Bent their aspect, and whom they wish'd beheld, Their mighty chief return'd: loud was the acclaim: Forth rush'd in haste the great consulting peers, Rais'd from their dark divan, and with like joy Congratulant approach'd him; who with hand Silence, and with these words, attention won.
With complicated monsters head and tail, Scorpion, and asp, and amphisbæna dire, Cerastes horn'd, hydrus, and elops drear, And dipsas; (not so thick swarm'd once the soil Bedropt with blood of Gorgon, or the isle Ophiusa,) but still greatest he the midst,
"Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues,Now dragon grown, larger than whom the Sun
For in possession such, not only of right, I call ye, and declare ye now; return'd Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth Triumphant out of this infernal pit Abominable, accurs'd, the house of woe, And dungeon of our tyrant: now possess, As lords, a spacious world, to our native Heaven Little inferior, by my adventure hard
With peril great achiev❜d. Long were to tell What I have done; what suffer'd; with what Voyag'd th' unreal, vast, unbounded deep Of horrible confusion; over which
By Sin and Death a broad way now is pav'd To expedite your glorious march; but I Toil'd out my uncouth passage, forc'd to ride The untractable abyss, plung'd in the womb Of unoriginal Night and Chaos wild; That, jealous of their secrets, fiercely oppos'd My journey strange, with clamorous uproar Protesting Fate supreme; thence how I found The new created world, which fame in Heaven Long had foretold, a fabric wonderful Of absolute perfection! therein Man Plac'd in a Paradise, by our exile Made happy: him by fraud I have seduc'd From his Creator; and, the more to increase Your wonder, with an apple; he, thereat Offended, worth your laughter! hath given up Both his beloved Man and all his world, To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, Without our hazard, labor, or alarm; To range in, and to dwell, and over Man To rule, as over all he should have rul'd. True is, me also he hath judg'd, or rather Me not, but the brute serpent in whose shape Man I deceiv'd: that which to me belongs Is enmity, which he will put between Me and mankind; I am to bruise his heel; His seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head: A world who would not purchase with a bruise, Or much more grievous pain?—Ye have the account Of my performance: what remains, ye gods, But up, and enter now into full bliss?"
So having said, awhile he stood, expecting Their universal shout and high applause, To fill his ear; when, contrary, he hears On all sides, from innumerable tongues, A dismal universal hiss, the sound
Of public scorn; he wonder'd, but not long Had leisure, wondering at himself now more; His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare; His arms clung to his ribs; his legs entwining Each other, till supplanted down he fell A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, Reluctant, but in vain; a greater power Now ruled him, punish'd in the shape he sinn'd, According to his doom: he would have spoke, But hiss for hiss return'd with forked tongue To forked tongue; for now were all transform'd Alike, to serpents all, as accessories
To his bold riot: dreadful was the din
Of hissing through the hall, thick swarming now
Engender'd in the Pythian vale or slime, Huge Python, and his power no less he seem'd Above the rest still to retain; they all
Him follow'd, issuing forth to the open field, Where all yet left of that revolted rout, Heaven-fall'n, in station stood or just array; Sublime with expectation when to see
In triumph issuing forth their glorious chief; They saw, but other sight instead! a crowd Of ugly serpents; horror on them fell,
And horrid sympathy; for, what they saw, They felt themselves, now changing; down their arms, Down fell both spear and shield; down they as fast; And the dire hiss renew'd, and the dire form Catch'd, by contagion; like in punishment. As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meant, Turn'd to exploding hiss, triumph to shame
Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There
A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change, His will who reigns above, to aggravate Their penance, laden with fair fruit, like that Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve Us'd by the tempter: on that prospect strange Their earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining For one forbidden tree a multitude
Now ris'n, to work them further woe or shame; Yet, parch'd with scalding thirst and hunger fierce, Though to delude them sent, could not abstain; But on they roll'd in heaps, and up the trees Climbing, sat thicker than the snaky locks That curl'd Megara: greedily they pluck'd The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flam'd: This more delusive, not the touch, but taste Deceiv'd: they, fondly thinking to allay Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit Chew'd bitter ashes, which the offended taste With spattering noise rejected: oft they assay'd, Hunger and thirst constraining; drugg'd as oft, With hatefullest disrelish writh'd their jaws, With soot and cinders fill'd; so oft they fell Into the same illusion, not as Man Whom they triumph'd once laps'd. Thus were they And worn with famine, long and ceaseless hiss, Till their lost shape, permitted, they resum'd; Yearly enjoin'd, some say, to undergo This annual humbling certain number'd days, To dash their pride, and joy, for Man seduc'd. However, some tradition they dispers'd Among the Heathen, of their purchase got, And fabled how the serpent, whom they call'd Ophion, with Eurynome, the wide- Encroaching Eve perhaps, had first the rule Of high Olympus; thence by Saturn driven And Ops, ere yet Dictæan Jove was born.
