|
THUS they, in lowliest, plight, repentant stood | |
Praying; for from the Mercy-seat above | |
Prevenient grace descending had removed | |
The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh | |
Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breathed | 5 |
Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer322 | |
Inspired, and winged for Heaven with speedier flight | |
Than loudest oratory. Yet their port | |
Not of mean suitors; nor important less | |
Seemed their petition than when the ancient Pair | 10 |
In fables old, less ancient yet than these, | |
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore | |
The race of mankind drowned, before the shrine | |
Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayers | |
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious winds | 15 |
Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they passed | |
Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then, clad | |
With incense, where the Golden Altar fumed, | |
By their great Intercessor, came in sight | |
Before the Fathers Throne. Them the glad Son | 20 |
Presenting thus to intercede began: | |
See, Father, what first-fruits on Earth are sprung | |
From thy implanted grace in Manthese sighs | |
And prayers, which in this golden censer, mixed | |
With incense, I, thy priest, before thee bring; | 25 |
Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed | |
Sown with contribution in his heart, than those | |
Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees | |
Of Paradise could have produced, ere fallen | |
From innocence. Now, therefore, bend thine ear | 30 |
To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute; | |
Unskilful with what words to pray, let me | |
Interpret for him, me his Advocate | |
And propitiation; all his works on me, | |
Good or not good, ingraft; my merit those | 35 |
Shall perfet, and for these my death shall pay. | |
Accept me, and in me from these receive | |
The smell of peace toward Mankind; let him live, | |
Before thee reconciled, at least his days | |
Numbered, though sad, till death, his doom (which I | 40 |
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse), | |
To better life shall yield him, where with me | |
All my redeemed may dwell in joy and bliss, | |
Made one with me, as I with thee am one. | |
To whom the Father, without cloud, serene: | 45 |
All thy request for Man, accepted Son, | |
Obtain; all thy request was my decree. | |
But longer in that Paradise to dwell | |
The law I gave to Nature him forbids; | |
Those pure immortal elements, that know | 50 |
No gross, no unharmonious mixture foul, | |
Eject him, tainted now, and purge him off, | |
As a distemper, gross, to air as gross, | |
And mortal food, as may dispose him best | |
For dissolution wrought by sin, that first | 55 |
Distempered all things, and of incorrupt | |
Corrupted. I, at first, with two fair gifts | |
Created him endowedwith Happiness | |
And Immortality; that fondly lost, | |
This other served but to eternize woe, | 60 |
Till I provided Death: so Death becomes | |
His final remedy, and, after life | |
Tried in sharp tribulation, and refined | |
By faith and faithful works, to second life, | |
Waked in the renovation of the just, | 65 |
Resigns him up with Heaven and Earth renewed. | |
But let us call to synod all the Blest | |
Through Heavens wide bounds; from them I will not hide | |
My judgmentshow with Mankind I proceed, | |
As how with peccant Angels late they saw, | 70 |
And in their state, though firm, stood more confirmed. | |
He ended, and the Son gave signal high | |
To the bright Minister that watched. He blew | |
His trumpet, heard in Oreb since perhaps | |
When God descended, and perhaps once more | 75 |
To sound at general doom. The angelic blast | |
Filled all the regions: from their blissful bowers | |
Of amarantin shade, fountain or spring, | |
By the waters of life, whereer they sate | |
In fellowships of joy, the Sons of Light | 80 |
Hasted, resorting to the summons high, | |
And took their seats, till from his Throne supreme | |
The Almighty thus pronounced his sovran will: | |
O Sons, like one of us Man is become | |
To know both Good and Evil, since his taste | 85 |
Of that defended Fruit; but let him boast | |
His knowledge of good lost and evil got, | |
Happier had it sufficed him to have known | |
Good by itself and evil not at all. | |
He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite | 90 |
My motions in him; longer than they move, | |
His heart I know how variable and vain, | |
Selfleft. Lest, therefore, his now bolder hand | |
Reach also of the Tree of Life, and eat, | |
And live for ever, dream at least to live | 95 |
For ever, to remove him I decree, | |
And send him from the Garden forth, to till | |
The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil, | |
Michael, this my behest have thou in charge: | |
Take to thee from among the Cherubim | 100 |
Thy choice of flaming warriors, lest the Fiend, | |
Or in behalf of Man, or to invade | |
Vacant possessions, some new trouble raise; | |
Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God | |
Without remorse drive out the sinful pair, | 105 |
From hallowed ground the unholy, and denounce | |
To them, and to their progeny, from thence | |
Perpetual banishment. Yet, lest they faint | |
At the sad sentence rigorously urged | |
(For I behold them softened, and with tears | 110 |
Bewailing their excess), all terror hide. | |
If patiently thy bidding they obey, | |
Dismiss them not disconsolate reveal | |
To Adam what shall come in future days, | |
As I shall thee enlighten; intermix | 115 |
