Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails." So spake our sire, and by his countenance seem'd Entering on studious thoughts abstruse; which Eve Perceiving, where she sat retired in sight, With lowliness majestic from her seat, And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers, To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom, Her nursery they at her coming sprung, And touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew Yet went she not, as not with such discourse Delighted, or not capable her ear
Of what was high: such pleasure she reserved, Adam relating, she sole auditress; Her husband the relator she preferr'd Before the Angel, and of him to ask Chose rather; he, she knew, would intermix Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses; from his lip Not words alone pleas'd her. O when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd? With goddess-like demeanour forth she went, Not unattended, for on her, as queen, A pomp of winning graces waited still, And, from about her, shot darts of desire Into all eyes, to wish her still in sight. And Raphael now, to Adam's doubt proposed, Benevolent and facile, thus replied.
"To ask, or search I blame thee not, for Heaven Is as the book of God before thee set, Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years: This to attain, whether Heaven move, or Earth, Imports not, or if thou reckon right; the rest, From man or angel, the great Architect Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge His secrets, to be scann'd by them, who ought Rather admire: or, if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heavens Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move His laughter, at their quaint opinions wide, Hereafter, when they come to model Heaven, And calculate the stars, how they will wield The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive To save appearances, how gird the sphere, With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er, Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb.
Already by thy reasoning this I guess, Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest, That bodies bright and greater should not serve The less, not bright; nor Heaven such journies run, Earth sitting still, when she alone receives The benefit. Consider first, that great Or bright infers not excellence: the Earth, Though in comparison of Heaven so small, Nor glistering, may, of solid good, contain More plenty than the sun, that barren shines, Whose virtue on itself works no effect, But in the fruitful earth; there first received, His beams, unactive else, their vigour find. Yet not to earth are those bright luminaries Officious, but to thee, earth's habitant. And for the Heaven's wide circuit, let it speak The Maker's high magnificence, who built So spacious, and his line stretch'd out so far, That man may know he dwells not in his own; An edifice too large for him to fill, Lodg'd in a small partition, and the rest Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known. The swiftness of those circles attribute, Though numberless, to his omnipotence, That to corporeal substances could add Speed almost spiritual: me thou think'st not slow, Who, since the morning hour, set out from Heaven Where God resides, and ere mid-day arrived In Eden; distance inexpressible, By numbers that have name. Admitting motion in the Heavens, to show Invalid that, which thee to doubt it moved; Not that I so affirm, though so it seem To thee, who hast thy dwelling here on earth. God, to remove his ways from human sense, Placed Heaven from Earth so far, that earthly sight, If it presume, might err in things too high, And no advantage gain. What if the sun Be centre to the world, and other stars, By his attractive virtue and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds? Their wandering course now high, now low, then hid, Progressive, retrograde, or standing still, In six thou seest; and what if seventh to these The planet earth, so steadfast though she seem, Insensibly three different motions move? Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe,
Moved contrary with thwart obliquities; Or save the sun his labour, and that swift Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed, Invisible else above all stars, the wheel Of day and night; which needs not thy belief, If earth, industrious, of herself fetch day Travelling east, and with her part averse From the sun's beam meet night, her other part Still luminous by his ray. What if that light, Sent from her, through the wide conspicuous air, To the terrestrial moon, be as a star, Enlightening her by day, as she by night This earth? reciprocal, if land be there, Fields and inhabitants: her spots thou seest As clouds; & clouds may rain, & rain produce Fruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eat, Allotted there; and other suns, perhaps, With their attendant moons, thou wilt descry, Communicating male and female light; Which two great sexes animate the world, Stored in each orb perhaps with some that live. For such vast room in nature, unpossess'd By living soul, desert and desolate, Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far Down to this habitable, which returns Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. But whether thus these things, or whether not, Whether the sun, predominant in Heaven, Rise on the earth, or earth rise on the sun; He from the east his flaming road begin, Or she from west her silent course advance, With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle, while she paces even, And bears the soft with the smooth air along, Solicit not thy thoughts; with matters hid, Leave them to God above; him serve and fear; Of other creatures, as him pleases best, Wherever placed, let him dispose. Joy thou In what he gives to thee, this Paradise, And thy fair Eve; Heaven is for thee too high, To know what passes there; be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being; Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition, or degree; Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd, Not of Earth only, but of highest Heaven."
To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, replied. "How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure Intelligence of Heaven, Angel serene, And, freed from intricacies, taught to live The easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughts To interrupt the sweet of life, from which God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares, And not molest us, unless we ourselves Seek them with wandering thoughts, & notions vain. But apt the mind or fancy is to rove Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end; Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learns, That not to know at large of things remote From use, obscure, and subtle, but to know That which before us lies in daily life, Is the prime wisdom; what is more is fume Or emptiness, or fond impertinence,
And renders us, in things that most concern, Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek. Therefore, from this high pitch, let us descend A lower flight, and speak of things at hand, Useful; whence, haply mention may arise Of something not unreasonable to ask, By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd. "Thee I have heard, relating what was done Ere my remembrance: now hear me relate My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard, And day is not yet spent ; till then, thou seest How subtly to detain thee I devise, Inviting thee to hear while I relate; Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply; For while I sit with thee, I seem in Heaven; And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear Than fruits of palm-tree, pleasantest to thirs And hunger both, from labour, at the hour Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill, Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divine Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.'
To whom thus Raphael answer'd, heavenly meek. "Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men, Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd, Inward and outward both, his image fair: Speaking or mute, all comeliness and grace Attends thee, and each word, each motion forms; Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on Earth, Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire
Gladly into the ways of God with man: For God, we see, hath honour'd thee, and set On man his equal love. Say therefore on; For I that day was absent, as befel,
Bound on a voyage uncouth, and obscure, Far on excursion toward the gates of Hell, Squared in full legion; such command we had, To see that none thence issued forth a spy, Or enemy, while God was in his work, Lest he, incens'd at such eruption bold, Destruction with creation might have mix'd. Not that they durst, without his leave, attempt; But us he sends upon his high behests For state, as sovereign King, and to inure Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut The dismal gates, and barricado'd strong; But, long ere our approaching, heard within Noise, other than the sound of dance or song, Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. Glad we return'd up to the coasts of light, Ere sabbath evening: so we had in charge. But thy relation now; for I attend, [mine." Pleased with thy words no less than thou with
So spake the Godlike Power; & thus our sire. "For man to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew? Desire with thee still longer to converse Induced me. As new waked from soundest sleep, Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid, In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed. Straight toward Heaven my wond'ring eyes I turn'd, And gazed awhile the ample sky; till raised By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet about me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these, Creatures that lived, and moved, & walked, or flew; Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled; With fragrance, and with joy my heart o'erflow'd. Myself I then perused, and limb by limb. Survey'd ; & sometimes went, & sometimes ran With supple joints, and lively vigour led; But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not; to speak I tried, & forthwith spake; My tongue obey'd, and readily could name
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