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The only sign of our obedience left
Among so many signs of power and rule
Conferr'd upon us; and dominion given
Over all other creatures that possess
Earth, air, and sea.

Then let us not think hard

One easy prohibition, who enjoy

Free leave so large to all things else, and choice
Unlimited of manifold delights:

But let us ever praise him, and extol

His bounty; following our delightful task

To prune these growing plants, and tend these flowers;

Which, were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet.
To whom thus Eve replied:-0 thou, for whom
And from whom I was form'd, flesh of thy flesh,
And without whom am to no end, my guide

And head; what thou hast said is just and right:
For we to him indeed all praises owe,
And daily thanks: I chiefly, who enjoy
So far the happier lot, enjoying thee
Pre-eminent by so much odds, while thou
Like consort to thyself canst no where find.
That day I oft remember, when from sleep
I first awaked, and found myself reposed
Under a shade on flowers; much wondering where
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread
Into a liquid plain; then stood unmoved,
Pure as the expanse of heaven: I thither went
With unexperienced thought, and laid me down
On the green bank, to look into the clear
Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite

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A shape within the watery gleam appear'd,
Bending to look on me: I started back,

It started back; but pleased I soon return'd,

Pleased it return'd as soon with answering looks

Of sympathy and love: there I had fix'd

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Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire,

Had not a voice thus warn'd me: What thou seest,

What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself;

With thee it came and goes: but follow me,
And I will bring thee where no shadow stays
Thy coming, and thy soft embraces; he
Whose image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy
Inseparably thine; to him shalt bear
Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd
Mother of human race. What could I do,

449. That day I oft remember. The whole of this passage is exquisitely tender, beautiful, and picturesque, in ex

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pression as well as in imagery and sentiment.-BRYDGES.

But follow straight, invisibly thus led?
Till I espied thee, fair indeed and tall,
Under a platane; yet, methought, less fair,
Less winning soft, less amiably mild,

Than that smooth watery image. Back I turn'd:

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Thou following criedst aloud, Return, fair Eve;

Whom fliest thou? whom thou fliest, of him thou art,

His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent
Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart,
Substantial life; to have thee by my side
Henceforth an individual solace dear.

Part of my soul, I seek thee, and thee claim,
My other half: with that thy gentle hand
Seized mine: I yielded: and from that time see
How beauty is excell'd by manly grace
And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.

So spake our general mother; and, with eyes
Of conjugal attraction unreproved
And meek surrender, half-embracing lean'd
On our first father; half her swelling breast
Naked met his, under the flowing gold
Of her loose tresses hid: he, in delight
Both of her beauty and submissive charms,
Smiled with superiour love; as Jupiter

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On Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds

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That shed May flowers; and press'd her matron lip

With kisses pure. Aside the devil turn'd

For envy; yet with jealous leer malign

Eyed them askance, and to himself thus plain'd:

Sight hateful, sight tormenting! thus these two,
Imparadised in one another's arms,

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The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill
Of bliss on bliss; while I to hell am thrust,

Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire,
Among our other torments not the least,
Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines.
Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd

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From their own mouths; all is not theirs, it seems:
One fatal tree there stands, of Knowledge call'd,
Forbidden them to taste: knowledge forbidden?
Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord
Envy them that? can it be sin to know?
Can it be death? and do they only stand
By ignorance? is that their happy state,

492. So spake, &c. What a charming picture of love and innocence has the poet given us in this paragraph! There is the greatest warmth of affection, and yet the most exact delicacy and decorum. One would have thought that a scene of this nature could not with any consistency have been introduced into a divine poem; and yet our author has so nicely

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and judiciously covered the soft description with the veil of modesty, that the purest and chastest mind can find no

room for offence.-THYER.

499. As Jupiter, &c. As the heaven smiles upon the air, when it makes the clouds and every thing fruitful in the Spring. This seems to be the meaning of the allegory.-NEWTON.

The proof of their obedience and their faith?
O fair foundation laid whereon to build
Their ruin! hence I will excite their minds
With more desire to know, and to reject
Envious commands, invented with design

To keep them low, whom knowledge might exalt
Equal with Gods; aspiring to be such,
They taste and die: what likelier can ensue?
But first with narrow search I must walk round
This garden, and no corner leave unspied;
A chance but chance may lead where I may meet
Some wandering spirit of heaven by fountain side,
Or in thick shade retired, from him to draw
What further would be learn'd. Live while ye may,
Yet happy pair; enjoy, till I return,

Short pleasures; for long woes are to succeed.

