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Book XI
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn
From his
displeasure; in whose look serene,
When angry most
he seemed and most severe,
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
confessed
Humbly their faults, and pardon begged;
with tears
Watering the ground, and with their sighs
the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in
sign
Of sorrow unfeigned, and humiliation meek.
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
Unutterable; which the
Spirit of prayer
Inspired, and winged for Heaven
with speedier flight
Than loudest oratory: Yet their
port
Not of mean suitors; nor important less
Seemed their petition, than when the ancient pair
In
fables old, less ancient yet than these,
Deucalion
and chaste Pyrrha, to restore
The race of mankind
drowned, before the shrine
Of Themis stood devout.
To Heaven their prayers
Flew up, nor missed the way,
by envious winds
Blown vagabond or frustrate: in
they passed
Dimensionless through heavenly doors;
then clad
With incense, where the golden altar
fumed,
By their great intercessour, came in sight
Before the Father's throne: them the glad Son
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See Father,
what first-fruits on earth are sprung
From thy
implanted grace in Man; these sighs
And prayers,
which in this golden censer mixed
With incense, I
thy priest before thee bring;
Fruits of more
pleasing savour, from thy seed
Sown with contrition
in his heart, than those
Which, his own hand
manuring, all the trees
Of Paradise could have
produced, ere fallen
From innocence. Now therefore,
bend thine ear
To supplication; hear his sighs,
though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let
me
Interpret for him; me, his advocate
And
propitiation; all his works on me,
Good, or not
good, ingraft; my merit those
Shall perfect, and for
these my death shall pay.
Accept me; and, in me,
from these receive
The smell of peace toward
mankind: let him live
Before thee reconciled, at
least his days
Numbered, though sad; till death, his
doom, (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to
reverse,)
To better life shall yield him: where with
me
All my redeemed may dwell in joy and bliss;
Made one with me, as I with thee am one.
To whom the
Father, without cloud, serene.
All thy request for
Man, accepted Son,
Obtain; all thy request was my
decree:
But, longer in that Paradise to dwell,
The law I gave to Nature him forbids:
Those pure
immortal elements, that know,
No gross, no
unharmonious mixture foul,
Eject him, tainted now;
and purge him off,
As a distemper, gross, to air as
gross,
And mortal food; as may dispose him best
For dissolution wrought by sin, that first
Distempered all things, and of incorrupt
Corrupted.
I, at first, with two fair gifts
Created him
endowed; with happiness,
And immortality: that
fondly lost,
This other served but to eternize woe;
Till I provided death: so death becomes
His
final remedy; and, after life,
Tried in sharp
tribulation, and refined
By faith and faithful
works, to second life,
Waked in the renovation of
the just,
Resigns him up with Heaven and Earth
renewed.
But let us call to synod all the Blest,
Through Heaven's wide bounds: from them I will not hide
My judgements; how with mankind I proceed,
As
how with peccant Angels late they saw,
And in their
state, though firm, stood more confirmed.
He ended,
and the Son gave signal high
To the bright minister
that watched; he blew
His trumpet, heard in Oreb
since perhaps
When God descended, and perhaps once
more
To sound at general doom. The angelick blast
Filled all the regions: from their blisful bowers
Of amarantine shade, fountain or spring,
By the
waters of life, where'er they sat
In fellowships of
joy, the sons of light
Hasted, resorting to the
summons high;
And took their seats; till from his
throne supreme
The Almighty thus pronounced his
sovran will.
O Sons, like one of us Man is become
To know both good and evil, since his taste
Of
that defended fruit; but let him boast
His knowledge
of good lost, and evil got;
Happier! had it sufficed
him to have known
Good by itself, and evil not at
all.
He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite,
My motions in him; longer than they move,
His
heart I know, how variable and vain,
Self-left. Lest
therefore his now bolder hand
Reach also of the tree
of life, and eat,
And live for ever, dream at least
to live
For ever, to remove him I decree,
And
send him from the garden forth to till
The ground
whence he was taken, fitter soil.
Michael, this my
behest have thou in charge;
Take to thee from among
the Cherubim
Thy choice of flaming warriours, lest
the Fiend,
Or in behalf of Man, or to invade
Vacant possession, some new trouble raise:
Haste
thee, and from the Paradise of God
Without remorse
drive out the sinful pair;
From hallowed ground the
unholy; and denounce
To them, and to their progeny,
from thence
Perpetual banishment. Yet, lest they
faint
At the sad sentence rigorously urged,
(For
I behold them softened, and with tears
Bewailing
their excess,) all terrour hide.
