Book VIIIThe Angel ended, and in Adam’s earSo charming left his voice, that he a whileThought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear;Then, as new waked, thus gratefully replied.What thanks sufficient, or what recompenceEqual, have I to render thee, divineHistorian, who thus largely hast allayedThe thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsafedThis friendly condescension to relateThings, else by me unsearchable; now heardWith wonder, but delight, and, as is due,With glory attributed to the highCreator! Something yet of doubt remains,Which only thy solution can resolve.When I behold this goodly frame, this world,Of Heaven and Earth consisting; and computeTheir magnitudes; this Earth, a spot, a grain,An atom, with the firmament comparedAnd all her numbered stars, that seem to rollSpaces incomprehensible, (for suchTheir distance argues, and their swift returnDiurnal,) merely to officiate lightRound this opacous Earth, this punctual spot,One day and night; in all her vast surveyUseless besides; reasoning I oft admire,How Nature wise and frugal could commitSuch disproportions, with superfluous handSo many nobler bodies to create,Greater so manifold, to this one use,For aught appears, and on their orbs imposeSuch restless revolution day by dayRepeated; while the sedentary Earth,That better might with far less compass move,Served by more noble than herself, attainsHer end without least motion, and receives,As tribute, such a sumless journey broughtOf incorporeal speed, her warmth and light;Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails.So spake our sire, and by his countenance seemedEntering on studious thoughts abstruse; which EvePerceiving, where she sat retired in sight,With lowliness majestick from her seat,And grace that won who saw to wish her stay,Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers,To visit how they prospered, bud and bloom,Her nursery; they at her coming sprung,And, touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.Yet went she not, as not with such discourseDelighted, or not capable her earOf what was high: such pleasure she reserved,Adam relating, she sole auditress;Her husband the relater she preferredBefore the Angel, and of him to askChose rather; he, she knew, would intermixGrateful digressions, and solve high disputeWith conjugal caresses: from his lipNot words alone pleased her. O! when meet nowSuch pairs, in love and mutual honour joined?With Goddess-like demeanour forth she went,Not unattended; for on her, as Queen,A pomp of winning Graces waited still,And from about her shot darts of desireInto all eyes, to wish her still in sight.And Raphael now, to Adam’s doubt proposed,Benevolent and facile thus replied.To ask or search, I blame thee not; for HeavenIs as the book of God before thee set,Wherein to read his wonderous works, and learnHis seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years:This to attain, whether Heaven move or Earth,Imports not, if thou reckon right; the restFrom Man or Angel the great ArchitectDid wisely to conceal, and not divulgeHis secrets to be scanned by them who oughtRather admire; or, if they list to tryConjecture, he his fabrick of the HeavensHath left to their disputes, perhaps to moveHis laughter at their quaint opinions wideHereafter; when they come to model HeavenAnd calculate the stars, how they will wieldThe mighty frame; how build, unbuild, contriveTo save appearances; how gird the sphereWith centrick and eccentrick scribbled o’er,Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb:Already by thy reasoning this I guess,Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposestThat bodies bright and greater should not serveThe less not bright, nor Heaven such journeys run,Earth sitting still, when she alone receivesThe benefit: Consider first, that greatOr bright infers not excellence: the EarthThough, in comparison of Heaven, so small,Nor glistering, may of solid good containMore plenty than the sun that barren shines;Whose virtue on itself works no effect,But in the fruitful Earth; there first received,His beams, unactive else, their vigour find.Yet not to Earth are those bright luminariesOfficious; but to thee, Earth’s habitant.And for the Heaven’s wide circuit, let it speakThe Maker’s high magnificence, who builtSo spacious, and his line stretched out so far;That Man may know he dwells not in his own;An edifice too large for him to fill,Lodged in a small partition; and the restOrdained for uses to his Lord best known.The swiftness of those circles attribute,Though numberless, to his Omnipotence,That to corporeal substances could addSpeed almost spiritual: Me thou thinkest not slow,Who since the morning-hour set out from HeavenWhere God resides, and ere mid-day arrivedIn Eden; distance inexpressibleBy numbers that have name. But this I urge,Admitting motion in the Heavens, to showInvalid that which thee to doubt it moved;Not that I so affirm, though so it seemTo thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth.God, to remove his ways from human sense,Placed Heaven from Earth so far, that earthly sight,If it presume, might err in things too high,And no advantage gain. What if the sunBe center to the world; and other stars,By his attractive virtue and their ownIncited, dance about him various rounds?Their wandering course now high, now low, then hid,Progressive, retrograde, or standing still,In six thou seest; and what if seventh to theseThe planet earth, so stedfast though she seem,Insensibly three different motions move?Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe,Moved contrary with thwart obliquities;Or save the sun his labour, and that swiftNocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed,Invisible else above all stars, the wheelOf day and night; which needs not thy belief,If earth, industrious of herself, fetch dayTravelling east, and with her part averseFrom the sun’s beam meet night, her other partStill luminous by his ray. What if that light,Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air,To the terrestrial moon be as a star,Enlightening her by day, as she by nightThis earth? reciprocal, if land be there,Fields and inhabitants: Her spots thou seestAs clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produceFruits in her softened soil for some to eatAllotted there; and other suns perhaps,With their attendant moons, thou wilt descry,Communicating male and female light;Which two great sexes animate the world,Stored in each orb perhaps with some that live.For such vast room in Nature unpossessedBy living soul, desart and desolate,Only to shine, yet scarce to contributeEach orb a glimpse of light, conveyed so farDown to this habitable, which returnsLight back to them, is obvious to dispute.But whether thus these things, or whether not;But whether the sun, predominant in Heaven,Rise on the earth; or earth rise on the sun;He