| |
| 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 Father’s 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 Man—these 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 endowed—with 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 Heaven’s wide bounds; from them I will not hide | |
| My judgments—how 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, where’er 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, | |
| Self—left. Lest, therefore, his now bolder hand | |
| Reach also of the Tree of Life, and eat, | |
| And live for ever, dream at least to live | 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 Woman’s 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 |
| Wide—waving, 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 voutsaf’st, | 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, | |
| Where’er our day’s 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, air—air 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 o’er the ground | |
| One way the self-same hour? Why in the east | |
| Darkness ere day’s mid-course, and morning-light | |
| More orient in yon western cloud, that draws | 205 |
| O’er 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 Adam’s 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 meanest—some great Potentate | |
| Or of the Thrones above, such majesty | |
| Invests him coming; yet not terrible, | |
| That I should fear, nor sociably mild, | |
| As Raphael, that I should much confide, | 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 Melibœan, 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, | |
| Satan’s 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, Heaven’s high behest no preface needs. | |
| Sufficient that thy prayers are heard, and Death, | |
| Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, | |
| Defeated of his seizure many days, | |
| Given thee of grace, wherein thou may’st repent, | 255 |
| And one bad act with many deeds well done | |
| May’st cover. Well may then thy Lord, appeased, | |
| Redeem thee quite from Death’s 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 highest—for such of shape may seem | |
| Prince above princes—gently hast thou told | |
| Thy message, which might else in telling wound, | |
| And in performing end us. What besides | 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 me—that, 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 know’st 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 may’st 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 men—thereby 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 wak’st, | |
| As once thou slept’st while she to life was formed.” | |
| To whom thus Adam gratefully replied:— | 370 |
| “Ascend, I follow thee, safe Guide, the path | |
| Thou lead’st me, and to the hand of Heaven submit, | |
| However chastening—to 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 Earth’s 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, Temir’s 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 |
| Turchestan—born; 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 Geryon’s sons | 410 |
| Call El Dorado. But to nobler sights | |
| Michael from Adam’s 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 other’s 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 brother’s offering found | |
| From Heaven acceptance; but the bloody fact | |
| Will be avenged, and the other’s 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 cave—all dismal, yet to sense | |
| More terrible at the entrance than within. | 470 |
| Some, as thou saw’st, by violent stroke shall die, | |
| By fire, flood, famine; by intemperance more | |
| In meats and drinks, which on the Earth shall bring | |
| Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew | |
| Before thee shall appear, that thou may’st 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 diseased—all 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 Maker’s image’ sake exempt?” | |
| “Their Maker’s image,” answered Michael, “then | 515 |
| Forsook them, when themselves they vilified | |
| To serve ungoverned Appetite, and took | |
| His image whom they served—a brutish vice, | |
| Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. | |
| Therefore so abject is their punishment, | 520 |
| Disfiguring not God’s likeness, but their own; | |
| Or, if his likeness, by themselves defaced | |
| While they pervert pure Nature’s healthful rules | |
| To loathsome sickness—worthily, since they | |
| God’s 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 eat’st and drink’st, seeking from thence | |
| Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, | |
| Till many years over thy head return. | |
| So may’st thou live, till, like ripe fruit, thou drop | 535 |
| Into thy mother’s 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 much—bent 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 liv’st | |
| 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 cave’s 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, | |
| Love’s 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 saw’st so pleasant were the tents | |
| Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race | |
| Who slew his brother: studious they appear | |
| Of arts that polish life, inventors rare; | 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 saw’st, that seemed | |
| Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, | 615 |
| Yet empty of all good wherein consists | |
| Woman’s domestic honour and chief praise; | |
| Bred only and completed to the taste | |
| Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, | |
| To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye:— | 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 Man’s woe | |
| Holds on the same, from Woman to begin.” | |
| “From Man’s 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 him—towns, 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 |
| Death’s 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 saw’st, | |
| 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 beheld’st | 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 Saints—him the Most High, | 705 |
| Rapt in a balmy cloud, with wingèd steeds, | |
| Did, as thou saw’st, receive, to walk with God | |
| High in salvation and the climes of bliss, | |
| Exempt from death, to show thee what reward | |
| Awaits the good, the rest what punishment; | 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 o’er 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, sea—monsters 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 stood’st at last, | |
| Though comfortless, as when a father mourns | 760 |
| His children, all in view destroyed at once, | |
| And scarce to the Angel utter’dst thus thy plaint:— | |
| “O Visions ill foreseen! Better had I | |
| Lived ignorant of future—so had borne | |
| My part of evil only, each day’s 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 children—evil, he may be sure, | |
| Which neither his foreknowing can prevent, | |
| And he the future evil shall no less | |
| In apprehension than in substance feel | 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 saw’st | |
| 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 God—from 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 beheld’st, | |
| 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 sea—mews’ clang— | 835 |
| To teach thee that God at’tributes 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 aim’st. | |
| 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.” | |
| |
