My glory, my perfection! glad I see
Thy face, and morn return'd; for I this night
(Such night till this I never pass'd) have dream'd,
(If dream'd,) not as I oft am wont, of thee,
Works of day past, or morrow's next design,
But of offence and trouble, which my mind
Knew never till this irksome night: Methought 35
Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walk
With gentle voice; I thought it thine: it said,
"Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time,
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
To the night-warbling bird, that now awake
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song: now reigns
Full-orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light
Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,
If none regard; heav'n wakes with all his eyes,
Whom to behold but thee, nature's desire?
In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment
Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze."
I rose as at thy call, but found thee not;
To find thee I directed then my walk;
And on, methought, alone I pass'd through ways 50
That brought me on a sudden to the tree
Of interdicted knowledge; fair it seem'd,
Much fairer to my fancy than by day:
And, as I wond'ring look'd, beside it stood
One shap'd and wing'd like one of those from heav'n
By us oft seen: his dewy locks distill'd
Ambrosia; on that tree he also gaz'd;
And, "O fair plant," said he, "with fruit surcharg'd!
Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet,
Nor God, nor man? Is knowledge so despis'd? 60
Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste?
Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold
Longer thy offer'd good; why else set here?"
This said, he paus'd not, but with vent'rous arm
He pluck'd, he tasted; me damp horror chill'd
At such bold words vouch'd with a deed so bold:
But he thus, overjoy'd: "O fruit divine!
Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropt,
Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit
For gods, yet able to make gods of men :
And why not gods of men? since good, the more
Communicated, more abundant grows,
The author not impair'd, but honour'd more.
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve!
Partake thou also: happy though thou art,
Happier thou mayst be, worthier canst not be:
Taste this, and be henceforth among the gods
Thyself a goddess, not to earth confin'd,
But sometimes in the air, as we; sometimes
Ascend to heav'n, by merit thine, and see
What life the gods live there, and such live thou!"
So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held,—
E'en to my mouth-of that same fruit held part
Which he had pluck'd: the pleasant savoury smell
So quicken'd appetite, that I, methought,
Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds
With him I flew, and underneath beheld
The earth outstretch'd immense, a prospect wide
And various wond'ring at my flight and change
To this high exaltation; suddenly
My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down,
And fell asleep; but O! how glad I wak'd
To find this but a dream." Thus Eve her night
Related, and thus Adam answer'd sad:
"Best image of myself, and dearer half!
The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep
Affects me equally; nor can I like
This uncouth dream, of evil sprung, I fear;
Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,
Created pure. But know, that in the soul
Are many lesser faculties, that serve
Reason as chief: among these, Fancy next
Her office holds; of all external things,
Which the five watchful senses represent,
She forms imaginations, aery shapes,
Which reason joining, or disjoining, frames
All what we affirm or what deny, and call
Our knowledge or opinion; then retires
Into her private cell, when nature rests.
Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakes
To imitate her; but, misjoining shapes,
Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams;
Ill-matching words and deeds, long past or late.
Some such resemblances, methinks, I find
Of our last ev'ning's talk, in this thy dream,
But with addition strange; yet be not sad.
Evil into the mind of God, or man,
May come and go, so unapprov'd, and leave
No spot or blame behind: which gives me hope
That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream,
Waking thou never wilt consent to do.
Be not dishearten'd then, nor cloud those looks,
That wont to be more cheerful and serene,
Than when fair morning first smiles on the world;
And let us to our fresh employments rise, 125
Among the groves, the fountains, and the flow'rs
That open now their choicest bosom'd smells,
Reserv'd from night, and kept for thee in store."
So cheer'd he his fair spouse, and she was cheer'd; But silently a gentle tear let fall
From either eye, and wip'd them with her hair;
Two other precious drops that ready stood,
Each in their crystal sluice, he, ere they fell,
Kiss'd, as the gracious signs of sweet remorse,
And pious awe, that fear'd to have offended.
So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste;
But first, from under shady arborous roof,
Soon as they forth were come to open sight
Of day-spring, and the sun, who, scarce up-ris'n,
With wheels yet hov'ring o'er the ocean brim,
Shot parallel to th' earth his dewy ray,
Discov'ring in wide landscape all the east
Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains,
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began
Their orisons, each morning duly paid
In various style; for neither various style,
Nor holy rapture, wanted they to praise
Their Maker, in fit strains pronounc'd, or sung,
Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence
Flow'd from their lips, in prose or num'rous verse; 150 More tuneable than needed lute or harp
To add more sweetness; and they thus began: "These are thy glorious works, Parent of good! Almighty thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair: Thyself how wondrous then! 155 Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heav'ns
To us invisible, or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Speak! ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 160
Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heav'n:
On earth join all ye creatures to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 165
Fairest of stars! last in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou sun! of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies; 176
And ye five other wand'ring fires, that move
In mystic dance not without song, resound
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
Air, and ye elements! the eldest birth
Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix
And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mists and exhalations! that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,
Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author, rise;
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising, or falling, still advance his praise.
His praise, ye winds! that from four quarters blow, Breathe, soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines! With every plant, in sign of worship, wave.
Fountains and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living souls! ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
Witness if I be silent, morn or e'en,
To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark."
So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts
Firm peace recover'd soon, and wonted calm.
God, in pity to man, sends down Raphael to warn Adam and Eve of their danger. He is entertained by them, and gives
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