If patiently thy
bidding they obey,
Dismiss them not disconsolate;
reveal
To Adam what shall come in future days,
As I shall thee enlighten; intermix
My covenant in
the Woman's seed renewed;
So send them forth, though
sorrowing, yet in peace:
And on the east side of the
garden place,
Where entrance up from Eden easiest
climbs,
Cherubick watch; and of a sword the flame
Wide-waving; all approach far off to fright,
And
guard all passage to the tree of life:
Lest Paradise
a receptacle prove
To Spirits foul, and all my trees
their prey;
With whose stolen fruit Man once more to
delude.
He ceased; and the arch-angelick Power
prepared
For swift descent; with him the cohort
bright
Of watchful Cherubim: four faces each
Had, like a double Janus; all their shape
Spangled
with eyes more numerous than those
Of Argus, and
more wakeful than to drouse,
Charmed with Arcadian
pipe, the pastoral reed
Of Hermes, or his opiate
rod. Mean while,
To re-salute the world with sacred
light,
Leucothea waked; and with fresh dews imbalmed
The earth; when Adam and first matron Eve
Had
ended now their orisons, and found
Strength added
from above; new hope to spring
Out of despair; joy,
but with fear yet linked;
Which thus to Eve his
welcome words renewed.
Eve, easily my faith admit,
that all
The good which we enjoy from Heaven
descends;
But, that from us aught should ascend to
Heaven
So prevalent as to concern 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 human breath, upborne
Even to the seat of
God. For since I sought
By prayer the offended Deity
to appease;
Kneeled, and before him humbled all my
heart;
Methought I saw him placable and mild,
Bending his ear; persuasion in me grew
That I was
heard with favour; peace returned
Home to my breast,
and to my memory
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 hail to thee,
Eve
rightly called, 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-worthy I such title should
belong
To me transgressour; who, for thee ordained
A help, became thy snare; to me reproach
Rather
belongs, distrust, and all dispraise:
But infinite
in pardon was my Judge,
That I, who first brought
death on all, am graced
The source of life; next
favourable thou,
Who highly thus to entitle me
vouchsaf'st,
Far other name deserving. But the field
To labour calls us, now with sweat imposed,
Though after sleepless night; for see!the morn,
All
unconcerned with our unrest, begins
Her rosy
progress smiling: let us forth;
I never from thy
side henceforth to stray,
Where'er our day's work
lies, though now enjoined
Laborious, till day droop;
while here we dwell,
What can be toilsome in these
pleasant walks?
Here let us live, though in fallen
state, content.
So spake, so wished much humbled
Eve; but Fate
Subscribed not: Nature first gave
signs, impressed
On bird, beast, air; air suddenly
eclipsed,
After short blush of morn; nigh in her
sight
The bird of Jove, stooped from his aery tour,
Two birds of gayest plume before him drove;
Down
from a hill the beast that reigns in woods,
First
hunter then, pursued a gentle brace,
Goodliest of
all the forest, hart and hind;
Direct to the eastern
gate was bent their flight.
Adam observed, and with
his eye the chase
Pursuing, not unmoved, to Eve thus
spake.
O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh,
Which Heaven, by these mute signs in Nature, shows
Forerunners of his purpose; or to warn
Us, haply
too secure, of our discharge
From penalty, because
from death released
Some days: how long, and what
till then our life,
Who knows? or more than this,
that we are dust,
And thither must return, and be no
more?
Why else this double object in our sight
Of flight pursued in the air, and o'er the ground,
One way the self-same hour? why in the east
Darkness
ere day's mid-course, and morning-light
More orient
in yon western cloud, that draws
O'er the blue
firmament a radiant white,
And slow descends with
something heavenly fraught?
He erred not; for by
this the heavenly bands
Down from a sky of jasper
lighted now
In Paradise, and on a hill made halt;
A glorious apparition, had not doubt
And carnal
fear that day dimmed Adam's eye.
Not that more
glorious, when the Angels met
Jacob in Mahanaim,
where he saw
The field pavilioned with his guardians
bright;
Nor that, which on the flaming mount
appeared
In Dothan, covered with a camp of fire,
Against the Syrian king, who to surprise
One man,
assassin-like, had levied war,
War unproclaimed. The
princely Hierarch
In their bright stand there left
his Powers, to seise
Possession of the garden; he
alone,
To find where Adam sheltered, took his way,
Not unperceived of Adam; who to Eve,
While the
great visitant approached, thus spake.
