who late fled before the threats Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improv'd In meditated fraud and malice, bent On man's destruction, maugre what might hap Of heavier on himself, fearless return'd. By night he fled, and at midnight return'd From compassing the earth, cautious of day, Since Uriel regent of the sun descri'd His entrance, and forewarn'd the cherubim That kept their watch; thence full of anguish driv'n, The space of seven continu'd nights he rode With darkness, thrice the equinoctial line He circl'd, four times cross'd the carr of night From pole to pole, traversing each colure; On the eighth return'd, and on the coast averse From entrance or cherubic watch, by stealth Found unsuspected way. there was a place, Now not, though Sin, not Time, first wrought the change, Where Tigris at the foot of paradise Into a gulf shot under ground, till part Rose up a fountain by the tree of life; In with the river sunk, and with it rose Satan involv'd in rising mist, then sought Where to lie hid; sea he had search'd and land From Eden over Pontus, and the pool Maeotis, up beyond the river Ob; Downward as far Antarctic; and in length West from Orontes to the ocean barr'd At Darien, thence to the land where flowes Ganges and Indus: thus the orb he roam'd With narrow search; and with inspection deep Consider'd every creature, which of all Most opportune might serve his wiles, and found The serpent subtlest beast of all the field. Him after long debate, irresolute Of thoughts revolv'd, his final sentence chose Fit vessel, fittest imp of fraud, in whom To enter, and his; dark suggestions hide From sharpest sight: for in the wily snake, Whatever sleights none would suspicious mark, As from his wit and native subtlety Proceeding, which in other beasts observ'd Doubt might beget of diabolic pow'r Active within beyond the sense of brute. Thus he resolv'd, but first from inward grief His bursting passion into plaints thus pour'd:
O earth, how like to heav'n, if not preferr'd More justly, seat worthier of Gods, as built With second thoughts, reforming what was old! For what God after better worse would build? Terrestrial heav'n, danced round by other heav'ns That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps, Light above light, for thee alone, as seems, In thee concentring all their precious beams Of sacred influence: as God in heav'n Is centre▪ yet extends to all, so thou Centring receiv'st from all those orbs; in thee, Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth Of creatures animate with gradual life Of growth, sense, reason, all summ'd up in man. With what delight could I have walkt thee round, If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange Of hill, and valley, rivers, woods and plains, Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crown'd, Rocks, dens, and caves; but I in none of these Find place or refuge; and the more I see Pleasures about me, so much more I feel Torment within me, as from the hateful siege Of contraries; all good to me becomes Bane, and in heav'n much worse would be my state. But neither here seek I, no nor in heav'n To dwell, unless by mastering heav'n's supreme; Nor hope to be my self less miserable By what I seek, but others to make such As I, though thereby worse to me redound: For only in destroying I find ease. To my relentless thoughts; and him destroyd, Or won to what may work his utter loss, For whom all this was made, all this will soon Follow, as to him linkt in weal or woe, In wo then; that destruction wide may range: To me shall be the glory sole among The infernal powers, in one day to have marr'd What he Almighty styl'd, six nights and days Continu'd making, and who knows how long Before had been contriving, though perhaps Not longer than since I in one night freed From servitude inglorious well-nigh half Th' angelic name, and thinner left the throng Of his adorers▪ he to be aveng'd, And to repaire his numbers thus impair'd, Whether such virtue spent of old now fail'd More angels to create, if they at least Are his created, or to spite us more, Determin'd to advance into our room A creature form'd of earth, and him endow, Exalted from so base original, With heav'nly spoils, our spoils: what he decreed▪ He effected; man he made, and for him built Magnificent this world, and earth his seat, Him lord pronounc'd, and, O indignity! Subjected to his service angel wings, And flaming ministers to watch and tend Their earthy charge: of these the vigilance I dread, and to elude, thus wrapt in mist Of midnight vapour glide obscure, and pry In every bush and brake, where hap may find The serpent sleeping, in whose mazy folds To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. O foul descent! that I who erst contended With Gods to sit the highest, am now constrain'd Into a beast, and mixed with bestial slime, This essence to incarnate and imbrute, That to the height of deity aspir'd; But what will not ambition and revenge Descend to? who aspires must down as low As high he soard, obnoxious first or last To basest things. revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on it self recoils; Let it; I reck not, so it light well aim'd, Since higher I fall short, on him who next Provokes my envy, this new favourite Of heav'n, this man of clay, son of despite, Whom us the more to spite his maker rais'd From dust: spite then with spite is best repaid.
