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O unexpected stroke, worse than of death ..
Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ? thus leave
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades,
Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend,
Quiet though sad, the respite of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flowers,
That never will in other climate grow,
My early visitation, and my last
At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first op'ning bud, and gave ye names,
Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount?
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn'd
With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure
And wild? how shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?

Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild:
Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign
What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart
Thus over fond, on that which is not thine.
Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes
Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound;
Where he abides, think there thy native soil.

Adam by this froin the cold sudden damp
Recovering, and his scatter'd sp'rits return'd,
To Michael thus his humble words address'd:

Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or nam’d Of them the high’st, for such of shape may seem Prince above princes, gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes; all places else Inhospitable appear and desolate, Nor knowing us nor known: and if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will

Of him who all things can, I would not cease
To weary him with my assiduous cries:
But prayer against his absolute decree
No more avails than breath against the wind,
Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forti:
Therefore to his great bidding I submit.
This most afflicts me, that departing hence,
As from his face I shall be hid, depriv'd
Ilis blessed count'nance; here I could frequent
With worship place by place where he vouchsaf'd
Presence divine, and to my sons relate,
On this mount he appear'd, under this tree
Stood visible, among these pines his voice
I heard, here with him at this fountain ialk'd;
So many grateful alcars I would rear
Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone
Of lustre from the brook, in memory,
Or monument to ages, and thereon
Offer sweet smelling gums, and fruits, and flow'rs:
In yonder nether world where shall I seek
His bright appearances, or footstep trace?
For though I fled him angry, yet recall'd
To life prolong'd and promis'd race, I now
Gladly behold though but his utmust skirts
Of glory, and far off his steps adore.

To whom thus Michael with regard benign:
Adam, thou know'st Heav'n his, and all the earth,
Not this rock only; his omnipresence fills
Land, sea and air, and every kind that lives,
Fomented by his virtual pow'r and warm’d:
All th’earth he gave thee to possess and rule,
No despicable gift; surmise not then
His presence to these narrow bounds confin'd
Of Paradise or Eden: this had been
Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread
All generations, and had hither come
From all the ends of th’earth, to celebrate
And reverence thee their great progenitor.
But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down
To dwell on even ground now with thy sons:
et doubt not but in valley and in plain

God is as here, and will be found alike
Present, and of his presence many a sign
Still following thee, still compassing thee round
With goodness and paternal love, his face
Express, and of his steps the track divine.
Which that thou mayst believe, and be confirm'd,
Ere thou from hence depart, know I am sent
To show thee what shall come in future days
To thee and to thy offspring, good with bad
Expect to hear, supernal grace contending
With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn
True patience, and to temper joy with fear
And pious sorrow, equally inur'd
By moderation either state to bear,
Prosperous or adverse; so shalt thou lead
Safest thy life, and best prepar'd endure
Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend
This hill; let Eve (for I have drench'd her eyes)
Here sleep below, while thou to foresight wak’st;
As once thou slept'st, while she to life was form’d.

To whom thus Adam gratefully reply'd:
Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path
Thou lead'st me, and to the hand of heav'n submits:
However chast'ning, to the evil turn
My obvious breast, arming to overcome
By suffering, and earn rest from labour won,
If so I may attain. So both ascend
In the visions of God. It was a hill
Of Paradise the highest, from whose top
The hemisphere of earth in clearest ken
Stretch'd out to th' amplest reach of prospect lay.
Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round,
Whereon for different cause the tempter set
Our second Adam in the wilderness,
To show him all earth's kingdoms, and their glory,
His eye might there command wherever stood
City of old or modern fame, the seat
Of mightiest empire, from the destin'd walls
of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can,
And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne,
To Paquin of Sinæan kings, and thence

To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul
Down to the golden Chersonese, or where
The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since
In Hispahan, or where the Russian Czar
In Moscow, or the Sultan in Bizance,
Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken
Th'empire of Negus to his utmost port
Erocco, and the less maritime kings,
Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind,
And Sofala thought Ophir, to the realm
Of Congo, and Angola farthest south:
Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount,
The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus,
Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen;
On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway
The world: in sp'rit perhaps he also saw
Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume,
And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat
Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoil'd
Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons
Call El Dorado. But to nobler sights
Michael from Adam's eyes the film remov'd,
Which the false fruit that promis'd clearer sight
Had bred; then purg'd with euphtasy and rue
The visual nerve, for he had much to see ;
And from the well of life three drops instill'd.
So deep the pow'r of these ingredients piercd,
Even to the inmost seat of mental sight,
That Adam, now infurc'd to close his eyes,
Suok down, and all his sp'rits became intranc'd;
But him the gentle Angel by the hand
Soon rais'd, and his attention thus recal'd:

Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold
Th’ effects which thy original crime hath wrought
In some to spring from thee, who never touch'd
Th’accepted tree, nor with the snake conspir'd,
Nor sinn'd thy sin, yet from that sin derive
Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds.

His eyes, he open'd, and beheld a field, Part arable and ulth, whereon were sheaves New reap'd; the other part sheep-walks and folds

l'the midst an altar as the land-mark stood,
Rustic, of grassy sod; thither anon
A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought
First fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf,
Uncuild, as came to hand; a shepherd next
More meek, came with the firstlings of his flock,
Choicest and best; then sacrificing, laid
The inwards and their fat, with incense strow'd
On the cleft wood, and all due rites perform’d.
His offering soon propitious fire from Heav'n
Consum'd with nimble glance, and grateful steam;
The other's not, for his was not sincere :
Whereat he inly rag'd, and as they talk'd,
Smote him into the midriff with a stone
That beat out life; he fell, and deadly pale
Groan'd out his soul with gushing blood effus'd.
Much at that sight was Adam in his heart
Dismay'd, and thus in haste to th’Angel cry'd:

O teacher, some great mischief hath befall’n
To that meek man, who well had sacrific'd;
Is piety thus and pure devotion paid?
T’ whom Michael thus, he also mov'd, reply'd:
These two are brethren, Adam, and to come
Out of thy loins ; th’ unjust the just hath slain,
For envy that his brother's offering found
From Heav'n acceptance; but the bloody fact
Will be aveng'd; and th'other's faith approv'd
Lose no reward, though here thou see him die,
Rolling in dust and gore. To which our sire:

Alas, both for the deed and for the cause!
But have I now seen Death? Is this the way
I must return to native dust? O sight
of terror, foul and ugly to behold,
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel !

To whom thus Michael: Death thou hast seen
In his first shape on man; but many shapes
of death, and many are the ways that lead
To his grim cave, all dismal; yet to sense
More terrible at th’entrance than within.
Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die,
By fire, flood, famine; by intemp?rance more

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