Whether such virtue, spent of old, now fail'd More angels to create, if they at least Are his created; or, to spite us more, Determined to advance into our room
A creature form'd of earth; and him endow, Exalted from so base original,
With heavenly spoils, our spoils: what he decreed, He effected; man he made, and for him built, Magnificent, this world, and earth his seat, Him lord pronounced; and, O indignity! Subjected to his service, angel-wings, And flaming ministers, to watch and tend Their earthly charge: of these the vigilance I dread; and, to elude, thus wrapt in mist Of midnight vapour, glide obscure, and pry In every bush and brake, where hap may find The serpent sleeping, in whose mazy folds To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. O foul descent! that I, who erst contended With gods to sit the highest, am now constrain'd Into a beast; and, mix'd with bestial slime, This essence to incarnate and imbrute, That to the height of deity aspired!
But what will not ambition and revenge Descend to? Who aspires, must down as low As high he soar'd, obnoxious, first or last,
To basest things. Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils:
Let it; I reck not, so it light well aim'd, Since higher I fall short, on him who next Provokes my envy, this new favourite
Of heaven, this man of clay, son of despite; Whom, us the more to spite, his Maker raised From dust: spite then with spite is best repaid."
So saying, through each thicket, dank or dry, Like a black mist, low creeping, he held on His midnight search, where soonest he might find The serpent: him, fast sleeping, soon he found In labyrinth of many a round, self-roll'd,
His head the midst, well stored with subtle wiles: Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den, Nor nocent yet; but, on the grassy herb, Fearless, unfear'd, he slept: in at his mouth The devil enter'd, and his brutal sense, In heart or head, possessing, soon inspired With act intelligential; but his sleep Disturb'd not, waiting close the approach of morn. Now, when as sacred light began to dawn In Eden on the humid flowers, that breathed Their morning incense, when all things that breathe, From the earth's great altar, send up silent praise To the Creator, and his nostrils fill
With grateful smell, forth came the human pair, And join'd their vocal worship to the quire Of creatures wanting voice; that done, partake The season, prime for sweetest scents and airs: Then commune, how that day they best may ply Their growing work; for much their work outgrew The hands' dispatch of two, gardening so wide; And Eve first to her husband thus began:
"Adain, well may we labour still to dress This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower,
Our pleasant task enjoin'd: but, till more hands Aid us, the work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint; what we by day Lop, overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, One night or two with wanton growth derides, Tending to wild. Thou, therefore, now advise, Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present: Let us divide our labours; thou, where choice Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind The woodbine round this arbour, or direct The clasping ivy where to climb; while I, In yonder spring of roses intermix'd
With myrtle, find what to redress till noon: For, while so near each other thus all day Our task we choose, what wonder if, so near, Looks intervene, and smiles, or object new Casual discourse draw on; which intermits Our day's work, brought to little, though begun Early, and the hour of supper comes unearn'd?" To whom mild answer Adam thus return'd: "Sole Eve, associate sole, to me, beyond Compare, above all living creatures dear! Well hast thou motion'd, well thy thoughts employ'd, How we might best fulfil the work which here God hath assign'd us; nor of me shalt pass Unpraised; for nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote. Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposed Labour, as to debar us when we need Refreshment, whether food, or talk between,
Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse Of looks and smiles; for smiles from reason flow, To brute denied, and are of love the food; Love, not the lowest end of human life. For not to irksome toil, but to delight, He made us, and delight to reason join'd. These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands
Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide As we need walk; till younger hands ere long Assist us: but if much converse, perhaps, Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield: For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urges sweet return. But other doubt possesses me, lest harm Befall thee, sever'd from me; for thou know'st What hath been warn'd us; what malicious foe, Envying our happiness, and of his own Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame By sly assault; and somewhere, nigh at hand, Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find His wish and best advantage, us asunder; Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each To other speedy aid might lend at need; Whether his first design be to withdraw Our fealty from God, or to disturb Conjugal love, than which, perhaps, no bliss Enjoy'd by us excites his envy more: Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side
That gave thee being, still shades thee, and protects. The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
Safest and seemliest by her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures." To whom the virgin majesty of Eve,
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets, With sweet austere composure thus replied:
'Offspring of heaven and earth, and all earth's lord!
That such an enemy we have, who seeks Our ruin, both by thee inform'd I learn, And from the parting angel overheard, As in a shady nook I stood behind,
Just then return'd at shut of evening flowers. But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt To God or thee, because we have a foe May tempt it, I expected not to hear. His violence thou fear'st not; being such As we, not capable of death or pain, Can either not receive, or can repel.
His fraud is, then, thy fear; which plain infers Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced: Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast,
Adam, misthought of her to thee so dear?"
To whom, with healing words, Adam replied: "Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve! For such thou art, from sin and blame entire; Not diffident of thee, do I dissuade
Thy absence from my sight; but to avoid The attempt itself, intended by our foe.
For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses
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