Rowling in duft and gore. To which our fire. Alas, both for the deed and for the caufe! But have I now feen death? is this the way I must return to native duft? O fight Of terrour, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
To whom thus Michael. Death thou haft feen In his firft shape on man; but many shapes Of death, and many are the wayes that lead To his grim cave, all difmal; yet to fenfe More terrible at th'entrance than within. Some, as thou faw'ft, by violent stroke shall die, By fire, flood, famine, by intemperance more In meats and drinks, which on the earth fhall bring Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew
Before thee shall appear; that thou mayst know What miferie th'inabstinence of Eve
Shall bring on men. Immediately a place Before his eyes appear'd, sad, noysome, dark, A lazar-house it feem'd, wherein were laid Numbers of all difeas'd, all maladies
Of ghaftly fpafm, or racking torture, qualmes Of heart-fick agonie, all feverous kinds, Convulfions, epilepfies, fierce catarrahs, Inteftine stone and ulcer; colic pangs, Dæmoniac phrenzie, moaping melancholie And moon-struck madness, pining atrophie, Marafmus, and wide-wafting peftilence,
Dropfies, and asthma's, and joint-racking rheums. Dire was the toffing, deep the groans, despair Tended the fick bufieft from couch to couch ;
And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delaid to strike, though oft invok't With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. Sight fo deform what heart of rock could long Drie-ey'd behold? Adam could not, but wept. Though not of woman born; compaffion quell'd His best of man, and gave him up to tears A fpace, till`firmer thoughts restrain'd excess, And scarce recovering words his plaint renew'd, O miserable mankind, to what fall Degraded, to what wretched state referv'd ! Better end here unborn. Why is life giv'n To be thus wrested from us? rather why Obtruded on us thus ? who if we knew What we receive, would either not accept Life offer'd, or foon beg to lay it down, Glad to be fo difmift in peace. Can thus Th'image of God in man created once So goodly and erect, though faultie fince, To fuch unfightly fufferings be debas't Under inhuman pains? why should not man, Retaining still divine fimilitude
In part, from fuch deformities be free, And for his maker's image fake exempt ?
Their maker's image, answer'd Michael, then Forfook them, when themselves they vilifi'd To ferve ungovern'd appetite, and took His image whom they ferv'd, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the fin of Eve Therefore fo abject is their punishment,
Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own,
Or if his likeness, by themselves defac't While they pervert pure nature's heathful rules To lothfome fickness, worthily, fince they God's image did not reverence in themselves.
I yield it juft, faid Adam, and submit. But is there yet no other way, befides These painful paffages, how we may come To death, and mix with our connatural duft? There is, said Michael, if thou well obferve The rule of not too much, by temperance taught In what thou eatft and drinkst, seeking from thence Due nourishment, not glutonous delight,
Till many years over thy head return:
So maift thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease
Gather'd, not harshly pluckt, for death mature : This is old age; but then thou must outlive
Thy youth, thy ftrength, thy beauty, which will change To wither'd weak and gray; thy fenfes then Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forgoe,
To what thou haft, and for the air of youth Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy fpirits down, and last consume The balm of life. To whom our ancestor. Henceforth I flie not death, nor would prolong Life much, bent rather how I may be quit Fairest and easiest of this cumbrous charge, Which I must keep till my appointed day
Of rendring up, and patiently attend My diffolution, Michael repli'd,
Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv'ft Live well, how long or short permit to Heav'n : And now prepare thee for another fight.
He look'd and faw a spacious plain, whereon Were tents of various hue; by fome were herds Of cattel grazing: others, whence the found Of inftruments that made melodious chime Was heard, of harp and organ; and who mov'd Their stops and chords was feen: his volant touch Instinct through all proportions low and high Fled and purfu'd transverse the resonant fugue. In other part stood one who at the forge Labouring, two maffie clods of iron and brass Had melted (whether found where cafual fire Haft wasted woods on mountain or in vale, Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot To fome cave's mouth, or whether washt by stream From underground) the liquid ore he drein'd Into fit moulds prepar'd; from which he form'd Firft his own tools; then what might elfe be wrought Fufil or grav'n in mettle. After these,
But on the hither fide a different fort
From the high neighbouring hills, which was their feat Down to the plain defcended: by their guise Juft men they feem'd, and all their study bent To worship God aright, and know his works Not hid, nor those things last which might preferve Freedom and peace to men: they on the plain Long had not walkt, when from the tents behold A beavie of fair women, richly gay
In gems and wanton drefs; to the harp they fung
Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on: The men though grave, ey'd them, and let their eyes Rove without rein, till in the amorous net
Faft caught, they lik'd, and each his liking chofe And now of love they treat till th'evening ftar Love's harbinger appear'd; then all in heat They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke Hymen, then first to marriage rites invok't; With feast and mufic all the tents refound. Such happie interview and fair event
Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flours, And charming fymphonies attach'd the heart Of Adam, foon inclin'd to admit delight, The bent of nature; which he thus express'd. True opener of mine eyes, prime angel bleft, Much better feems this vifion, and more hope Of peaceful dayes portends, than those two past; Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse, Here nature feems fulfill'd in all her ends.
To whom thus Michael. Judge not what is best By pleasure, though to nature seeming meet, Created, as thou art, to nobler end
Holie and pure, conformitie divine.
Those tents thou fawst so pleasant, were the tents Of wickedness, wherein fhall dwell his race Who flew his brother; ftudious they appear Of arts that polish life, inventers rare, Unmindful of their Maker, though his fpirit Taught them, but they his gifts acknowledg'd none. Yet they a beauteous offsping fhall beget;
For that fair female troop thou fawft, that feem'd
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