My covenant in the Womans seed renewed. | |
So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet in peace; | |
And on the east side of the Garden place, | |
Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs, | |
Cherubic watch, and of a Sword the flame | 120 |
Widewaving, all approach far off to fright, | |
And guard all passage to the Tree of life; | |
Lest Paradise a receptácle prove | |
To Spirits foul, and all my trees their prey, | |
With whose stolen fruit Man once more to delude. | 125 |
He ceased, and the Archangelic Power prepared | |
For swift descent; with him the cohort bright | |
Of watchful Cherubim. Four faces each | |
Had, like a double Janus; all their shape | |
Spangled with eyes more numerous than those | 130 |
Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drowse, | |
Charmed with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed | |
Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile, | |
To resalute the World with sacred light, | |
Leucothea waked, and with fresh dews imbalmed | 135 |
The Earth, when Adam and first matron Eve | |
Had ended now their orisons, and found | |
Strength added from above, new hope to spring | |
Out of despair, joy, but with fear yet linked; | |
Which thus to Eve his welcome words renewed: | 140 |
Eve, easily may faith admit that all | |
The good which we enjoy from Heaven descends; | |
But that from us aught should ascend to Heaven | |
So prevalent as to concern the mind | |
Of God high-blest, or to incline his will, | 145 |
Hard to belief may seem. Yet this will prayer, | |
Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne | |
Even to the seat of God. For, since I sought | |
By prayer the offended Deity to appease, | |
Kneeled and before him humbled all my heart, | 150 |
Methought I saw him placable and mild, | |
Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew | |
That I was heard with favour; peace returned | |
Home to my breast, and to my memory | |
His promise that thy seed shall bruise our Foe; | 155 |
Which, then not minded in dismay, yet now | |
Assures me that the bitterness of death | |
Is past, and we shall live. Whence hail to thee! | |
Eve rightly called, Mother of all Mankind, | |
Mother of all things living, since by thee | 160 |
Man is to live, and all things live for Man. | |
To whom thus Eve with sad demeanour meek: | |
Ill-worthy I such title should belong | |
To me transgressor, who, for thee ordained | |
A help, became thy snare; to me reproach | 165 |
Rather belongs, distrust and all dispraise. | |
But infinite in pardon was my Judge, | |
That I, who first brought death on all, am graced | |
The source of life; next favourable thou, | |
Who highly thus to entitle me voutsafst, | 170 |
Far other name deserving. But the field | |
To labour calls us, now with sweat imposed, | |
Though after sleepless night; for see! the Morn, | |
All unconcerned with our unrest, begins | |
Her rosy progress smiling. Let us forth, | 175 |
I never from thy side henceforth to stray, | |
Whereer our days work lies, though now enjoined | |
Laborious, till day droop. While here we dwell, | |
What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks? | |
Here let us live, though in fallen state, content. | 180 |
So spake, so wished, much-humbled Eve; but Fate | |
Subscribed not. Nature first gave signs, impressed | |
On bird, beast, airair suddenly eclipsed, | |
After short blush of morn. Nigh in her sight | |
The bird of Jove, stooped from his aerie tour, | 185 |
Two birds of gayest plume before him drove; | |
Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, | |
First hunter then, pursued a gentle brace, | |
Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; | |
Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. | 190 |
Adam observed, and, with his eye the chase | |
Pursuing, not unmoved to Eve thus spake: | |
O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, | |
Which Heaven by these mute signs in Nature shews, | |
Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn | 195 |
Us, haply too secure of our discharge | |
From penalty because from death released | |
Some days: how long, and what till then our life, | |
Who knows, or more than this, that we are dust, | |
And thither must return, and be no more? | 200 |
Why else this double object in our sight, | |
Of flight pursued in the air and oer the ground | |
One way the self-same hour? Why in the east | |
Darkness ere days mid-course, and morning-light | |
More orient in yon western cloud, that draws | 205 |
Oer the blue firmament a radiant white, | |
And slow descends, with something Heavenly fraught? | |
He erred not; for, by this, the Heavenly bands | |
Down from a sky of jasper lighted now | |
In Paradise, and on a hill made halt | 210 |
A glorious Apparition, had not doubt | |
And carnal fear that day dimmed Adams eye. | |
Not that more glorious, when the Angels met | |
Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw | |
The field pavilioned with his guardians bright; | 215 |
Nor that which on the flaming Mount appeared | |
In Dothan, covered with a camp of fire, | |
Against the Syrian king, who, to surprise | |
One man, assassin-like, had levied war, | |
War unproclaimed. The princely Hierarch | 220 |
In their bright stand there left his Powers to seize | |
Possession of the Garden; he alone, | |
To find where Adam sheltered, took his way, | |
Not unperceived of Adam; who to Eve, | |
While the great Visitant approached, thus spake: | 225 |
Eve, now expect great tidings, which, perhaps, | |
Of us will soon determine, or impose | |
New laws to be observed; for I descry, | |