from the east his flaming road begin;Or she from west her silent course advance,With inoffensive pace that spinning sleepsOn her soft axle, while she paces even,And bears thee soft with the smooth air along;Sollicit not thy thoughts with matters hid;Leave them to God above; him serve, and fear!Of other creatures, as him pleases best,Wherever placed, let him dispose; joy thouIn what he gives to thee, this ParadiseAnd thy fair Eve; Heaven is for thee too highTo know what passes there; be lowly wise:Think only what concerns thee, and thy being;Dream not of other worlds, what creatures thereLive, in what state, condition, or degree;Contented that thus far hath been revealedNot of Earth only, but of highest Heaven.To whom thus Adam, cleared of doubt, replied.How fully hast thou satisfied me, pureIntelligence of Heaven, Angel serene!And, freed from intricacies, taught to liveThe easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughtsTo interrupt the sweet of life, from whichGod hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares,And not molest us; unless we ourselvesSeek them with wandering thoughts, and notions vain.But apt the mind or fancy is to roveUnchecked, and of her roving is no end;Till warned, or by experience taught, she learn,That, not to know at large of things remoteFrom use, obscure and subtle; but, to knowThat which before us lies in daily life,Is the prime wisdom: What is more, is fume,Or emptiness, or fond impertinence:And renders us, in things that most concern,Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek.Therefore from this high pitch let us descendA lower flight, and speak of things at handUseful; whence, haply, mention may ariseOf something not unseasonable to ask,By sufferance, and thy wonted favour, deigned.Thee I have heard relating what was doneEre my remembrance: now, hear me relateMy story, which perhaps thou hast not heard;And day is not yet spent; till then thou seestHow subtly to detain thee I devise;Inviting thee to hear while I relate;Fond! were it not in hope of thy reply:For, while I sit with thee, I seem in Heaven;And sweeter thy discourse is to my earThan fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirstAnd hunger both, from labour, at the hourOf sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill,Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divineImbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.To whom thus Raphael answered heavenly meek.Nor are thy lips ungraceful, Sire of men,Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on theeAbundantly his gifts hath also pouredInward and outward both, his image fair:Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and graceAttends thee; and each word, each motion, forms;Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on EarthThan of our fellow-servant, and inquireGladly into the ways of God with Man:For God, we see, hath honoured thee, and setOn 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 toward the gates of Hell;Squared in full legion (such command we had)To see that none thence issued forth a spy,Or enemy, while God was in his work;Lest he, incensed at such eruption bold,Destruction with creation might have mixed.Not that they durst without his leave attempt;But us he sends upon his high behestsFor state, as Sovran King; and to inureOur prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut,The dismal gates, and barricadoed strong;But long ere our approaching heard withinNoise, other than the sound of dance or song,Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage.Glad we returned up to the coasts of lightEre sabbath-evening: so we had in charge.But thy relation now; for I attend,Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine.So spake the Godlike Power, and thus our Sire.For Man to tell how human life beganIs hard; for who himself beginning knewDesire with thee still longer to converseInduced me. As new waked from soundest sleep,Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid,In balmy sweat; which with his beams the sunSoon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed.Straight toward Heaven my wondering eyes I turned,And gazed a while the ample sky; till, raisedBy quick instinctive motion, up I sprung,As thitherward endeavouring, and uprightStood on my feet: about me round I sawHill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains,And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these,Creatures that lived and moved, and walked, or flew;Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled;With fragrance and with joy my heart o’erflowed.Myself I then perused, and limb by limbSurveyed, and sometimes went, and sometimes ranWith supple joints, as lively vigour led:But who I was, or where, or from what cause,Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith spake;My tongue obeyed, and readily could nameWhate’er I saw. Thou Sun, said I, fair light,And thou enlightened 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 I came thus, how here?—Not of myself;—by some great Maker then,In goodness and in power 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 called, and strayed I knew not whither,From where I first drew air, and first beheldThis happy light; when, answer none returned,On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers,Pensive I sat me down: There gentle sleepFirst found me, and with soft oppression seisedMy droused sense, untroubled, though I thoughtI then was passing to my former stateInsensible, and forthwith to dissolve:When suddenly stood at my head a dream,Whose inward apparition gently movedMy fancy to believe I yet had being,And lived: One came, methought, of shape divine,And said, “Thy mansion wants thee, Adam; rise,First Man, of men innumerable ordainedFirst Father! called by thee, I come thy guideTo the garden of bliss, thy seat prepared.”So saying, by the hand he took me raised,And over fields and waters, as in airSmooth-sliding without step, last led me upA woody mountain; whose high top was plain,A circuit wide, enclosed, with goodliest treesPlanted, with walks, and bowers; that what I sawOf Earth before scarce pleasant seemed. Each tree,Loaden with fairest fruit that hung to the eyeTempting, stirred in me sudden appetiteTo pluck and eat; whereat I waked, and foundBefore mine eyes all real, as the dreamHad lively shadowed: Here had new begunMy wandering, had not he, who was my guideUp hither, from among the trees appeared,Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,In adoration at his feet I fellSubmiss: He reared me, and “Whom thou soughtest I am,”Said mildly, “Author of all this thou seestAbove, or round about thee, or beneath.This Paradise I give thee, count it thineTo till and keep, and of the fruit to eat:Of every tree that in the garden growsEat freely with glad heart; fear here no dearth:But of the tree whose operation bringsKnowledge of good and ill, which I have setThe pledge of thy obedience and thy faith,Amid the garden by the tree of life,Remember what I warn thee, shun to taste,And shun the bitter consequence: for know,The day thou eatest thereof, my sole commandTransgressed, inevitably thou shalt die,From that day mortal; and this happy stateShalt lose, expelled from hence into a worldOf woe and sorrow.” Sternly he pronouncedThe rigid interdiction, which resoundsYet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choiceNot to incur; but soon his clear aspectReturned, and gracious purpose thus renewed.