Invincible: abash'd the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely; saw, and pin'd His loss; but chiefly to find here observ'd His lustre visibly impair'd; yet seem'd Undaunted. "If I must contend," said he, "Best with the best, the sender not the sent, Or all at once; more glory will be won, Or less be lost. "Thy fear," said Zephon bold, "Will save us trial what the least can do Single against thee wicked, and thence weak."
The fiend replied not, overcome with rage; But, like a proud steed rein'd, went haughty on, Champing his iron curb: to strive or fly He held it vain; awe from above had quell'd His heart, not else dismay'd. Now drew they nigh The western point, where those half-rounding guards Just met, and closing stood in squadron join'd, Awaiting next command. To whom their chief, Gabriël, from the front thus call'd aloud.
"O friends! I hear the tread of nimble feet Hasting this way, and now by glimpse discern Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade; And with them comes a third of regal port, But faded splendour wan; who by his gait And fierce demeanour seems the prince of Hell, Not likely to part hence without contest; Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours."
He scarce had ended, when those two approach'd, And brief related whom they brought, where found, How busied, in what form and posture couch'd.
To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake. "Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescrib'd To thy transgressions, and disturb'd the charge Of others, who approve not to transgress. By thy example, but have power and right To question thy bold entrance on this place; Employ'd, it seems, to violate sleep, and those Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss?"
To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow. "Gabriel! thou hadst in Heaven the esteem of wise, And such I held thee; but this question ask'd Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain? Who would not, finding way, break loose from Hell, Though thither doom'd? Thou wouldst thyself, no doubt,
And boldly venture to whatever place [change Farthest from pain, where thou mightst hope to Torment with ease, and soonest recompense Dole with delight, which in this place I sought; To thee no reason, who know'st only good, But evil hast not tried: and wilt object His will who bounds us? Let him surer bar His iron gates, if he intends our stay
In that dark durance: thus much what was ask'd. The rest is true, they found me where they say ; But that implies not violence or harm."
Thus he in scorn. The warlike angel moved, Disdainfully half smiling, thus replied. "O loss of one in Heaven to judge of wise Since Satan fell, whom folly overthrew, And now returns him from his prison 'scap'd, Gravely in doubt whether to hold them wise Or not, who ask what boldness brought him hither Unlicens'd from his bounds in Hell prescrib'd; So wise he judges it to fly from pain However, and to 'scape his punishment! So judge thou still, presumptuous! till the wrath, Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight Sevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to Hell,
Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain Can equal anger infinite provok'd.
But wherefore thou alone? wherefore with thee Came not all Hell broke loose? is pain to them Less pain, less to be fled; or thou than they Less hardy to endure; courageous chief! The first in flight from pain! hadst thou alleg'd To thy deserted host this cause of flight, Thou surely hadst not come sole fugitive."
To which the fiend thus answer'd, frowning stern "Not that I less endure or shrink from pain, Insulting angel! well thou know'st I stood Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid The blasting vollied thunder made all speed, And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. But still thy words at random, as before, Argue thy inexperience what behoves From hard assays and ill successes past A faithful leader, not to hazard all Through ways of danger by himself untried : I therefore, I alone first undertook To wing the desolate abyss, and spy This new created world, whereof in Hell Fame is not silent, here in hope to find Better abode, and my afflicted powers To settle here on Earth, or in mid air; Though for possession put to try once more What thou and thy gay legions dare against; Whose easier business were to serve their Lord High up in Heaven, with songs to hymn his throne, And practis'd distances to cringe, not fight."
To whom the warrior-angel soon replied. "To say and straight unsay, pretending first Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, Argues no leader but a liar trac'd,
Satan, and couldst thou faithful add? O name, O sacred name of faithfulness profan'd! Faithful to whom? to thy rebellious crew? Army of fiends, fit body to fit head. Was this your discipline and faith engag'd, Your military obedience, to dissolve Allegiance to the acknowledged Power supreme? And thou, sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem Patron of liberty, who more than thou Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilely ador'd Heaven's awful Monarch? wherefore, but in hope To dispossess him, and thyself to reign? But mark what I areed thee now: avant! Fly thither whence thou fledst! If from this hour Within these hallow'd limits thou appear, Back to the infernal pit I drag thee chain'd, And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn The facile gates of Hell too slightly barr'd."