From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill, | |
One of the Heavenly host, and, by his gait, | 230 |
None of the meanestsome great Potentate | |
Or of the Thrones above, such majesty | |
Invests him coming; yet not terrible, | |
That I should fear, nor sociably mild, | |
As Raphael, that I should much confide, | 235 |
But solemn and sublime; whom, not to offend, | |
With reverence I must meet, and thou retire. | |
He ended; and the Archangel soon drew nigh, | |
Not in his shape celestial, but as man | |
Clad to meet man. Over his lucid arms | 240 |
A military vest of purple flowed, | |
Livelier than Meliban, or the grain | |
Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old | |
In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof. | |
His starry helm unbuckled shewed him prime | 245 |
In manhood where youth ended; by his side, | |
As in glistering zodiac, hung the sword, | |
Satans dire dread, and in his hand the spear. | |
Adam bowed low; he, kingly, from his state | |
Inclined not, but his coming thus declared: | 250 |
Adam, Heavens high behest no preface needs. | |
Sufficient that thy prayers are heard, and Death, | |
Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, | |
Defeated of his seizure many days, | |
Given thee of grace, wherein thou mayst repent, | 255 |
And one bad act with many deeds well done | |
Mayst cover. Well may then thy Lord, appeased, | |
Redeem thee quite from Deaths rapacious claim; | |
But longer in this Paradise to dwell | |
Permits not. To remove thee I am come, | 260 |
And send thee from the Garden forth, to till | |
The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil. | |
He added not; for Adam, at the news | |
Heart-strook, with chilling gripe of sorrow stood, | |
That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen | 265 |
Yet all had heard, with audible lament | |
Discovered soon the place of her retire: | |
O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death! | |
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave | |
Thee, native soil? these happy walks and shades, | 270 |
Fit haunt of Gods, where I had hope to spend, | |
Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day | |
That must be mortal to us both? O flowers, | |
That never will in other climate grow, | |
My early visitation, and my last | 275 |
At even, which I bred up with tender hand | |
From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, | |
Who now shall rear ye to the Sun, or rank | |
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount? | |
Thee, lastly, nuptial bower, by me adorned | 280 |
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee | |
How shall I part, and whither wander down | |
Into a lower world, to this obscure | |
And wild? How shall we breathe in other air | |
Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits? | 285 |
Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild: | |
Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign | |
What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart, | |
Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine. | |
Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes | 290 |
Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound; | |
Where he abides, think there thy native soil. | |
Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp | |
Recovering, and his scattered spirits returned, | |
To Michael thus his humble words addressed: | 295 |
Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named | |
Of them the highestfor such of shape may seem | |
Prince above princesgently hast thou told | |
Thy message, which might else in telling wound, | |
And in performing end us. What besides | 300 |
Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, | |
Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring | |
Departure from this happy place, our sweet | |
Recess, and only consolation left | |
Familiar to our eyes; all places else | 305 |
Inhospitable appear, and desolate, | |
Nor knowing us, nor known. And, if by prayer | |
Incessant I could hope to change the will | |
Of Him who all things can, I would not cease | |
To weary him with my assiduous cries; | 310 |
But prayer against his absolute decree | |
No more avails than breath against the wind, | |
Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth: | |
Therefore to his great bidding I submit. | |
This most afflicts methat, departing hence, | 315 |
As from his face I shall be hid, deprived | |
His blessed countenance. Here I could frequent, | |
With worship, place by place where he voutsafed | |
Presence Divine, and to my sons relate, | |
On this mount He appeared; under this tree | 320 |
Stood visible; among these pines his voice | |
I heard; here with him at this fountain talked. | |
So many grateful altars I would rear | |
Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone | |
Of lustre from the brook, in memory | 325 |
Or monument to ages, and thereon | |
Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowers. | |
In yonder nether world where shall I seek | |
His bright appearances, or footstep trace? | |
For, though I fled him angry, yet, recalled | 330 |
To life prolonged and promised race, I now | |
Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts | |
Of glory, and far off his steps adore. | |
To whom thus Michael, with regard benign: | |
Adam, thou knowst Heaven his, and all the Earth, | 335 |
Not this rock only; his omnipresence fills | |
Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, | |
Fomented by his virtual power and warmed. | |
All the Earth he gave thee to possess and rule, | |
No despicable gift; surmise not, then, | 340 |