“Not only these fair bounds, but all the EarthTo thee and to thy race I give; as lordsPossess it, and all things that therein live,Or live in sea, or air; beast, fish, and fowl.In sign whereof, each bird and beast beholdAfter their kinds; I bring them to receiveFrom thee their names, and pay thee fealtyWith low subjection; understand the sameOf fish within their watery residence,Not hither summoned, since they cannot changeTheir element, to draw the thinner air.”As thus he spake, each bird and beast beholdApproaching two and two; these cowering lowWith blandishment; each bird stooped on his wing.I named them, as they passed, and understoodTheir nature, with such knowledge God enduedMy sudden apprehension: But in theseI found not what methought I wanted still;And to the heavenly Vision thus presumed.O, by what name, for thou above all these,Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher,Surpassest far my naming; how may IAdore thee, Author of this universe,And all this good to man? for whose well beingSo amply, and with hands so liberal,Thou hast provided all things: But with meI see not who partakes. In solitudeWhat happiness, who can enjoy alone,Or, all enjoying, what contentment find?Thus I presumptuous; and the Vision bright,As with a smile more brightened, thus replied.What callest thou solitude? Is not the EarthWith various living creatures, and the airReplenished, and all these at thy commandTo come and play before thee? Knowest thou notTheir language and their ways? They also know,And reason not contemptibly: With theseFind pastime, and bear rule; thy realm is large.So spake the Universal Lord, and seemedSo ordering: I, with leave of speech implored,And humble deprecation, thus replied.Let not my words offend thee, Heavenly Power;My Maker, be propitious while I speak.Hast thou not made me here thy substitute,And these inferiour far beneath me set?Among unequals what societyCan sort, what harmony, or true delight?Which must be mutual, in proportion dueGiven and received; but, in disparityThe one intense, the other still remiss,Cannot well suit with either, but soon proveTedious alike: Of fellowship I speakSuch as I seek, fit to participateAll rational delight: wherein the bruteCannot be human consort: They rejoiceEach with their kind, lion with lioness;So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined:Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowlSo well converse, nor with the ox the ape;Worse then can man with beast, and least of all.Whereto the Almighty answered, not displeased.A nice and subtle happiness, I see,Thou to thyself proposest, in the choiceOf thy associates, Adam! and wilt tasteNo pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary.What thinkest thou then of me, and this my state?Seem I to thee sufficiently possessedOf happiness, or not? who am aloneFrom all eternity; for none I knowSecond to me or like, equal much less.How have I then with whom to hold converse,Save with the creatures which I made, and thoseTo me inferiour, infinite descentsBeneath what other creatures are to thee?He ceased; I lowly answered. To attainThe highth and depth of thy eternal waysAll human thoughts come short, Supreme of things!Thou in thyself art perfect, and in theeIs no deficience found: Not so is Man,But in degree; the cause of his desireBy conversation with his like to helpOr solace his defects. No need that thouShouldst propagate, already Infinite;And through all numbers absolute, though One:But Man by number is to manifestHis single imperfection, and begetLike of his like, his image multiplied,In unity defective; which requiresCollateral love, and dearest amity.Thou in thy secresy although alone,Best with thyself accompanied, seekest notSocial communication; yet, so pleased,Canst raise thy creature to what highth thou wiltOf union or communion, deified:I, by conversing, cannot these erectFrom prone; nor in their ways complacence find.Thus I emboldened spake, and freedom usedPermissive, and acceptance found; which gainedThis answer from the gracious Voice Divine.Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleased;And find thee knowing, not of beasts alone,Which thou hast rightly named, but of thyself;Expressing well the spirit within thee free,My image, not imparted to the brute;Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for theeGood reason was thou freely shouldst dislike;And be so minded still: I, ere thou spakest,Knew it not good for Man to be alone;And no such company as then thou sawestIntended thee; for trial only brought,To see how thou couldest judge of fit and meet:What next I bring shall please thee, be assured,Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,Thy wish exactly to thy heart’s desire.He ended, or I heard no more; for nowMy earthly by his heavenly overpowered,Which it had long stood under, strained to the highthIn that celestial colloquy sublime,As with an object that excels the senseDazzled and spent, sunk down; and sought repairOf sleep, which instantly fell on me, calledBy Nature as in aid, and closed mine eyes.Mine eyes he closed, but open left the cellOf fancy, my internal sight; by which,Abstract as in a trance, methought I saw,Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shapeStill glorious before whom awake I stood:Who stooping opened my left side, and tookFrom thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm,And life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the wound,But suddenly with flesh filled up and healed:The rib he formed and fashioned with his hands;Under his forming hands a creature grew,Man-like, but different sex; so lovely fair,That what seemed fair in all the world, seemed nowMean, or in her summed up, in her containedAnd in her looks; which from that time infusedSweetness into my heart, unfelt before,And into all things from her air inspiredThe spirit of love and amorous delight.She disappeared, and left me dark; I wakedTo find her, or for ever to deploreHer loss, and other pleasures all abjure:When out of hope, behold her, not far off,Such as I saw her in my dream, adornedWith what all Earth or Heaven could bestowTo make her amiable: On she came,Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen,And guided by his voice; nor uninformedOf nuptial sanctity, and marriage