then those Of Argus, and more wakeful then to drouze, Charm’d with Arcadian Pipe, the Pastoral Reed Of Hermes, or his opiate Rod. Meanwhile To resalute the World with sacred Light Leucothea wak’d, and with fresh dews imbalmd The Earth, when Adam and first Matron Eve Had ended now thir Orisons, and found, Strength added from above, new hope to spring Out of despaire, joy, but with fear yet linkt; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renewd.
Eve, easily may Faith admit, that all The good which we enjoy, from Heav’n descends But that from us ought should ascend to Heav’n So prevalent as to concerne the mind Of God high blest, or to incline his will, Hard to belief may seem; yet this will Prayer, Or one short sigh of humane breath, up-borne Ev’n to the Seat of God. For since I saught By Prayer th’ offended Deitie to appease, Kneel’d and before him humbl’d all my heart, Methought I saw him placable and mild, Bending his eare; perswasion in me grew That I was heard with favour; peace returnd Home to my brest, and to my memorie His promise, that thy Seed shall bruise our Foe; Which then not minded in dismay, yet now Assures me that the bitterness of death Is past, and we shall live. Whence Haile to thee, Eve rightly call’d, Mother of all Mankind, Mother of all things living, since by thee Man is to live, and all things live for Man.
To whom thus Eve with sad demeanour meek. Ill worthie I such title should belong To me transgressour, who for thee ordaind A help, became thy snare; to mee reproach Rather belongs, distrust and all dispraise: But infinite in pardon was my Judge, That I who first brought Death on all, am grac’t The sourse of life; next favourable thou, Who highly thus to entitle me voutsaf’t, Farr other name deserving. But the Field To labour calls us now with sweat impos’d, Though after sleepless Night; for see the Morn, All unconcern’d with our unrest, begins Her rosie progress smiling; let us forth, I never from thy side henceforth to stray, Wherere our days work lies, though now enjoind Laborious, till day droop; while here we dwell, What can be toilsom in these pleasant Walkes? Here let us live, though in fall’n state, content.
So spake, so wish’d much-humbl’d Eve, but Fate Subscrib’d not; Nature first gave Signs, imprest On Bird, Beast, Aire, Aire suddenly eclips’d After short blush of Morn; nigh in her sight The Bird of Jove, stoopt from his aerie tour, Two Birds of gayest plume before him drove: Down from a Hill the Beast that reigns in Woods, First Hunter then, pursu’d a gentle brace, Goodliest of all the Forrest, Hart and Hinde; Direct to th’ Eastern Gate was bent thir flight. Adam observ’d, and with his Eye the chase Pursuing, not unmov’d to Eve thus spake.
O Eve, some furder change awaits us nigh, Which Heav’n by these mute signs in Nature shews Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn Us haply too secure of our discharge From penaltie, because from death releast Some days; how long, and what till then our life, Who knows, or more then this, that we are dust, And thither must return and be no more. VVhy else this double object in our sight Of flight pursu’d in th’ Air and ore the ground One way the self-same hour? why in the East Darkness ere Dayes mid-course, and Morning light More orient in yon VVestern Cloud that draws O’re the blew Firmament a radiant white, And slow descends, with somthing heav’nly fraught.
He err’d not, for by this the heav’nly Bands
Down from a Skie of Jasper lighted now
In Paradise, and on a Hill made alt,
A glorious Apparition, had not doubt
And carnal fear that day dimm’d Adams eye. Not that more glorious, when the Angels met Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw The field Pavilion’d with his Guardians bright; Nor that which on the flaming Mount appeerd In Dothan, cover’d with a Camp of Fire, Against the Syrian King, who to surprize One man, Assassin-like had levied Warr, Warr unproclam’d. The Princely Hierarch In thir bright stand, there left his Powers to seise Possession of the Garden; hee alone, To finde where Adam shelterd, took his way, Not unperceav’d of Adam, who to Eve, While the great Visitant approachd, thus spake.
Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps Of us will soon determin, or impose New Laws to be observ’d; for I descrie From yonder blazing Cloud that veils the Hill One of the heav’nly Host, and by his Gate None of the meanest, some great Potentate Or of the Thrones above, such Majestie Invests him coming; yet not terrible, That I should fear, nor sociably mild, As Raphael, that I should much confide, But solemn and sublime, whom not to offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire. He ended; and th’ Arch-Angel soon drew nigh, Not in his shape Celestial, but as Man Clad to meet Man; over his lucid Armes A militarie Vest of purple flowd Livelier then Meliboean, or the graine Of Sarra, worn by Kings and Hero’s old In time of Truce; Iris had dipt the wooff; His starrie Helme unbuckl’d shew’d him prime In Manhood where Youth ended; by his side As in a glistering Zodiac hung the Sword, Satans dire dread, and in his hand the Spear. Adam bowd low, hee Kingly from his State Inclin’d not, but his coming thus declar’d.
Adam, Heav’ns high behest no Preface needs: Sufficient that thy Prayers are heard, and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seisure many dayes Giv’n thee of Grace, wherein thou may’st repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done Mayst cover: well may then thy Lord appeas’d Redeem thee quite from Deaths rapacious claimes; But longer in this Paradise to dwell Permits not; to remove thee I am come, And send thee from the Garden forth to till The ground whence thou wast tak’n, fitter Soile.
He added not, for Adam at the newes Heart-strook with chilling gripe of sorrow stood, That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen Yet all had heard, with audible lament Discover’d soon the place of her retire.
O unexpected stroke, worse then of Death!
Must I thus leave thee Paradise? thus leave
Thee Native Soile, these happie Walks and Shades,
Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend,
Quiet though sad, the respit of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flours,
That never will in other Climate grow,
My early visitation, and my last
At Eev’n, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first op’ning bud, and gave ye Names,
Who now shall reare ye to the Sun, or ranke
Your Tribes, and water from th’ ambrosial Fount?
Thee lastly nuptial Bowre, by mee adornd
With what to sight or smell was sweet; from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower World, to this obscure
And wilde, how shall we breath in other Aire
Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?
Whom thus the Angel interrupted milde.
Lament not Eve, but patiently resigne What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart, Thus over fond, on that which is not thine; Thy going is not lonely, with thee goes Thy Husband, him to follow thou art bound; Where he abides, think there thy native soile.
Adam by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scatterd spirits returnd, To Michael thus his humble words addressd.
Celestial,