Eve now
expect great tidings, which perhaps
Of us will soon
determine, or impose
New laws to be observed; for I
descry,
From yonder blazing cloud that veils the
hill,
One of the heavenly host; and, by his gait,
None of the meanest; some great Potentate
Or of
the Thrones above; such majesty
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 the Arch-Angel soon drew nigh,
Not in his shape
celestial, but as man
Clad to meet man; over his
lucid arms
A military vest of purple flowed,
Livelier than Meliboean, or the grain
Of Sarra, worn
by kings and heroes old
In time of truce; Iris had
dipt the woof;
His starry helm unbuckled showed him
prime
In manhood where youth ended; by his side,
As in a glistering zodiack, hung the sword,
Satan's
dire dread; and in his hand the spear.
Adam bowed
low; he, kingly, from his state
Inclined not, but
his coming thus declared.
Adam, Heaven's 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 days
Given thee of grace; wherein thou mayest repent,
And one bad act with many deeds well done
Mayest
cover: Well may then thy Lord, appeased,
Redeem thee
quite from Death's rapacious claim;
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 taken, fitter soil.
He added not; for Adam at the news
Heart-struck with
chilling gripe of sorrow stood,
That all his senses
bound; Eve, who unseen
Yet all had heard, with
audible lament
Discovered soon the place of her
retire.
O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death!
Must I thus leave thee Paradise? thus leave
Thee, native soil! these happy walks and shades,
Fit
haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend,
Quiet
though sad, the respite of that day
That must be
mortal to us both. O flowers,
That never will in
other climate grow,
My early visitation, and my last
;t even, which I bred up with tender hand
From
the first opening bud, and gave ye names!
Who now
shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and
water from the ambrosial fount?
Thee lastly, nuptial
bower! by me adorned
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 wild? how shall we breathe in other air
Less
pure, accustomed to immortal fruits?
Whom thus the
Angel interrupted mild.
Lament not, Eve, but
patiently resign
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; whom to follow thou art bound;
Where he
abides, think there thy native soil.
Adam, by this
from the cold sudden damp
Recovering, and his
scattered spirits returned,
To Michael thus his
humble words addressed.
Celestial, whether among the
Thrones, or named
Of them the highest; for such of
shape may seem
Prince above princes! gently hast
thou told
Thy message, which might else in telling
wound,
And in performing end us; what besides
Of
sorrow, and dejection, and despair,
Our frailty can
sustain, thy tidings bring,
Departure from this
happy place, our sweet
Recess, and only consolation
left
Familiar to our eyes! all places else
Inhospitable appear, and desolate;
Nor knowing us,
nor known: And, if by prayer
Incessant I could hope
to change the will
Of Him who all things can, I
would not cease
To weary him with my assiduous
cries:
But prayer against his absolute decree
No
more avails than breath against the wind,
Blown
stifling back on him that breathes it forth:
Therefore to his great bidding I submit.
This most
afflicts me, that, departing hence,
As from his face
I shall be hid, deprived
His blessed countenance:
Here I could frequent
With worship place by place
where he vouchsafed
Presence Divine; and to my sons
relate,
'On this mount he appeared; under this tree
'Stood visible; among these pines his voice
'I
heard; here with him at this fountain talked:
So
many grateful altars I would rear
Of grassy turf,
and pile up every stone
Of lustre from the brook, in
memory,
Or monument to ages; and theron
Offer
sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowers:
In
yonder nether world where shall I seek
His bright
appearances, or foot-step trace?
For though I fled
him angry, yet recalled
To life prolonged and
promised race, I now
Gladly behold though but his
utmost skirts
Of glory; and far off his steps adore.
To whom thus Michael with regard benign.
Adam,
thou knowest Heaven his, and all the Earth;
Not this
rock only; his Omnipresence fills
Land, sea, and
air, and every kind that lives,
Fomented by his
virtual power and warmed:
All the earth he gave thee
to possess and rule,
No despicable gift; surmise not
then
His presence to these narrow bounds confined
Of Paradise, or Eden: this had been
Perhaps thy
capital seat, from whence had spread
All
generations; and had hither come
From all the ends
of the earth, to celebrate
And reverence thee, their
great progenitor.
But this pre-eminence thou hast
lost, brought down
To dwell on even ground now with
thy sons:
Yet doubt not but in valley, and in plain,
God is, as here; and will be found alike
Present; and of his presence many a sign
Still
following thee, still compassing thee round
With
goodness and paternal love, his face
Express, and of
his steps the track divine.