rites:Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,In every gesture dignity and love.I, overjoyed, could not forbear aloud.This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfilledThy words, Creator bounteous and benign,Giver of all things fair! but fairest thisOf all thy gifts! nor enviest. I now seeBone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myselfBefore me: Woman is her name; of ManExtracted: for this cause he shall foregoFather and mother, and to his wife adhere;And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.She heard me thus; and though divinely brought,Yet innocence, and virgin modesty,Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth,That would be wooed, and not unsought be won,Not obvious, not obtrusive, but, retired,The more desirable; or, to say all,Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought,Wrought in her so, that, seeing me, she turned:I followed her; she what was honour knew,And with obsequious majesty approvedMy pleaded reason. To the nuptial bowerI led her blushing like the morn: All Heaven,And happy constellations, on that hourShed their selectest influence; the EarthGave sign of gratulation, and each hill;Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airsWhispered it to the woods, and from their wingsFlung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub,Disporting, till the amorous bird of nightSung spousal, and bid haste the evening-starOn his hill top, to light the bridal lamp.Thus have I told thee all my state, and broughtMy story to the sum of earthly bliss,Which I enjoy; and must confess to findIn all things else delight indeed, but suchAs, used or not, works in the mind no change,Nor vehement desire; these delicaciesI mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers,Walks, and the melody of birds: but hereFar otherwise, transported I behold,Transported touch; here passion first I felt,Commotion strange! in all enjoyments elseSuperiour and unmoved; here only weakAgainst the charm of Beauty’s powerful glance.Or Nature failed in me, and left some partNot proof enough such object to sustain;Or, from my side subducting, took perhapsMore than enough; at least on her bestowedToo much of ornament, in outward showElaborate, of inward less exact.For well I understand in the prime endOf Nature her the inferiour, in the mindAnd inward faculties, which most excel;In outward also her resembling lessHis image who made both, and less expressingThe character of that dominion givenO’er other creatures: Yet when I approachHer loveliness, so absolute she seemsAnd in herself complete, so well to knowHer own, that what she wills to do or say,Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best:All higher knowledge in her presence fallsDegraded; Wisdom in discourse with herLoses discountenanced, and like Folly shows;Authority and Reason on her wait,As one intended first, not after madeOccasionally; and, to consummate all,Greatness of mind and Nobleness their seatBuild in her loveliest, and create an aweAbout her, as a guard angelick placed.To whom the Angel with contracted brow.Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part;Do thou but thine; and be not diffidentOf Wisdom; she deserts thee not, if thouDismiss not her, when most thou needest her nigh,By attributing overmuch to thingsLess excellent, as thou thyself perceivest.For, what admirest thou, what transports thee so,An outside? fair, no doubt, and worthy wellThy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love;Not thy subjection: Weigh with her thyself;Then value: Oft-times nothing profits moreThan self-esteem, grounded on just and rightWell managed; of that skill the more thou knowest,The more she will acknowledge thee her head,And to realities yield all her shows:Made so adorn for thy delight the more,So awful, that with honour thou mayest loveThy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise.But if the sense of touch, whereby mankindIs propagated, seem such dear delightBeyond all other; think the same vouchsafedTo cattle and each beast; which would not beTo them made common and divulged, if aughtTherein enjoyed were worthy to subdueThe soul of man, or passion in him move.What higher in her society thou findestAttractive, human, rational, love still;In loving thou dost well, in passion not,Wherein true love consists not: Love refinesThe thoughts, and heart enlarges; hath his seatIn reason, and is judicious; is the scaleBy which to heavenly love thou mayest ascend,Not sunk in carnal pleasure; for which cause,Among the beasts no mate for thee was found.To whom thus, half abashed, Adam replied.Neither her outside formed so fair, nor aughtIn procreation common to all kinds,(Though higher of the genial bed by far,And with mysterious reverence I deem,)So much delights me, as those graceful acts,Those thousand decencies, that daily flowFrom all her words and actions mixed with loveAnd sweet compliance, which declare unfeignedUnion of mind, or in us both one soul;Harmony to behold in wedded pairMore grateful than harmonious sound to the ear.Yet these subject not; I to thee discloseWhat inward thence I feel, not therefore foiled,Who meet with various objects, from the senseVariously representing; yet, still free,Approve the best, and follow what I approve.To love, thou blamest me not; for Love, thou sayest,Leads up to Heaven, is both the way and guide;Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask:Love not the heavenly Spirits, and how their loveExpress they? by looks only? or do they mixIrradiance, virtual or immediate touch?To whom the Angel, with a smile that glowedCelestial rosy red, Love’s proper hue,Answered. Let it suffice thee that thou knowestUs happy, and without love no happiness.Whatever pure thou in the body enjoyest,(And pure thou wert created) we enjoyIn eminence; and obstacle find noneOf membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bars;Easier than air with air, if Spirits embrace,Total they mix, union of pure with pureDesiring, nor restrained conveyance need,As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul.But I can now no more; the parting sunBeyond the Earth’s green Cape and verdant IslesHesperian sets, my signal to depart.Be strong, live happy, and love! But, first of all,Him, whom to love is to obey, and keepHis great command; take heed lest passion swayThy judgement to do aught, which else free willWould not admit: thine, and of all thy sons,The weal or woe in thee is placed; beware!I in thy persevering shall rejoice,And all the Blest: Stand fast; to stand or fallFree in thine own arbitrement it lies.Perfect within, no outward aid require;And all temptation to transgress repel.So saying, he arose; whom Adam thusFollowed with benediction. Since to part,Go, heavenly guest, ethereal Messenger,Sent from whose sovran goodness I adore!Gentle to me and affable hath beenThy condescension, and shall be honoured everWith grateful memory: Thou to mankindBe good and friendly still, and oft return!So parted they; the Angel up to HeavenFrom the thick shade, and Adam to his bower.
