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; with labour I must earn
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
Clothed 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
The 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 & keen, shattering 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, driven
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine, [down
And sends a comfortable heat from far,
Which might supply the sun : such fire to use,
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, sustained
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, & pardon begg'd, with tears Watering the ground, & with their sighs the air Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek,

THE END OF ROOK X.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK XI.

THE ARGUMENT.

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 lame tation. Adam pleads, but submits. The Angel leads him up to a high hill, sets before him in vision what shall happen till the food.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK XI.

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 breath d Unutterable, which the spirit of prayer [flight Inspired, and wing'd for Heaven with speedier Than loudest oratory: yet their port, Not of mean suitors; nor important less Seem'd their petition, than when the 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 heaven their prayers Flew up; nor miss'd the way by envious winds Blown vagabond, or frustrate: in they pass'd, Dimensionless, through heavenly 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. [sprung, See, Father, what first fruits on earth are From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs And prayers, which in this golden censer mix'd With incense, I thy Priest, before thee bring; Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed, Sown with contrition in his heart than those Which his own hand, manuring all the trees Of Paradise, could have produced, ere fallen From innocence. Now, therefore, bend thine ear To supplication, hear his sighs, though mute; Unskilful with what words to pray, let me Interpret for him, me his Advocate, And Propitiation; all his works on me, Good or not good, ingraft; my merit those Shall perfect; and for these, my death shall pay. Accept me, and in me, from these receive

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