Which that thou mayest
believe, and be confirmed
Ere thou from hence
depart; know, I am sent
To show thee what shall come
in future days
To thee, and to thy offspring: good
with bad
Expect to hear; supernal grace contending
With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn
True
patience, and to temper joy with fear
And pious
sorrow; equally inured
By moderation either state to
bear,
Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead
Safest thy life, and best prepared endure
Thy mortal
passage when it comes.--Ascend
This hill; let Eve
(for I have drenched her eyes)
Here sleep below;
while thou to foresight wakest;
As once thou sleptst,
while she to life was formed.
To whom thus Adam
gratefully replied.
Ascend, I follow thee, safe
Guide, the path
Thou leadest me; and to the hand of
Heaven submit,
However chastening; to the evil turn
My obvious breast; arming to overcome
By
suffering, and earn rest from labour won,
If so I
may attain. -- So both ascend
In the visions of God.
It was a hill,
Of Paradise the highest; from whose
top
The hemisphere of earth, in clearest ken,
Stretched out to the amplest reach of prospect lay.
Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round,
Whereon, for different cause, the Tempter set
Our
second Adam, in the wilderness;
To show him all
Earth's kingdoms, and their glory.
His eye might
there command wherever stood
City of old or modern
fame, the seat
Of mightiest empire, from the
destined walls
Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can,
And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne,
To Paquin of
Sinaean kings; and thence
To Agra and Lahor of great
Mogul,
Down to the golden Chersonese; or where
The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since
In Hispahan; or
where the Russian Ksar
In Mosco; or the Sultan in
Bizance,
Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken
The empire of Negus to his utmost port
Ercoco,
and the less maritim kings
Mombaza, and Quiloa, and
Melind,
And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm
Of Congo, and Angola farthest south;
Or thence from
Niger flood to Atlas mount
The kingdoms of Almansor,
Fez and Sus,
Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen;
On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway
The
world: in spirit perhaps he also saw
Rich Mexico,
the seat of Montezume,
And Cusco in Peru, the richer
seat
Of Atabalipa; and yet unspoiled
Guiana,
whose great city Geryon's sons
Call El Dorado. But
to nobler sights
Michael from Adam's eyes the film
removed,
Which that false fruit that promised
clearer sight
Had bred; then purged with euphrasy
and rue
The visual nerve, for he had much to see;
And from the well of life three drops instilled.
So deep the power of these ingredients pierced,
Even
to the inmost seat of mental sight,
That Adam, now
enforced to close his eyes,
Sunk down, and all his
spirits became entranced;
But him the gentle Angel
by the hand
Soon raised, and his attention thus
recalled.
Adam, now ope thine eyes; and first behold
The effects, which thy original crime hath wrought
In some to spring from thee; who never touched
The excepted tree; nor with the snake conspired;
Nor
sinned thy sin; yet from that sin derive
Corruption,
to bring forth more violent deeds.
His eyes he
opened, and beheld a field,
Part arable and tilth,
whereon were sheaves
New reaped; the other part
sheep-walks and folds;
I' the midst an altar as the
land-mark stood,
Rustick, of grassy sord; thither
anon
A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought
First fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf,
Unculled, as came to hand; a shepherd next,
More
meek, came with the firstlings of his flock,
Choicest and best; then, sacrificing, laid
The
inwards and their fat, with incense strowed,
On the
cleft wood, and all due rights performed:
His
offering soon propitious fire from Heaven
Consumed
with nimble glance, and grateful steam;
The other's
not, for his was not sincere;
Whereat he inly raged,
and, as they talked,
Smote him into the midriff with
a stone
That beat out life; he fell;and, deadly
pale,
Groaned out his soul with gushing blood
effused.
Much at that sight was Adam in his heart
Dismayed, and thus in haste to the Angel cried.
O Teacher, some great mischief hath befallen
To that
meek man, who well had sacrificed;
Is piety thus and
pure devotion paid?
To whom Michael thus, he also
moved, replied.
These two are brethren, Adam, and to
come
Out of thy loins; the unjust the just hath
slain,
For envy that his brother's offering found
From Heaven acceptance; but the bloody fact
Will
be avenged; and the other's faith, approved,
Lose no
reward; though here thou see him die,
Rolling in
dust and gore. To which our sire.
Alas! both for the
deed, and for the cause!
But have I now seen Death?
Is this the way
I must return to native dust? O
sight
Of terrour, foul and ugly to behold,
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
To whom thus
Michael. Death thou hast seen
In his first shape on
Man; but many shapes
Of Death, and many are the ways
that lead
To his grim cave, all dismal; yet to sense
More terrible at the entrance, than within.