So saying, through each thicket dank or dry, Like a black mist low creeping, he held on His midnight search, where soonest he might find The serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found In labyrinth of many a round self-roll'd, His head the midst, well stor'd with subtle wiles: Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den, Nor nocent yet, but on the grassy herb Fearless unfear'd he slept: in at his mouth The devil enterd, and his brutal sense, In heart or head, possessing soon inspir'd With act intelligential; but his sleep Disturb'd not, waiting close th' approach of morn. Now when as sacred light began to dawn In Eden on the humid flowers, that breath'd Their morning incense, when all things that breathe, From th' earth's great altar send up silent praise To the Creator, and his nostrils fill With grateful smell, forth came the human pair And join'd their vocal worship to the choir Of creatures wanting voice, that done, partake The season, prime for sweetest scents and airs: Then commune how that day they best may ply Their growing work: for much their work outgrew The hands' dispatch of two gardening so wide. And Eve first to her husband thus began.
Adam, well may we labour still to dress This garden, still to tend plant, herb and flour, Our pleasant task enjoin'd, but till more hands Aid us, the work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint▪ what we by day Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, One night or two with wanton growth derides Tending to wild. thou therefore now advise, Or bear what to my mind first thoughts present, Let us divide our labours, thou where choice Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind The woodbine round this arbour, or direct The clasping ivy where to climb, while I In yonder spring of roses intermixed With myrtle, find what to redress till noon: For while so near each other thus all day Our task we choose, what wonder if so near Looks intervene and smiles, or object new Casual discourse draw on, which intermits Our day's work brought to little, though begun Early, and th' hour of supper comes unearn'd.
To whom mild answer Adam thus return'd. Sole Eve, associate sole, to me beyond Compare above all living creatures dear, Well hast thou motion'd, well thy thoughts employ'd How we might best fulfil the work which here God hath assign'd us, nor of me shalt pass Unprais'd: for nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote. Yet not so strictly hath our lord impos'd Labour▪ as to debar us when we need Refreshment, whether food, or talk between, Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse Of looks and smiles, for smiles from reason flow, To brute deni'd, and are of love the food, Love not the lowest end of human life. For not to irksom toil, but to delight He made us, and delight to reason join'd. These paths & bowers doubt not but our joint hands Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide As we need walk, till younger hands ere long Assist us: but if much converse perhaps Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield. For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urge sweet return. But other doubt possesses me, least harm Befall thee sever'd from me; for thou know'st What hath been warn'd us, what malicious foe Envying our happiness, and of his own Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame By sly assault; and somewhere nigh at hand Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find His wish and best advantage, us asunder, Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each To other speedy aid might lend at need; Whether his first design be to withdraw Our fealty from God, or to disturb Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss Enjoy'd by us excites his envy more; Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side That gave thee being, still shades thee and protects. The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.
To whom the virgin majesty of Eve, As one who loves, and some unkindness meets, With sweet austere composure thus reply'd,
Offspring of heav'n and earth, and all earth's lord, That such an enemy we have, who seeks Our ruin, both by thee inform'd I learn, And from the parting angel over-heard As in a shady nook I stood behind, Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers. But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt To God or thee, because we have a foe May tempt it, I expected nor to hear. His violence thou fearst not, being such, As we, not capable of death or pain, Can either not receive, or can repel. His fraud is then thy fear, which plain infers Thy equal fear that my firm faith and love Can by his fraud be shak'n or seduc't; Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast Adam, misthought of her to thee so dear?
To whom with healing words Adam replyd. Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve, For such thou art, from sin and blame entire: Not diffident of thee do I dissuade Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid Th' attempt it self, intended by our foe. For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses The tempted with dishonour foul, suppos'd Not incorruptible of faith, not proof Against temptation: thou thy self with scorn And anger wouldst resent the offer'd wrong, Though ineffectual found: misdeem not then, If such affront I labour to avert From thee alone, which on us both at once The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare, Or daring, first on me th' assault shall light. Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn; Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce Angels, nor think superfluous others' aid. I from the influence of thy looks receive Access in every virtue, in thy sight More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were Of outward strength; while shame, thou looking on, Shame to be overcome or over-reacht Would utmost vigour raise, and rais'd unite. Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel When I am present, and thy trial choose With me, best witness of thy virtue tri'd.
So spake domestick Adam in his care And matrimonial love; but Eve, who thought Less attributed to her faith sincere, Thus her reply with accent sweet renew'd.
If this be our condition, thus to dwell In narrow circuit strait'nd by a foe, Subtle or violent, we not endu'd Single with like defence, wherever met, How are we happy, still in fear of harm? But harm precedes not sin: only our foe Tempting affronts us with his foul esteem Of our integrity: his foul esteem Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns Foul on himself; then wherefore shun'd or fear'd By us? who rather double honour gain From his surmise prov'd false, find peace within, Favour from heav'n, our witness from th' event, And what is faith, love, virtue, unassayed Alone, without exterior help sustain'd? Let us not then suspect our happy state Left so imperfect by the maker wise, As not secure to single or combin'd, Frail is our happiness, if this be so, And Eden were no Eden thus expos'd.
