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