One day and night; in all their vast survey Useless besides; reasoning I oft admire, How Nature wise and frugal could commit Such disproportions, with superfluous hand So many nobler bodies to create, Greater so manifold, to this one use, For aught appears, and on their orbs impose Such restless revolution day by day Repeated; while the sedentary Earth, That better might with far less compass move, Serv'd by more noble than herself, attains Her end without least motion, and receives, As tribute, such a sumless journey brought Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light; Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails." So spake our sire, and by his countenance seem'd Entering on studious thoughts abstruse; which Eve Perceiving, where she sat retir'd in sight, With lowliness majestic from her seat, And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers, To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom, Her nursery; they at her coming sprung, And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew. Yet went she not, as not with such discourse Delighted, or not capable her ear
Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd, Adam relating, she sole auditress: Her husband the relater she preferr'd Before the angel, and of him to ask Chose rather; he, she knew, would intermix Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses; from his lip
Not words alone pleas'd her. O! when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd? With goddess-like demeanour forth she went, Not unattended; for on her, as queen, A pomp of winning graces waited still, And from about her shot darts of desire Into all eyes, to wish her still in sight. And Raphael now, to Adam's doubt propos'd, Benevolent and facile thus replied.
"To ask or search, I blame thee not; for Heaven Is as the book of God before thee set,
Wherein to read his wondrous works, and learn His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years: This to attain, whether Heaven move or Earth, Imports not, if thou reckon right; the rest From man or angel the great Architect Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought Rather admire; or, if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heavens Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions wide Hereafter; when they come to model Heaven And calculate the stars, how they will wield The mighty frame; how build, unbuild, contrive To save appearances; how gird the sphere With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er, Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb: Already by thy reasoning this I guess, Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest That bodies bright and greater should not serve The less not bright, nor Heaven such journeys run, Earth sitting still, when she alone receives The benefit: consider first, that great Or bright infers not excellence: the Earth, Though, in comparison of Heaven, so small, Nor glistering, may of solid good contain
More plenty than the Sun that barren shines; Whose virtue on itself works no effect, But in the fruitful Earth; there first receiv'd, His beams, unactive else, their vigour find. Yet not to Earth are those bright luminaries Officious; but to thee, Earth's habitant. And for the Heaven's wide circuit, let it speak The Maker's high magnificence, who built So spacious, and his line stretch'd out so far, That man may know he dwells not in his own; An edifice too large for him to fill, Lodg'd in a small partition; and the rest Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known. The swiftness of those circles áttribute, Though numberless, to his omnipotence, That to corporeal substances could add, Speed almost spiritual: me thou think'st not slow, Who since the morning-hour set out from Heaven Where God resides, and ere mid-day arriv'd In Eden; distance inexpressible By numbers that have name. But this I urge, Admitting motion in the Heavens, to show Invalid that which thee to doubt it mov'd; Not that I so affirm, though so it seem To thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth. God, to remove his ways from human sense, Plac'd Heaven from Earth so far, that earthly sight, If it presume, might err in things too high, And no advantage gain. What if the Sun Be centre to the world; and other stars, By his attractive virtue and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds? Their wandering course now high, now low, then Progressive, retrograde, or standing still,
In six thou seest; and what if seventh to these The planet Earth, so stedfast though she seem, Insensibly three different motions move? Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe, Mov'd contrary with thwart obliquities; Or save the Sun his labour, and that swift Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb suppos'd, Invisible else above all stars, the wheel Of day and night; which needs not thy belief, If Earth, industrious of herself, fetch day Travelling east, and with her part averse From the Sun's beam meet night, her other part Still luminous by his ray. What if that light, Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air, To the terrestrial Moon be as a star, Enlightening her by day as she by night This Earth? reciprocal if land be there, Fields and inhabitants: her spots thou seest As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce Fruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eat Allotted there: and other suns perhaps, With their attendant moons, thou wilt descry Communicating male and female light; Which two great sexes animate the world, Stor'd in each orb perhaps with some that live. For such vast room in Nature unpossess'd By living soul, desert, and desolate, Only to shine, yet scarce to cóntribute Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far Down to this habitable, which returns Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. But whether thus these things, or whether not; Whether the Sun, predominant in Heaven, Rise on the Earth; or Earth rise on the Sun; He from the east his flaming road begin ; Or she from west her silent course advance,
With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps On her soft axle, while she paces even, And bears thee soft with the smooth air along; Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid; Leave them to God above; him serve, and fear! Of other creatures, as him pleases best, Wherever plac'd, let him dispose; joy thou In what he gives to thee, this Paradise And thy fair Eve; Heaven is for thee too high To know what passes there; be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee, and thy being; Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition, or degree; Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd Not of Earth only, but of highest Heaven."
