Conceals not from us, naming thee the tree
Of knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil:
Forbids us then to taste; but bis forbidding
Commends thee more, while it infers the good
By thee communicated, and our want:
For good unknown, sure is not had; or had
And yet unknown, is as not had at all.
In plain then, what forbids he but to know;
Forbids us good! forbids us to be wise!
Such prohibitions bind not. But if death
Bind us with after-bands, what profits then
Our inward freedom? In the day we eat
Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die.
How dies the Serpent? he hath eaten and lives,
And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns :
Irrational till then. For us alone
Was death invented? or to us deny'd
This intellectual food, for beasts reserved?
For beasts it seems; yet that one beast which first
Hath tasted, envies not, but brings with joy
The good befall'n him, author unsuspect,
Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile.
What fear I then? Rather, what know to fear
Under this ignorance of good and evil,
Of God or death, of law or penalty?
Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine,
Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,
Of virtue to make wise. What hinders then
To reach, and feed at once both body' and mind?
So saying, her rash hand, in evil hour,
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat!
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat
Sighing, through all her works gave signs of woe,
That all was lost! Back to the thicket slunk
The guilty Serpent, and well might, for Eve, 785
Intent now wholly on her taste, nought else
Regarded; such delight till then, as seem'd,
In fruit she never tasted, whether true
Or fancy'd so, through expectation high
Of knowledge; nor was Godhead from her thought.
Greedily she ingorged without restraint
And knew not eating death. Satiate at length,
And heighten'd as with wine, jocund, and boon,
Thus to herself she pleasingly began:
O sov'reign, virtuous, precious of all trees
In Paradise, of operation blest
To sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed,
And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end
Created; but henceforth my early care,
Not without song, each morning, and due praise 800
Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease
Of thy full branches, offer'd free to all;
Till, dieted by thee, I grow mature
In knowledge, as the Gods who all things know;
Though others envy what they cannot give;
For had the gift been theirs, it had not here
Thus grown. Experience, next to thee I owe,
Best guide; not following thee I had remain'd
In ignorance: thou open'st Wisdom's way,
And giv'st access, though secret she retire.
And I perhaps am secret: Heav'n is bigh,
High and remote, to see from thence distinct
Each thing on earth; and other care perhaps
May have diverted from continual watch
Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies
About him. But to Adam, in what sort
Shall I appear? Shall I to him make known
As yet my change, and give him to partake
Full happiness with me, or rather not,
But keep the odds of knowledge in my pow'r
Without copartner? so to add what wants
In female sex, the more to draw his love,
And render me more equal, and perhaps,
A thing not undesirable, sometime
Superior; for inferior, who is free?
This may be well; but what if God have seen,
And death ensue? Then 1 shall be no more;
And Adam, wedded to another Eve,
Shall live with her enjoying; I extinct.
A death to think! Confirm'd then, I resolve
Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe:
So dear I love him, that with him all deaths
I could endure; without him live no life.
So saying, from the tree her step she turn'd:
18. To give to partake; an elegant mode of expression In classic authors.
But first low rev'rence done, as to the Pow'r
That dwelt within, whose presence had infused
Into the plant sciential sap, derived
From nectar, drink of Gods. Adam the while
Waiting, desirous her return, had wove
Of choicest flow'rs a garland, to adorn
Her tresses, and her rural labours crown,
As reapers oft are wont their harvest-queen.
Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and new
Solace in her return, so long delay'd;
Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill,
Misgave him: he the falt'ring measure felt;
And forth to meet her went, the way she took
That morn when first they parted. By the tree
Of knowledge he must pass: there he her met,
Scarce from the tree returning: in her hand
A bough of fairest fruit, that downy smiled,
New gather'd, and ambrosial smell diffused.
To him she hasted. In her face excuse
Came prologue, and apology too prompt,
Which with bland words at will she thus address'd:
Hast thou not wonder'd, Adam, at my stay?
Thee I have miss'd, and thought it long, deprived
Thy presence; agony of love till now
Not felt! nor shall be twice; for never more
Mean I to try, what rash untry'd I sought,
The pain of absence from thy sight! But strange
Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear.