Meanwhile in Paradise the hellish pair Too soon arriv'd; Sin, there in power before, Once actual; now in body, and to dwell Habitual habitant; behind her Death, Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet On his pale horse: to whom Sin thus began. "Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death!
What think'st thou of our empire now, though earn'd In sextile, square, and trine, and opposite, With travel difficult, not better far Of noxious efficacy, and when to join In synod unbenign; and taught the fix'd Their influence malignant when to shower, Which of them rising with the Sun, or falling, Should prove tempestuous; to the winds they set Their corners, when with bluster to confound Sea, air, and shore; the thunder when to roll With terror through the dark aëreal hall. Some say he bid his angels turn askance The poles of Earth, twice ten degrees and more From the Sun's axle; they with labor push'd Oblique the centric globe: some say, the Sun
Than still at Hell's dark threshold to have sat watch, Unnam'd, undreaded, and thyself half-starv'd?" Whom thus the Sin-born monster answer'd soon. "To me, who with eternal famine pine, Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven; There best, where most with ravine I may meet; Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems To stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corps." To whom the incestuous mother thus replied. "Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
Feed first; on each beast next, and fish and fowl; Was bid turn reins from the equinoctial road No homely morsels! and whatever thing
The scythe of Time mows down, devour unspar'd; Till I, in Man residing, through the race, His thoughts, his looks, words, actions, all infect; And season him thy last and sweetest prey."
This said, they both betook them several ways, Both to destroy, or unimmortal make All kinds, and for destruction to mature Sooner or later; which the Almighty seeing. From his transcendent seat the saints among To those bright orders uttered thus his voice. "See, with what heat these dogs of Hell advance To waste and havoc yonder world, which I So fair and good created; and had still Kept in that state, had not the folly of Man Let in these wasteful furies, who impute Folly to me; so doth the prince of Hell And his adherents, that with so much ease I suffer them to enter and possess A place so heavenly: and, conniving, seem To gratify my scornful enemies,
That laugh, as if, transported with some fit Of passion, I to them had quitted all, At random yielded up to their misrule; And know not that I call'd, and drew them thither, My Hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth Which Man's polluting sin with taint hath shed On what was pure; till cramm'd and gorg'd, nigh burst
With suck'd and glutted offal, at one sling Of thy victorious arm, well pleasing Son, Both Sin, and Death, and yawning Grave, at last, Through Chaos hurl'd, obstruct the mouth of Hell For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws.
