Much fairer to my fancy than by day :
And as I wond'ring look'd, befide it stood
One fhap'd and wing'd like one of thofe from Heaven
By us oft feen; his dewy locks distill'd
Ambrofia; on that tree he also gaz'd;
And O fair plant, faid he, with fruit furcharg'd,
Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet,
Nor God, nor Man? is knowledge fo defpis'd?
Or envy' or what referve forbids to tafte?
Forbid who will, none fhall from me withhold
Longer thy offer'd good, why elfe fet here?
This faid, he paus`d not, but with ventrous arm
He pluck'd, he tasted; me damp horror chill'd
At fuch bold words vouch'd with a deed fo bold:
But he thus overjoy'd, O fruit divine,
Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropt,
Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit
For Gods, yet able to make Gods of Men:
And why not Gods of Men, fince good, the more
Communicated, more abundant grows,
The author not impair'd, but honor'd more?
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve,
Partake thou alfo; happy though thou art,
Happier thou may'ft be, worthier canst not be:
Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods
Thyfelf a Goddefs, not to earth confin'd,
But fometimes in the air, as we, fometimes
Ascend to Heav'n, by merit thine, and see
What life the Gods live there, and fuch live thou.
So faying, he drew nigh, and to me held,
Ev'n to my mouth of that fame fruit held part
Which he had pluck'd; the pleasant savory finell
So quicken'd appetite, that I, methought,
Could not but tafte. Forthwith up to the clouds
With him I flew, and underneath beheld
The earth outstretch'd immenfe, a profpect wide
And various: wondring at my flight and change
To this high exaltation; fuddenly
My guide was gone, and I, methought, funk down, And fell asleep; but O how glad I wak'd
To find this but a dream! Thus Eve her night
Related, and thus Adam anfwer'd fad.
Beft image of myself and dearer half,
The trouble of thy thoughts this night in fleep
Affects me equally; nor can I like
This uncouth dream, of evil fprung I fear;
Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,
Created pure. But know that in the foul
Are many leffer faculties, that ferve
Reafon as chief; among these fancy next
Her office holds; of all external things,
Which the five watchful fenfes reprefent,
She forms imaginations, aery shapes,
Which reafon joining or disjoining, frames
All what we' affirm or what deny, and call
Our knowledge or opinion; then retires
Into her private cell when nature rests.
Oft in her abfence mimic fancy wakes
To imitate her; but misjoining shapes,
Wild works produces oft, and most in dreams,
Ill matching words and deeds long past or late.
Some fuch resemblances methinks I find
Of our last evening's talk, in this thy dream,
But with addition ftrange; yet be not fad.
Evil into the Mind of God or Man
May come and go, fo unapprov'd, and leave
No spot or blame behind: Which gives me hope
That what in fleep thou didst abhor to dream,
Waking thou never wilt consent to do.
Be not dishearten'd then, nor cloud those looks,
That wont to be more chearful and ferene,
Than when fair morning first smiles on the world;
And let us to our fresh employments rife
Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers
That open now their choiceft bofom'd fmells,
Referv'd from night, and kept for thee in store.
So chear'd he his fair spouse, and she was chear'd,
But filently a gentle tear let fall
From either eye, and wip'd them with her hair;
Two other precious drops that ready stood,
Each in their crystal fluce, he ere they fell
Kiss'd, as the gracious figns of sweet remorse
And pious awe, that fear'd to have offended.
So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste.
But firft, from under shady arbo'rous roof
Soon as they forth were come to open fight
Of day-spring, and the fun, who scarce up rifen,
With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean brim,
Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray,
Discovering in wide landskip all the eaft
Of Paradife and Eden's happy plains,
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began
Their orisons, each morning duly paid
In various stile; for neither various stile
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise
Their Maker, in fit ftrains pronounc'd or fung
Unmeditated, fuch prompt eloquence
Flow'd from their lips, in profe or numerous verfe, 150 More tuneable than needed lute or harp
To add more fweetnefs; and they thus began.
Thefe are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this univerfal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then! 155 Unfpeakable, who fitft above these heavens
To us invisible, or dimly feen
In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodnef's beyond thought, and pow'r divine.
Speak ye who beft can tell, ye fons of light,
Angels; for ye behold him, and with fongs
And choral fymphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven,
On Earth join all ye Creatures to extol
Him firft, him laft, him midft, and without end.
Fairest of stars, laft in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and foul,
Acknowledge him thy greater, found his praise
In thy eternal courfe, both when thou climb'ft,
And when high noon haft gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meet'ft the orient fun, now fly'st, 175
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies,
And ye five other wand'ring fires that move
In mystic dance not without fong, refound
His praise, who cut of darkness call'd-up light.
Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth
Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run
Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix
And nourish all things; let your ceafelefs change
Vary to our great Maker ftill new praife.
Ye Mifts and Exhalations that now rife
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the fun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honor to the world's great Author rife,
Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolor'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling fhowers,
Rifing or failing ftill advance his praife.
His praife, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe foft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines,
With every plant, in fign of worship wave.
Fountains and ye, that warble, as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Join voices, all ye living Souls: ye Birds,
That finging up to Heaven gate afcend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praife.
Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep;
Witnefs if I be filent, morn or even,
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