Some, as thou sawest, by violent stroke shall die;
By fire, flood, famine, by intemperance more
In
meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew
Before thee
shall appear; that thou mayest know
What misery the
inabstinence of Eve
Shall bring on Men. Immediately
a place
Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome,
dark;
A lazar-house it seemed; wherein were laid
Numbers of all diseased; all maladies
Of ghastly
spasm, or racking torture, qualms
Of heart-sick
agony, all feverous kinds,
Convulsions, epilepsies,
fierce catarrhs,
Intestine stone and ulcer, colick-pangs,
Demoniack phrenzy, moaping melancholy,
And
moon-struck madness, pining atrophy,
Marasmus, and
wide-wasting pestilence,
Dropsies, and asthmas, and
joint-racking rheums.
Dire was the tossing, deep the
groans; Despair
Tended the sick busiest from couch
to couch;
And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked
With vows, as their chief good, and final hope.
Sight so deform what heart of rock could long
Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept,
Though
not of woman born; compassion quelled
His best of
man, and gave him up to tears
A space, till firmer
thoughts restrained excess;
And, scarce recovering
words, his plaint renewed.
O miserable mankind, to
what fall
Degraded, to what wretched state reserved!
Better end here unborn. Why is life given
To be
thus wrested from us? rather, why
Obtruded on us
thus? who, if we knew
What we receive, would either
no accept
Life offered, or soon beg to lay it down;
Glad to be so dismissed in peace. Can thus
The
image of God in Man, created once
So goodly and
erect, though faulty since,
To such unsightly
sufferings be debased
Under inhuman pains? Why
should not Man,
Retaining still divine similitude
In part, from such deformities be free,
And, for
his Maker's image sake, exempt?
Their Maker's image,
answered Michael, then
Forsook them, when themselves
they vilified
To serve ungoverned Appetite; and took
His image whom they served, a brutish vice,
Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve.
Therefore so
abject is their punishment,
Disfiguring not God's
likeness, but their own;
Or if his likeness, by
themselves defaced;
While they pervert pure Nature's
healthful rules
To loathsome sickness; worthily,
since they
God's image did not reverence in
themselves.
I yield it just, said Adam, and submit.
But is there yet no other way, besides
These
painful passages, how we may come
To death, and mix
with our connatural dust?
There is, said Michael, if
thou well observe
The rule of Not too much; by
temperance taught,
In what thou eatest and drinkest;
seeking from thence
Due nourishment, not gluttonous
delight,
Till many years over thy head return:
So mayest thou live; till, like ripe fruit, thou drop
Into thy mother's lap; or be with ease
Gathered,
nor harshly plucked; for death mature:
This is Old
Age; but then, thou must outlive
Thy youth, thy
strength, thy beauty; which will change
To withered,
weak, and gray; thy senses then,
Obtuse, all taste
of pleasure must forego,
To what thou hast; and, for
the air of youth,
Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood
will reign
A melancholy damp of cold and dry
To
weigh thy spirits down, and last consume
The balm of
life. To whom our ancestor.
Henceforth I fly not
death, nor would prolong
Life much; bent rather, how
I may be quit,
Fairest and easiest, of this cumbrous
charge;
Which I must keep till my appointed day
Of rendering up, and patiently attend
My
dissolution. Michael replied.
Nor love thy life, nor
hate; but what thou livest
Live well; how long, or
short, permit to Heaven:
And now prepare thee for
another sight.
He looked, and saw a spacious plain,
whereon
Were tents of various hue; by some, were
herds
Of cattle grazing; others, whence the sound
Of instruments, that made melodious chime,
Was
heard, of harp and organ; and, who moved
Their stops
and chords, was seen; his volant touch,
Instinct
through all proportions, low and high,
Fled and
pursued transverse the resonant fugue.
In other part
stood one who, at the forge
Labouring, two massy
clods of iron and brass
Had melted, (whether found
where casual fire
Had wasted woods on mountain or in
vale,
Down to the veins of earth; thence gliding hot
To some cave's mouth; or whether washed by stream
From underground;) the liquid ore he drained
Into fit moulds prepared; from which he formed
First
his own tools; then, what might else be wrought
Fusil or graven in metal. After these,
But on the
hither side, a different sort
From the high
neighbouring hills, which was their seat,
Down to
the plain descended; by their guise
Just men they
seemed, and all their study bent
To worship God
aright, and know his works
Not hid; nor those things
last, which might preserve
Freedom and peace to Men;
they on the plain
Long had not walked, when from the
tents, behold!
