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And for the Heav'n's wide circuit let it speak
From the sun's beams meet night, her other part Still luminous by his ray. What if that light Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air, To the terrestrial moon be as a star Enlight'ning her by day, as she by night This earth; reciprocal, if land be there, Fields and inhabitants : her spots thou seest As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce Fruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eat Allotted there; and other suns perhaps, With their attendant inoons, thou wilt descry Communicating male and female light; Which two great sexes aniinate the world, Stor'd in each orb perhaps with soine that live. For such vast room in nature unpossess By living soul, desert and desolate, Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far Down to this habitable, which returns Light back to them, is obvious to dispute. But whether thus these things, or whether not; Whether the sun predominant in heav'n Rise on the earth, or earth rise on the sun; Je from the east his flaining road begin, Or she from west her silent course advance With inoffensive pace, that spinning sleeps On her soft axle, while she paces even, And bears the soft with the smooth air along, Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid; Leave thein to God above, hiin serve and fear! of other creatures, as him pleases best, Wherever plac'd, let hiin dispose : joy thou In what he gives to thee, this Paradise And thy fair Eve; Heav'n is for thee too high To know what passes there; be lowly wise: Think only what concerns thee and thy being; Dream 'not of other worlds, what creatures there Live, in what state, condition, or degree, Contented that thus far hath been reveal', Not of earth only, but of highest Heavin.
* To whom thus Adam, cleard of doubt, reply'd:
To whom thus Raphael answer'd heavenly ineck: Nor are thy lips, ungraceful, Sire of men,
Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd, Inward and outward both, his image fair Speaking or mute, all comeliness and grace - Attend thee, and each word each motion forms Nor less think we in Heav'n of thee on Earth Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire Gladly into the ways of God with Man: For God we see hath honour'd thee, and set On man his equal love. Say therefore on; For I that day was absent, as befel, Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure, Far on excursion tow'rd the gates of hell: Squar'd in full legion (such command we had To see that none thence issu'd forth a spy, Or enemy, while God was in his work; Lest he, incens'd at such eruption bold, Destruction with creation might have mix'd. Not that they durst without his leave attempts But as he sends upon his high behests! For state, as Sov'reign King, and to inure Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut The dismal gates, and barricado'l strong; But long ere our approaching heard within Noise, other than the sound of dance or song, Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage. Glad we return'd up to the coasts of light Ere Sabbath-ev'ning: so we had in charge. But thy relation now; for I attend, Pleas'd with thy words no less than thou with mine.
So spake the godlike Pow'r, and thus our sire:
Desire with thee still longer to converse
And gaz'd awhile the ample sky, till rais'd By quick instinctive motion up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet: about me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murm'ring streams: by these Creatures that liv'd, and mov'd, and walk'd or few, Birds on the branches warbling; all things smild With fragrance, and with joy my heart o'erflow'd. Myself I then perus'd, and limb by limb · Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran With supple joints, as lively vigour led: But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not; to speak I try'd, and forthwith spake: My tongue obey'd, and readily could name Whate'er I saw. Thou sun, said I, fair light, And thou enlighten'd earth, so fresh and gay, Ye hills and dales, ye rivers, woods, and plains, And ye that live and move, fair creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here? Not of myself; by some great Maker then, In goodness and in pow'r pre-eminent; Tell me, how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that I am happier than I know. While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither From where I first drew air, and first beheld This happy light; when answer none return'd, On a green shady bank, profuse of flow'rs, Pensive I sat me down: there gentle sleep First found me, and with soft oppression seiz'd My drowsed sense, un troubled, though I thought I then was passing to my foriner state Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve: When suddenly stood at my head a dream, Whose inward apparition gently mov'd My fancy to believe I yet had being, " And liv'd. One came, methought, of shape divine, And said, Thy mansion wants thee, Adam, rise,