Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far
Down to this habitable, which returns

Light back to them, is obvious to dispute.
But whether thus these things, or whether not;
Whether the sun, predominant in heaven,
Rise on the earth; or earth rise on the sun;
He from the east his flaming road begin;
Or she from west her silent course advance,
With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps
On her soft axle, while she paces even,
And bears thee soft with the smooth air along;
Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid;
Leave them to God above. Him serve, and fear!
Of other creatures, as him pleases best,
Wherever placed, let him dispose: joy thou
In what he gives to thee, this Paradise
And thy fair Eve. Heaven is for thee too high
To know what passes there: be lowly wise:
Think only what concerns thee, and thy being:
Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there
Live, in what state, condition or degree;
Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd
Not of earth only, but of highest heaven."

To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, replied:
"How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure
Intelligence of heaven! Angel serene!
And, freed from intricacies, taught to live
The easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughts
To interrupt the sweet of life, from which
God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares,
And not molest us; unless we ourselves
Seek them with wandering thoughts, and notions
But apt the mind or fancy is to rove
Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end;

[vain.

Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn,
That, not to know at large of things remote
From use, obscure and subtle; but, to know
That which before us lies in daily life,
Is the prime wisdom. What is more, is fume,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence:

And renders us, in things that most concern,
Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek.
Therefore from this high pitch let us descend
A lower flight, and speak of things at hand
Useful; whence, haply, mention may arise
Of something not unseasonable to ask,
By sufferance, and thy wonted favor, deign'd.
Thee I have heard relating what was done

Ere
my remembrance: now, hear me relate
My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard;
And day is not yet spent: till then thou seest
How subtly to detain thee I devise ;
Inviting thee to hear while I relate;
Fond! were it not in hope of thy reply.
For, while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven;
And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear
Than fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirst
And hunger both, from labor, at the hour
Of sweet repast: they satiate, and soon fill,
Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divine
Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety."

To whom thus Raphael answer'd heavenly meek:
"Nor are thy lips ungraceful, Sire of men!
Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee
Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd
Inward and outward both, his image fair.
Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and grace

Attend thee; and each word, each motion, form.

Nor less think we in heaven of thee on earth
Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire
Gladly into the ways of God with man :
For God, we see, hath honor'd thee, and set
On man his equal love. Say therefore on;
For I that day was absent, as befel,
Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure,
Far on excursion toward the gates of hell;
Squared in full legion (such command we had),
To see that none thence issued forth a spy,
Or enemy, while God was in his work:
Lest he, incensed at such eruption bold,
Destruction with creation might have mix'd.
Not that they durst without his leave attempt;
But us he sends upon his high behests
For state, as Sovran King; and to inure
Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut,
The dismal gates, and barricadoed strong;
But long ere our approaching heard within
Noise, other than the sound of dance or song,
Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage.
Glad we return'd up to the coasts of light
Ere sabbath-evening: so we had in charge.
But thy relation now; for I attend,

[mine."
Pleased with thy words no less than thou with
So spake the godlike Power, and thus our sire:
"For man to tell how human life began
Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?
Desire with thee still longer to converse
Induced me. As new waked from soundest sleep,
Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid,
In balmy sweat; which with his beams the sun
Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed.
Straight toward heaven my wondering eyes I turn'd,

And gazed awhile the ample sky; till, raised
By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung,
As thitherward endeavouring, and upright
Stood on my feet: about me round I saw

Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams: by these, Creatures that lived and moved, and walk'd, or flew; Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled; With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflow'd. Myself I then perused, and limb by limb

Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran With supple joints, as lively vigor led:

But who I was, or where, or from what cause,
Knew not to speak I tried, and forthwith spake:
My tongue obey'd, and readily could name
Whate'er I saw. Thou Sun! (said I,) fair light,
And thou enlighten'd Earth! so fresh and gay,
Ye Hills, and Dales! ye Rivers, Woods, and
Plains!

And
ye that live and move, fair Creatures! tell,
Tell, if ye saw, how I came thus, how here?-
Not of myself;by some great Maker then,
In goodness and in power pre-eminent.

Tell

me, how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live; And feel that I am happier than I know.— While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither, From where I first drew air, and first beheld This happy light; when, answer none return'd, On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers, Pensive I sat me down. There gentle sleep First found me, and with soft oppression seized My drowsied sense, untroubled, though I thought I then was passing to my former state

Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve:
When suddenly stood at my head a dream,
Whose inward apparition gently moved
My fancy to believe I yet had being,

And lived. One came, methought, of shape divine,
And said, 'Thy mansion wants thee, Adam! rise,
First Man! of men innumerable ordain'd
First Father! call'd by thee, I come thy guide
To the garden of bliss, thy seat prepared.'
So saying, by the hand he took me raised,
And over fields and waters, as in air
Smooth-sliding without step, last led me up
A woody mountain; whose high top was plain,
A circuit wide, inclosed, with goodliest trees
Planted, with walks, and bowers; that what I saw
Of earth before scarce pleasant seem'd. Each tree
Loaden with fairest fruit that hung to the' eye
Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite
To pluck and eat; whereat I waked, and found
Before mine eyes all real, as the dream

Had lively shadow'd. Here had new begun
My wandering, had not he, who was my guide
Up hither, from among the trees appear'd,
Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,
In adoration at his feet I fell

[I am,' Submiss: Herear'd me, and Whom thou sought'st Said mildly, Author of all this thou seest Above, or round about thee, or beneath. This Paradise I give thee, count it thine To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat. Of every tree that in the garden grows Eat freely with glad heart; fear here no dearth: But of the tree whose operation brings Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set