This tree is not, as we are told, a tree
Of danger tasted, nor to' evil unknown
Opening the way, but of divine effect
To open eyes, and make them Gods who taste!
And hath been tasted such. The serpent wise,
Or not restrain'd as we, or not obeying,
835. This first sign of idolatry in man is well introduced as an immediate consequence of the fall. The remaining portion of this book may be considered, I think, as in some respects superior to any other part of the poem. The mention of Adam, unconscious of the coming woe, weaving flowers for Eve is exquisitely pathetic; the misgivings of his heart on meeting her, the description of her agitated appearance, and the discourse, deep and passionate, which follows, are all conceived in the finest vein of tragic genius. In no other part of his poem had Milton an op portunity of displaying his power in the delineation of human passion, but he has here proved, that had his subject admitted it. it would have possessed not less pathos than sublimity.
Hath eaten of the fruit, and is become,
Not dead, as we are threaten'd, but thenceforth 870
Endued with human voice and human sense,
Reasoning to admiration; and with me
Persuasively hath so prevail'd, that I
Have also tasted, and have also found
Th' effects to correspond; opener mine eyes,
Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart,
And growing up to Godhead; which for thee
Chiefly I sought; without thee can despise :
For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss;
Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon.
Thou therefore also taste, that equal lot
May join us, equal joy, as equal love!
Lest thou not tasting, different degree
Disjoin us, and I then too late renounce
Deity for thee, when Fate will not permit.
Thus Eve, with count'nance blithe, her story told;
But in her cheek distemper flushing glow'd.
On th' other side, Adam, soon as he heard
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed,
Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill
Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax'd;
From his slack hand the garland, wreath'd for Eve,
Down dropt, and all the faded roses shed.
Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length,
First to himself, he inward silence broke:
O fairest of creation, last and best
Of all God's works, Creature in whom excell'd
Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd,
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost!
Defaced, deflow'r'd, and now to death devote!
Rather, How hast thou yielded, to transgress
The strict forbiddance? how to violate
The sacred fruit forbidden? Some cursed fraud
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown,
And me with thee hath ruin'd! for with thee
Certain my resolution is to die.
How can I live without thee! how forego
Thy sweet converse and love so dearly join'd,
To live again in these wild woods forlorn!
Should God create another Eve, and I
Another rib afford. yet loss of thee
Would never from my heart. No, no, I feel
The link of nature draw me: flesh of flesh,
Bone of my bone thou art; and from thy state
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe.
So having said, as one from sad dismay Recomforted, and after thoughts disturb'd Submitting to what seem'd remediless,
Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turn'd: 920
Bold deed thou hast presumed, advent'rous Eve,
And peril great provoked, who thus hast dared,
Had it been only coveting to eye
That sacred fruit, sacred to abstinence,
Much more to taste it, under ban to touch.
But past who can recall, or done undo?
Not God omnipotent, nor Fate: yet so
Perhaps thou shalt not die; perhaps the fact
Is not so hainous now, foretasted fruit,
Profaned first by the serpent, by him first
Made common and unhallow'd ere our taste;
Nor yet on him found deadly, he yet lives;
Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live as Man
Higher degree of life: inducement strong
To us, as likely tasting, to attain
Proportional ascent, which cannot be
But to be Gods, or Angels Demi-Gods.
Nor can I think that God, Creator wise,
Though threat'ning, will in earnest so destroy
Us his prime creatures, dignify'd so high,
Set over all his works, which in our fall,
For us created, needs with us must fail,
Dependent made: so God shall uncreate,
Be frustrate, do, undo, and labour lose,
Not well conceived of God, who tho' his pow'r
Creation could repeat, yet would be loth
Us to abolish, lest the Adversary
Triumph and say, Fickle their state whom God
Most favours: who can please him long? Me first
He ruin'd, now Mankind. Whom will he next? 950
Matter of scorn, not to be giv'n the Foe.
However, I with thee have fix'd my lot,
Certain to undergo like doom. If death
939. Hainous; so spelt by Milton, from the French haineux.
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