And flow'ring odors, caffia, nard, and balm ;
A wilderness of sweets; for Nature here
Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will
Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet,
Wild above rule or art; enormous bliss.
Him through the spicy forest onward come
Adam difcern'd, as in the door he fat

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Of his cool bow'r, while now the mounted fun

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Shot down direct his fervid rays to warm

Earth's inmoft womb, more warmth than Adam needs: And Eve within, due at her hour prepar'd

For dinner favory fruits, of tafte to please
True appetite, and not difrelish thirst

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Of necta'rous draughts between, from milky ftream, Berry or grape: to whom thus Adam call'd.

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Hafte hither Eve, and worth thy fight behold Eaftward among thofe trees, what glorious shape Comes this way moving; feems another morn Ris'n on mid-noon; some great beheft from Heaven To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe This day to be our gueft. But go with speed, And what thy ftores contain, bring forth, and pour Abundance, fit to honor and receive Our heav'nly ftranger: well we may afford Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow From large beftow'd, where Nature multiplies Her fertil growth, and by disburd'ning grows More fruitful, which inftructs us not to spare.

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To whom thus Eve. Adam, earth's hallow'd mold, Of God inspir'd, small store will serve, where store, L 3

All

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All seasons, ripe for use hangs on the stalk;
Save what by frugal ftoring firmness gains
To nourish, and fuperfluous moift confumes:
But I will hafte, and from each bough and brake,
Each plant and jucieft gourd, will pluck fuch choice
To entertain our Angel gueft, as he

Beholding fhall confefs, that here on Earth

God hath difpens'd his bounties as in Heaven.

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So faying, with dispatchful looks in hafte

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She turns, on hofpitable thoughts intent
What choice to choose for delicacy beft,
What order, fo contriv'd as not to mix
Taftes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring
Tafte after tafte upheld with kindlieft change;
Beftirs her then, and from each tender ftalk
Whatever Earth all-bearing mother yields
In India Eaft or Weft, or middle shore
In Pontus or the Punic coaft, or where
Alcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat
Rough or fmooth rin'd, or bearded husk, or shell,
She gathers, tribute large, and on the board
Heaps with unfparing hand; for drink the grape
She crushes, inoffenfive muft, and meaths
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From many a berry', and from sweet kernels prefs'd
She tempers dulcet creams, nor thefe to hold
Wants her fit veffels pure, then ftrows the ground
With rofe and odors from the fhrub unfum'd.

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Mean while our primitive great fire, to meet His God-like guest, walks forth, without more train Accompanied than with his own complete

Perfections;

Perfections; in himself was all his ftate,

More folemn than the tedious pomp that waits
On princes, when their rich retinue long

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Of horses led, and grooms besmear'd with gold,
Dazles the croud, and fets them all agape.
Nearer his prefence Adam though not aw'd,

Yet with fubmifs approach and reverence meek,
As to' a fuperior nature, bowing low,

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Thus faid. Native of Heav'n, for other place
None can than Heav'n fuch glorious fhape contain;
Since by defcending from the thrones above,
Those happy places thou haft deign'd a while
To want, and honor these, vouchsafe with us
Two' only, who yet by fovran gift poffefs
This fpacious ground, in yonder fhady bower
To reft, and what the garden choicest bears
To fit and tafte, till this meridian heat

Be over, and the fun more cool decline.

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Whom thus th' angelic Virtue answer'd mild. Adam, I therefore came, nor art thou fuch Created, or fuch place haft here to dwell, As may not oft invite, though Spi'rits of Heaven, To vifit thee; lead on then where thy bower 375 O'erfhades; for thefe mid-hours, till evening rife, I have at will. So to the fylvan lodge They came, that like Pomona's arbor fmil'd With flow'rets deck'd and fragrant smells; but Eve Undeck'd fave with herself, more lovely fair 380 Than Wood-Nymph, or the fairest Goddess feign'd Of three that in mount Ida naked ftrove,

Stood to' entertain her guest from Heav'n; no veil
She needed, virtue proof; no thought infirm
Alter'd her check. On whom the Angel Hail
Beftow'd, the holy falutation us'd

Long after to bleft Mary, fecond Eve.

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Hail Mother of Mankind, whofe fruitful womb
Shall fill the world more numerous with thy fons,
Than with these various fruits the trees of God 390
Have heap'd this table. Rais'd of graffy turf
Their table was, and mossy seats had round,
And on her ample fquare from fide to fide

All autumn pil'd, though spring and autumn here
Danc'd hand in hand. A while discourse they hold;
No fear left dinner cool; when thus began
Our author. Heav'nly ftranger, please to tafte
These bounties, which our Nourisher, from whom
All perfect good, unmeasur'd out, defcends,
To us for food and for delight hath caus'd
The earth to yield; unfavory food perhaps
To spiritual natures; only this I know,
That one celestial Father gives to all.

To whom the Angel. Therefore what he gives (Whofe praise be ever fung) to Man in part Spiritual, may of pureft Spi'rits be found

No' ingrateful food and food alike thofe pure
Intelligential fubftances require,

As doth your rational; and both contain

Within them every lower faculty

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Of fenfe, whereby they hear, fee, fmell, touch, tafte,
Tafting concoct, digeft, affimilate,

And

For know, whatever was created, needs

To be fuftain'd and fed; of elements

The groffer feeds the purer, earth the fea,

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Earth and the fea feed air, the air those fires

Ethereal, and as loweft firft the moon;

Whence in her vifage round those spots, unpurg'd

Vapors not yet into her fubftance turn'd.
Nor doth the moon no nourishment exhale
From her moist continent to higher orbs.

The fun, that light imparts to all, receives
From all his alimental recompenfe

In humid exhalations, and at even

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Sups with the ocean. Though in Heav'n the trees
Of life ambrofial fruitage bear, and vines
Yield nectar; though from off the boughs each morn
We brush mellifluous dews, and find the ground
Cover'd with pearly grain: yet God hath here
Varied his bounty fo with new delights,
As may compare with Heaven; and to taste
Think not I fhall be nice. So down they fat,
And to their viands fell; nor feemingly
The Angel, nor in mift, the common glofs

Of Theologians; but with keen dispatch

Of real hunger, and concoctive heat

To tranfubftantiate: what redounds, tranfpires

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Through Spi'rits with eafe; nor wonder; if by fire

Of footy coal th' empiric alchemist

Can turn, or holds it poffible to turn,
Metals of droffieft ore to perfect gold

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As