So threaten'd he; but Satan to no threats Gave heed, but waxing more in rage replied. "Then when I am thy captive talk of chains, Proud limitary cherub! but ere then Far heavier load thyself expect to feel From my prevailing arm, though Heaven's King Ride on thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, Us'd to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels In progress through the road of Heaven star-pav'd." While thus he spake, the angelic squadron bright Turn'd fiery red, sharpening in mooned horns Their phalanx, and began to hem him round With ported spears, as thick as when a field Of Ceres ripe for harvest waving bends Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind Sways them; the careful ploughman doubting stands,
Lest on the threshing-floor his hopeful sheaves Prove chaff. On the other side, Satan, alarm'd, Collecting all his might, dilated stood,
Like Teneriff or Atlas, unremov'd:
His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest Sat Horrour plum'd; nor wanted in his grasp What seem'd both spear and shield: now dreadful deeds
Might have ensued, nor only Paradise In this commotion, but the starry cope Of Heaven perhaps, or all the elements
At least had gone to wrack, disturb'd and torn With violence of this conflict, had not soon The Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray, Hung forth in Heaven his golden scales, yet seen Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign, Wherein all things created first he weigh'd, The pendulous round Earth with balanc'd air In counterpoise, now ponders all events, Battles and realms: in these he put two weights, The sequel each of parting and of fight: The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam; Which Gabriel spying, thus bespake the fiend. "Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine;
Neither our own, but given: what folly then To boast what arms can do! since thine no more
Than Heaven permits, nor mine, though doubled
To trample thee as mire: for proof look up, And read thy lot in yon celestial sign; [weak Where thou art weigh'd, and shown how light, how If thou resist.” The fiend look'd up, and knew His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.
Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; he likes it not, yet comforts her they come forth to their day-labours: their morning hymn at the door of their bower. God, to render man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand, who he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradise; his appearance described; his coming discerned by Adam afar off sitting at the door of his bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choicest fruits of Paradise got together by Eve; their discourse at table: Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his state and of his enemy; relates, at Adam's request, who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his first revolt in Heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew His legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them to rebel with him, persuading all but only Abdiel a seraph, who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him.
Now Morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, When Adam wak'd, so custom'd; for his sleep Was aery-light, from pure digestion bred,
And temperate vapours bland, which the only sound Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill matin song Of birds on every bough; so much the more His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek, As through unquiet rest: he, on his side, Leaning half rais'd, with looks of cordial love Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep, Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes, Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus. "Awake, My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found, Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight! Awake the morning shines, and the fresh field Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring Our tender plants, how blows the citron grove, What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed, How Nature paints her colours, how the bee Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet."
Such whispering wak'd her, but with startled eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake.
"O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, 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 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; Heaven 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 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 wondering look'd, beside it stood One shap'd and wing'd like one of those from Heaven
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? 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 venturous arm He pluck'd, he tasted; me damp horrour 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 may'st 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 Heaven, by merit thine, and see What life the gods live there, and such live thou.' So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held, Even 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 wondering 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 evening'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 Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers 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-risen, With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean brim, Shot parallel to the Earth his dewy ray, Discovering 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 numerous verse, 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! Unspeakable, who sitst above these heavens 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, Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven. On Earth join, all ye creatures, to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 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 flics; And ye five other wandering 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 streaming lake, dusky, or gray, Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the World's great Author rise; Whether to deck with clouds the 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 even, 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. On to their morning's rural work they haste, Among sweet dews and flowers; where any row
Of fruit-trees over-woody reach'd too far
Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round
Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold Fruitless embraces: or they led the vine
To wed her elm; she, spous'd, about him twines Her marriageable arms, and with her brings Her dower, the adopted clusters, to adorn His barren leaves. Them thus employ'd beheld With pity Heaven's high King, and to him call'd Raphaël, the sociable spirit, that deign'd To travel with Tobias, and secur'd
His marriage with the seventimes-wedded maid. Raphaël," said he, "thou hear'st what stir on Earth
Satan, from Hell 'scap'd through the darksome gulf, Hath rais'd in Paradise; and how disturb'd This night the human pair; how he designs In them at once to ruin all mankind.
Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade Thou find'st him from the heat of noon retir'd, To respite his day-labour with repast, Or with repose: and such discourse bring on, As may advise him of his happy state, Happiness in his power left free to will, Left to his own free will, his will though free, Yet mutable; whence warn him to beware "He swerve not, too secure: tell him withal His danger, and from whom; what enemy, Late fall'n himself from Heaven, is plotting now The fall of others from like state of bliss; By violence? no, for that shall be withstood; But by deceit and lies: this let him know, Lest, wilfully transgressing, he pretend Surprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd."