To whom thus Adam fervently repli'd. O woman, best are all things as the will Of God ordain'd them, his creating hand Nothing imperfect or deficient left Of all that he created, much less man, Or aught that might his happy state secure, Secure from outward force; within himself The danger lies, yet lies within his power: Against his will he can receive no harm. But God left free the will, for what obeys Reason, is free, and reason he made right, But bid her well beware, and still erect, Lest by some fair appearing good surpris'd She dictate false, and misinform the will To do what God expresly hath forbid, Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoins, That I should mind thee oft, and mind thou me. Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve, Since reason not impossibly may meet Some specious object by the foe suborn'd, And fall into deception unaware, Not keeping strictest watch, as she was warn'd. Seek not temptation then, which to avoid Were better, and most likely if from me Thou sever not: trial will come unsought. Wouldst thou approve thy constancy, approve First thy obedience; th' other who can know, Not seeing thee attempted, who attest? But if thou think, trial unsought may find Us both securer than thus warn'd thou seemst, Go; for thy stay, not free, absents thee more; Go in thy native innocence, rely On what thou hast of virtue, summon all, For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine.
So spake the patriarch of mankind, but Eve Persisted, yet submiss, though last, repli'd.
With thy permission then, and thus forewarn'd Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning words Touch'd only, that our trial, when least sought, May find us both perhaps far less prepar'd, The willinger I go, nor much expect A foe so proud will first the weaker seek; So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse. Thus saying, from her husband's hand her hand Soft she withdrew, and like a wood-nymph light Oread or Dryad, or of Delia's train, Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self In gate surpass'd and goddess-like deport, Though not as she with bow and quiver arm'd, But with such gardening tools as art yet rude, Guiltless of fire had form'd, or angels brought. To Pales, or Pomona thus adorn'd, Likeliest she seem'd, Pomona when she fled Vertumnus, or to Ceres in her prime, Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove. Her long with ardent look his eye pursu'd Delighted, but desiring more her stay. Oft he to her his charge of quick return Repeated, she to him as oft engag'd To be return'd by noon amid the bower, And all things in best order to invite Noontide repast, or afternoon's repose. O much deceiv'd, much failing, hapless Eve, Of thy presum'd return! event perverse! Thou never from that hour in paradise Foundst either sweet repast, or sound repose; Such ambush hid among sweet flowers and shades Waited with hellish rancour imminent To intercept thy way, or send thee back Despoil'd of innocence, of faith, of bliss. For now, and since first break of dawn the fiend, Mere serpent in appearance, forth was come, And on his quest, where likeliest he might find The only two of mankind, but in them The whole included race, his purpos'd prey. In bower and field he sought, where any tuft Of grove or garden-plot more pleasant lay, Their tendance or plantation for delight, By fountain or by shady rivulet He sought them both, but wish'd his hap might find Eve separate, he wish'd, but not with hope Of what so seldom chanc'd, when to his wish, Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies, Veil'd in a cloud of fragrance, where she stood, Half spi'd, so thick the roses bushing round About her glow'd, oft stooping to support Each flower of slender stalk, whose head though gay Carnation, purple, azure, or spect with gold, Hung drooping unsustain'd, them she upstays Gently with myrtle band, mindless the while, Her self, though fairest unsupported flower, From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh. Nearer he drew, and many a walk travers'd Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm, Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen Among thick-wov'n arborets and flowers Imborder'd on each bank, the hand of Eve: Spot more delicious than those gardens feign'd Or of reviv'd Adonis, or renown'd Alcinous, host of old Laertes' son, Or that, not mystic, where the sapient king Held dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse. Much he the place admir'd, the person more. As one who long in populous city pent, Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farmes Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight, The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound; If chance with nymphlike step fair virgin pass, What pleasing seem'd, for her now pleases more, She most, and in her look sums all delight. Such pleasure took the serpent to behold This flowery plat, the sweet recess of Eve Thus early, thus alone; her heav'nly form Angelic, but more soft, and feminine, Her graceful innocence, her every air Of gesture or least action overaw'd His malice, and with rapine sweet bereav'd His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought: That space the evil one abstracted stood From his own evil, and for the time remain'd Stupidly good, of enmity disarm'd, Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge; But the hot hell that always in him burns, Though in mid heav'n, soon ended his delight, And tortures him now more, the more he sees Of pleasure not for him ordain'd: then soon Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thoughts Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites.
Thoughts, whither have ye led me, with what sweet Compulsion thus transported to forget What hither brought us, hate, not love, nor hope Of paradise for hell, hope here to taste Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy, Save what is in destroying, other joy To me is lost. then let me not let pass Occasion which now smiles, behold alone The woman, opportune to all attempts, Her husband, for I view far round, not nigh, Whose higher intellectual more I shun, And strength, of courage haughty, and of limb Heroic built, though of terrestrial mould, Foe not informidable, exempt from wound, I not; so much hath hell debas'd, and pain Enfeebl'd me, to what I was in heav'n. She fair, divinely fair, fit love for Gods, Not terrible, though terror be in love And beauty▪ not approach'd by stronger hate, Hate stronger, under show of love well feign'd, The way which to her ruin now I tend.
