A help, became thy snare; to me reproach
Rather belongs, distrust and all dispraise;
But infinite in pardon was my Judge,

170

That I who first brought death on all, am grac'd
The source of life; next favourable thou,
Who highly thus to' intitle me vouchsaf'st,
Far other name deserving. But the field
To labour calls us now with sweat impos'd,
Though after sleepless night; for see the Mora,
All unconcern'd with our unrest, begins
Her rosy progress smiling; let us forth,
I never from thy side henceforth to stray,
Where'er our day's work lies, though now injoin'd
Laborious, till day droop; while here we dwell,
What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks?
Here let us live, though in fall'n state, content. 180

So spake, so wish'd much-humbled Eve, but Fate Subscrib'd not; Nature first gave signs impress'd On bird, beast, air, air suddenly eclips'd After short blush of Morn; nigh in her sight The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aery tour, Two birds of gayest plume before him drove; Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, First hunter then, pursu'd a gentle brace, Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; Direct to the eastern gate was bent their flight. Adam observ'd, and with his eye the chase Pursuing, not unmov'd to Eve thus spake:

190

O Eve, some further change awaits us migh, Which Heav'n by these mute signs in Nature shows,

Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn

Us haply too secure of our discharge

From penalty, because from death releas'd

200

Some days; how long, and what till then our life,
Who knows, or more than this, that we are dust,
And thither must return and be no more ?
Why else this double object in our sight
Of flight pursu'd in th' air, and o'er the ground,
One way the self-same hour? why in the east
Darkness e'er day's mid-course, and morning light
More orient in yon western cloud, that draws
O'er the blue firma:nent a radiant white,
And slow descends, with something heav'nly fraught?
He err'd not, for by this the heav'nly bands
Down from a sky of jasper lighted now

In Paradise, and on a hill made halt,
A glorious apparition, had no doubt
And carnal fear that day dimm'd Adam's eye.
Not that more glorious, when the Angels met
Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw

The field pavilion'd with his guardians bright;
Nor that which on the flaming mount appear'd
In Dothan, cover'd with a camp of fire,
Against the Syrian king, who to surprise
One man, assassin-like, had levied war,
War unproclaim'd. The princely Hierarch
In their bright stand there left his pow'rs to seize
Possession of the garden; he alone,

To find where Adam shelter'd took his way,
Not unperceiv'd of Adam, who to Eve,

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220

While the great visitant approach'd, thus spake :
Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps
Of us will soon determine, or impose.
New laws to be observ'd; for I descry
From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill
One of the heav'nly host, and by his gate
None of the meanest, some great potentate
Or of the thrones above, such majesty
Invests him coming; yet not terrible,
That I should fear, not sociably mild,
As Raphael, that I should much confide,
But solemn and sublime, whom not to' offend,
With reverence I must meet, and thou retire.
He ended; and th' Arch-angel soon drew nigh,
Not in his shape celestial, but as man
Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms
A military vest of purple flow'd,

Livelier than Meliboan, or the grain
Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old
In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof;
His starry helm unbuckled show'd him prime
In manhood where youth ended; by his side
As in a glist'ring zodiac hung the sword,
Satan's dire dread, and in his hand the spear.
Adam bow'd low; he kingly from his state
Inclin'd not, but his coming thus declar'd:

Adam, Heav'n's high behest no preface needs:
Sufficient that thy pray'rs are heard, and Death,
Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress,
Volume II.

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Defeated of his seisure many days

Giv'n thee of grace, wherein thou may'st repent,

And one bad act with many deeds well done
May'st cover: well may then thy Lord appeas'd
Redeem thee quite from Death's rapacious claim;
But longer in this Paradise to dwell

Permits not; to remove thee I am come,
And send thee from the garden forth to till

The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil.
He added not, for Adam at the news

Heart-struck with chilling gripe of sorrow stood,
That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen
Yet all had heard, with audible lament
Discover'd soon the place of her retire:

260

O unexpected stroke, worse than of death!
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? `thus leave
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 270
Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend,
Quiet though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers,
That never will in other climate grow,***
My early visitation, and my last

At even, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first opening bud, and gave ye names,
Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount?
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn'd'
With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure

280

And wild? how shall we breath in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?
Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild:
Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign
What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart,
Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine;
Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes
Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound;
Where he abides, think there thy native soil.

Adam by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scatter'd spirits return'd: To Michael thus his humble words address'd;

Celestial, whether among the thrones, or nam'd
Of them the high'est, for such of shape may seem
Prince above princes, gently hast thou told

Thy message, which might else in telling wound,
And in performing end us; what besides
Of sorrow and dejection and despair.
Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring,
Departure from this happy place, our sweet
Recess, and only consolation left?^ 5.1.11
Familiar to our eyes, all places else,
Inhospitable' appear and desolate, .
Nor knowing us nor known: and if by pray'r
Incessant I could hope to change the will
Of him who all things can, I will not cease
To weary him with my assiduous cries:.
But pray'r against his absolute decree,;,>
No more avails than breath against the wind,
Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth:

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