Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile, To re-salute the world, with sacred light, Leucothea waked, & with fresh dews embalm'd The earth, when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found Strength added from above, new hope to spring Out of despair, joy, but with fear yet link'd; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renew'd.
"Eve, easily my faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy, from Heaven descends: But that from us aught should ascend to Heaven, So prevalent, as to concern the mind Of God, high-bless'd, or to incline his will, Hard to belief may seem; yet this will prayer, Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne Even to the seat of God. For since I sought, By prayer the offended Deity to appease, Kneel'd, and before him humbled all my heart, Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew, That I was heard with favour; peace return'd Home to my breast, and to my memory His promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe: Which then not minded, in dismay, yet now Assures me, that the bitterness of death Is pass'd, & we shall live. Whence, hail to thee, Eve rightly call'd, mother of all mankind, Mother of all things living! since by thee Man is to live, and all things live for man." To whom thus Eve, with sad demeanour meek. "Ill worthy I, such title should belong To me, transgressor, who, for thee ordain'd A help, became thy snare; to me reproach Rather belongs, distrust, and all dispraise: But infinite in pardon was my Judge, That I, who first brought death on all, am graced The source of life: next favourable thou, Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsafest, Far other name deserving. But the field To labour calls us now, with sweat imposed, Though after sleepless night; for see, the morn, 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 enjoin'd Laborious, till day droop. While here we dwell,
What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks? Here let us live, though in fallen state, content."
So spake, so wish'd, much-humbled Eve; but fate Subscribed not. Nature first gave signs, impress'd On bird, beast, air; air suddenly eclipsed, After short blush of morn; nigh, in her sight, The bird of Jove stoop'd from his airy 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 observed, and, with his eye the chase Pursuing, not unmoved, to Eve thus spake.
"O Eve! some further change awaits us nigh, Which Heaven, 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 released 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 pursued in the air, and o'er the ground, One way the self-same hour? why in the east Darkness, ere day's mid-course, and morning light, More orient in yon western cloud, that draws O'er the blue firmament a radiant white,
And slow descends, with something heavenly fraught?" He err'd not; for by this the heavenly bands, Down from a sky of jasper, lighted now In Paradise, and on a hill made halt; A glorious apparition, had not 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 powers, to seize Possession of the garden; he alone, To find where Adam shelter'd, took his way; Not unperceived of Adam; who to Eve, 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 observed; for I descry, From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill, One of the heavenly host, and, by his gait, None of the meanest; some great potentate, Or of the thrones above, such majesty Invests him coming; yet not terrible, That I should fear, nor sociably mild, As Raphael, that I should as much confide; But solemn and sublime; whom, not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire."
He ended; and the Archangel 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 Meliboean, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old In time of truce; Iris had dipp'd the woof; His starry helm unbuckled, show'd him prime In manhood, where youth ended; by his side, As in a glistering zodiac, hung the sword, Satan's dire dread, and in his hand the spear: Adam bow'd low; he, kingly, from his state Inclined not; but his coming thus declared.
"Adam, Heaven's high behest no preface needs: Sufficient that thy prayers are heard, and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seizure, many days Given thee of grace, wherein thou mayst repent, And one bad act, with many deeds well done, Mayst cover well may then thy Lord, appeased, 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.
"O unexpected stroke, worse than of death! Must I thus leave thee, Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 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, & water from the ambrosial fount? Thee lastly, nuptial bower, 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 And wild? how shall we breathe 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 overfond, 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 adress'd
"Celestial, whether among the thrones, or nam'd Of them the highest, for of such 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 that happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left, Familiar to our eyes; all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate,
Nor knowing us, nor known. And if, by prayer Incessant, I could hope to change the will Of him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries: But prayer, against his absolute decree, No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth : Therefore to his great bidding I submit. This most afflicts me, that departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, deprived His blessed countenance; here I could frequent With worship, place by place, where he vouchsafed Presence divine; and to my sons relate,
On this mount he appeard; under this tree Stood visible; among these pines, his voice I heard; here with him, at this fountain, talked : So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory, Or monument to ages, and thereon Offer sweet-smelling gums, & fruits, & flowers. In yonder nether world, where shall I seek His bright appearances, or footstep trace? For though I fled him, angry, yet recall'd To life prolong'd, and promis'd race, I now Gladly behold, though but his utmost skirts Of glory, and far off his steps adore."
To whom thus Michael, with regard benign. "Adam, thou know'st Heaven his, & all the Earth; Not this rock only; his omnipresence fills Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, Fomented by his virtual power and warm'd: All the earth he gave thee to possess, and rule, No despicable gift; surmise not then His presence to these narrow bounds confined Of Paradise or Eden: this had been
Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread
All generations, and had hither come
From all the ends of the earth, to celebrate
And reverence thee, their great progenitor.
But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: Yet doubt not, but in valley and in plain God is as here, and will be found alike Present, and of his presence many a sign Still following thee, still compassing thee round With goodness and paternal love, his face Express, and of his steps the track divine. Which that thou mayst believe, & be confirm'd, Ere thou from hence depart, know, I am sent To show thee what shall come, in future days, To thee and to thy offspring: good with bad Expect to hear; supernal grace contending With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn True patience, and to temper joy with fear, And pious sorrow, equally inured, By moderation either state to bear, Prosperous or adverse so shalt thou lead Safest thy life, and best prepared, endure Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend
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