Like distant breadth to Taurus with the seven Atlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins, Up to the tropic Crab: thence down amain By Leo, and the Virgin, and the Scales, As deep as Capricorn; to bring in change Of seasons to each clime; else had the spring Perpetual smil'd on Earth with vernant flow'rs, Equal in days and nights, except to those Beyond the polar circles; to them day Had unbenighted shone, while the low Sun, To recompense his distance, in their sight Had rounded still the horizon, and not known Or east or west; which had forbid the snow From cold Estotiland, and south as far Beneath Magellan. At that tasted fruit The Sun, as from Thyéstean banquet, turn'd His course intended; else, how had the world Inhabited, though sinless, more than now, Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? These changes in the Heavens, though slow, produc'd Like change on sea and land; sideral blast, Vapor, and mist, and exhalation hot, Corrupt and pestilent: now, from the north Of Norumbega, and the Samoed shore, Bursting their brazen dungeon, arm'd with ice, And snow, and hail, and stormy gust and flaw, Boreas, and Cæcias, and Argestes loud, And Thrascias, rend the woods, and seas upturn; With adverse blast upturns them from the south Notus, and Afer black with thunderous clouds From Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierce, Forth rush the Lévant and the Ponent winds, Eurus and Zephyr, with their lateral noise, Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began
Then Heaven and Earth renew'd shall be made pure Outrage from lifeless things; but Discord first, To sanctity, that shall receive no stain:
Till then, the curse pronounc'd on both precedes." He ended, and the heavenly audience loud Sung Halleluiah, as the sound of seas, Through multitude that sung: “Just are thy ways, Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works; Who can extenuate thee? Next, to the Son, Destin'd Restorer of mankind, by whom New Heaven and Earth shall to the ages rise,
Or down from Heaven descend."-Such was their song;
While the Creator, calling forth by name His mighty angels, gave them several charge, As sorted best with present things. The Sun Had first his precept so to move, so shine, As might affect the Earth with cold and heat Scarce tolerable, and from the north to call Decrepit winter; from the south to bring Solstitial summer's heat. To the blanc Moon Her office they prescribed; to the other five Their planetary motions, and aspects,
Daughter of Sin, among the irrational Death introduc'd, through fierce antipathy: Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl, And fish with fish: to graze the herb all leaving, Devour'd each other; nor stood much in awe Of man, but fled him: or, with countenance grim. Glar'd on him passing. These were from without The growing miseries, which Adam saw Already in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, To sorrow abandon'd, but worse felt within; And, in a troubled sea of passion tost, Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint.
"O miserable of happy! Is this the end Of this new glorious world, and me so late The glory of that glory, who now become Accurs'd, of blessed? hide me from the face Of God, whom to behold was then my height Of happiness!-Yet well, if here would end The misery; I deserv'd it, and would bear My own deservings; but this will not serve: All that I eat or drink, or shall beget,
Is propagated curse. O voice, once heard Delightfully, Increase and multiply ;
Now death to hear! for what can I increase, Or multiply, but curses on my head? Who of all ages to succeed, but, feeling The evil on him brought by me, will curse My head? Ill fare our ancestor impure, For this we may thank Adam! but his thanks Shall be the execration: so, besides Mine own that bide upon me, all from me Shall with a fierce reflux on me rebound; On me, as on their natural centre, light Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes! Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me Man? Did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me, or here place In this delicious garden? As my will Concurr'd not to my being, it were but right And equal to reduce me to my dust; Desirous to resign and render back All I receiv'd; unable to perform
Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold The good I sought not. To the loss of that, Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added The sense of endless woes? Inexplicable Thy justice seems; yet, to say truth, too late I thus contest; then should have been refus'd Those terms, whatever, when they were propos'd: Thou didst accept them: wilt thou enjoy the good, Then cavil the conditions? and, though God Made thee without thy leave, what if thy son Prove disobedient; and, reprov'd, retort,
Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not:" Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee That proud excuse? yet him not thy election, But natural necessity, begot.
