How little weight my words with thee can find, Found so erroneous, thence by just event Found so unfortunate! nevertheless, Restored 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 woeful race!
That after wretched life, must be at last Food for so foul a monster! In thy pow'r
It lies, yet ere conception, to prevent
The race unblest, to being yet unbegot.
Childless thou art, childless remain; so Death
Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two
With like desire, which would be misery And torment less than none of what we dread, 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 pow'r 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 dyed her cheeks with pale. But Adam with such counsel nothing sway'd: To better hopes his more attentive mind Labouring had raised, 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 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.
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 Cloth'd 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 farther by what means to shun
Th' 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, shatt'ring 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 driv'n down Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine,
And sends a comfortable heat from far,
Which might supply the sun.
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.
THUS they in lowliest plight, repentant, stood Praying; for from the mercy seat above
Prevenient grace descending, had removed The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breathed Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer
Inspired, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight Than loudest oratory: yet their port Not of mean suitors, nor important less
Seem'd their petition, than when th' 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 Heav'n their pray'rs Flew up; nor miss'd the way, by envious winds Blown vagabond or frustrate. In they pass'd Dimensionless, through heav'nly doors; then clad With incense, where the golden altar fumed, By their great Intercessor, came in sight Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son Presenting, thus to intercede began:
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