So spake the Eternal Father, and fulfill'd All justice: nor delay'd the winged saint After his charge receiv'd; but from among Thousand celestial ardours, where he stood Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light Flew through the midst of Heaven; the angelic quires,
On each hand parting, to his speed gave way Through all the empyreal road; till, at the gate Of Heaven arriv'd, the gate self-open'd wide On golden hinges turning, as by work Divine the sovran Architect had fram'd. From hence, no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight, Star interpos'd, however small he sees, Not unconform to other shining globes,
Earth, and the garden of God, with cedars crown'd Above all hills. As when by night the glass Of Galileo, less assur'd, observes
magin’d lands and regions in the Moon: Or pilot, from amidst the Cyclades Delos or Samos first appearing, kens
cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky ails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, How on the polar winds, then with quick fan Vinnows the buxom air; till, within soar of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems phenix, gaz'd by all, as that sole bird, When, to enshrine his reliques in the Sun's right temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies. t once on the eastern cliff of Paradise [e lights, and to his proper shape returns seraph wing'd: six wings he wore, to shade is lineaments divine; the pair that clad ach shoulder broad, came mantling o'er his breast With regal ornament; the middle pair
And colours dipt in Heaven; the third his feet Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail, Sky-tinctur'd grain. Like Maia's son he stood, And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill'd The circuit wide. Straight knew him all the bands Of angels under watch; and to his state, And to his message high, in honour rise; For on some message high they guess'd him bound. Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, And flowering odours, cassia, nard, and balm; A wilderness of sweets; for Nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art, enormous bliss. Him through the spicy forest onward come Adam discern'd, as in the door he sat Of his cool bower, while now the mounted Sun Shot down direct his fervid rays to warm Earth's inmost womb, more warmth than Adam needs:
And Eve within, due at her hour prepar'd For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please True appetite, and not disrelish thirst
Of nectarous draughts between, from milky stream, Berry or grape: to whom thus Adam call'd.
"Haste hither, Eve, and worth thy sight behold Eastward among those trees, what glorious shape Comes this way moving; seems another morn Ris'n on mid-noon; some great behest from Heaven To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe This day to be our guest. But go with speed, And, what thy stores contain, bring forth and pour Abundance, fit to honour and receive
Our heavenly stranger; well we may afford Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow From large bestow'd, where Nature multiplies Her fertile growth, and by disburdening grows More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare."
To whom thus Eve. "Adam, Earth's hallow'd mould,
Of God inspir'd! small store will serve, where store, All seasons, ripe for use hangs on the stalk; Save what by frugal storing firmness gains To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes: But I will haste, and from each bough and brake, Each plant and juiciest gourd, will pluck such
To entertain our angel-guest, as he Beholding shall confess, that here on Earth God hath dispens'd his bounties as in Heaven." So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent What choice to choose for delicacy best, What order so contriv'd as not to mix Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change; Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk Whatever Earth, all-bearing mother, yields In India East or West, or middle shore In Pontus or the Punic coast, or where Alcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat Rough, or smooth rind, or bearded husk, or shell, She gathers, tribute large, and on the board Heaps with unsparing hand; for drink the grape She crushes, inoffensive must, and meaths From many a berry, and from sweet kernels press'd She tempers dulcet creams; nor these to hold
Wants her fit vessels pure; then strows the ground With rose and odours from the shrub unfum'd.
Meanwhile our primitive great sire, to meet His God-like guest, walks forth, without more train Accompanied than with his own complete Perfections; in himself was all his state, More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits On princes when their rich retinue long Of horses led, and grooms besmear'd with gold, Dazzles the croud, and sets them all agape. Nearer his presence Adam, though not aw'd, Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek, As to a superior nature bowing low,
Thus said. "Native of Heaven, for other place None can than Heaven such glorious shape contain; Since, by descending from the thrones above, Those happy places thou hast deign'd a while To want, and honour these, vouchsafe with us Two only, who yet by sovran gift possess This spacious ground, in yonder shady bower To rest, and what the garden choicest bears To sit and taste, till this meridian heat Be over, and the Sun more cool decline."