So spake the enemy of mankind, enclos'd In serpent, inmate bad, and toward Eve Address'd his way, not with indented wave, Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear, Circular base of rising folds, that tower'd Fold above fold a surging maze, his head Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes; With burnisht neck of verdant gold, erect Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass Floated redundant: pleasing was his shape, And lovely, never since of serpent kind Lovelier, not those that in Illyria chang'd Hermione and Cadmus, or the God In Epidaurus; nor to which transform'd Ammonian Jove, or Capitoline was seen, He with Olympias, this with her who bore Scipio the height of Rome. with tract oblique At first, as one who sought access, but fear'd To interrupt, side-long he works his way. As when a ship by skilful steersman wrought Nigh river's mouth or foreland, where the wind Veers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail; So varied he, and of his tortuous train Curl'd many a wanton wreath in sight of Eve, To lure her eye; she busied heard the sound Of rustling leaves, but minded not, as us'd To such disport before her through the field, From every beast, more duteous at her call, Than at Circean call the herd disguis'd. He bolder now, uncall'd before her stood; But as in gaze admiring: oft he bow'd His turret crest, and sleek enamel'd neck, Fawning, and lick'd the ground whereon she trod. His gentle dumb expression turn'd at length The eye of Eve to mark his play; he glad Of her attention gaind, with serpent tongue Organic, or impulse of vocal air, His fraudulent temptation thus began. Wonder not, sovereign mistress, if perhaps Thou canst, who art sole wonder, much less arm Thy looks, the heav'n of mildness, with disdain, Displeas'd that I approach thee thus, and gaze Insatiate, I thus single, nor have fear'd Thy awful brow, more awful thus, retir'd. Fairest resemblance of thy maker fair, Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine By gift, and thy celestial beauty adore With ravishment beheld, there best beheld Where universally admir'd; but here In this enclosure wild, these beasts among, Beholders rude, and shallow to discern Half what in thee is fair, one man except, Who sees thee? (and what is one?) who shouldst be seen A goddess among Gods, ador'd and serv'd By angels numberless, thy daily train.
So gloz'd the tempter, and his proem tun'd; Into the heart of Eve his words made way, Though at the voice much marveling; at length Not unamaz'd she thus in answer spake. What may this mean? language of man pronounced By tongue of brute, and human sense expressed? The first at least of these I thought deni'd To beasts, whom God on their creation-day Created mute to all articulate sound; The latter I demur, for in their looks Much reason, and in their actions oft appears. Thee, serpent, subtlest beast of all the field I knew, but not with human voice endu'd; Redouble then this miracle, and say, How cam'st thou speakable of mute, and how To me so friendly grown above the rest Of brutal kind, that daily are in sight? Say, for such wonder claims attention due,
To whom the guileful tempter thus reply'd. Empress of this fair world, resplendent Eve, Easy to me it is to tell thee all What thou command'st, and right thou shouldst be obey'd: I was at first as other beasts that graze The trodden herb, of abject thoughts and low, As was my food, nor aught but food discern'd Or sex, and apprehended nothing high: Till on a day roving the field, I chanc'd A goodly tree far distant to behold Loaden with fruit of fairest colours mixed, Ruddy and gold: I nearer drew to gaze; When from the boughs a savoury odour blow'n, Grateful to appetite, more pleas'd my sense Than smell of sweetest fennel or the teats Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at even, Unsuck'd of lamb or kid, that tend their play. To satisfy the sharp desire I had Of tasting those fair apples, I resolv'd Not to deferr; hunger and thirst at once, Powerful persuaders, quick'nd at the scent Of that alluring fruit, urg'd me so keen. About the mossy trunk I wound me soon, For high from ground the branches would require Thy utmost reach or Adam's: round the tree All other beasts that saw, with like desire Longing and envying stood, but could not reach. Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill I spar'd not, for such pleasure till that hour At feed or fountain never had I found. Sated at length, ere long I might perceive Strange alteration in me, to degree Of reason in my inward powers, and speech Wanted not long, though to this shape retain'd. Thenceforth to speculations high or deep I turn'd my thoughts, and with capacious mind Consider'd all things visible in heav'n, Or earth, or middle, all things fair and good; But all that fair and good in thy divine Semblance, and in thy beauties heav'nly ray United I beheld; no fair to thine Equivalent or second, which compell'd Me thus, though importune perhaps, to come And gaze, and worship thee of right declar'd Sovereign of creatures., universal dame.