The Angel ended, and in Adam’s earSo charming left his voice, that he a whileThought him still speaking, still stood fixed to hear;Then, as new waked, thus gratefully replied.What thanks sufficient, or what recompenceEqual, have I to render thee, divineHistorian, who thus largely hast allayedThe thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsafedThis friendly condescension to relateThings, else by me unsearchable; now heardWith wonder, but delight, and, as is due,With glory attributed to the highCreator! Something yet of doubt remains,Which only thy solution can resolve.When I behold this goodly frame, this world,Of Heaven and Earth consisting; and computeTheir magnitudes; this Earth, a spot, a grain,An atom, with the firmament comparedAnd all her numbered stars, that seem to rollSpaces incomprehensible, (for suchTheir distance argues, and their swift returnDiurnal,) merely to officiate lightRound this opacous Earth, this punctual spot,One day and night; in all her vast surveyUseless besides; reasoning I oft admire,How Nature wise and frugal could commitSuch disproportions, with superfluous handSo many nobler bodies to create,Greater so manifold, to this one use,For aught appears, and on their orbs imposeSuch restless revolution day by dayRepeated; while the sedentary Earth,That better might with far less compass move,Served by more noble than herself, attainsHer end without least motion, and receives,As tribute, such a sumless journey broughtOf incorporeal speed, her warmth and light;Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails.So spake our sire, and by his countenance seemedEntering on studious thoughts abstruse; which EvePerceiving, where she sat retired in sight,With lowliness majestick from her seat,And grace that won who saw to wish her stay,Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers,To visit how they prospered, bud and bloom,Her nursery; they at her coming sprung,And, touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.Yet went she not, as not with such discourseDelighted, or not capable her earOf what was high: such pleasure she reserved,Adam relating, she sole auditress;Her husband the relater she preferredBefore the Angel, and of him to askChose rather; he, she knew, would intermixGrateful digressions, and solve high disputeWith conjugal caresses: from his lipNot words alone pleased her. O! when meet nowSuch pairs, in love and mutual honour joined?With Goddess-like demeanour forth she went,Not unattended; for on her, as Queen,A pomp of winning Graces waited still,And from about her shot darts of desireInto all eyes, to wish her still in sight.And Raphael now, to Adam’s doubt proposed,Benevolent and facile thus replied.To ask or search, I blame thee not; for HeavenIs as the book of God before thee set,Wherein to read his wonderous works, and learnHis seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years:This to attain, whether Heaven move or Earth,Imports not, if thou reckon right; the restFrom Man or Angel the great ArchitectDid wisely to conceal, and not divulgeHis secrets to be scanned by them who oughtRather admire; or, if they list to tryConjecture, he his fabrick of the HeavensHath left to their disputes, perhaps to moveHis laughter at their quaint opinions wideHereafter; when they come to model HeavenAnd calculate the stars, how they will wieldThe mighty frame; how build, unbuild, contriveTo save appearances; how gird the sphereWith centrick and eccentrick scribbled o’er,Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb:Already by thy reasoning this I guess,Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposestThat bodies bright and greater should not serveThe less not bright, nor Heaven such journeys run,Earth sitting still, when she alone receivesThe benefit: Consider first, that greatOr bright infers not excellence: the EarthThough, in comparison of Heaven, so small,Nor glistering, may of solid good containMore plenty than the sun that barren shines;Whose virtue on itself works no effect,But in the fruitful Earth; there first received,His beams, unactive else, their vigour find.Yet not to Earth are those bright luminariesOfficious; but to thee, Earth’s habitant.And for the Heaven’s wide circuit, let it speakThe Maker’s high magnificence, who builtSo spacious, and his line stretched out so far;That Man may know he dwells not in his own;An edifice too large for him to fill,Lodged in a small partition; and the restOrdained for uses to his Lord best known.The swiftness of those circles attribute,Though numberless, to his Omnipotence,That to corporeal substances could addSpeed almost spiritual: Me thou thinkest not slow,Who since the morning-hour set out from HeavenWhere God resides, and ere mid-day arrivedIn Eden; distance inexpressibleBy numbers that have name. But this I urge,Admitting motion in the Heavens, to showInvalid that which thee to doubt it moved;Not that I so affirm, though so it seemTo thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth.God, to remove his ways from human sense,Placed Heaven from Earth so far, that earthly sight,If it presume, might err in things too high,And no advantage gain. What if the sunBe center to the world; and other stars,By his attractive virtue and their ownIncited, dance about him various rounds?Their wandering course now high, now low, then hid,Progressive, retrograde, or standing still,In six thou seest; and what if seventh to theseThe planet earth, so stedfast though she seem,Insensibly three different motions move?Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe,Moved contrary with thwart obliquities;Or save the sun his labour, and that swiftNocturnal and diurnal rhomb supposed,Invisible else above all stars, the wheelOf day and night; which needs not thy belief,If earth, industrious of herself, fetch dayTravelling east, and with her part averseFrom the sun’s beam meet night, her other partStill luminous by his ray. What if that light,Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air,To the terrestrial moon be as a star,Enlightening her by day, as she by nightThis earth? reciprocal, if land be there,Fields and inhabitants: Her spots thou seestAs clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produceFruits in her softened soil for some to eatAllotted there; and other suns perhaps,With their attendant moons, thou wilt descry,Communicating male and female light;Which two great sexes animate the world,Stored in each orb perhaps with some that live.For such vast room in Nature unpossessedBy living soul, desart and desolate,Only to shine, yet scarce to contributeEach orb a glimpse of light, conveyed so farDown to this habitable, which returnsLight back to them, is obvious