'Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time,
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
To the night-warbling bird, that now awake,
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song; now reigns
Full-orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light
Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,
If none regard: Heaven wakes with all his eyes;
Whom to behold but thee, nature's desire?
In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment,
Attracted by thy beauty, still to gaze.'
I rose as at thy call, but found thee not;
To find thee I directed then my walk;
And on, methought, alone I pass'd through ways,
That brought me on a sudden to the tree
Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seem'd,
Much fairer to my fancy than by day:
And as I wondering look'd, beside it stood
One shaped and wing'd like one of those from
By us oft seen; his dewy locks distill'd [Heaven,
Ambrosia; on that tree he also gazed:
'And, O fair plant,' said he,' with fruit surcharged,
Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet,
Nor God, nor Man? is knowledge so despised?
Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste?
Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold
Longer thy offer'd good; why else set here?'
This said; he paused not, but with venturous arm
He pluck'd, he tasted: me damp horror chill'd,
At such bold words, vouch'd with a deed so bold :
But he thus, overjoy'd; 'O fruit divine!
Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropp'd,
Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit
For gods, yet able to make gods of men:
And why not gods of men, since good, the more
Communicated, more abundant grows,
The author not impair'd, but honour'd more?
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve,
Partake thou also happy though thou art,
Happier thou may'st be, worthier canst not be :
Taste this, and be henceforth, among the gods,
Thyself a goddess; not to earth confined,
But sometimes in the air, as we, sometimes
Ascend to Heaven, by merit thine; and see
What life the gods live there, & such live thou.'
So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held,
Even to my mouth, of that same fruit, held part,
Which he had pluck'd: the pleasant savoury smell

So quicken'd appetite, that I, methought, Could not but taste. Forthwith, up to the clouds, With him I flew; and underneath beheld The earth outstretch'd, immense, a prospect wide And various wondering at my flight and change To this high exaltation; suddenly

My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down,
And fell asleep: but O how glad I waked,
To find this but a dream!" Thus Eve her night
Related, and thus Adam answer'd sad.
"Best image of myself, and dearer half,
The trouble of thy thoughts, this night in sleep,
Affects me equally nor can I like
This uncouth dream, of evil sprung, I fear:
Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,
Created pure. But know, that in the soul
Are many lesser faculties, that serve
Reason as chief; among these fancy next
Her office holds; of all external things,
Which the five watchful senses represent,
She forms imaginations, airy shapes,

Which reason joining, or disjoining, frames
All what we affirm, or what deny, and call
Our knowledge, or opinion; then retires,
Into her private cell, when nature rests.
Oft, in her absence, mimic fancy wakes
To imitate her; but misjoining shapes,
Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams;
Ill matching words and deeds, long past or late.
Some such resemblances, methinks, I find
Of our last evening's talk, in this thy dream,
But with addition strange; yet be not sad.
Evil into the mind of God or man
May come and go, so unapproved, and leave
No spot or blame behind: which gives me hope
That, what in sleep thou did'st abhor to dream,
Waking, thou never wilt consent to do.
Be not dishearten'd then, nor cloud those looks,
That wont to be more cheerful and serene,
Than when fair morning first smiles on the world;
And let us to our fresh employments rise,
Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers,
That open now their choicest bosom'd smells,
Reserved from night, and kept for thee in store."

So cheer'd he his fair spouse, and she was cheer'd; But silently a gentle tear let fall

From either eye, and wiped them with her hair;

Two other precious drops that ready stood,
Each in their crystal sluice, he, ere they fell,
Kiss'd; as the gracious signs of sweet remorse,
And pious awe, that fear'd to have offended.

So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste.
But first, from under shady arborous roof,
Soon as they forth were come, to open sight
Of day-spring, and the sun, who scarce up-risen,
With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean-brim,
Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray,
Discovering, in wide landscape, all the east
Of Paradise, and Eden's happy plains;
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began
Their orisons, each morning duly paid,
In various style; for, neither various style,
Nor holy rapture wanted they, to praise
Their Maker, in fit strains pronounced, or sung
Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence
Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse
More tuneable than needed lute or harp,
To add more sweetness; and they thus began.

"These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty, Thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; Thyself how wonderous then!
Unspeakable, who sit'st above these Heavens,
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine
Speak ye, who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels; for ye behold Him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven,
On Earth, join all ye creatures, to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
If better, thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater, sound His praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb❜st,
And when high noon hast gain'd, & when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fliest,
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies,
And ye five other wandering fires, that move
In mystic dance, not without song, resound

His praise, who, out of darkness, call'd up light
Air, and ye elements, the eldest birth
Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix,
And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mists and exhalations, that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise;
Whether, to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth, with falling showers,
Rising or falling, still advance his praise.
His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; & wave your tops, ye pines,
With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Join voices all ye living souls: ye birds,
That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings, & in your notes, his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
Witness, if I be silent, morn or even,
To hill or valley, fountain, or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark."

So pray'd they innocent; & to their thoughts
Firm peace recover'd soon, and wonted calm.
On to their morning's rural work they haste,
Among sweet dews and flowers; where any row
Of fruit-trees, over-woody, reach'd too far
Their pamper'd boughs, & needed hands to check
Fruitless embraces: or, they led the vine
To wed her elm; she spoused, about him twines
Her marriageable arms; and with her brings
Her dower, the adopted clusters, to adorn
His barren leaves. Them thus employ'd, beheld
With pity Heaven's high King, and to him call'd
Raphael, the sociable spirit, that deign'd
To travel with Tobias, and secured

His marriage with the seven-times-wedded maid

'Raphael," said he," thou hear'st what stir on earth, Satan, from Hell'scaped, through the darksome gulf,

I

Hath raised in Paradise, and how disturb'd
This night the human pair; how he designs,
In them, at once to ruin all mankind.
Go therefore, half this day, as friend with friend,
Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade
Thou find'st him, from the heat of noon retired,
To respite his day-labour with repast,
Or with repose; and such discourse bring on,
As may advise him of his happy state;
Happiness in his power, left free to will,
Left to his own free will, his will though free,
Yet mutable; whence warn him, to beware
He swerve not, too secure: tell him withal
His danger, and from whom; what enemy,
Late fall'n Himself from heaven, is plotting now
The fall of others, from like state of bliss;
By violence? no, for that shall be withstood;
But by deceit and lies: this let him know,
Lest, wilfully transgressing, he pretend
Surprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd."

So spake the eternal Father, and fulfill'd
All justice nor delay'd the winged saint,
After his charge received; but from among
Thousand celestial ardours, where he stood
Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light,
Flew thro' the midst of heaven; the angelic quires,
On each hand parting, to his speed gave way,
Through all the empyreal road; till, at the gate
Of heaven arrived, the gate self-open'd wide,
On golden hinges turning, as by work
Divine the sovereign Architect had framed.
From hence no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight,
Star interposed: however small he sees,
Not unconform to other shining globes,
Earth, & the garden of God, with cedars crown'd
Above all hills. As when, by night, the glass
Of Galileo, less assured, observes
Imagined lands and regions in the moon:
Or pilot, from amidst the Cyclades,
Delos or Samos first appearing, kens
A cloudy spot. Down thither, prone in flight,
He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky,
Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing;
Now on the polar winds, then, with quick fan,
Winnows the buxom air; till within soar
Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems
A phoenix, gazed by all, as that sole bird,