His presence to these narrow bounds confined | |
Of Paradise or Eden. This had been | |
Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread | |
All generations, and had hither come, | |
From all the ends of the Earth, to celebrate | 345 |
And reverence thee their great progenitor. | |
But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down | |
To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: | |
Yet doubt not but in valley and in plain | |
God is, as here, and will be found alike | 350 |
Present, and of his presence many a sign | |
Still following thee, still compassing thee round | |
With goodness and paternal love, his face | |
Express, and of his steps the track divine. | |
Which that thou mayst believe, and be confirmed | 355 |
Ere thou from hence depart, know I am sent | |
To shew thee what shall come in future days | |
To thee and to thy offspring. Good with bad | |
Expect to hear, supernal grace contending | |
With sinfulness of menthereby to learn | 360 |
True patience, and to temper joy with fear | |
And pious sorrow, equally inured | |
By moderation either state to bear, | |
Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead | |
Safest thy life, and best prepared endure | 365 |
Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend | |
This hill; let Eve (for I have drenched her eyes) | |
Here sleep below while thou to foresight wakst, | |
As once thou sleptst while she to life was formed. | |
To whom thus Adam gratefully replied: | 370 |
Ascend, I follow thee, safe Guide, the path | |
Thou leadst me, and to the hand of Heaven submit, | |
However chasteningto the evil turn | |
My obvious breast, arming to overcome | |
By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, | 375 |
If so I may attain. So both ascend | |
In the Visions of God. It was a hill, | |
Of Paradise the highest, from whose top | |
The hemisphere of Earth is clearest ken | |
Stretched out to the amplest reach of prospect lay. | 380 |
Not higher that hill, nor wider looking ground, | |
Whereon for different cause the Tempter set | |
Our second Adam, in the wilderness, | |
To shew him all Earths kingdoms and their glory. | |
His eye might there command wherever stood | 385 |
City of old or modern fame, the seat | |
Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls | |
Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, | |
And Samarchand by Oxus, Temirs throne, | |
To Pacquin, of Sinæan kings, and thence | 390 |
To Agra and Lahor of Great Mogul, | |
Down to the golden Chersonese, or where | |
The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since | |
In Hispahan, or where the Russian Ksar | |
In Mosco, or the Sultan in Bizance, | 395 |
Turchestanborn; nor could his eye not ken | |
The empire of Negus to his utmost port | |
Ercoco, and the less maritime kings, | |
Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, | |
And Sofala (thought Ophir), to the realm | 400 |
Of Congo, and Angola fardest south, | |
Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount, | |
The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, | |
Marocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen; | |
On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway, | 405 |
The world: in spirit perhaps he also saw | |
Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume, | |
And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat | |
Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoiled | |
Guiana, whose great city Geryons sons | 410 |
Call El Dorado. But to nobler sights | |
Michael from Adams eyes the film removed | |
Which that false fruit that promised clearer sight | |
Had bred; then purged with euphrasy and rue | |
The visual nerve, for he had much to see, | 415 |
And from the well of life three drops instilled. | |
So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, | |
Even to the inmost seat of mental sight, | |
That Adam, now enforced to close his eyes, | |
Sunk down, and all his spirits became intranced. | 420 |
But him the gentle Angel by the hand | |
Soon raised, and his attention thus recalled: | |
Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold | |
The effects which thy original crime hath wrought | |
In some to spring from thee, who never touched | 425 |
The excepted Tree, nor with the Snake conspired, | |
Nor sinned thy sin, yet from that sin derive | |
Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds. | |
His eyes he opened, and beheld a field, | |
Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves | 430 |
New-reaped, the other part sheep-walks and folds: | |
I the midst an altar as the landmark stood, | |
Rustic, of grassy sord. Thither anon | |
A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought | |
First-fruits, the green ear and the yellow sheaf, | 435 |
Unculled, as came to hand. A shepherd next, | |
More meek, came with the firstlings of his flock, | |
Choicest and best; then, sacrificing, laid | |
The inwards and their fat, with incense strewed, | |
On the cleft wood, and all due rites performed. | 440 |
His offering soon propitious fire from heaven | |
Consumed, with nimble glance and grateful steam; | |
The others not, for his was not sincere: | |
Whereat he inly raged, and, as they talked, | |
Smote him into the midriff with a stone | 445 |
That beat out life; he fell, and, deadly pale, | |
Groaned out his soul, with gushing blood effused. | |
Much at that sight was Adam in his heart | |
Dismayed, and thus in haste to the Angel cried: | |
O Teacher, some great mischief hath befallen | 450 |
To that meek man, who well had sacrificed: | |
Is piety thus and pure devotion paid? | |
To whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied: | |
These two are brethren, Adam, and to come | |
Out of thy loins. The unjust the just hath slain, | 455 |
For envy that his brothers offering found | |
From Heaven acceptance; but the bloody fact | |
Will be avenged, and the others faith approved | |
Lose no reward, though here thou see him die, | |
Rowling in dust and gore. To which our Sire: | 460 |
Alas, both for the deed and for the cause! | |
But have I now seen Death? Is this the way | |
I must return to native dust? O sight | |
Of terror, foul and ugly to behold! | |
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel! | 465 |
To whom thus Michael:Death thou hast seen | |
In his first shape on Man; but many shapes | |
Of Death, and many are the ways that lead | |
To his grim caveall dismal, yet to sense | |
More terrible at the entrance than within. | 470 |
Some, as thou sawst, by violent stroke shall die, | |
By fire, flood, famine; by intemperance more | |
In meats and drinks, which on the Earth shall bring | |
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew | |
Before thee shall appear, that thou mayst know | 475 |
What misery the inabstinence of Eve | |
Shall bring on me. Immediately a place | |
Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark; | |
A lazar-house it seemed, wherein were laid | |
Numbers of all diseasedall maladies | 480 |
Of ghastly spasm, of racking torture, qualms | |
Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, | |
Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, | |
Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, | |
Dæmoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy, | 485 |
And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, | |
Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, | |
Dropsies and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. | |
Dire was the tossing, deep the groans; Despair | |
Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch; | 490 |
And over them triumphant Death his dart | |
Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked | |
With vows, as their chief good and final hope. | |
Sight so deform what heart of rock could long | |
Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept, | 495 |
Though not of woman born: compassion quelled | |
His best of man, and gave him up to tears | |
A space, till firmer thoughts restrained excess, | |
And, scarce recovering words, his plaint renewed: | |
O miserable Mankind, to what fall | 500 |
Degraded, to what wretched state reserved! | |
Better end here unborn. Why is life given | |
To be thus wrested from us? rather why | |
Obtruded on us thus? who, if we knew | |
What we receive would either not accept | 505 |
Life offered, or soon beg to lay it down, | |
Glad to be so dismissed in peace. Can thus | |
The image of God in Man, created once | |
So goodly and erect, though faulty since, | |
To such unsightly sufferings be debased | 510 |
Under inhuman pains? Why should not Man, | |
Retaining still divine similitude | |
In part, from such deformities be free, | |
And for his Makers image sake exempt? | |
Their Makers image, answered Michael, then | 515 |
Forsook them, when themselves they vilified | |
To serve ungoverned Appetite, and took | |
His image whom they serveda brutish vice, | |
Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. | |
Therefore so abject is their punishment, | 520 |
Disfiguring not Gods likeness, but their own; | |
Or, if his likeness, by themselves defaced | |
While they pervert pure Natures healthful rules | |
To loathsome sicknessworthily, since they | |
Gods image did not reverence in themselves. | 525 |
I yield it just, said Adam, and submit. | |
But is there yet no other way, besides | |
These painful passages, how we may come | |
To death, and mix with our connatural dust? | |
There is, said Michael, if thou well observe | 530 |
The rule of Not too much, by temperance taught | |
In what thou eatst and drinkst, seeking from thence | |
Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, | |
Till many years over thy head return. | |
So mayst thou live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop | 535 |
Into thy mothers lap, or be with ease | |
Gathered, not harshly plucked, for death mature. | |
This is old age; but then thou must outlive | |
Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change | |
To withered, weak, and grey; thy senses then, | 540 |
Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgo | |
To what thou hast; and, for the air of youth, | |
Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign | |
A melancholy damp of cold and dry, | |
To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume | 545 |
The balm of life. To whom our Ancestor: | |
Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong | |
Life muchbent rather how I may be quit, | |
Fairest and easiest, of this cumbrous charge, | |
Which I must keep till my appointed day | 550 |
Of rendering up, and patiently attend | |
My dissolution. Michael replied: | |
Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou livst | |
Live well, how long or short permit to Heaven. | |
And now prepare thee for another sight. | 555 |
He looked, and saw a spacious plain, whereon | |
Were tents of various hue: by some were herds | |
Of cattle grazing: others whence the sound | |
Of instruments that made melodious chime | |
Was heard, of harp and organ, and who moved | 560 |
Their stops and chords was seen: his volant touch | |
Instinct through all proportions low and high | |
Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue. | |