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So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd,

But with sly circumspection, and began,

Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his roam

Meanwhile in utmost longitude, where heaven

With earth and ocean meets, the setting sun

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Slowly descended, and with right aspect
Against the eastern gate of Paradise
Levell❜d his evening rays: it was a rock
Of alabaster, piled up to the clouds,
Conspicuous far, winding with one ascent
Accessible from earth, one entrance high;
The rest was craggy cliff, that overhung
Still as it rose, impossible to climb.
Betwixt these rocky pillars Gabriel sat,
Chief of the angelic guards, awaiting night;
About him exercised heroic games

The unarm'd youth of heaven; but nigh at hand
Celestial armoury, shields, helms, and spears,
Hung high with diamond flaming and with gold.
Thither came Uriel, gliding through the even
On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star

In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fired
Impress the air, and show the mariner

From what point of his compass to beware
Impetuous winds: he thus began in haste:-
Gabriel, to thee thy course by lot hath given
Charge and strict watch, that to this happy place
No evil thing approach or enter in.

This day at highth of noon came to my sphere
A spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know
More of the Almighty's works, and chiefly man,
God's latest image: I described his way
Bent all on speed, and mark'd his aery gait;
But in the mount that lies from Eden north,
Where he first lighted, soon discern'd his looks
Alien from heaven, with passions foul obscured:

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Mine eye pursued him still, but under shade
Lost sight of him: one of the banish'd crew,
I fear, hath ventured from the deep, to raise
New troubles; him thy care must be to find.

To whom the winged warriour thus return'd:
Uriel, no wonder if thy perfect sight,
Amid the sun's bright circle where thou sitt'st,
See far and wide: in at this gate none pass
The vigilance here placed, but such as come
Well known from heaven; and since meridian hour
No creature thence. If spirit of other sort,
So minded, have o'erleap'd these earthly bounds

On purpose, hard thou know'st it to exclude
Spiritual substance with corporeal bar.
But if within the circuit of these walks

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In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom

Thou tell'st, by morrow dawning I shall know.
So promised he; and Uriel to his charge

Return'd on that bright beam, whose point now raised

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Bore him slope downward to the sun, now fallen
Beneath the Azores; whether the prime orb,
Incredible how swift, had thither roll'd

Diurnal; or this less volúbil earth,

By shorter flight to the east, had left him there,
Arraying with reflected purple and gold

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The clouds that on his western throne attend.
Now came still evening on, and twilight gray
Had in her sober livery all things clad:
Silence accompanied; for beast and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests,
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale;
She all night long her amorous descant sung;

598. Now came still evening on. "The greatest poets of all ages have, as it were, vied one with another, in their description of evening and night; but. for the variety of numbers and pleasing images, I know of nothing parallel or comparable to this, to be found among all the treasures of ancient or modern poetry."NEWTON. "This praise is not too high: the imagery consists of the most extraordinary union of richness, nature, and simplicity; and this is equally true of the expression."-BRYDGES.

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quisitely beautiful sonnets. Gray, too, in his Ode to Spring, has given to it a few of his highly finished lines:

The Attic warbler pours her throat Responsive to the cuckoo's note,The untaught harmony of Spring. But no description of this bird exceeds in beauty and richness that of honest old Isaac Walton, who shows, in many places of his "Complete Angler," that neither rhythm nor rhyme are essential to true poetry:-"But the nightingale, another of my airy creatures, breathes 602. The wakeful nightingale. The such sweet, loud music out of her little nightingale has always been the favour-instrumental throat, that it might make ite bird among poets, for the ancients seem to have been as much attached to it as the moderns. Homer, Theocritus, Sophocles, Virgil, Horace, all delight to sing its praises: so also the earlier English poets, Chaucer, Drummond, Drayton, and Browne. Our own poet has not only noticed this delicious warbler here, but in many other places in Paradise Lost, in Paradise Regained, and in Il Penseroso, and has also devoted to it one of his ex

mankind to think that miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs. the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted up above the earth, and say-Lord, what music hast thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on earth!"

Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament
With living sapphires: Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen, unveil'd her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

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When Adam thus to Eve: Fair consort, the hour

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Of night, and all things now retired to rest,
Mind us of like repose; since God hath set
Labour and rest, as day and night, to men
Successive; and the timely dew of sleep,
Now falling with soft slumbrous weight, inclines
Our eyelids: other creatures all day long
Rove idle, unemploy'd, and less need rest:
Man hath his daily work of body or mind
Appointed, which declares his dignity,
And the regard of Heaven on all his ways;
While other animals unactive range,
And of their doings God takes no account.
To-morrow, ere fresh morning streak the east
With first approach of light, we must be risen,
And at our pleasant labour, to reform
Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green,
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,
That mock our scant manuring, and require

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More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth:
Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums,
That lie bestrown, unsightly and unsmooth,
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease;
Meanwhile, as nature wills, night bids us rest.

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To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty adorn'd:

My author and disposer, what thou bidd'st
Unargued I obey; so God ordains.

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God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more
Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise.
With thee conversing, I forget all time;
All seasons, and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds: pleasant the sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; then silent night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon,
And these the gems of heaven, her starry train:
But neither breath of morn, when she ascends

608. Apparent, used in the Latin sense of appareo, evident, distinctly seen. Milton's mind was so thoroughly imbued with the classics, that he often thus uses words in their original rense.

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620. But neither, &c. What can be more beautiful and touching than the repetition of these particulars!

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