The punishment all on thyself; alas! Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part, And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If prayers Could alter high decrees, I to that place Would speed before thee, and be louder heard, That on my head all might be visited; Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven, To me committed, and by me exposed. But rise; let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blamed enough elsewhere; but strive
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burden, in our share of woe; Since this day's death denounced, if aught I see,
Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil; A long day's dying, to augment our pain; And to our seed (O hapless seed!) derived. To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied:
Adam, by sad experiment I know
How little weight my words with thee can find, Found so erroneous; thence by just event Found so unfortunate: nevertheless, Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart Living or dying, from thee I will not hide What thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen, Tending to some relief of our extremes, Or end; though sharp and sad, yet tolerable, As in our evils, and of easier choice. If care of our descent perplex us most, Which must be born to certain woe, devour d By Death at last; and miserable it is To be to others cause of misery, Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring Into this cursed world a woful race, That after wretched life must be at last Food for so foul a monster; in thy power
It lies, yet ere conception to prevent The race unbless'd, to being yet unbegot. Childless thou art, childless remain: so Death Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two Be forced to satisfy his ravenous maw.
But if thou judge it hard and difficult, Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain
From love's due rights, nuptial embraces sweet; And with desire to languish without hope, Before the present object languishing
With like desire; which would be misery And torment less than none of what we dread; Then, both ourselves and seed at once to free From what we fear for both, let us make short, 1000 Let us seek Death;-or, he not found, supply With our own hands his office on ourselves:
Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death, and have the power, Of many ways to die the shortest choosing,
Destruction with destruction to destroy?
She ended here, or vehement despair Broke off the rest; so much of death her thoughts Had entertain'd, as dyed her cheeks with pale. But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd, To better hopes his more attentive mind
Labouring had raised; and thus to Eve replied: Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems
To argue in thee something more sublime And excellent, than what thy mind contemns; But self-destruction therefore sought refutes That excellent thought in thee; and implies, Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret For loss of life and pleasure overloved. Or if thou covet death, as utmost end
Of misery, so thinking to evade The penalty pronounced; doubt not but God Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire than so To be forestall'd: much more I fear lest death,
So snatch'd, will not exempt us from the pain We are by doom to pay; rather, such acts Of contumacy will provoke the Highest To make death in us live: then let us seek Some safer resolution, which methinks I have in view, calling to mind with heed Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise The Serpent's head; piteous amends! unless Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe, Satan; who, in the serpent, hath contrived
Against us this deceit: to crush his head Would be revenge indeed! which will be lost By death brought on ourselves, or childless days Resolved, as thou proposest; so our foe Shall scape his punishment ordain'd, and we Instead shall double ours upon our heads. No more be mention'd then of violence Against ourselves; and wilful barrenness, That cuts us off from hope; and savours only Rancour and pride, impatience and despite, Reluctance against God and his just yoke Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild And gracious temper he both heard, and judged, Without wrath or reviling; we expected
Immediate dissolution, which we thought Was meant by death that day: when lo! to thee 1050 Pains only in childbearing were foretold, And bringing forth; soon recompensed with joy, Fruit of thy womb: on me the curse aslope Glanced on the ground; with labour I must earn My bread; what harm ? Idleness had been worse. 1055
My labour will sustain me; and, lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care
Hath, unbesought, provided; and his hands Clothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged; How much more, if we pray him, will his ear
Be open, and his heart to pity incline,
And teach us further by what means to shun
The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow! Which now the sky, with various face, begins To show us in this mountain; while the winds 1065 Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish Our limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal star
Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams 1070 Reflected may with matter sere foment; Or, by collision of two bodies, grind The air attrite to fire; as late the clouds Justling, or push'd with winds, rude in their shock, Tine the slant lightning; whose thwart flame, driven
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine; And sends a comfortable heat from far, Which might supply the sun: such fire to use, And what may else be remedy or cure
To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought, 1080
He will instruct us praying, and of grace
Beseeching him; so as we need not fear To pass commodiously this life, sustain'd By him with many comforts, till we end In dust, our final rest and native home. What better can we do than, to the place Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall Before him reverent; and there confess Humbly our faults, and pardon beg; with tears Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air 1090 Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek? Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn
From his displeasure; in whose look serene, When angry most he seem'd and most severe, What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone ?
So spake our father penitent; nor Eve Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place Repairing where he judged them, prostrate fell
Before him reverent; and both confessed
Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd: with tears Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meek
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