In other part stood one who, at the forge | |
Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brass | 565 |
Had melted (whether found where casual fire | |
Had wasted woods, on mountain or in vale, | |
Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot | |
To some caves mouth, or whether washed by stream | |
From underground); the liquid ore he drained | 570 |
Into fit moulds prepared; from which he formed | |
First his own tools, then what might else be wrought | |
Fusil or graven in metal. After these, | |
But on the hither side, a different sort | |
From the high neighbouring hills, which was their seat, | 575 |
Down to the plain descended: by their guise | |
Just men they seemed, and all their study bent | |
To worship God aright, and know his works | |
Not hid; nor those things last which might preserve | |
Freedom and peace to men. They on the plain | 580 |
Long had not walked when from the tents behold | |
A bevy of fair women, richly gay | |
In gems and wanton dress! to the harp they sung | |
Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on. | |
The men, though grave, eyed them, and let their eyes | 585 |
Rove without rein, till, in the amorous net | |
Fast caught, they liked, and each his liking chose. | |
And now of love they treat, till the evening-star, | |
Loves harbinger, appeared; then, all in heat, | |
They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke | 590 |
Hymen, then first to marriage rites invoked: | |
With feast and music all the tents resound. | |
Such happy interview, and fair event | |
Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flowers, | |
And charming symphonies, attached the heart | 595 |
Of Adam, soon inclined to admit delight, | |
The bent of Nature; which he thus expressed: | |
True opener of mine eyes, prime Angel blest, | |
Much better seems this vision, and more hope | |
Of peaceful days portends, than those two past: | 600 |
Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse; | |
Here Nature seems fulfilled in all her ends. | |
To whom thus Michael:Judge not what is best | |
By pleasure, though to Nature seeming meet, | |
Created, as thou art, to nobler end, | 605 |
Holy and pure, conformity divine. | |
Those tents thou sawst so pleasant were the tents | |
Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race | |
Who slew his brother: studious they appear | |
Of arts that polish life, inventors rare; | 610 |
Unmindful of their Maker, though his Spirit | |
Taught them; but they his gifts acknowledged none. | |
Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget; | |
For that fair female troop thou sawst, that seemed | |
Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, | 615 |
Yet empty of all good wherein consists | |
Womans domestic honour and chief praise; | |
Bred only and completed to the taste | |
Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, | |
To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye: | 620 |
To these that sober race of men, whose lives | |
Religious titled them the Sons of God, | |
Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame, | |
Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles | |
Of these fair atheists, and now swim in joy | 625 |
(Erelong to swim at large) and laugh; for which | |
The world erelong a world of tears must weep. | |
To whom thus Adam, of short joy bereft: | |
O pity and shame, that they who to live well | |
Entered so fair should turn aside to tread | 630 |
Paths indirect, or in the midway faint! | |
But still I see the tenor of Mans woe | |
Holds on the same, from Woman to begin. | |
From Mans effeminate slackness it begins, | |
Said the Angel, who should better hold his place | 635 |
By wisdom, and superior gifts received. | |
But now prepare thee for another scene. | |
He looked, and saw wide territory spread | |
Before himtowns, and rural works between, | |
Cities of men with lofty gates and towers, | 640 |
Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war, | |
Giants of mighty bone and bold emprise. | |
Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, | |
Single or in array of battle ranged | |
Both horse and foot, nor idly mustering stood. | 645 |
One way a band select from forage drives | |
A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine, | |
From a fat meadow-ground, or fleecy flock, | |
Ewes and their bleating lambs, over the plain, | |
Their booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly, | 650 |
But call in aid, which makes a bloody fray: | |
With cruel tournament the squadrons join; | |
Where cattle pastured late, now scattered lies | |
With carcasses and arms the ensanguined field | |
Deserted. Others to a city strong | 655 |
Lay siege, encamped, by battery, scale, and mine, | |
Assaulting; others from the wall defend | |
With dart and javelin, stones and sulphurous fire; | |
On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds. | |
In other parts the sceptred haralds call | 660 |
To council in the city-gates: anon | |
Grey-headed men and grave, with warriors mixed, | |
Assemble, and harangues are heard; but soon | |
In factious opposition, till at last | |
Of middle age one rising, eminent | 665 |
In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong, | |
Of justice, of religion, truth, and peace, | |
And judgment from above: him old and young | |
Exploded, and had seized with violent hands, | |
Had not a cloud descending snatched him thence, | 670 |
Unseen amid the throng. So violence | |
Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law, | |
Through all the plain, and refuge none was found. | |
Adam was all in tears; and to his guide | |
