Soft words to his fierce passion she assay'd; But her with stern regard he thus repell'd.
Out of my sight, thou Serpent! That name best Befits thee with him leagu'd, thyself as false And hateful; nothing wants, but that thy shape, Like his, and colour serpentine, may show
Thy inward fraud; to warn all creatures from thee Henceforth; lest that too heavenly form, pretended' To hellish falsehood, snare them! But for thee I had persisted happy; had not thy pride And wandering vanity, when least was safe, Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd Not to be trusted, longing to be seen,
Though by the Devil himself; him overweening To overreach; but, with the Serpent meeting, Fool'd and beguil’d: by him thou, I by thee, To trust thee from my side; imagin'd wise, Constant, mature, proof against all assaults; And understood not all was but a show, Rather than solid virtue; all but a rib Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, More to the part sinister, from me drawn ; Well if thrown out, as supernumerary To my just number found. O why did God, Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven With Spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on earth, this fair defect Of nature, and not fill the world at once With Men, as Angels, without feminine; Or find some other way to generate
Mankind? This mischief had not then befallen, And more that shall befall; innumerable Disturbances on earth through female snares,
And strait conjunction with this sex; for either He never shall find out fit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain Through her perverseness, but shall see her gain'd By a far worse; or, if she love, withheld By parents; or his happiest choice too late Shall meet, already link'd and wedlock-bound To a fell adversary, his hate or shame : Which infinite calamity shall cause To human life, and household peace confound.
He added not, and from her turn'd; but Eve, Not so repuls'd, with tears that ceas'd not flowing, And tresses all disorder'd, at his feet
Fell humble; and, embracing them, besought His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint.
Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness Heaven What love sincere and reverence in my heart I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, Unhappily deceiv'd! Thy suppliant
I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not, Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, Thy counsel, in this uttermost distress, My only strength and stay: Forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?
While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two let there be peace; both joining, As join'd in injuries, one enmity
Against a foe by doom express assign'd us, That cruel Serpent: On me exercise not Thy hatred for this misery befallen; On me already lost, me than thyself
More miserable! Both have sinn'd; but thou Against God only: I against God and thee;
And to the place of judgement will return, There with my cries impórtune Heaven; that all The sentence, from thy head remov'd, may light On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe; Me, me only, just object of his ire !
She ended weeping; and her lowly plight, Immovable, till peace obtain'd from fault Acknowledged and deplor'd, in Adam wrought Commiseration: Soon his heart relented Towards her, his life so late, and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress; Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, His counsel, whom she had displeas'd, his aid. As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, And thus with peaceful words uprais'd her soon. Unwary, and too desirous, as before,
So now of what thou know'st not, who desirest 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 expos'd.
But rise; let us no more contend, nor blame Each other, blam'd 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 denounc'd, if aught I see, Will prove no sudden, but a slow-pac'd evil; A long day's dying, to augment our pain; And to our seed (O hapless seed!) deriv'd.
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, Restor❜d 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 unblest, to being yet unbegot. Childless thou art, childless remain: so Death Shall be deceiv'd his glut, and with us two Be forc'd to satisfy his ravenous maw. But if thou judge it hard and difficult, Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain
From love's due rites, 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,— 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 dy'd her cheeks with pale. But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd, To better hopes his more attentive mind Labouring had rais'd; 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 overlov'd, 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,
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