Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know, Which leaves us naked thus, of honor void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity,
Our wonted ornaments now foil'd and ftain'd, And in our faces evident the figns
Of foul concupifcence; whence evil ftore; Ev'n fhame, the laft of evils; of the first Be fure then. How fhall I behold the face. Henceforth of God or Angel, erft with joy And rapture fo' oft beheld?, thofe heav'nly fhapes Will dazzle now this earthly with their blaze Infufferably bright. O might I here
In folitude live favage, in fome glade Obfcur'd, where higheft woods impenetrable To ftar or fun-light, fpread their umbrage broad And brown as evening: Cover me, ye Pines, Ye Cedars, with innumerable boughs Hide me, where I may never fee them more. But let us now, as in bad plight, devise What beft may for the present serve to hide The parts of each from other, that seem most To fhame obnoxious, and unfeemlieft feen;
Some tree, whofe broad smooth leaves together fow'd, And girded on our loins, may cover round Thofe middle parts, that this new comer, fhame, There fit not, and reproach us as unclean.
So counsel'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood; there foon they chose The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But fuch as at this day to Indians known
In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms
Branching fo broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 1105 About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade
High overarch'd, and echoing walks between; There oft the Indian herdsman shunning heat Shelters in cool, and tends his pafturing herds At loopholes cut through thickest shade: Thofe leaves They gather'd, broad as Amazonian targe, And with what skill they had, together fow'd, To gird their wafte, vain covering if to hide Their guilt and dreaded shame; O how unlike To that firft naked glory! Such of late Columbus found th' American, so girt With feather'd cincture, naked elfe and wild Among the trees on iles and woody shores.
Thus fenc'd, and, as they thought, their shame in part Cover'd, but not at rest or ease of mind,
They fat them down to weep; nor only tears
Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rife, high paffions, anger, hate, Mistrust, fufpicion, discord, and shook fore
Their inward state of mind, calm region once And full of peace, now toft and turbulent: For understanding rul'd not, and the will Heard not her lore, both in fubjection now To fenfual appetite, who from beneath Ufurping over fovran reason clam'd
Superior fway, from thus diftemper'd breast, Adam, estrang'd in look and alter'd stile,
Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd.
Would thou hadst hearken'd to my words, and stay'd With me, as I befought thee, when that strange 1135 Defire of wand'ring this unhappy morn,
I know not whence poffefs'd thee: we had then Remain'd ftill happy; not as now, defpoil'd Of all our good, fham'd, naked, miserable. Let none henceforth feek needless cause to' approve The faith they owe; when earnestly they feek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
To whom foon mov'd with touch of blame thus Eve. What words have pafs'd thy lips, Adam fevere! Imput'ft thou that to my default, or will Of wand'ring, as thou call'st it, which who knows But might as ill have happen'd thou being by, Or to thyself perhaps? hadft thou been there, Or here th' attempt, thou couldft not have difcern'd Fraud in the Serpent, fpeaking as he spake; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or feck to harm. Was I to' have never parted from thy fide ? As good have grown there still a lifeless rib. Being as I am, why didft not thou the head Command me absolutely not to go, Going into fuch danger as thou faidst?
Too facil then thou didst not much gainfay, Nay didft permit, approve, and fair difmifs. Hadft thou been firm and fix'd in thy diffent, Neither had I tranfgrefs'd, nor thou with me.
To whom then first incens'd Adam reply'd. Is this the love, is this the recompenfe Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, exprefs'd Immutable when thou wert loft, not I,
Who might have liv'd and joy'd immortal bliss, Yet willingly chofe rather death with thee? And am I now upbraided as the cause Of thy tranfgreffing? not enough severe,
It feems, in thy refraint: what could I more?
I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold The danger, and the lurking enemy.
That lay in wait; beyond this had been force, And force upon free will hath here no place. But confidence then bore thee on, fecure Either to meet no danger, or to find
Matter of glorious trial; and perhaps
I also err'd in overmuch admiring
What feem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought No evil durft attempt thee, but I rue
That error now, which is become my crime,
And thou th' accufer. Thus it fhall befall
Him who to worth in woman overtrufting
Lets her will rule; reftraint she will not brook, And left to herself, if evil thence enfue,
She firft his weak indulgence will accufe. Thus they in mutual accufation spent
The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning, And of their vain contest appear'd no end..
THE END OF THE NINTH BOOK.
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