Lamenting turned full sad:Oh, what are these? | 675 |
Deaths ministers, not men! who thus deal death | |
Inhumanly to men, and multiply | |
Ten thousandfold the sin of him who slew | |
His brother; for of whom such massacre | |
Make they but of their brethren, men of men? | 680 |
But who was that just man, whom had not Heaven | |
Rescued, had in his righteousness been lost? | |
To whom thus Michael:These are the product | |
Of those ill-mated marriages thou sawst, | |
Where good with bad were matched; who of themselves | 685 |
Abhor to join, and, by imprudence mixed, | |
Produce prodigious births of body or mind. | |
Such were these Giants, men of high renown; | |
For in those days might only shall be admired, | |
And valour and heroic virtue called. | 690 |
To overcome in battle, and subdue | |
Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite | |
Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch | |
Of human glory, and, for glory done, | |
Of triumph to be styled great conquerors, | 695 |
Patrons of mankind, gods, and sons of gods | |
Destroyers rightlier called, and Plagues of men. | |
Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth, | |
And what most merits fame in silence hid. | |
But he, the seventh from thee, whom thou beheldst | 700 |
The only righteous in a world perverse, | |
And therefore hated, therefore so beset | |
With foes, for daring single to be just, | |
And utter odious truth, that God would come | |
To judge them with his Saintshim the Most High, | 705 |
Rapt in a balmy cloud, with wingèd steeds, | |
Did, as thou sawst, receive, to walk with God | |
High in salvation and the climes of bliss, | |
Exempt from death, to show thee what reward | |
Awaits the good, the rest what punishment; | 710 |
Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold. | |
He looked, and saw the face of things quite changed. | |
The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar; | |
All now was turned to jollity and game, | |
To luxury and riot, feast and dance, | 715 |
Marrying or prostituting, as befell, | |
Rape or adultery, where passing fair | |
Allured them; thence form cups to civil broils. | |
At length a reverend Sire among them came, | |
And of their doings great dislike declared, | 720 |
And testified against their ways. He oft | |
Frequented their assemblies, whereso met, | |
Triumphs or festivals, and to them preached | |
Conversion and repentance, as to souls | |
In prison, under judgments imminent; | 725 |
But all in vain. Which when he saw, he ceased | |
Contending, and removed his tents far off; | |
Then, from the mountain hewing timber tall, | |
Began to build a Vessel of huge bulk, | |
Measured by cubit, length, and breadth, and highth, | 730 |
Smeared round with pitch, and in the side a door | |
Contrived, and of provisions laid in large | |
For man and beast: when lo! a wonder strange! | |
Of every beast, and bird, and insect small | |
Came sevens and pairs, and entered in, as taught | 735 |
Their order; last, the Sire and his three sons, | |
With their four wives; and God made fast the door. | |
Meanwhile the South-wind rose, and, with black wings | |
Wide-hovering, all the clouds together drove | |
From under heaven; the hills to their supply | 740 |
Vapour, and exhalation dusk and moist, | |
Sent up amain; and now the thickened sky | |
Like a dark ceiling stood: down rushed the rain | |
Impetuous, and continued till the earth | |
No more was seen. The floating Vessel swum | 745 |
Uplifted, and secure with beaked prow | |
Rode tilting oer the waves; all dwellings else | |
Flood overwhelmed, and them with all their pomp | |
Deep under water rowled; sea covered sea, | |
Sea without shore: and in their palaces, | 750 |
Where luxury late reigned, seamonsters whelped | |
And stabled: of mankind, so numerous late, | |
All left in one small bottom swum imbarked. | |
How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold | |
The end of all thy offspring, end so sad, | 755 |
Depopulation! Thee another flood, | |
Of tears and sorrow a flood thee also drowned, | |
And sunk thee as thy sons; till, gently reared | |
By the Angel, on thy feet thou stoodst at last, | |
Though comfortless, as when a father mourns | 760 |
His children, all in view destroyed at once, | |
And scarce to the Angel utterdst thus thy plaint: | |
O Visions ill foreseen! Better had I | |
Lived ignorant of futureso had borne | |
My part of evil only, each days lot | 765 |
Enough to bear. Those now that were dispensed | |
The burden of many ages on me light | |
At once, by my foreknowledge gaining birth | |
Abortive, to torment me, ere their being, | |
With thought that they must be. Let no man seek | 770 |
Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall | |
Him or his childrenevil, he may be sure, | |
Which neither his foreknowing can prevent, | |
And he the future evil shall no less | |
In apprehension than in substance feel | 775 |
Grievous to bear. But that care now is past; | |
Man is not whom to warn; those few escaped | |
Famine and anguish will at last consume, | |
Wandering that watery desert. I had hope, | |
When violence was ceased and war on Earth, | 780 |
All would have then gone well, peace would have crowned | |
With length of happy days the race of Man; | |
But I was far deceived, for now I see | |
Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste. | |
How comes it thus? Unfold, Celestial Guide, | 785 |
And whether here the race of Man will end. | |
To whom thus Michael:Those whom last thou sawst | |
In triumph and luxurious wealth are they | |
First seen in acts of powers eminent | |
And great exploits, but of true virtue void; | 790 |
