Discov'ring in wide landscape all the east
Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains,
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began
Their orisons, each morning duly paid
In various style; for neither various style
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise
Their Maker, in fit strains pronoune'd or sung
Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence
Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse;
More tunable than needed lute or harp
To add more sweetness; and they thus began :

"These are thy glorious works, Parent of Good!
Almighty! thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then?
Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels! for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven:
On earth join all ye créatures, to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou sun! of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noou hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fliest
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies;
And ye five other wand'ring fires! that move
In mystic dance, not without song, resound.
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements! the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix,

And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mists and exhalations! that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,
Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise;
Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling still advance his praise.
His praise, ye winds! that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops ye pines!
With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Join voices all, ye living souls! ye birds,
That singing up to heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise!
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread or lowly creep !
Witness if I be silent, morn or even,
To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail universal Lord! be bounteous still
To give us only good; and, if the night
Have gather'd ought of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark!"

So pray'd they, innocent: and to their thoughts
Firm peace recover'd soon, and wonted calm.
On to their morning's rural work they haste,
Among sweet dews and flowers; where any row
Of fruit-trees over-woody reach'd too far
Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check
Fruitless embraces: or they led the vine
To wed her elm; she spous'd about him twines
Her marriageable arms, and with her brings
Her dower, th' adopted clusters, to adorn
His barren leaves. Them thus employ'd beheld
With pity heaven's high King, and to him call'd
Raphael, the sociable spirit, that deign'd
To travel with Tobias, and secur'd

His marriage with the seventimes-wedded maid.

"Raphael," said he, "thou hear'st what stir on earth,
Satan, from hell 'scap'd through the darksome gulf,
Hath rais'd in Paradise, and how disturb'd
This night the human pair; how he designs
In them at once to ruin all mankind.

Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend
Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade
Thou find'st him, from the heat of noon retir'd,
To respite his day labour with repast,
Or with repose; and such discourse bring on,
As may advise him of his happy state,
Happiness in his power left free to will,
Left to his own free will; his will, though free,
Yet mutable; whence warn him to beware,
He swerve not, too secure. Tell him, withal,
His danger, and from whom; what enemy,
Late fallen himself from heaven, is plotting now
The fall of others from like state of bliss ;
By violence? no, for that shall be withstood:
But by deceit and lies. This let him know,
Lest wilfully transgressing he pretend
Surprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd."

So spake th' eternal Father, and fulfill'd
All justice: nor delay'd the winged saint
After his charge receiv'd; but from among
Thousand celestial ardours, where he stood
Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up-springing light,
Flew thro' the midst of heaven; the angelic choirs
On each hand parting, to his speed gave way
Through all the empyreal road; till at the gate
Of heaven arriv'd, the gate self-open'd wide,
On golden hinges turning, as by work
Divine the sov'reign Architect had fram'd.
From hence no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight,
Star interpos'd, however small he sees,
Not unconform to other shining globes,
Earth, and the garden of God, with cedars crown'd
Above all hills. As when by night the glass
Of Galileo, less assur'd, observes

Imagiu'd lands and regions in the moon;
Or pilot, from amidst the Cyclades,

Delos or Samos first appearing, kens
A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight
He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky
Sails between worlds and worlds; with steady wing,
Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan
Winnows the buxom air; till, within soar
Of tow'ring eagles, t' all the fowls he seems
A phœnix, gaz'd by all, as that sole bird,
When to inshrine his reliques in the sun's
Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies.
At once on th' eastern cliff of Paradise
He lights, and to his proper shape returns,
A seraph wing'd. Six wings he wore to shade
His lineaments divine; the pair that clad
Each shoulder broad, came mantling o'er his breast
With regal ornament; the middle pair
Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round
Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold
And colours dipp'd in heaven; the third his feet
Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail,
Sky-tinctur'd grain. Like Maia's son he stood,
And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'd
The circuit wide. Straight knew him all the band's
Of angels under watch; and to his state,
And to his message high, in honour rise;
For on some message high they guess'd him bound.
Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come
Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh,
And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and balm;
A wilderness of sweets! for Nature here
Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will
Here virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet,
Wild above rule or art; enormous bliss.
Him, through the spicy forest onward come,
Adam discern'd, as in the door he sat
Of his cool bower, while now the mounted sun
Shot down direct his fervid rays to warm [needs:
Earth's inmost womb, more warmth than Adam
And Eve within, due at her hour, prepar'd
For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please
True appetite and not disrelish thirst

Of nect'rous draughts between, from milky stream, Berry or grape; to whom thus Adam call'd:

"Haste hither, Eve, and, worth thy sight behold, Eastward among those trees, what glorious shape, Comes this way moving: seems another morn Risen on mid-noon: some great behest from heaven To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe This day to be our guest. But go with speed, And what thy stores contain bring forth, and pour Abundance, fit to honour and receive Our heavenly stranger: well we may afford Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow From large bestow'd, where nature multiplies Her fertile growth, and by disburd'ning grows More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare.

To whom thus Eve: "Adam, earth's hallow'd

mould,

Of God inspir'd! small store will serve, where store,
All seasons, ripe for use hangs on the stalk;
Save what by frugal storing firmness gains
To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes :
But I will haste, and from each bough and brake,
Each plant and juiciest gourd, will pluck such choice
To entertain our angel guest, as he
Beholding shall confess, that here on earth
God hath dispens'd his bounties as in heaven."

So saying with despatchful looks in haste
She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent
What choice to choose for delicacy best;
What order, so contriv'd as not to mix
Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring
Taste after taste, upheld with kindliest change:
Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk
Whatever earth, all-bearing mother, yields
In India East or West, or middle shore
In Pontus, or the Punic coast, or where
Alcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat
Rough or smooth rind, or bearded husk, or shell,
She gathers, tribute large, and on the board
Heaps with unsparing hand; for drink the grape
She crushes, inoffensive must, and meathes