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Who sees thee? (And what is one?) Who shouldst

be seen

A Goddess among Gods, ador'd and serv'd
By Angels numberless, thy daily train.

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So gloz'd the Tempter, and his proem tun'd; Into the heart of Eve his words made way, Though at the voice much marvelling; at length Not unamaz'd she thus in answer spake.

What may this mean? Language of man pronounc'd

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By tongue of brute, and human sense express'd? The first at least of these I thought deny'd To beasts, whom God on their creation-day Created mute to all articulate sound; The latter I demur, for in their looks Much reas'on, and in their actions oft appears. Thee, Serpent, subtlest beast of all the field I knew, but not with human voice endued; Redouble then this miracle, and say, How cam'st thou speakable of mute, and how To me so friendly grown above the rest Of brutal kind that daily are in sight: Say, for such wonder claims attention due. To whom the guileful Tempter thus reply'd. Empress of this fair world, resplendent Eve, Easy to me it is to tell thee all

What thou command'st, and right thou shouldst be obey'd :

I was at first as other beasts that graze

The trodden herb, of abject thoughts and low,

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As was my food: nor ought but food discern'd
Or sex, and apprehended nothing high:
Till on a day roving the field, I chanc'd
A goodly tree far distant to behold
Loaden with fruit of fairest colours mix'd,
Ruddy and gold: I nearer drew to gaze;
When from the boughs a savoury odour blown,
Grateful to appetite, more pleas'd my sense
Than smell of sweetest fennel, or the teats.
Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at even,
Unsuck'd of lamb or kid, that tend their play.
To satisfy the sharp desire I had

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Of tasting those fair apples, I resolv'd
Not to defer; hunger and thirst at once,
Pow'rful persuaders, quicken'd at the scent
Of that alluring fruit, urg'd me so keen.
About the mossy trunk I wound me soon,
For high from ground the branches would require
Thy utmost reach or Adam's: Round the tree 592
All other beasts that saw, with like desire
Longing and envying stood, but could not reach.
Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung
Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill
1 spar'd not, for such pleasure till that hour
At feed or fountain never had I found.
Sated at length, ere long I might perceive
Strange alteration in me, to degree
Of reason in my inward pow'rs, and speech
Wanted not long, though to this shape retain'd.
Thenceforth to speculations high or deep

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I turn'd my thoughts, and with capacious mind

Consider'd all things visible in Heaven,

Or Earth, or Middle, all things fair and good:
But all that fair and good in thy divine
Semblance, and in thy beauty's heav'nly ray
United I beheld; no fair to thine
Equivalent or second, which compell'd
'Me thus, though importune perhaps, to come
And gaze, and worship thee of right declar'd
Sov'reign of creatures, universal Dame.,

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So talk'd the spirited sly Snake; and Eve
Yet more amaz'd unwary thus reply'd.
Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in doubt
The virtue of that fruit, in thee first prov'd:
But say, where grows the tree, from hence how far?
For many are the trees of God that grow
In Paradise, and various, yet unknown
To us in such abundance lies our choice,
As leaves a greater store of fruit untouch'd,
Still hanging incorruptible, till men
Grow up to their provision, and more hands
Help to disburden Nature of her birth.

To whom the wily Adder, blithe and glad.
Empress, the way is ready, and not long,
Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat,
Fast by a fountain, one small thicket past
Of blowing myhrr and balm; if thou accept
My conduct, I can bring thee thither soon.

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Lead then, said Eve. He leading swiftly roll'd

In tangles, and made intricate seem straight,
To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joy

Brightens his crest; as when a wand'ring fire,
Compact of unctuous vapour, which the night
Condenses, and the cold environs round,
Kindled through agitation to a flame,

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Which oft they say, some evil Spi’rit attends,
Hovering and blazing with delusive light,
Misleads th' amaz'd night-wand'rer from his way
To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool,
There swallow'd up and lost, from succour far,
So glister'd the dire Snake, and into fraud
Led Eve our credulous mother, to the tree
Of prohibition, root of all our woe;

Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake.

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Serpent, we might have spar'd our coming hither,
Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess,
The credit of whose virtue rest with thee,
Wond'rous indeed, if cause of such effects.
But of this tree we may not taste nor touch;
God so commanded, and left that command
Sole daughter of his voice; the rest, we live
Law to ourselves, our reason is our law.

To whom the Tempter guilefully reply'd.
Indeed? Hath God then said that of the fruit
Of all these garden trees ye shall not eat,
Yet Lords declar'd of all in earth or air?

To whom thus Eve yet sinless. Of the fruit
Of each tree in the garden we may eat,
But of the fruit of this fair tree amidst
The garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat
Thereof, nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die.

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[bold

She scarce had said, though brief, when now more

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The Tempter, but with shew of zeal and love
To Man, and indignation at his wrong,
New part puts on, and as to passion mov'd,
Fluctuates disturb'd, yet comely and in act
Rais'd, as of some great matter to begin.
As when of old some orator renown'd
In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence
Flourish'd, since mute, to some great cause address'd
Stood in himself collected, while each part,
Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue,
Sometimes in height began, as no delay
Of preface brooking through his zeal of right:
So standing, moving, or to height up grown,
The Tempter all impassion'd thus began.
O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving Plant,
Mother of science, now I feel thy power
Within me clear, not only to discern
Things in their causes, but to trace the ways
Of highest agents, deem'd however wise.
Queen of this universe, do not believe

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Those rigid threats of death; ye shall not die:
How should ye? By the fruit? It gives you life
To knowledge; by the threat'ner? Look on me,
Me who have touch'd and tasted, yet both live,
And life more perfect have attain'd than fate
Meant me, by vent'ring higher than my lot. 690
Shall that be shut to Man, which to the Beast
open? Or will God incense his ire

Is

For such a petty trespass, and not praise

Rather your dauntless virtue, whom the pain

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