So talk'd the spirited sly snake; and Eve Yet more amaz'd unwary thus reply'd.
Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in doubt The virtue of that fruit, in thee first prov'd: But say, where grows the tree, from hence how far? For many are the trees of God that grow In paradise, and various, yet unknown To us, in such abundance lies our choice, As leaves a greater store of fruit untouched, Still hanging incorruptible, till men Grow up to their provision, and more hands Help to disburden Nature of her birth.
To whom the wily adder, blithe and glad. Empress, the way is ready, and not long, Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat, Fast by a fountain, one small thicket past Of blowing myrrh and balme; if thou accept My conduct, I can bring thee thither soon.
Lead then, said Eve. he leading swiftly roll'd In tangles, and made intricate seem straight, To mischief swift. hope elevates, and joy Bright'ns his crest, as when a wand'ring fire, Compact of unctuous vapour, which the night Condenses, and the cold environs round, Kindl'd through agitation to a flame, Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends Hovering and blazing with delusive light, Misleads th' amaz'd night-wanderer from his way To boggs and mires, and oft through pond or pool, There swallow'd up and lost, from succour far. So glister'd the dire snake, and into fraud Led Eve our credulous mother, to the tree Of prohibition, root of all our woe; Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake.
Serpent, we might have spar'd our coming hither, Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess, The credit of whose virtue rest with thee, Wondrous indeed, if cause of such effects. But of this tree we may not taste nor touch; God so commanded, and left that command Sole daughter of his voice; the rest, we live Law to our selves, our reason is our law.
To whom the tempter guilefully repli'd. Indeed? hath God then said that of the fruit Of all these garden trees ye shall not eat, Yet lords declar'd of all in earth or air?
To whom thus Eve yet sinless. of the fruit Of each tree in the garden we may eat, But of the fruit of this fair tree amidst The garden, God hath said, ye shall not eat Thereof, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die.
She scarce had said, though brief, when now more The tempter, but with show of zeal and love To man, and indignation at his wrong, New part puts on, and as to passion mov'd, Fluctuates disturb'd, yet comely and in act Rais'd, as of some great matter to begin. As when of old some orator renown'd In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence Flourished, since mute, to some great cause addressed, Stood in himself collected, while each part, Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue, Sometimes in height began, as no delay Of preface brooking through his zeal of right. So standing, moving, or to height upgrown The tempter all impassion'd thus began.
O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving plant, Mother of science, now I feel thy power Within me clear, not only to discern Things in their causes, but to trace the ways Of highest agents, deem'd however wise. Queen of this universe, do not believe Those rigid threats of Death; ye shall not die: How should ye? by the fruit? it gives you life To knowledge? by the threat'ner, look on me, Me who have touch'd and tasted, yet both live, And life more perfect have attain'd than Fate Meant me, by venturing higher than my lot. Shall that be shut to man, which to the beast Is open? or will God incense his ire For such a petty trespass, and not praise Rather your dauntless virtue, whom the pain Of Death denounced, whatever thing Death be, Deterr'd not from achieving what might lead To happier life, knowledge of good and evil; Of good, how just? of evil, if what is evil Be real, why not known, since easier shun'd? God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just; Not just, not God; not fear'd then, nor obey'd: Your feare it self of Death removes the feare. Why then was this forbid? why but to awe, Why but to keep ye low and ignorant, His worshippers; he knows that in the day Ye eat thereof, your eyes that seem so clear, Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be then Op'nd and clear'd, and ye shall be as Gods, Knowing both good and evil as they know. That ye should be as Gods, since I as man, Internal man, is but proportion meet, I of brute human, ye of human Gods. So ye shall die perhaps, by putting off Human, to put on Gods, death to be wished, Though threat'nd, which no worse than this can bring. And what are Gods that man may not become As they, participating God-like food? The Gods are first, and that advantage use On our belief, that all from them proceeds; I question it, for this fair earth I see, Warm'd by the sun, producing every kind, Them nothing: if they all things, who enclos'd Knowledge of good and evil in this tree, That whoso eats thereof, forthwith attains Wisdom without their leave? and wherein lies Th' offence, that man should thus attain to know? What can your knowledge hurt him, or this tree Impart against his will it all be his? Or is it envy, and can envy dwell In heav'nly breasts? these, these and many more Causes import your need of this fair fruit. Goddess human, reach then, and freely taste.
He ended, and his words replete with guile Into her heart too easy entrance won: Fix'd on the fruit she gaz'd, which to behold Might tempt alone, and in her ears the sound Yet rung of his persuasive words, impregn'd With reason, to her seeming, and with truth; Mean while the hour of noon drew on, and wak'd An eager appetite, rais'd by the smell So savoury of that fruit, which with desire, Inclinable now grown to touch or taste, Sollicited her longing eye; yet first Pausing a while, thus to her self she mus'd.
Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits. Though kept from man, and worthy to be admir'd, Whose taste, too long forborn, at first assay Gave elocution to the mute, and taught The tongue not made for speech to speak thy praise: Thy praise he also who forbids thy use, Conceales not from us, naming thee the tree Of knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil; Forbids us then to taste, but his forbidding Commends thee more, while it infers the good By thee communicated, and our want: For good unknown, sure is not had, or had And yet unknown, is as not had at all. In plain then, what forbids he but to know, Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise? Such prohibitions bind not. but if Death Bind us with after-bands, what profits then Our inward freedom? in the day we eat Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die. How dies the serpent? he hath eat'n and lives, And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns, Irrational till then. for us alone Was death invented? or to us deni'd This intellectual food, for beasts reserv'd? For beasts it seems: yet that one beast which first Hath tasted, envies not, but brings with joy The good befall'n him, author unsuspect, Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile. What fear I than, rather what know to feare Under this ignorance of good and evil, Of God or Death, of law or penalty? Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine, Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste, Of virtue to make wise: what hinders then To reach, and feed at once both body and mind?
So saying, her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat: Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe, That all was lost. back to the thicket slunk The guilty serpent, and well might, for Eve Intent now wholly on her taste, naught else Regarded, such delight till then, as seem'd, In fruit she never tasted, whether true Or fancied so, through expectation high Of knowledge, nor was God-head from her thought. Greedily she engorg'd without restraint, And knew not eating Death: satiate at length. And height'nd as with wine, jocund and boon, Thus to her self she pleasingly began.
O sovereign, virtuous, precious of all trees In paradise, of operation blest To sapience, hitherto obscur'd, infam'd, And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end Created; but henceforth my early care, Not without song, each morning, and due praise Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease Of thy full branches offer'd free to all; Till dieted by thee I grow mature In knowledge, as the Gods who all things know; Though others envy what they cannot give; For had the gift been theirs, it had not here Thus grown. experience, next to thee I owe, Best guide; not following thee, I had remain'd In ignorance, thou op'nst wisdom's way, And giv'st access, though secret she retire. And I perhaps am secret; heav'n is high, High and remote to see from thence distinct Each thing on earth; and other care perhaps May have diverted from continual watch Our great forbidder, safe with all his spies About him. but to Adam in what sort Shall I appear? shall I to him make known As yet my change, and give him to partake Full happiness with me, or rather not, But keep the odds of knowledge in my power Without copartner? so to add what wants In female sex, the more to draw his love, And render me more equal, and perhaps, A thing not undesirable, sometime Superior; for inferior who is free? This may be well: but what if God have seen, And Death ensue? then I shall be no more, And Adam wedded to another Eve, Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct; A death to think. confirm'd then I resolve, Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe: So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life.
So saying, from the tree her step she turn'd, But first low reverence done, as to the power That dwelt within, whose presence had infus'd Into the plant sciential sap, deriv'd From nectar, drink of Gods. Adam the while Waiting desirous her return, had wove Of choicest flowers a garland to adorn Her tresses, and her rural labours crown, As reapers oft are wont their harvest queen. Great joy he promis'd to his thoughts, and new Solace in her return, so long delay'd; Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill, Misgave him; he the falt'ring measure felt; And forth to meet her went, the way she took That morn when first they parted; by the tree Of knowledge he must pass, there he her met, Scarce from the tree returning; in her hand A bough of fairest fruit that downy smil'd, New gather'd, and ambrosial smell diffus'd. To him she hasted, in her face excuse Came prologue, and apology to prompt, Which with bland words at will she thus addressed.
Hast thou not wonder'd, Adam, at my stay? Thee I have missed, and thought it long, depriv'd Thy presence, agony of love till now Not felt, nor shall be twice, for never more Mean I to try, what rash untri'd I sought, The pain of absence from thy sight. but strange Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear: This tree is not as we are told, a tree Of danger tasted, nor to evil unknown Op'ning the way, but of divine effect To open eyes, and make them Gods who taste; And hath been tasted such: the serpent wise, Or not restrain'd as we, or not obeying, Hath eat'n of the fruit, and is become, Not dead, as we are threatn'd, but thenceforth Endu'd with human voice and human sense, Reasoning to admiration, and with me Persuasively hath so prevail'd, that I Have also tasted, and have also found Th' effects to correspond, opener mine eyes, Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart, And growing up to godhead; which for thee Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise. For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss, Tedious, unshar'd with thee, and odious soon. Thou therefore also taste, that equal lot May join us, equal joy, as equal love; Lest thou not tasting, different degree Disjoin us, and I then too late renounce Deity for thee, when Fate will not permit.
Thus Eve with count'nance blithe her story told; But in her cheek distemper flushing glow'd. On th' other side, Adam, soon as he heard The fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz'd, Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax'd; From his slack hand the garland wreath'd for Eve Down dropped, and all the faded roses shed: Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length First to himself he inward silence broke.