To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, replied. "How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure Intelligence of Heaven, angel serene ! And freed from intricacies, taught to live The easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughts To interrupt the sweet of life, from which God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares, And not molest us; unless we ourselves [vain. Seek them with wandering thoughts, and notions But apt the mind or fancy is to rove Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end; Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn, That not to know at large of things remote From use, obscure and subtle; but to know That which before us lies in daily life, Is the prime wisdom: what is more, is fume, Or emptiness, or fond impertinence : And renders us, in things that most concern, Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek. Therefore from this high pitch let us descend A lower flight, and speak of things at hand Useful; whence, haply, mention may arise Of something not unseasonable to ask, By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd. Thee I have heard relating what was done Ere my remembrance: now, hear me relate My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard; And day is not yet spent: till then thou seest How subtly to detain thee I devise ; Inviting thee to hear while I relate; Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply: For, while I sit with thee, I seem in Heaven; And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear Than fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirst And hunger both, from labour at the hour Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill, Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divine Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety." To whom thus Raphael answer'd heavenly meek. "Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men, Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd Inward and outward both, his image fair: Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and grace Attends thee; and each word, each motion, forms; Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on Earth Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire Gladly into the ways of God with Man: For God, we see, hath honour'd thee, and set On Man his equal love: say therefore on; For I that day was absent, as befel, Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure, Far on excursion toward the gates of Hell; Squar'd in full legion (such command we had) To see that none thence issued forth a spy,
Or enemy, while God was in his work; Lest he, incens'd at such eruption bold, Destruction with creation might have mix'd. Not that they durst without his leave attempt; But us he sends upon his high behests For state, as Sovran King; and to inure Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut, The dismal gates, and barricado'd strong; But long ere our approaching heard within Noise, other than the sound of dance or song, Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. Glad we return'd up to the coasts of light Ere sabbath-evening: so we had in charge. But thy relation now; for I attend, [mine." Pleas'd with thy words no less than thou with So spake the godlike power, and thus our sire. "For Man to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew? Desire with thee still longer to converse Induc'd me. As new wak'd from soundest sleep, Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid, In balmy sweat; which with his beams the Sun Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed. Straight toward Heaven my wondering eyes I turn'd,
And gaz'd a while the ample sky; till, rais'd By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet about me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these, Creatures that liv'd and mov'd, and walk'd, or flew ; Birds on the branches warbling; all things smil'd; With fragrance and with joy my heart o'verflow'd. Myself I then perus'd, and limb by limb Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran With supple joints, as lively vigour led: But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith spake ; My tongue obey'd, and readily could name Whate'er I saw. Thou Sun,' said I, 'fair light, And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills, and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how I came thus, how here? Not of myself;-by some great Maker then, In goodness and in power pre-eminent: Tell me, how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that I am happier than I know.'— While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither, From where I first drew air, and first beheld This happy light; when answer none return'd, On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers, Pensive I sat me down; there gentle sleep First found me, and with soft oppression seiz'd My drowsed sense, untroubled, though I thought I then was passing to my former state Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve: When suddenly stood at my head a dream, Whose inward apparition gently mov'd My fancy to believe I yet had being,
And liv'd: one came, methought, of shape divine, And said, Thy mansion wants thee, Adam; rise, First man, of men innumerable ordain'd First father! call'd by thee, I come thy guide To the Garden of Bliss, thy seat prepar'd.' So saying, by the hand he took me rais'd, And over fields and waters, as in air Smooth-sliding without step, last led me up
A woody mountain; whose high top was plain, A circuit wide, enclos'd, with goodliest trees Planted, with walks, and bowers; that what I saw Of Earth before scarce pleasant seem'd. Each tree, Loaden with fairest fruit that hung to the eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat; whereat I wak'd, and found Before mine eyes all real, as the dream Had lively shadow'd: here had new begun My wandering, had not he, who was my guide Up hither, from among the trees appear'd, Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe, In adoration at his feet I fell [I am,' Submiss he rear'd me, and Whom thou sought'st Said mildly, Author of all this thou seest Above, or round about thee, or beneath. This Paradise I give thee, count it thine To till and keep, and of the fruit to eat : Of every tree that in the garden grows Eat freely with glad heart; fear here no dearth: But of the tree whose operation brings Knowledge of good and ill, which I have set The pledge of thy obedience and thy faith, Amid the garden by the tree of life,
Remember what I warn thee, shun to taste, And shun the bitter consequence for know, The day thou eat'st thereof, my sole command Transgress'd, inevitably thou shalt die, From that day mortal; and this happy state Shalt lose, expell'd from hence into a world Of woe and sorrow.' Sternly he pronounced The rigid interdiction, which resounds Yet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choice Not to incur; but soon his clear aspéct Return'd, and gracious purpose thus renew'd. Not only these fair bounds, but all the Earth To thee and to thy race I give; as lords Possess it, and all things that therein live, Or live in sea, or air; beast, fish, and fowl. In sign whereof, each bird and beast behold After their kinds; I bring them to receive From thee their names, and pay thee feälty With low subjection; understand the same Of fish within their watery residence, Not hither summon'd, since they cannot change Their element, to draw the thinner air.' As thus he spake, each bird and beast behold Approaching two and two; these cowering low With blandishment; each bird stoop'd on his wing. I nam'd them as they pass'd, and understood Their nature, with such knowledge God endued My sudden apprehension: but in these I found not what methought I wanted still; And to the heavenly vision thus presum'd.