to dispute.But whether thus these things, or whether not;But whether the sun, predominant in Heaven,Rise on the earth; or earth rise on the sun;He from the east his flaming road begin;Or she from west her silent course advance,With inoffensive pace that spinning sleepsOn her soft axle, while she paces even,And bears thee soft with the smooth air along;Sollicit not thy thoughts with matters hid;Leave them to God above; him serve, and fear!Of other creatures, as him pleases best,Wherever placed, let him dispose; joy thouIn what he gives to thee, this ParadiseAnd thy fair Eve; Heaven is for thee too highTo know what passes there; be lowly wise:Think only what concerns thee, and thy being;Dream not of other worlds, what creatures thereLive, in what state, condition, or degree;Contented that thus far hath been revealedNot of Earth only, but of highest Heaven.To whom thus Adam, cleared of doubt, replied.How fully hast thou satisfied me, pureIntelligence of Heaven, Angel serene!And, freed from intricacies, taught to liveThe easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughtsTo interrupt the sweet of life, from whichGod hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares,And not molest us; unless we ourselvesSeek them with wandering thoughts, and notions vain.But apt the mind or fancy is to roveUnchecked, and of her roving is no end;Till warned, or by experience taught, she learn,That, not to know at large of things remoteFrom use, obscure and subtle; but, to knowThat which before us lies in daily life,Is the prime wisdom: What is more, is fume,Or emptiness, or fond impertinence:And renders us, in things that most concern,Unpractised, unprepared, and still to seek.Therefore from this high pitch let us descendA lower flight, and speak of things at handUseful; whence, haply, mention may ariseOf something not unseasonable to ask,By sufferance, and thy wonted favour, deigned.Thee I have heard relating what was doneEre my remembrance: now, hear me relateMy story, which perhaps thou hast not heard;And day is not yet spent; till then thou seestHow subtly to detain thee I devise;Inviting thee to hear while I relate;Fond! were it not in hope of thy reply:For, while I sit with thee, I seem in Heaven;And sweeter thy discourse is to my earThan fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirstAnd hunger both, from labour, at the hourOf sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill,Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divineImbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.To whom thus Raphael answered heavenly meek.Nor are thy lips ungraceful, Sire of men,Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on theeAbundantly his gifts hath also pouredInward and outward both, his image fair:Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and graceAttends thee; and each word, each motion, forms;Nor less think we in Heaven of thee on EarthThan of our fellow-servant, and inquireGladly into the ways of God with Man:For God, we see, hath honoured thee, and setOn 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 toward the gates of Hell;Squared in full legion (such command we had)To see that none thence issued forth a spy,Or enemy, while God was in his work;Lest he, incensed at such eruption bold,Destruction with creation might have mixed.Not that they durst without his leave attempt;But us he sends upon his high behestsFor state, as Sovran King; and to inureOur prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut,The dismal gates, and barricadoed strong;But long ere our approaching heard withinNoise, other than the sound of dance or song,Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage.Glad we returned up to the coasts of lightEre sabbath-evening: so we had in charge.But thy relation now; for I attend,Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine.So spake the Godlike Power, and thus our Sire.For Man to tell how human life beganIs hard; for who himself beginning knewDesire with thee still longer to converseInduced me. As new waked from soundest sleep,Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid,In balmy sweat; which with his beams the sunSoon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed.Straight toward Heaven my wondering eyes I turned,And gazed a while the ample sky; till, raisedBy quick instinctive motion, up I sprung,As thitherward endeavouring, and uprightStood on my feet: about me round I sawHill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains,And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these,Creatures that lived and moved, and walked, or flew;Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled;With fragrance and with joy my heart o’erflowed.Myself I then perused, and limb by limbSurveyed, and sometimes went, and sometimes ranWith supple joints, as lively vigour led:But who I was, or where, or from what cause,Knew not; to speak I tried, and forthwith spake;My tongue obeyed, and readily could nameWhate’er I saw. Thou Sun, said I, fair light,And thou enlightened 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 I came thus, how here?—Not of myself;—by some great Maker then,In goodness and in power 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 called, and strayed I knew not whither,From where I first drew air, and first beheldThis happy light; when, answer none returned,On a green shady bank, profuse of flowers,Pensive I sat me down: There gentle sleepFirst found me, and with soft oppression seisedMy droused sense, untroubled, though I thoughtI then was passing to my former stateInsensible, and forthwith to dissolve:When suddenly stood at my head a dream,Whose inward apparition gently movedMy fancy to believe I yet had being,And lived: One came, methought, of shape divine,And said, “Thy mansion wants thee, Adam; rise,First Man, of men innumerable ordainedFirst Father! called by thee, I come thy guideTo the garden of bliss, thy seat prepared.”So saying, by the hand he took me raised,And over fields and waters, as in airSmooth-sliding without step, last led me upA woody mountain; whose high top was plain,A circuit wide, enclosed, with goodliest treesPlanted, with walks, and bowers; that what I sawOf Earth before scarce pleasant seemed. Each tree,Loaden with fairest fruit that hung to the eyeTempting, stirred in me sudden appetiteTo pluck and eat; whereat I waked, and foundBefore mine eyes all real, as the dreamHad lively shadowed: Here had new begunMy wandering, had not he, who was my guideUp hither, from among the trees appeared,Presence Divine. Rejoicing, but with awe,In adoration at his feet I fellSubmiss: He reared me, and “Whom thou soughtest I am,”Said mildly, “Author of all this thou seestAbove, or round about thee, or beneath.This Paradise I give thee, count it thineTo till and keep, and of the fruit to eat:Of every tree that in the garden growsEat freely with glad heart; fear here no dearth:But of the tree whose operation bringsKnowledge of good and ill, which I have setThe pledge of thy obedience and thy faith,Amid the garden by the tree of life,Remember what I warn thee, shun to taste,And shun the bitter consequence: for know,The day thou eatest thereof, my sole commandTransgressed, inevitably thou shalt die,From that day mortal; and this happy stateShalt lose, expelled from hence into a worldOf woe and sorrow.” Sternly he pronouncedThe rigid interdiction, which resoundsYet dreadful in mine ear, though in my choiceNot to incur; but soon his clear aspectReturned, and gracious purpose thus renewed.