O fairest of creation, last and best Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost, Defaced, deflower'd, and now to Death devote? Rather how hast thou yielded to transgress The strict forbiddance, how to violate The sacred fruit forbidd'n! some cursed fraud Of enemy hath beguil'd thee, yet unknown, And me with thee hath ruin'd, for with thee Certain my resolution is to die; How can I live without thee, how forgoe Thy sweet converse and love so dearly join'd, To live again in these wild woods forlorn? Should God create another Eve, and I Another rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart; no no, I feel The link of Nature draw me: flesh of flesh, Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.
So having said, as one from sad dismay Recomforted, and after thoughts disturb'd Submitting to what seem'd remediless, Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turn'd.
Bold deed thou hast presum'd, advent'rous Eve, And peril great provoked, who thus hath dar'd Had it been only coveting to eye That sacred fruit, sacred to abstinence, Much more to taste it under ban to touch. But past who can recall, or done undo? Not God omnipotent, nor Fate, yet so Perhaps thou shalt not die, perhaps the fact Is not so heinous now, foretasted fruit, Profan'd first by the serpent, by him first Made common and unhallow'd ere our taste; Nor yet on him found deadly, he yet lives, Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live as man Higher degree of life, inducement strong To us, as likely tasting to attain Proportional ascent, which cannot be But to be Gods, or angels demi-gods. Nor can I think that God, Creator wise, Though threat'ning, will in earnest so destroy Us his prime creatures, dignifi'd so high, Set over all his works, which in our fall, For us created, needs with us must fail, Dependent made; so God shall uncreate, Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour lose, Not well conceiv'd of God, who though his power Creation could repeat, yet would be loath Us to abolish, lest the adversary Triumph and say; fickle their state whom God Most favours, who can please him long; me first He ruin'd, now mankind; whom will he next? Matter of scorn, not to be given the foe, However I with thee have fix'd my lot, Certain to undergo like doom, if Death Consort with thee, Death is to me as life; So forcible within my heart I feel The bond of Nature draw me to my own, My own in thee, for what thou art is mine; Our state cannot be severd, we are one, One flesh; to lose thee were to lose my self.
So Adam, and thus Eve to him repli'd. O glorious trial of exceeding love, Illustrious evidence, example high, Engaging me to emulate, but short Of thy perfection, how shall I attain, Adam, from whose dear side I boast me sprung, And gladly of our union hear thee speak, One heart, one soul in both; whereof good proof This day affords, declaring thee resolv'd, Rather than Death or aught than Death more dread Shall separate us, linkt in love so dear, To undergo with me one guilt, one crime, If any be, of tasting this fair fruit, Whole virtue, for of good still good proceeds, Direct, or by occasion hath presented This happy trial of thy love, which else So eminently never had been known. Were it I thought Death menaced would ensue This my attempt, I would sustain alone The worst, and not perswade thee rather die Deserted, than oblige thee with a fact Pernicious to thy peace, chiefly assur'd Remarkably so late of thy so true, So faithful love unequal'd; but I feel Far otherwise th' event, not Death, but life Augmented, op'nd eyes, new hopes, new joys, Taste so divine, that what of sweet before Hath touched my sense, flat seems to this, and harsh. On my experience, Adam, freely taste, And fear of Death deliver to the winds.
So saying, she embrac'd him, and for joy Tenderly wept, much won that he his love Had so ennobl'd, as of choice to incur Divine displeasure for her sake, or Death. In recompense (for such compliance bad Such recompense best merits) from the bough She gave him of that fair enticing fruit With liberal hand: he scrupl'd not to eat Against his better knowledge, not deceiv'd, But fondly overcome with female charm. Earth trembl'd from her entrails, as again In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan, Sky lowr'd and muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completing of the mortal Sin Original; while Adam took no thought, Eating his fill, nor Eve to iterate Her former trespass fear'd, the more to soothe Him with her lov'd society, that now As with new wine intoxicated both They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel Divinity, within them breeding wings Wherewith to scorn the earth: but that false fruit Far other operation first displayed, Carnal desire enflaming, he on Eve Began to cast lascivious eyes, she him As wantonly repaid; in lust they burn: Till Adam thus 'gan Eve to dalliance move,
Eve, now I see thou art exact of taste, And elegant, of sapience no small part, Since to each meaning savour me apply, And palate call judicious; I the praise Yield thee; so well this day thou hast purvey'd. Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstain'd From this delightful fruit, nor known till now True relish, tasting; if such pleasure be In things to us forbidden, it might be wish'd, For this one tree had been forbidden ten. But come, so well refresh't, now let us play, As me is, after such delicious fare; For never did thy beauty since the day I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorn'd With all perfections, so enflame my sense With ardour to enjoy thee, fairer now Than ever, bounty of this virtuous tree.