6 "O, by what name, for thou above all these, Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher, Surpassest far my naming; how may I Adore thee, Author of this universe,
And all this good to Man? for whose well being So amply, and with hands so liberal, Thou hast provided all things: but with me I see not who partakes. In solitude What happiness, who can enjoy alone, Or, all enjoying, what contentment find?' Thus I presumptuous; and the vision bright, As with a smile more brighten'd, thus replied. "What call'st thou solitude? Is not the Earth With various living creatures, and the air Replenish'd, and all these at thy command To come and play before thee? Know'st thou not
Their language and their ways? They also know, And reason not contemptibly: with these Find pastime, and bear rule: thy realm is large.' So spake the Universal Lord, and seem'd So ordering: I, with leave of speech implor'd, And humble deprecation, thus replied. [Power, "Let not my words offend thee, Heavenly My Maker, be propitious while I speak. Hast thou not made me here thy substitute, And these inferior far beneath me set? Among unequals what society
Can sort, what harmony, or true delight? Which must be mutual, in proportion due Given and receiv'd; but in disparity The one intense, the other still remiss Cannot well suit with either, but soon prove Tedious alike: of fellowship I speak Such as I seek, fit to participate All rational delight: wherein the brute Cannot be human consort: they rejoice Each with their kind, lion with lioness; So fitly them in pairs thou hast combin'd: Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowl So well converse, nor with the ox the ape; Worse then can man with beast, and least of all.' "Whereto the Almighty answer'd, not displeas'd. A nice and subtle happiness, I see, Thou to thyself proposest, in the choice Of thy associates, Adam! and wilt taste No pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary.
What think'st thou then of me, and this my state? Seem I to thee sufficiently possess'd Of happiness, or not? who am alone From all eternity; for none I know Second to me or like, equal much less.
How have I then with whom to hold convérse, Save with the creatures which I made, and those To me inferior, infinite descents
Beneath what other creatures are to thee? He ceas'd; I lowly answered. To attain The height and depth of thy eternal ways All human thoughts come short, Supreme of things! Thou in thyself art perfect, and in thee Is no deficience found: not so is Man, But in degree; the cause of his desire By conversation with his like to help, Or solace his defects. No need that thou Shouldst propagate, already infinite; And through all numbers absolute, though one: But Man by number is to manifest His single imperfection, and beget Like of his like, his image multiplied, In unity defective; which requires Collateral love, and dearest amity. Thou in thy secresy although alone, Best with thyself accompanied, seek'st not Social communication; yet, so pleas'd, Canst raise thy creature to what height thou wilt Of union or communion, deified:
I, by conversing, cannot these erect
From prone; nor in their ways complacence find.' Thus I embolden'd spake, and freedom us'd Permissive, and acceptance found; which gain'd This answer from the gracious voice divine.
"Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleas'd; And find thee knowing, not of beasts alone, Which thou hast rightly nam'd, but of thyself; Expressing well the spirit within thee free, My image, not imparted to the brute : Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for thee
Good reason was thou freely shouldst dislike; And be so minded still: I, ere thou spak'st, Knew it not good for Man to be alone; And no such company as then thou saw'st Intended thee; for trial only brought,
To see how thou could'st judge of fit and meet: What next I bring shall please thee, be assur'd, Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self, Thy wish exactly to thy heart's desire.'