“Not only these fair bounds, but all the EarthTo thee and to thy race I give; as lordsPossess it, and all things that therein live,Or live in sea, or air; beast, fish, and fowl.In sign whereof, each bird and beast beholdAfter their kinds; I bring them to receiveFrom thee their names, and pay thee fealtyWith low subjection; understand the sameOf fish within their watery residence,Not hither summoned, since they cannot changeTheir element, to draw the thinner air.”As thus he spake, each bird and beast beholdApproaching two and two; these cowering lowWith blandishment; each bird stooped on his wing.I named them, as they passed, and understoodTheir nature, with such knowledge God enduedMy sudden apprehension: But in theseI found not what methought I wanted still;And to the heavenly Vision thus presumed.O, by what name, for thou above all these,Above mankind, or aught than mankind higher,Surpassest far my naming; how may IAdore thee, Author of this universe,And all this good to man? for whose well beingSo amply, and with hands so liberal,Thou hast provided all things: But with meI see not who partakes. In solitudeWhat happiness, who can enjoy alone,Or, all enjoying, what contentment find?Thus I presumptuous; and the Vision bright,As with a smile more brightened, thus replied.What callest thou solitude? Is not the EarthWith various living creatures, and the airReplenished, and all these at thy commandTo come and play before thee? Knowest thou notTheir language and their ways? They also know,And reason not contemptibly: With theseFind pastime, and bear rule; thy realm is large.So spake the Universal Lord, and seemedSo ordering: I, with leave of speech implored,And humble deprecation, thus replied.Let not my words offend thee, Heavenly Power;My Maker, be propitious while I speak.Hast thou not made me here thy substitute,And these inferiour far beneath me set?Among unequals what societyCan sort, what harmony, or true delight?Which must be mutual, in proportion dueGiven and received; but, in disparityThe one intense, the other still remiss,Cannot well suit with either, but soon proveTedious alike: Of fellowship I speakSuch as I seek, fit to participateAll rational delight: wherein the bruteCannot be human consort: They rejoiceEach with their kind, lion with lioness;So fitly them in pairs thou hast combined:Much less can bird with beast, or fish with fowlSo well converse, nor with the ox the ape;Worse then can man with beast, and least of all.Whereto the Almighty answered, not displeased.A nice and subtle happiness, I see,Thou to thyself proposest, in the choiceOf thy associates, Adam! and wilt tasteNo pleasure, though in pleasure, solitary.What thinkest thou then of me, and this my state?Seem I to thee sufficiently possessedOf happiness, or not? who am aloneFrom all eternity; for none I knowSecond to me or like, equal much less.How have I then with whom to hold converse,Save with the creatures which I made, and thoseTo me inferiour, infinite descentsBeneath what other creatures are to thee?He ceased; I lowly answered. To attainThe highth and depth of thy eternal waysAll human thoughts come short, Supreme of things!Thou in thyself art perfect, and in theeIs no deficience found: Not so is Man,But in degree; the cause of his desireBy conversation with his like to helpOr solace his defects. No need that thouShouldst propagate, already Infinite;And through all numbers absolute, though One:But Man by number is to manifestHis single imperfection, and begetLike of his like, his image multiplied,In unity defective; which requiresCollateral love, and dearest amity.Thou in thy secresy although alone,Best with thyself accompanied, seekest notSocial communication; yet, so pleased,Canst raise thy creature to what highth thou wiltOf union or communion, deified:I, by conversing, cannot these erectFrom prone; nor in their ways complacence find.Thus I emboldened spake, and freedom usedPermissive, and acceptance found; which gainedThis answer from the gracious Voice Divine.Thus far to try thee, Adam, I was pleased;And find thee knowing, not of beasts alone,Which thou hast rightly named, but of thyself;Expressing well the spirit within thee free,My image, not imparted to the brute;Whose fellowship therefore unmeet for theeGood reason was thou freely shouldst dislike;And be so minded still: I, ere thou spakest,Knew it not good for Man to be alone;And no such company as then thou sawestIntended thee; for trial only brought,To see how thou couldest judge of fit and meet:What next I bring shall please thee, be assured,Thy likeness, thy fit help, thy other self,Thy wish exactly to thy heart’s desire.He ended, or I heard no more; for nowMy earthly by his heavenly overpowered,Which it had long stood under, strained to the highthIn that celestial colloquy sublime,As with an object that excels the senseDazzled and spent, sunk down; and sought repairOf sleep, which instantly fell on me, calledBy Nature as in aid, and closed mine eyes.Mine eyes he closed, but open left the cellOf fancy, my internal sight; by which,Abstract as in a trance, methought I saw,Though sleeping, where I lay, and saw the shapeStill glorious before whom awake I stood:Who stooping opened my left side, and tookFrom thence a rib, with cordial spirits warm,And life-blood streaming fresh; wide was the wound,But suddenly with flesh filled up and healed:The rib he formed and fashioned with his hands;Under his forming hands a creature grew,Man-like, but different sex; so lovely fair,That what seemed fair in all the world, seemed nowMean, or in her summed up, in her containedAnd in her looks; which from that time infusedSweetness into my heart, unfelt before,And into all things from her air inspiredThe spirit of love and amorous delight.She disappeared, and left me dark; I wakedTo find her, or for ever to deploreHer loss, and other pleasures all abjure:When out of hope, behold her, not far off,Such as I saw her in my dream, adornedWith what all Earth or Heaven could bestowTo make her amiable: On she came,Led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen,And guided by his voice; nor uninformedOf nuptial sanctity, and marriage rites:Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,In every gesture dignity and love.I, overjoyed, could