God made thee of choice his own, and of his own To serve him; thy reward was of his grace; Thy punishment then justly is at his will. Be it so, for I submit; his doom is fair, That dust I am, and shall to dust return: O welcome hour whenever! Why delays His hand to execute what his decree Fix'd on this day? Why do I overlive? Why am I mock'd with death, and lengthen'd out To deathless pain? How gladly would I meet Mortality my sentence, and be earth Insensible! How glad would lay me down As in my mother's lap! There I should rest And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more Would thunder in my ears; no fear of worse To me, and to my offspring, would torment me With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die; Last that pure breath of life, the spirit of Man Which God inspir'd, cannot together perish With this corporeal clod; then, in the grave, Or in some other dismal place, who knows But I shall die a living death? O thought Horrid, if true! Yet why? It was but breath Of life that sinn'd; what dies but what had life And sin? The body properly hath neither. All of me then shall die: let this appease The doubt, since human reach no further knows. For though the Lord of all be infinite, Is his wrath also? Be it, Man is not so, But mortal doom'd. How can he exercise Wrath without end on Man, whom death must end? Can he make deathless death? That were to make
Strange contradiction, which to God himself Impossible is held; as argument
Of weakness, not of power. Will he draw out, For anger's sake, finite to infinite,
In punish'd Man, to satisfy his rigor, Satisfied never? That were to extend His sentence beyond dust and Nature's law: By which all causes else, according still To the reception of their matter, act; Not to the extent of their own sphere. That death be not one stroke, as I suppos'd, Bereaving sense, but endless misery From this day onward; which I feel begun Both in me, and without me: and so last To perpetuity:-Ay me! that fear Comes thundering back with dreadful revolution On my defenceless head; both Death and I Are found eternal, and incorporate both; Nor I on my part single; in me all Posterity stands curs'd: fair patrimony That I must leave ye, sons! O, were I able To waste it all myself, and leave ye none! So disinherited, how would you bless Me, now your curse! Ah, why should all mankind For one man's fault, thus guiltless be condemn'd, If guiltless? But from me what can proceed, But all corrupt; both mind and will deprav'd Not to do only, but to will the same With me? How can they then acquitted stand In sight of God? Him, after all disputes, Forc'd I absolve: all my evasions vain, And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still But to my own conviction: first and last On me, me only, as the source and spring Of all corruption, all the blame lights due; So might the wrath! fond wish! couldst thou support That burden, heavier than the Earth to bear; Than all the world much heavier, though divided With that bad woman? Thus, what thou desir'st, And what thou fear'st, alike destroys all hope Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable Beyond all past example and future; To Satan only like both crime and doom. O Conscience! into what abyss of fears
And horrors hast thou driven me; out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plung'd!" Thus Adam to himself lamented loud,
Through the still night; not now, as ere Man fell, Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black air Accompanied; with damps, and dreadful gloom; Which to his evil conscience represented All things with double terror: on the ground Outstretch'd he lay, on the cold ground; and oft Curs'd his creation; Death as oft accus'd Of tardy execution since denounc'd
The day of his offence. Why comes not Death," Said he, "with one thrice-acceptable stroke To end me? Shall Truth fail to keep her word, Justice Divine not hasten to be just? But Death comes not at call; Justice Divine Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers! With other echo late I taught your shades To answer, and resound far other song."- Whom thus afflicted when sad Eve beheld Desolate where she sat, approaching nigh, 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 color 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 over-reach; 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 befall'n, And more that shall befall; innumerable Disturbances on Earth through female snares, And straight 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 befall'n; On me already lost, me than myself More miserable! Both have sinn'd; but thou Against God only; I against God and thee; And to the place of judgment will return, There with my crimes 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
Acknowledg'd 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 desir'st 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 burthen, 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 drea-1: 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 Laboring 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 excellence 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 pronoune'd; 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 contriv'd Against us this deceit: to crush his head Would be revenge indeed! which will be lost By death brought on ourselves, or childless days Resolv'd, 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 savors only Rancor 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 judg'd, 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 recompens'd with joy, Fruit of thy womb: on me the curse aslope Glanc'd on the ground; with labor I must earn My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse; My labor will sustain me; and, lest cold Or heat should injure us, his timely care Hath, unbesought, provided; and his hands Cloth'd us unworthy, pitying while he judg'd; 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
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 judg'd 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 looks serene, When angry most he seem'd and most severe, What else but favor, grace, and mercy, shone?” So spake our father penitent; nor Eve Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place Repairing where he judg'd 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.
THUS they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood Praying; for from the mercy-seat above Prevenient grace descending had remov'd The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breath'd Unutterable; which the spirit of prayer Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heaven with speedier flight Than loudest oratory: yet their port Not of mean suitors; nor important less Seem'd their petition, than when the ancient pair In fables old, less ancient yet than these, Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayers
Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams Flew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious winds
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
Blown vagabond or frustrate: in they pass'd Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then clad With incense, where the golden altar fum'd, By their great Intercessor, came in sight Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began.
"See, Father, what first-fruits on Earth are sprung From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs
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