A bevy of fair women, richly gay
In gems and wanton dress; to the harp they sung
Soft
amorous ditties, and in dance came on:
The men,
though grave, eyed them; and let their eyes
Rove
without rein; till, in the amorous net
Fast caught,
they liked; and each his liking chose;
And now of
love they treat, till the evening-star,
Love's
harbinger, appeared; then, all in heat
They light
the nuptial torch, and bid invoke
Hymen, then first
to marriage rites invoked:
With feast and musick all
the tents resound.
Such happy interview, and fair
event
Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands,
flowers,
And charming symphonies, attached the heart
Of Adam, soon inclined to admit delight,
The
bent of nature; which he thus expressed.
True opener
of mine eyes, prime Angel blest;
Much better seems
this vision, and more hope
Of peaceful days
portends, than those two past;
Those were of hate
and death, or pain much worse;
Here Nature seems
fulfilled in all her ends.
To whom thus Michael.
Judge not what is best
By pleasure, though to nature
seeming meet;
Created, as thou art, to nobler end
Holy and pure, conformity divine.
Those tents
thou sawest so pleasant, were the tents
Of
wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race
Who slew
his brother; studious they appear
Of arts that
polish life, inventers rare;
Unmindful of their
Maker, though his Spirit
Taught them; but they his
gifts acknowledged none.
Yet they a beauteous
offspring shall beget;
For that fair female troop
thou sawest, that seemed
Of Goddesses, so blithe, so
smooth, so gay,
Yet empty of all good wherein
consists
Woman's domestick honour and chief praise;
Bred only and completed to the taste
Of lustful
appetence, to sing, to dance,
To dress, and troll
the tongue, and roll the eye:
To these that sober
race of men, whose lives
Religious titled them the
sons of God,
Shall yield up all their virtue, all
their fame
Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles
Of these fair atheists; and now swim in joy,
Erelong to swim at large; and laugh, for which
The
world erelong a world of tears must weep.
To whom
thus Adam, of short joy bereft.
O pity and shame,
that they, who to live well
Entered so fair, should
turn aside to tread
Paths indirect, or in the mid
way faint!
But still I see the tenour of Man's woe
Holds on the same, from Woman to begin.
From
Man's effeminate slackness it begins,
Said the
Angel, who should better hold his place
By wisdom,
and superiour gifts received.
But now prepare thee
for another scene.
He looked, and saw wide territory
spread
Before him, towns, and rural works between;
Cities of men with lofty gates and towers,
Concourse in arms, fierce faces threatening war,
Giants of mighty bone and bold emprise;
Part wield
their arms, part curb the foaming steed,
Single or
in array of battle ranged
Both horse and foot, nor
idly mustering stood;
One way a band select from
forage drives
A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair
kine,
From a fat meadow ground; or fleecy flock,
Ewes and their bleating lambs over the plain,
Their
booty; scarce with life the shepherds fly,
But call
in aid, which makes a bloody fray;
With cruel
tournament the squadrons join;
Where cattle pastured
late, now scattered lies
With carcasses and arms the
ensanguined field,
Deserted: Others to a city strong
Lay siege, encamped; by battery, scale, and mine,
Assaulting; others from the wall defend
With
dart and javelin, stones, and sulphurous fire;
On
each hand slaughter, and gigantick deeds.
In other
part the sceptered heralds call
To council, in the
city-gates; anon
Gray-headed men and grave, with
warriours mixed,
Assemble, and harangues are heard;
but soon,
In factious opposition; till at last,
Of middle age one rising, eminent
In wise deport,
spake much of right and wrong,
Of justice, or
religion, truth, and peace,
And judgement from
above: him old and young
Exploded, and had seized
with violent hands,
Had not a cloud descending
snatched him thence
Unseen amid the throng: so
violence
Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law,
Through all the plain, and refuge none was found.
Adam was all in tears, and to his guide
Lamenting turned full sad; O!what are these,
Death's
ministers, not men? who thus deal death
Inhumanly to
men, and multiply
Ten thousandfold the sin of him
who slew
His brother: for of whom such massacre
Make they, but of their brethren; men of men
But who
was that just man, whom had not Heaven
Rescued, had
in his righteousness been lost?
To whom thus
Michael. These are the product
Of those ill-mated
marriages thou sawest;
Where good with bad were
matched, who of themselves
Abhor to join; and, by
imprudence mixed,
Produce prodigious births of body
or mind.
Such were these giants, men of high renown;
For in those days might only shall be admired,
And valour and heroick virtue called;
To overcome in
battle, and subdue
Nations, and bring home spoils
with infinite
Man-slaughter, shall be held the
highest pitch
Of human glory; and for glory done
Of triumph, to be styled great conquerours
Patrons
of mankind, Gods, and sons of Gods;
Destroyers
rightlier called, and plagues of men.