Who, having split much blood, and done much waste, | |
Subduing nations, and achieved thereby | |
Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey, | |
Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth, | |
Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and pride | 795 |
Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. | |
The conquered, also, and enslaved by war, | |
Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose, | |
And fear of Godfrom whom their piety feigned | |
In sharp contest of battle found no aid | 800 |
Against invaders; therefore, cooled in zeal, | |
Thenceforth shall practise how to live secure, | |
Worldly, or dissolute, on what their lords | |
Shall leave them to enjoy; for the Earth shall bear | |
More than enough, that temperance may be tried. | 805 |
So all shall turn degenerate, all depraved, | |
Justice and temperance, truth and faith, forgot; | |
One man except, the only son of light | |
In a dark age, against example good, | |
Against allurement, custom, and a world | 810 |
Offended. Fearless of reproach and scorn, | |
Or violence, he of their wicked ways | |
Shall them admonish, and before them set | |
The paths of righteousness, how much more safe | |
And full of peace, denouncing wrauth to come | 815 |
On their impenitence, and shall return | |
Of them derided, but of God observed | |
The one just man alive: by his command | |
Shall build a wondrous Ark, as thou beheldst, | |
To save himself and household from amidst | 820 |
A world devote to universal wrack. | |
No sooner he, with them of man and beast | |
Select for life, shall in the ark be lodged | |
And sheltered round, but all the cataracts | |
Of Heaven set open on the Earth shall pour | 825 |
Rain day and night; all fountains of the deep, | |
Broke up, shall heaven the ocean to usurp | |
Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise | |
Above the highest hills. Then shall this Mount | |
Of Paradise by might of waves be moved | 830 |
Out of his place, pushed by the horned flood, | |
With all his verdure spoiled, and trees adrift, | |
Down the great River to the opening Gulf, | |
And there take root, and island salt and bare, | |
The haunt of seals, and orcs, and seamews clang | 835 |
To teach thee that God attributes to place | |
No sanctity, if none be thither brought | |
By men who there frequent or therein dwell. | |
And now what further shall ensue behold. | |
He looked, and saw the Ark hull on the flood, | 840 |
Which now abated; for the clouds were fled. | |
Driven by a keen North-wind, that, blowing dry, | |
Wrinkled the face of Deluge, as decayed; | |
And the clear sun on his wide watery glass | |
Gazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, | 845 |
As after thirst; which made their flowing shrink | |
From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole | |
With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopt | |
His sluices, as the heaven his windows shut. . | |
The Ark no more now floats, but seems on ground, | 850 |
Fast on the top of some high mountain fixed. | |
And now the tops of hills as rocks appear; | |
With clamour thence the rapid currents drive | |
Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. | |
Forthwith from out the ark a Raven flies. | 855 |
And, after him, the surer messenger, | |
A Dove, sent forth once and again to spy | |
Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light; | |
The second time returning, in his bill | |
An olive-leaf he brings, pacific sign. | 860 |
Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark | |
The ancient sire descends, with all this train; | |
Then, with uplifted hands and eyes devout, | |
Grateful to Heaven, over his head beholds | |
A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a Bow | 865 |
Conspicuous with three listed colours gay, | |
Betokening peace from God, and covenant new. | |
Whereat the heart of Adam, erst so sad, | |
Greatly rejoiced; and thus his joy broke forth: | |
O thou, who future things cants represent | 870 |
As present, Heavenly Instructor, I revive | |
At this last sight, assured that Man shall live, | |
With all the creatures, and their seed preserve. | |
Far less I now lament for one whole world | |
Of wicked sons destroyed that I rejoice | 875 |
For one man found so perfet and so just | |
That God voutsafes to raise another world | |
From him, and all his anger to forget. | |
But say what mean those coloured streaks in Heaven: | |
Distended as the brow of God appeased? | 880 |
Or serve they as a flowery verge to bind | |
The fluid skirts of that same watery cloud, | |
Lest it again dissolve and shower the Earth? | |
To whom the Archangel:Dextrously thou aimst. | |
So willingly doth God remit his ire: | 885 |
Though late repenting him of Man depraved, | |
Grieved at his heart, when, looking down, he saw | |
The whole Earth filled with violence, and all flesh | |
Corrupting each their way; yet, those removed, | |
Such grace shall one just man find in his sight | 890 |
That he relents, not to blot out mankind, | |
And makes a covenant never to destroy | |
The Earth again by flood, nor let the sea | |
Surpass his bounds, nor rain to drown the world | |
With man therein or beast: but, when he brings | 895 |
Over the Earth a cloud, with therein set | |
His triple-coloured bow, whereon to look | |
And call to mind his Covenant. Day and night, | |
Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost, | |
Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new | 900 |
Both Heaven and Earth, wherein the just shall dwell. | |
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