Of Heaven perhaps, or all the elements
At least had gone to wreck, disturbed and torn With violence of this conflict, had not soon
The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray,
Hung forth in Heaven His golden scales, yet seen Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign,
Wherein all things created first He weighed. The pendulous round earth with balanced air In counterpoise; now ponders all events, Battles and realms: in these he put two weights, The sequel each of parting and of fight: The latter quick up flew, and kicked the beam; Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the Fiend:
Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine; Neither our own, but given; what folly then To boast what arms can do! since thine no more Than Heaven permits, nor mine, though doubled now To trample thee as mire: for proof look up, And read thy lot in yon celestial sign,
Where thou art weighed, and shown how light, how weak If thou resist. The Fiend looked up, and knew His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.
Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; he likes it not, yet comforts her; they come forth to their day-labors; their morning hymn at the door of their bower. God, to render man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand, who he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradise; his appearance described ; his coming discerned by Adam afar off, sitting at the door of his bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choicest fruits of Paradise, got together by Eve; their discourse at table; Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his state and of his enemy; relates, at Adam's request, who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from the first revolt in Heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew his legiona after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them to rebel with him, persuading all but only Abdiel, a seraph, who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him.
OW morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl, When Adam waked, so customed: for his sleep Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred, And temperate vapors bland, which the only sound Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song Of birds on every bough; so much the more His wonder was to find unwakened Eve With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek, As through unquiet rest. He, on his side Leaning, half raised, with looks of cordial love Hung over her enamoured, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus: - Awake, My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight! Awake: the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us; we lose the prime to mark how spring Our tender plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How Nature paints her colors, how the bee
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet.
Such whispering waked her, but with startled eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake :
O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, My glory, my perfection! glad I see Thy face and morn returned; for I this night - Such night till this I never passed - have dreamed, If dreamed, not, as I oft am wont, of thee, Works of day past, or morrow's next design ; But of offense and trouble, which my mind Knew never till this irksome night. Methought Close at mine ear one called me forth to walk With gentle voice - I thought it thine. It said, Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time, The cool, the silent, save where silence yields To the night-warbling bird, that now awake Tunes sweetest his love-labored song; now reigns Full-orbed the moon, and with more pleasing light Shadowy sets off the face of things - in vain, If none regard. Heaven wakes with all his eyes, Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire? In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.
I rose as at thy call, but found thee not; To find thee I directed then my walk;
And on, methought, alone I passed through ways That brought me on a sudden to the tree Of interdicted knowledge. Fair it seemed, Much fairer to my fancy than by day:
And, as I wondering looked, beside it stood
One shaped and winged like one of those from Heaven By us oft seen: his dewy locks distilled
Ambrosia. On that tree he also gazed;
And oh, fair plant, said he, with fruit surcharged, Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet, Nor God, nor man? Is knowledge so despised?
Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste? Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold Longer thy offered good; why else set here? This said, he paused not, but with venturous arm He plucked, he tasted. Me damp horror chilled At such bold words, vouched with a deed so bold: But he thus, overjoyed: O fruit divine,
Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropt, Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit
For gods, yet able to make gods of men;
And why not gods of men; since good, the more Communicated, more abundant grows, The author not impaired, but honored more? Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve! Partake thou also; happy though thou art, Happier thou mayst be, worthier canst not be, Taste this, and be henceforth among the gods Thyself a goddess, not to earth confined, But sometimes in the air, as we; sometimes Ascend to Heaven, by merit thine, and see What life the gods live there, and such live thou. So saying he drew nigh, and to me held, Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part Which he had plucked: the pleasant savory smell So quickened appetite, that I, methought, Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds With him I flew, and underneath beheld
The earth outstretched immense, a prospect wide And various; wondering at my flight and change To this high exaltation, suddenly
My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down And fell asleep; but, oh, how glad I waked To find this but a dream. Thus Eve her night Related, and thus Adam answered sad:
Best image of myself, and dearer half, The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep
Affects me equally; nor can I like This uncouth dream, of evil sprung, I fear. Yet evil whence? in thee can harbor none, Created pure. But know, that in the soul Are many lesser faculties, that serve Reason as chief. Among these, Fancy next Her office holds; of all external things, Which the five watchful senses represent, She forms imaginations, aëry shapes, Which reason joining or disjoining frames All what we affirm or what deny, and call Our knowledge or opinion; then retires Into her private cell, when nature rests. Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakes To imitate her; but misjoining shapes, Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams; Ill matching words and deeds long past or late, Some such resemblances, methinks, I find Of our last evening's talk, in this thy dream, But with addition strange; yet be not sad. Evil into the mind of God or Man
May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind; which gives me hope That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream, Waking thou never wilt consent to do. Be not disheartened, then, nor cloud those looks, That wont to be more cheerful and serene, Than when fair morning first smiles on the world; And let us to our fresh employments rise Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers, That open now their choicest bosomed smells, Reserved from night, and kept for thee in store.
So cheered he his fair spouse, and she was cheered, But silently a gentle tear let fall From either eye, and wiped them with her hair: Two other precious drops that ready stood,
« PreviousContinue » |