Thus fame
shall be achieved, renown on earth;
And what most
merits fame, in silence hid.
But he, the seventh
from thee, whom thou beheldst
The only righteous in
a world preverse,
And therefore hated, therefore so
beset
With foes, for daring single to be just,
And utter odious truth, that God would come
To judge
them with his Saints; him the Most High
Rapt in a
balmy cloud with winged steeds
Did, as thou sawest,
receive, to walk with God
High in salvation and the
climes of bliss,
Exempt from death; to show thee
what reward
Awaits the good; the rest what
punishment;
Which now direct thine eyes and soon
behold.
He looked, and saw the face of things quite
changed;
The brazen throat of war had ceased to
roar;
All now was turned to jollity and game,
To
luxury and riot, feast and dance;
Marrying or
prostituting, as befel,
Rape or adultery, where
passing fair
Allured them; thence from cups to civil
broils.
At length a reverend sire among them came,
And of their doings great dislike declared,
And
testified against their ways; he oft
Frequented
their assemblies, whereso met,
Triumphs or
festivals; and to them preached
Conversion and
repentance, as to souls
In prison, under judgements
imminent:
But all in vain: which when he saw, he
ceased
Contending, and removed his tents far off;
Then, from the mountain hewing timber tall,
Began to build a vessel of huge bulk;
Measured by
cubit, length, and breadth, and highth;
Smeared
round with pitch; and in the side a door
Contrived;
and of provisions laid in large,
For man and beast:
when lo, a wonder strange!
Of every beast, and bird,
and insect small,
Came sevens, and pairs; and
entered in as taught
Their order: last the sire and
his three sons,
With their four wives; and God made
fast the door.
Mean while the south-wind rose, and,
with black wings
Wide-hovering, all the clouds
together drove
From under Heaven; the hills to their
supply
Vapour, and exhalation dusk and moist,
Sent up amain; and now the thickened sky
Like a dark
cieling stood; down rushed the rain
Impetuous; and
continued, till the earth
No more was seen: the
floating vessel swum
Uplifted, and secure with
beaked prow
Rode tilting o'er the waves; all
dwellings else
Flood overwhelmed, and them with all
their pomp
Deep under water rolled; sea covered sea,
Sea without shore; and in their palaces,
Where
luxury late reigned, sea-monsters whelped
And
stabled; of mankind, so numerous late,
All left, in
one small bottom swum imbarked.
How didst thou
grieve then, Adam, to behold
The end of all thy
offspring, end so sad,
Depopulation! Thee another
flood,
Of tears and sorrow a flood, thee also
drowned,
And sunk thee as thy sons; till, gently
reared
By the Angel, on thy feet thou stoodest at
last,
Though comfortless; as when a father mourns
His children, all in view destroyed at once;
And
scarce to the Angel utter'dst thus thy plaint.
O
visions ill foreseen! Better had I
Lived ignorant of
future! so had borne
My part of evil only, each
day's lot
Enough to bear; those now, that were
dispensed
The burden of many ages, on me light
At once, by my foreknowledge gaining birth
Abortive,
to torment me ere their being,
With thought that
they must be. Let no man seek
Henceforth to be
foretold, what shall befall
Him or his children;
evil he may be sure,
Which neither his foreknowing
can prevent;
And he the future evil shall no less
In apprehension than in substance feel,
Grievous
to bear: but that care now is past,
Man is not whom
to warn: those few escaped
Famine and anguish will
at last consume,
Wandering that watery desart: I had
hope,
When violence was ceased, and war on earth,
All would have then gone well; peace would have
crowned
With length of happy days the race of Man;
But I was far deceived; for now I see
Peace to
corrupt no less than war to waste.
How comes it
thus? unfold, celestial Guide,
And whether here the
race of Man will end.
To whom thus Michael. Those,
whom last thou sawest
In triumph and luxurious
wealth, are they
First seen in acts of prowess
eminent
And great exploits, but of true virtue void;
Who, having spilt much blood, and done much wast
Subduing nations, and achieved thereby
Fame in the
world, high titles, and rich prey;
Shall change
their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth,
Surfeit,
and lust; till wantonness and pride
Raise out of
friendship hostile deeds in peace.
