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 Pains only in child-bearing 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; 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 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 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 down, 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, 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 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 confess'd
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.
The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first parents now repenting, and intercedes for them: God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise; sends Michael with a band of cherubim to dispossess them; but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael's coming down. Adam shows to Eve certain ominous signs: he discerns Michael's approach; goes out to meet him: the angel denounces their departure. Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: the angel leads him up to a high hill; sets before him in vision what shall happen till the flood.
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