not forbear aloud.This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfilledThy words, Creator bounteous and benign,Giver of all things fair! but fairest thisOf all thy gifts! nor enviest. I now seeBone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myselfBefore me: Woman is her name; of ManExtracted: for this cause he shall foregoFather and mother, and to his wife adhere;And they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.She heard me thus; and though divinely brought,Yet innocence, and virgin modesty,Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth,That would be wooed, and not unsought be won,Not obvious, not obtrusive, but, retired,The more desirable; or, to say all,Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought,Wrought in her so, that, seeing me, she turned:I followed her; she what was honour knew,And with obsequious majesty approvedMy pleaded reason. To the nuptial bowerI led her blushing like the morn: All Heaven,And happy constellations, on that hourShed their selectest influence; the EarthGave sign of gratulation, and each hill;Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airsWhispered it to the woods, and from their wingsFlung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub,Disporting, till the amorous bird of nightSung spousal, and bid haste the evening-starOn his hill top, to light the bridal lamp.Thus have I told thee all my state, and broughtMy story to the sum of earthly bliss,Which I enjoy; and must confess to findIn all things else delight indeed, but suchAs, used or not, works in the mind no change,Nor vehement desire; these delicaciesI mean of taste, sight, smell, herbs, fruits, and flowers,Walks, and the melody of birds: but hereFar otherwise, transported I behold,Transported touch; here passion first I felt,Commotion strange! in all enjoyments elseSuperiour and unmoved; here only weakAgainst the charm of Beauty’s powerful glance.Or Nature failed in me, and left some partNot proof enough such object to sustain;Or, from my side subducting, took perhapsMore than enough; at least on her bestowedToo much of ornament, in outward showElaborate, of inward less exact.For well I understand in the prime endOf Nature her the inferiour, in the mindAnd inward faculties, which most excel;In outward also her resembling lessHis image who made both, and less expressingThe character of that dominion givenO’er other creatures: Yet when I approachHer loveliness, so absolute she seemsAnd in herself complete, so well to knowHer own, that what she wills to do or say,Seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best:All higher knowledge in her presence fallsDegraded; Wisdom in discourse with herLoses discountenanced, and like Folly shows;Authority and Reason on her wait,As one intended first, not after madeOccasionally; and, to consummate all,Greatness of mind and Nobleness their seatBuild in her loveliest, and create an aweAbout her, as a guard angelick placed.To whom the Angel with contracted brow.Accuse not Nature, she hath done her part;Do thou but thine; and be not diffidentOf Wisdom; she deserts thee not, if thouDismiss not her, when most thou needest her nigh,By attributing overmuch to thingsLess excellent, as thou thyself perceivest.For, what admirest thou, what transports thee so,An outside? fair, no doubt, and worthy wellThy cherishing, thy honouring, and thy love;Not thy subjection: Weigh with her thyself;Then value: Oft-times nothing profits moreThan self-esteem, grounded on just and rightWell managed; of that skill the more thou knowest,The more she will acknowledge thee her head,And to realities yield all her shows:Made so adorn for thy delight the more,So awful, that with honour thou mayest loveThy mate, who sees when thou art seen least wise.But if the sense of touch, whereby mankindIs propagated, seem such dear delightBeyond all other; think the same vouchsafedTo cattle and each beast; which would not beTo them made common and divulged, if aughtTherein enjoyed were worthy to subdueThe soul of man, or passion in him move.What higher in her society thou findestAttractive, human, rational, love still;In loving thou dost well, in passion not,Wherein true love consists not: Love refinesThe thoughts, and heart enlarges; hath his seatIn reason, and is judicious; is the scaleBy which to heavenly love thou mayest ascend,Not sunk in carnal pleasure; for which cause,Among the beasts no mate for thee was found.To whom thus, half abashed, Adam replied.Neither her outside formed so fair, nor aughtIn procreation common to all kinds,(Though higher of the genial bed by far,And with mysterious reverence I deem,)So much delights me, as those graceful acts,Those thousand decencies, that daily flowFrom all her words and actions mixed with loveAnd sweet compliance, which declare unfeignedUnion of mind, or in us both one soul;Harmony to behold in wedded pairMore grateful than harmonious sound to the ear.Yet these subject not; I to thee discloseWhat inward thence I feel, not therefore foiled,Who meet with various objects, from the senseVariously representing; yet, still free,Approve the best, and follow what I approve.To love, thou blamest me not; for Love, thou sayest,Leads up to Heaven, is both the way and guide;Bear with me then, if lawful what I ask:Love not the heavenly Spirits, and how their loveExpress they? by looks only? or do they mixIrradiance, virtual or immediate touch?To whom the Angel, with a smile that glowedCelestial rosy red, Love’s proper hue,Answered. Let it suffice thee that thou knowestUs happy, and without love no happiness.Whatever pure thou in the body enjoyest,(And pure thou wert created) we enjoyIn eminence; and obstacle find noneOf membrane, joint, or limb, exclusive bars;Easier than air with air, if Spirits embrace,Total they mix, union of pure with pureDesiring, nor restrained conveyance need,As flesh to mix with flesh, or soul with soul.But I can now no more; the parting sunBeyond the Earth’s green Cape and verdant IslesHesperian sets, my signal to depart.Be strong, live happy, and love! But, first of all,Him, whom to love is to obey, and keepHis great command; take heed lest passion swayThy judgement to do aught, which else free willWould not admit: thine, and of all thy sons,The weal or woe in thee is placed; beware!I in thy persevering shall rejoice,And all the Blest: Stand fast; to stand or fallFree in thine own arbitrement it lies.Perfect within, no outward aid require;And all temptation to transgress repel.So saying, he arose; whom Adam thusFollowed with benediction. Since to part,Go, heavenly guest, ethereal Messenger,Sent from whose sovran goodness I adore!Gentle to me and affable hath beenThy condescension, and shall be honoured everWith grateful memory: Thou to mankindBe good and friendly still, and oft return!So parted they; the Angel up to HeavenFrom the thick shade, and Adam to his bower.