So said he, and forbore not glance or toy Of amorous intent, well understood Of Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire. Her hand he seiz'd, and to a shady bank, Thick overhead with verdant roof imbowr'd He led her nothing loath; flowers were the couch, Pansies, and violets, and asphodel, And hyacinth, earth's freshest softest lap. There they their fill of love and love's disport Took largely, of their mutual guilt the scale, The solace of their sin, till dewy sleep Oppress'd them, wearied with their amorous play. Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit, That with exhilarating vapour bland About their spirits had play'd, and inmost powers Made err, was now exhal'd, and grosser sleep Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams Encumber'd, now had left them, up they rose As from unrest, and each the other viewing, Soon found their eyes how op'nd, and their minds How dark'nd; innocence, that as a veil Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone, Just confidence, and native righteousness And honour from about them, naked left, To guilty shame he cover'd, but his robe Uncover'd more, so rose the Danite strong Herculean Samson from the harlot-lap Of Philistean Dalilah, and wak'd Shorn of his strength, they destitute and bare Of all their virtue: silent, and in face Confounded long they sate, as struck'n mute, Till Adam, though not less than Eve abashed, At length gave utterance to these words constrain'd.
O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear To that false worm, of whomsoever taught To counterfeit man's voice, true in our fall, False in our promis'd rising; since our eyes Op'nd we find indeed, and find we know Both good and evil, good lost, and evil got, Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know, Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity, Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd, And in our faces evident the signs Of foul concupiscence; whence evil store; Even shame, the last of evils; of the first Be sure then. how shall I behold the face Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy And rapture so oft beheld? those heav'nly shapes Will dazzle now this earthly, with their blaze Insufferably bright. O might I here In solitude live savage, in some glade Obscur'd, where highest woods impenetrable To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad And brown as evening: cover me ye pines, Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs Hide me, where I may never see them more. But let us now, as in bad plight, devise What best may from the present serve to hide The parts of each for other, that seem most To shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen, Some tree whose broad smooth leaves together sewed, And girded on our loins, may cover round Those middle parts, that this new comer, Shame, There sit not, and reproach us as unclean,
So counsel'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood, there soon they chose The figtree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as at this day to Indians known In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade High overarch't, and echoing walks between; There oft the Indian herdsman shunning heat Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds At loopholes cut through; thickest shade: those leaves They gather'd, broad as Amazonian targe, And with what skill they had, together sewed, To gird their waist, vain covering if to hide Their guilt and dreaded shame; O how unlike To that first naked glory. such of late Columbus found th' American so girt With feather'd cincture, naked else and wild Among the trees on isles and woody shores. Thus fenced, and as they thought, their shame in part Cover'd, but not at rest or ease of mind, They sate them down to weep, nor only tears Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore Their inward state of mind, calm region once And full of peace, now tossed and turbulent: For understanding rul'd not, and the will Heard not her lore, both in subjection now To sensual appetite, who from beneath Usurping over sovereign reason claim'd Superior sway: from thus distemper'd breast, Adam, estrang'd in look and altered style, Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd.
Would thou hadst heark'nd to my words, and stay'd With me, as I besought thee, when that strange Desire of wand'ring this unhappy morn, I know not whence possess'd thee; we had then Remain'd still happy, not as now, despoil'd Of all our good, sham'd, naked, miserable. Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
To whom soon mov'd with touch of blame thus Eve. What words have passed thy lips, Adam severe, Imput'st thou that to my default, or will Of wand'ring, as thou call'st it, which who knows But might as ill have happ'nd thou being by, Or to thy self perhaps: hadst thou been there, Or here th' attempt, thou couldst not have discern'd Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. Was I to have never parted from thy side? As good have grown there still a lifeless rib. Being as I am, why didst not thou the head Command me absolutely not to go, Going into such danger as thou saidst? Too facile then thou didst not much gainsay, Nay didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me.
To whom then first incensed Adam repli'd, Is this the love, is this the recompense Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, expressed Immutable when thou wert lost, not I, Who might have liv'd and joy'd immortal bliss, Yet willingly chose rather Death with thee: And am I now upbraided, as the cause Of thy transgressing? not enough severe, It seems, in thy restraint: what could I more? I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold The danger, and the lurking enemy That lay in wait; beyond this had been force, And force upon free will hath here no place. But confidence then bore thee on, secure Either to meet no danger, or to find Matter of glorious trial; and perhaps I also err'd in overmuch admiring What seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought No evil durst attempt thee, but I rue That error now, which is become my crime, And thou th' accuser. thus it shall befall Him who to worth in women overtrusting Lets her will rule; restraint she will not brook, And left to her self, if evil thence ensue, She first his weak indulgence will accuse.
Thus they in mutual accusation spent The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning, And of their vain contest appear'd no end.