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. 135 So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste. But first, from under shady arbo'rous 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, 140 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 151 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 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. 170 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. 174 Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies, 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 gray, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honor to the world's great Author rise, Whether to deck with clouds the uncolor'd sky, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, 190
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 200 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. 210 On to their morning's rural work they haste Among sweet dews and flow'rs; where any row Of fruit-trees over-woody reach'd too far Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check 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 dow'r th' adopted clusters, to adorn His barren leaves. Them thus employ'd beheld With pity Heav'n's high King, and to him call'd
Raphael, the sociable spi'rit, that deign'd To travel with Tobias, and secur'd
His marriage with the sev'n-times-wedded maid. Raphael, 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 bow'r or shade 230 Thou find'st him from the heat of noon retir'd, To respite his day-labor 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 Heav'n, 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 th' eternal Father, and fulfill'd All justice: nor delay'd the winged saint After his charge receiv'd; but from among Thousand celestial Ardors, where he stood Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light
Flew through the midst of Heav'n; th' angelic
On each hand parting, to his speed gave way Through all th' empyreal road; till at the gate Of Heav'n 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 see's, 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 261 Of Galileo, less assur'd, observes
Imagin❜'d lands and regions in the moon: Or pilot, from amidst the Cyclades Delos or Samos first appearing, kens
A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky Sails between worlds and worlds, with steddy wing Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan Winnows the buxom air; till within soar Of tow'ring eagles, to' all the fowls he seems A phoenix, gaz'd by all, as that sole bird, When to inshrine his reliques in the Sun's Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies. At once on th' eastern cliff of Paradise He lights, and to his proper shape returns A seraph wing'd; six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments divine; the pair that clad
Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast
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