"He ended, or I heard no more; for now My earthly by his heavenly overpower'd, Which it had long stood under, strain'd to the height In that celestial colloquy sublime, As with an object that excels the sense
Dazzled and spent, sunk down, and sought repair Of sleep, which instantly fell on me, call'd By Nature as in aid, and clos'd mine eyes. Mine eyes he clos'd, but open left the cell Of fancy, my internal sight; by which, Abstract as in a trance, methought I saw, Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shape Still glorious before whom awake I stood : Who stooping open'd my left side, and took From thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm,
I led her blushing like the morn: all Heaven, And happy constellations, on that hour Shed their selectest influence; the Earth Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill; Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub, Disporting, till the amorous bird of night Sung spousal, and bid haste the evening-star On his hill-top, to light the bridal lamp. Thus have I told thee all my state, and brought My story to the sum of earthly bliss, Which I enjoy ; and must confess to find In all things else delight indeed, but such As, us'd or not, works in the mind no change Nor vehement desire: these delicacies [flowers, I mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and Walks, and the melody of birds: but here Far otherwise, transported I behold, Transported touch; here passion first I felt, Commotion strange! in all enjoyments else Superior and unmov'd; here only weak Against the charm of beauty's powerful glance. Or Nature fail'd in me, and left some part
And life-blood streaming fresh: wide was the Not proof enough such object to sustain ;
But suddenly with flesh fill'd up and heal'd: The rib he form'd and fashion'd with his hands: Under his forming hands a creature grew, Man-like, but different sex; so lovely fair,
That what seem'd fair in all the world, seem'd now Mean, or in her summ'd up, in her contain'd And in her looks; which from that time infus'd Sweetness into my heart, unfelt before, And into all things from her air inspir'd The spirit of love and amorous delight. She disappear'd, and left me dark; I wak'd To find her, or for ever to deplore Her loss, and other pleasures all abjure: When out of hope, behold her, not far off, Such as I saw her in my dream, adorn'd With what all Earth or Heaven could bestow To make her amiable: on she came, Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen, And guided by his voice; nor uninform'd Of nuptial sanctity, and marriage rites:
Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love.
I, overjoy'd, could not forbear aloud.
"This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulThy words, Creator bounteous and benign, Giver of all things fair! but fairest this Of all thy gifts! nor enviest. I now see Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself Before me: woman is her name; of man Extracted: for this cause he shall forego Father and mother, and to his wife adhere; And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.' "She heard me thus; and though divinely brought,
Yet innocence, and virgin modesty,
Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth, That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won, Not obvious, not obtrusive, but, r'd, The more desirable; or, to say all Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, Wrought in her so, that, seeing me, she turn'd: I followed her; she what was honour knew, And with obsequious majesty approv'd
M pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower
Or, from my side subducting, took perhaps More than enough; at least on her bestow'd Too much of ornament, in outward show Elaborate, of inward less exact.
For well I understand in the prime end Of Nature her the inferior, in the mind And inward faculties, which most excel; In outward also her resembling less
His image who made both, and less expressing The character of that dominion given O'er other creatures: yet when I approach Her loveliness, so absolute she seems And in herself complete, so well to know Her own, that what she wills to do or say Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best: All higher knowledge in her presence falls Degraded; Wisdom in discourse with her Loses discountenanc'd, and like Folly shows; Authority and reason on her wait,
As one intended first, not after made Occasionally; and, to consummate all, Greatness of mind, and Nobleness, their seat Build in her loveliest, and create an awe About her, as a guard angelic plac'd."
To whom the angel with contracted brow. "Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part; Do thou but thine; and be not diffident Of Wisdom; she deserts thee not, if thou Dismiss not her, when most thou need'st her nigh, By attribúting overmuch to things
Less excellent, as thou thyself perceiv'st. For, what admir'st thou, what transports thee so, An outside? fair, no doubt, and worthy well Thy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love; Not thy subjection; weigh with her thyself; Then value: oft-times nothing profits more Than self-esteem, grounded on just and right Well manag'd; of that skill the more thou know'st, The more she will acknowledge thee her head, And to realities yield all her shows: Made so adorn for thy delight the more,
So awful, that with honour thou may'st love Thy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise, But if the sense of touch, whereby mankind
Is propagated, seem such dear delight
Beyond all other; think the same vouchsaf'd To cattle and each beast; which would not be To them made common and divulg'd, if aught Therein enjoy'd were worthy to subdue The soul of man, or passion in him move. What higher in her society thou find'st Attractive, human, rational, love still; In loving thou dost well, in passion not, Wherein true love consists not: Love refines The thoughts, and heart enlarges ; hath his seat In reason, and is judicious; is the scale By which to Heavenly love thou may'st ascend, Not sunk in carnal pleasure; for which cause, Among the beasts no mate for thee was found." To whom thus, half abash'd, Adam replied. "Neither her outside form'd so fair, nor aught In procreation common to all kinds, (Though higher of the genial bed by far, And with mysterious reverence I deem,) So much delights me, as those graceful acts, Those thousand decencies, that daily flow From all her words and actions mix'd with love And sweet compliance, which declare unfeign'd Union of mind, or in us both one soul; Harmony to behold in wedded pair
More grateful than harmonious sound to the ear. Yet these subject not: I to thee disclose What inward thence I feel, not therefore foil'd Who meet with various objects, from the sense Variously representing: yet, still free, Approve the best, and follow what I approve. To love, thou blam'st me not; for Love, thou say'st, Leads up to Heaven, is both the way and guide; Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask : Love not the heavenly spirits, and how their love Express they? by looks only? or do they mix Irradiance, virtual or immediate touch?"
