Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid,
Thy counsel in this uttermost distress,

My only strength and stay.

Forlorn of thee,

Whither shall I betake me? where subsist?

920

While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, Between us two let there be peace; both joining,

As join'd in injuries, one enmity

925

Against a foe by doom express assign'd us,

That cruel Serpent. On me exercise not
Thy hatred for this misery befall'n,

On me already lost, me than thyself

More miserable. Both have sinn'd; but thou
Against God only'; I against God and thee,
And to the place of judgment will return
There with my cries importune Heav'n, that all
The sentence, from thy head removed, may light
On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe!
Me, me only, just object of his ire.

930

935

She ended weeping; and her lowly plight, Immoveable till peace obtain'd from fault Acknowledged and deplored, in Adam wrought Commiseration. Soon his heart relented Tow'rds her, his life so late and sole delight, Now at his feet submissive in distress, Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking,

940

His counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid;

As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost,

945

And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon: Unwary' and too desirous, as before,

So now of what thou know'st not, who desir❜st
The punishment all on thyself; alas,
Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain

950

His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part,
And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If pray'rs
Could alter high decrees, I to that place

Would speed before thee, and be louder heard,

055

That on my head all might be visited;

Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven,

To me committed, and by me exposed.

But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame

940. It is said that Milton had a personal feeling in writing this passage, and described his meeting and reconciliation with his wife who had been for some time separated from him.

Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burden, in our share of woe;
Since this day's death denounced, if aught I see,
Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil,
A long day's dying to augment our pain,
And to our seed (O hapless seed!) derived.

To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, reply'd:
Adam, by sad experiment, I know

How little weight my words with thee can find,
Found so erroneous, thence by just event
Found so unfortunate! nevertheless,
Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place

Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain

Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart

Living or dying, from thee I will not hide

960

965

970

What thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen, 975
Tending to some relief of our extremes,

Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable,
As in our evils, and of easier choice.

If care of our descent perplex us most,

Which must be born to certain woe, devour'd

980

By Death at last; and miserable it is

To be to others cause of misery,

Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring
Into this cursed world a woeful race!
That after wretched life, must be at last
Food for so foul a monster! In thy pow'r

985

It lies, yet ere conception, to prevent
The race unblest, to being yet unbegot.

Childless thou art, childless remain; so Death
Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two

990

Be forced to satisfy his rav'nous maw.
But if thou judge it hard and difficult,

Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain

From love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet,

And with desire to languish without hope,

995

Before the present object languishing

With like desire, which would be misery

And torment less than none of what we dread,

Then both ourselves and seed at once to free

From what we fear for both let us make short; 1000 Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply

With our own hands his office on ourselves.
Why stand we longer shivering under fears,
That shew no end but death, and have the pow'r
Of many ways to die, the shortest choosing,
Destruction with destruction to destroy?

She ended here, or vehement despair

1005

Broke off the rest; so much of death her thoughts
Had entertain'd, as dyed her cheeks with pale.
But Adam with such counsel nothing sway'd: 1010
To better hopes his more attentive mind
Labouring had raised, and thus to Eve replied:

Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems
To argue in thee something more sublime
And excellent than what thy mind contemns;
But self-destruction therefore sought, refutes
That excellence thought in thee, and implies,
Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret
For loss of life and pleasure overloved.
Or if thou covet death, as utmost end
Of misery, so thinking to evade

1015

1020

The penalty pronounced, doubt not but God
Hath wiselier arm'd his vengeful ire than so
To be forestall'd much more I fear lest death
So snatch'd will not exempt us from the pain
We are by doom to pay: rather such acts
Of contumacy' will provoke the Highest
To make death in us live. Then let us seek
Some safer resolution, which methinks
I have in view, calling to mind with heed
Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise
The Serpent's head. Piteous amends! unless
Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe
Satan, who in the serpent hath contrived
Against us this deceit. To crush his head
Would be revenge indeed: which will be lost
By death brought on ourselves, or childless days
Resolved, as thou proposest; so our foe
Shall 'scape his punishment ordain'd, and we
Instead, shall double ours upon our heads.
No more be mention'd then of violence
Against ourselves, and wilful barrenness,
That cuts us off from hope, and savours only
Rancour and pride, impatience and despite,
Reluctance against God and his just yoke

1025

1030

1035

1040

1045

Laid on our necks.

Remember with what mild

And gracious temper he both heard and judged,
Without wrath or reviling! We expected

Immediate dissolution, which we thought

Was meant by death that day; when lo! to thee 1050
Pains only in child-bearing were foretold,

And bringing forth; soon recompensed with joy,
Fruit of thy womb. On me the curse aslope
Glanced on the ground. With labour I must earn
My bread. What harm? Idleness had been worse:
My labour will sustain me. And lest cold
Or heat should injure us, his timely care
Hath unbesought provided, and his hands

1056

Cloth'd us, unworthy, pitying while he judged; How much more, if we pray him, will his ear 1060 Be open, and his heart to pity' incline,

1065

And teach us farther by what means to shun
Th' inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow!
Which now the sky with various face begins
To shew us in this mountain, while the winds
Blow moist and keen, shatt'ring the graceful locks
Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek
Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish
Our limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal star

Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams 1070
Reflected, may with matter sere foment,

Or, by collision of two bodies, grind

The air attrite to fire, as late the clouds

Justling, or push'd with winds, rude in their shock,
Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame driv'n
Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine,
And sends a comfortable heat from far,

[down

Which might supply the sun. Such fire to use,
And what may else be remedy or cure

To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought, 1080
He will instruct us praying, and of grace
Beseeching him, so as we need not fear
To pass commodiously this life, sustain'd
By him with many comforts, till we end
In dust our final rest and native home.
What better can we do, than to the place
Repairing where he judged us, prostrate fall

1069. Diurnal star, the sun.

1085

Before him, reverent, and there confess

Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears
Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air 1090
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow' unfeign'd, and humiliation meek?
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn

From his displeasure; in whose look serene,
When angry most he seem'd, and most severe, 1095
What else but favour, grace, and mercy shone?
So spake our father penitent: nor Eve
Felt less remorse. They forthwith to the place
Repairing where he judged them, prostrate fell
Before him, reverent, and both confess'd
1100
Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd, with tears
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow' unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.

BOOK XI.

THE ARGUMENT.

The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first parents, now repenting, and intercedes for them: God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise; sends Michael with a band of Cherubim to dispossess them; but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael's coming down. Adam shews to Eve certain ominous signs; he disceros Michael's approach; goes out to meet him the Angel denounces their departure. Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: The Angel leads him up to a high hill; sets before him in vision what shall happen till the flood.

THUS they in lowliest plight, repentant, stood
Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
Prevenient grace descending, had removed
The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breathed 5
Unutterable, which the Spirit of

prayer

Inspired, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight Than loudest oratory: yet their port

Not of mean suitors, nor important less

Seem'd their petition, than when th' ancient pair 10 In fables old, less ancient yet than these,

1092. Humiliation, the act of humbling, not humility. 4. A verbal critic might I think find fault with this and the fol lowing line, in which there are three words used to express one idea, new, regenerate, and instead.