The conquered
also, and enslaved by war,
Shall, with their freedom
lost, all virtue lose
And fear of God; from whom
their piety feigned
In sharp contest of battle found
no aid
Against invaders; therefore, cooled in zeal,
Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure,
Worldly or dissolute, on what their lords
Shall
leave them to enjoy; for the earth shall bear
More
than enough, that temperance may be tried:
So all
shall turn degenerate, all depraved;
Justice and
temperance, truth and faith, forgot;
One man except,
the only son of light
In a dark age, against example
good,
Against allurement, custom, and a world
Offended: fearless of reproach and scorn,
The
grand-child, with twelve sons encreased, departs
From Canaan, to a land hereafter called
Egypt,
divided by the river Nile;
See where it flows,
disgorging at seven mouths
Into the sea: To sojourn
in that land
He comes, invited by a younger son
In time of dearth; a son, whose worthy deeds
Raise
him to be the second in that realm
Of Pharaoh: There
he dies, and leaves his race
Growing into a nation,
and now grown
Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks
To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests
Or
violence, he of their wicked ways
Shall them
admonish; and before them set
The paths of
righteousness, how much more safe
And full of peace;
denouncing wrath to come
On their impenitence; and
shall return
Of them derided, but of God observed
The one just man alive; by his command
Shall
build a wonderous ark, as thou beheldst,
To save
himself, and houshold, from amidst
A world devote to
universal wrack.
No sooner he, with them of man and
beast
Select for life, shall in the ark be lodged,
And sheltered round; but all the cataracts
Of
Heaven set open on the Earth shall pour
Rain, day
and night; all fountains of the deep,
Broke up,
shall heave the ocean to usurp
Beyond all bounds;
till inundation rise
Above the highest hills: Then
shall this mount
Of Paradise by might of waves be
moved
Out of his place, pushed by the horned flood,
With all his verdure spoiled, and trees adrift,
Down the great river to the opening gulf,
And there
take root an island salt and bare,
The haunt of
seals, and orcs, and sea-mews' clang:
To teach thee
that God attributes to place
No sanctity, if none be
thither brought
By men who there frequent, or
therein dwell.
And now, what further shall ensue,
behold.
He looked, and saw the ark hull on the
flood,
Which now abated; for the clouds were fled,
Driven by a keen north-wind, that, blowing dry,
Wrinkled the face of deluge, as decayed;
And the
clear sun on his wide watery glass
Gazed hot, and of
the fresh wave largely drew,
As after thirst; which
made their flowing shrink
From standing lake to
tripping ebb, that stole
With soft foot towards the
deep; who now had stopt
His sluces, as the Heaven
his windows shut.
The ark no more now floats, but
seems on ground,
Fast on the top of some high
mountain fixed.
And now the tops of hills, as rocks,
appear;
With clamour thence the rapid currents
drive,
Towards the retreating sea, their furious
tide.
Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies,
And after him, the surer messenger,
A dove sent
forth once and again to spy
Green tree or ground,
whereon his foot may light:
The second time
returning, in his bill
An olive-leaf he brings,
pacifick sign:
Anon dry ground appears, and from his
ark
The ancient sire descends, with all his train;
Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout,
Grateful to Heaven, over his head beholds
A dewy
cloud, and in the cloud a bow
Conspicuous with three
lifted colours gay,
Betokening peace from God, and
covenant new.
Whereat the heart of Adam, erst so
sad,
Greatly rejoiced; and thus his joy broke forth.
O thou, who future things canst represent
As
present, heavenly Instructer! I revive
At this last
sight; assured that Man shall live,
With all the
creatures, and their seed preserve.
Far less I now
lament for one whole world
Of wicked sons destroyed,
than I rejoice
For one man found so perfect, and so
just,
That God vouchsafes to raise another world
From him, and all his anger to forget.
But say, what
mean those coloured streaks in Heaven
Distended, as
the brow of God appeased?
Or serve they, as a
flowery verge, to bind
The fluid skirts of that same
watery cloud,
Lest it again dissolve, and shower the
earth?
To whom the Arch-Angel. Dextrously thou
aimest;
So willingly doth God remit his ire,
Though late repenting him of Man depraved;
Grieved
at his heart, when looking down he saw
The whole
earth filled with violence, and all flesh
Corrupting
each their way; yet, those removed,
Such grace shall
one just man find in his sight,
That he relents, not
to blot out mankind;
And makes a covenant never to
destroy
The earth again by flood; nor let the sea
Surpass his bounds; nor rain to drown the world,
With man therein or beast; but, when he brings
Over
the earth a cloud, will therein set
His triple-coloured
bow, whereon to look,
And call to mind his covenant:
Day and night,
Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary
frost,
Shall hold their course; till fire purge all
things new,
Both Heaven and Earth, wherein the just
shall dwell.
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