To whom the angel, with a smile that glow'd Celestial rosy red, Love's proper hue, Answered: "Let it suffice thee that thou know'st Us happy, and without love no happiness. Whatever pure thou in the body enjoy'st, (And pure thou wert created) we enjoy In eminence; and obstacle find none Of membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bars; Easier than air with air, if spirits embrace, Total they mix, union of pure with pure Desiring; nor restrain'd conveyance need, As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul. But I can now no more; the parting Sun Beyond the Earth's green cape and verdant isles Hesperian sets, my signal to depart.
Be strong, live happy, and love! but, first of all, Him, whom to love is to obey, and keep His great command: take heed lest passion sway Thy judgment to do aught, which else free will Would not admit: thine, and of all thy sons, The weal or woe in thee is plac'd; beware! I in thy persevering shall rejoice,
And all the blest: stand fast; to stand or fall Free in thine own arbitrement it lies. Perfect within, no outward aid require; And all temptation to transgress repel.'
So saying, he arose; whom Adam thus Follow'd with benediction. "Since to part, Go, heavenly guest, ethereal messenger, Sent from whose sovran goodness I adore! Gentle to me and affable hath been
Thy condescension, and shall be honour'd ever
With grateful memory: thou to mankind Be good and friendly still, and oft return!" So parted they; the angel up to Heaven From the thick shade, and Adam to his bower.
Satan, having compassed the Earth, with medtated guile returns, as a mist, by night in Paradise; enters into the serpent sleeping. Adr and Eve in the morning go forth to their labours, which Eve proposes to divide in several places each labouring apart: Adam consents not, & leging the danger, lest that enemy, of whom they were forewarned, should attempt her found alone: Eve, loth to be thought not circum spect or firm enough, urges her going apart. the rather desirous to make trial of her strength. Adam at last yields: the serpent finds her alone: his subtle approach, first gazing, then speaking:| with much flattery extolling Eve above all other creatures. Eve, wondering to hear the serpent speak, asks how he attained to human speech and such understanding, not till now; pent answers, that by tasting of a certain tree is the garden he attained both to speech and reaso till then void of both: Eve requires him to bring her to that tree, and finds it to be the tree knowledge forbidden: the serpent now grow: bolder, with many wiles and arguments, induces her at length to eat; she, pleased with the taste. deliberates a while whether to impart thereof t Adam or not; at last brings him' of the fruit; relates what persuaded her to eat thereof: Adam, at first amazed, but perceiving her lost, resolve through vehemence of love, to perish with her and, extenuating the trespass, eats also of the fruit: the effects thereof in them both; they seek to cover their nakedness; then fall to variance and accusation of one another.
No more of talk where God or angel guest With Man, as with his friend, familiar us'd To sit indulgent, and with him partake Rural repast; permitting him the while Venial discourse unblam'd. I now must change Those notes to tragic; foul distrust, and breach Disloyal on the part of Man, revolt And disobedience: on the part of Heaven Now alienated, distance and distaste, Anger and just rebuke, and judgment given, That brought into this world a world of woe, Sin and her shadow Death, and Misery Death's harbinger: sad task, yet argument Not less but more heroic than the wrath Of stern Achilles on his foe pursued Thrice fugitive about Troy wall; or rage Of Turnus for Lavinia disespous'd; Or Neptune's ire, or Juno's, that so long Perplex'd the Greek, and Cytherea's son; If answerable style I can obtain Of my celestial patroness, who deigns Her nightly visitation unimplor'd, And dictates to me slumbering; or inspires Easy my unpremeditated verse:
Since first this subject for heroic song
Pleas'd me long choosing, and beginning late;
« IndietroContinua » |