Whom thus the angelic virtue answer'd mild. "Adam, I therefore came; nor art thou such Created, or such place hast here to dwell, As may not oft invite, though spirits of Heaven, To visit thee; lead on then where thy bower O'ershades; for these mid-hours, till evening rise, I have at will." So to the sylvan lodge They came, that like Pomona's arbour smil'd, With flowerets deck'd, and fragrant smells; but Eve,
Undeck'd save with herself more lovely fair Than wood-nymph, or the fairest goddess feign'd Of three that in mount Ida naked strove, Stood to entertain her guest from Heaven; no veil She needed, virtue proof; no thought infirm Alter'd her cheek. On whom the angel Hail Bestow'd, the holy salutation us'd Long after to blest Mary, second Eve.
"Hail, Mother of Mankind, whose fruitful womb Shall fill the world more numerous with thy sons, Than with these various fruits the trees of God Have heap'd this table."- Rais'd of grassy turf Their table was, and mossy seats had round, And on her ample square from side to side All autumn pil'd, though Spring and Autumn here Danc'd hand in hand. A while discourse they hold; No fear lest dinner cool; when thus began Our author. "Heavenly stranger, please to taste These bounties, which our Nourisher, from whom All perfect good, unmeasur'd out, descends, To us for food and for delight hath caus'd The Earth to yield; unsavoury food perhaps To spiritual natures; only this I know, That one celestial Father gives to all."
To whom the angel. "Therefore what he gives (Whose praise be ever sung) to Man in part Spiritual, may of purest spirits be found No ingrateful food: and food alike those pure Intelligential substances require,
As doth your rational; and both contain
Within them every lower faculty
| Earth and the sea feed air, the air those fires Ethereal, and as lowest first the Moon; Whence in her visage round those spots, unpurg'd Vapours not yet into her substance turn'd. Nor doth the Moon no nourishment exhale From her moist continent to higher orbs. The Sun, that light imparts to all, receives From all his alimental recompense In humid exhalations, and at even
Sups with the Ocean. Though in Heaven the trees Of life ambrosial fruitage bear, and vines Yield nectar; though from off the boughs each mora We brush mellifluous dews, and find the ground Cover'd with pearly grain: yet God hath here Varied his bounty so with new delights, As may compare with Heaven; and to taste Think not I shall be nice." So down they sat, And to their viands fell; nor seemingly The angel, nor in mist, the common gloss Of theologians; but with keen dispatch Of real hunger, and concoctive heat
To transubstantiate what redounds, transpires Through spirits with ease; nor wonder; if by fire Of sooty coal the empiric alchymist
Can turn, or holds it possible to turn, Metals of drossiest ore to perfect gold, As from the mine. Meanwhile at table Eve Minister'd naked, and their flowing cups With pleasant liquors crown'd: O innocence Deserving Paradise! if ever, then,
Then had the sons of God excuse to have been Enamour'd at that sight; but in those hearts Love unlibidinous reign'd, nor jealousy Was understood, the injur'd lover's Hell.
Thus when with meats and drinks they had suffic'd, Not burthen'd nature, sudden mind arose In Adam, not to let the occasion pass Given him by this great conference to know Of things above his world, and of their being Who dwell in Heaven, whose excellence he saw Transcend his own so far; whose radiant forms, Divine effulgence, whose high power, so far Exceeded human and his wary speech Thus to the empyreal minister he fram'd.
"Inhabitant with God, now know I well Thy favour, in this honour done to man; Under whose lowly roof thou hast vouchsaf'd To enter, and these earthly fruits to taste, Food not of angels, yet accepted so,
As that more willingly thou couldst not seem At Heaven's high feasts to have fed: yet what compare ?"
To whom the winged hierarch replied. "O Adam, one Almighty is, from whom All things proceed, and up to him return, If not deprav'd from good, created all Such to perfection, one first matter all, Endued with various forms, various degree Of substance, and, in things that live, of life; But more refin'd, more spiritous, and pure, As nearer to him plac'd, or nearer tending Each in their several active spheres assign'd, Till body up to spirit work, in bounds Proportion'd to each kind. So from the root
Of sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste, Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the
Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate, And corporeal to incorporeal turn. For know, whatever was created, needs
To be sustain'd and fed: of elements
The grosser feeds the purer, earth the sea,
More aery, last the bright consummate flower Spirits odórous breathes: flowers and their fruit, Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublim'd, To vital spirits aspire, to animal,
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