With heav'nly spoils, our spoils: what he decreed He effected; man he made, and for him built Magnificent this world, and earth his feat, Him lord pronounc'd, and, O indignitie ! Subjected to his fervice angel wings, And flaming ministers to watch and tend Their earthie charge of these the vigilance I dread, and to elude, thus wrapt in mist Of midnight vapour glide obscure, and prie -In every bush and brake, where hap may find The ferpent fleeping, in whofe mazie foulds To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. O foul descent! that I who erft contended With gods to fit the highest, am now constrain'd Into a beaft, and mixt with bestial slime,
This effence to incarnate and imbrute, That to the highth of deitie afpir'd;
But what will not ambition and revenge Defcend to? who afpires must down as low As high he foar'd, obnoxious first or laft
To bafest things. Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoiles ;
Let it ; I reck not, fo it light well aim'd; Since higher I fall short, on him who next Provokes my envie, this new favourite Of heav'n, this man of clay, fon of despite, Whom us the more to fpite his maker rais'd From duft: fpite then with spite is best repaid. So faying, through each thicket dank or drie, Like a black mift low creeping, he held on His midnight search, where soonest he might find
The serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found In labyrinth of many a round self rowl'd,
His head the midft, well ftor'd with futtle wiles : Not yet in horrid shade or difmal den, Nor nocent yet, but on the graffie herb Fearless unfear'd he slept in at his mouth The devil enter'd, and his brutal sense, In heart or head, poffeffing foon inspir'd` With act intelligential; but his fleep Disturb'd not, waiting close th'approach of morn. Now when as facred light began to dawn
In Eden on the humid flours, that breath'd
Their morning incenfe, when all things that breathe, From th’earth's great altar send up filent praise To the creator, and his noftrils fill With grateful smell, forth came the human pair And join'd their vocal worship to the quire Of creatures wanting voice, that done, partake The feason, prime for sweetest fcents and aires : Then commune how that day they beft may ply Their growing work: for much their work outgrew The hands difpatch of two gardning so wide. And Eve first to her husband thus began.
Adam, well may we labour still to dress This garden, still to tend plant, herb and flour, Our pleasant task enjoyn'd, but till more hands Aid us, the work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint; what we by day Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, One night or two with wanton growth derides Tending to wilde. Thou therefore now advise
Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present, Let us divide our labours, thou where choice Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind The woodbine round this arbour, or direct The clasping ivie where to climb, while I In younder fpring of roses intermixt
With myrtle, find what to redress till noon: For while fo near each other thus all day Our task we choose, what wonder if so near Looks intervene and fmiles, or object new Cafual difcourfe draw on, which intermits Our days work brought to little, though begun Early, and th'hour of supper comes unearn'd. To whom mild answer Adam thus return'd. Sole Eve, affociate fole, to me beyond Compare above all living creatures deare,
Well haft thou motion'd, well thy thoughts imploy'd How we might best fulfil the work which here God hath affign'd us, nor of me fhalt pass Unprais'd: for nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to studie houshold good, And good works in her husband to promote. Yet not fo strictly hath our Lord impos'd Labour, as to debar us when we need Refreshment, whether food, or talk between, Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse Of looks and smiles, for fmiles from reason flow, To brute deni'd, and are of love the food, Love not the lowest end of human life. For not to irkfom toil, but to delight He made us, and delight to reason join’d.
Thefe paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide As we need walk, till younger hands ere long Affift us: but if much converse perhaps Thee fatiate, to short abfence I could yield. For folitude fometimes is best societie, And short retirement urges fweet return. But other doubt poffeffes me, least harm Befall thee fever'd from me; for thou know'ft What hath been warn'd us, what malicious foe Envying our happiness, and of his own Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame By fly affault; and somewhere nigh at hand Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find His wish and beft advantage, us afunder, Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each To other speedie aid might lend at need; Whether his first design be to withdraw Our fealtie from God, or to disturb Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss Enjoy'd by us excites his envie more; Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful fide That gave thee being, still shades thee and protects. The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks,
Safest and seemliest by her husband staies, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures. To whom the virgin majestie of Eve,
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets, With sweet aufteer composure thus reply'd.
Off-spring of heav'n and earth, and all earth's lord, That fuch an enemie we have, who seeks
Our ruin, both by thee inform'd I learn, And from the parting angel over-heard As in a fhadie nook I ftood behind,
Just then return'd at shut of evening flours. But that thou shouldft my firmness therefore doubt To God or thee, because we have a foe May tempt it, I expected not to hear. His violence thou fearft not, being such, As we, not capable of death or paine, Can either not receave, or can repell. His fraud is then thy fear, which plain inferrs Thy equal fear that my firm faith and love Can by his fraud be shak'n or seduc't;
Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thy breast, Adam, missthought of her to thee so dear?
To whom with healing words Adam repli'd; Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve, For fuch thou art, from fin and blame intire; Not diffident of thee do I diffuade
Thy abfence from my fight, but to avoid
Th'attempt itself, intended by our foe.
For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperfes The tempted with difhonour foul, fuppos'd Not incorruptible of faith, not proof
Against temptation: thou thyself with scorn And anger wouldft refent the offer'd wrong, Though ineffectual found: misdeem not then, If fuch affront I labour to avert
From thee alone, which on us both at once The enemie, though bold, will hardly dare, Or daring, first on me th'affault shall light.
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