To better hopes his more attentive mind
Lab'ring had rais'd, and thus to Eve reply'd.
Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems
To argue in thee fomething more fublime
And excellent than what thy mind contemns;
But felf-deftruction therefore fought, refutes
That excellence thought in thee, and implies,
Not thy contempt, but anguifh and regret
For lofs of life and pleasure overlov'd.
Or if thou covet death, as utmost end
Of mifery, fo thinking to evade

The penalty pronounc'd, doubt not but God
Hath wifelier arm'd his vengeful ire than so
To be foreftall'd; much more I fear left death
So fnatch'd will not exempt us from the pain
We are by doom to pay; rather fuch acts
Of contumacy will provoke the Highest

To make death in us live: Then let us feek
Some fafer refolution, which methinks
I have in view, calling to mind with heed
Part of our fentence, that thy feed fhall bruise
The Serpent's head; piteous amends, unless
Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe
Satan, who in the ferpent hath contriv'd
Against us this deceit: to crush his head
Would be revenge indeed; which will be loft
By death brought on ourselves, or childless days
Refolv'd as thou propofeft; fo our foe
Shall 'fcape his punishment ordain'd, and we

1015

1020

1025

1030

1035

Inftead

Inftead fhall double ours upon our heads.
No more be mention'd then of violence
Against ourselves, and wilful barrennefs,
That cuts us off from hope, and favors only
Rancor and pride, impatience and despite,
Reluctance against God and his just yoke
Laid on our necks. Remember with what mild
And gracious temper he both heard and judg'd
Without wrath or reviling; we expected
Immediate diffolution, which we thought

1040

1045

Was meant by death that day, when lo, to thee 1050
Pains only in child-bearing were foretold,
And bringing forth, foon recompens'd with joy,
Fruit of thy womb: on me the curse aflope
Glanc'd on the ground; with labor I must earn

My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse; 105.5
My labor will fuftain me; and left cold

Or heat should injure us, his timely care

Hath unbefought provided, and his hands
Cloth'd us unworthy, pitying while he judg'd;
How much more, if we pray him, will his ear 1060
Be open, and his heart to pity' incline,

And teach us further by what means to fhun
Th' inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and fnow?
Which now the fky with various face begins
To fhow us in this mountain, while the winds
Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks
Of thofe fair spreading trees; which bids us feek
Some better shroud, fome better warmth to cherish

1065

Our

Our limbs benumm'd, ere this diurnal star

Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams 1070 Reflected, may with matter fere foment

Or by collifion of two bodies grind

The air attrite to fire, as late the clouds

Justling or pufh'd with winds rude in their shock

Tine the flant lightning, whose thwart flame driv'n down Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine,

And fends a comfortable heat from far,

Which might fupply the fun: fuch fire to use,

And what may else be remedy or cure

To evils which our own mifdeeds have wrought, 1080

He will inftruct us praying, and of grace
Befeeching him, fo as we need not fear
To pafs commodiously this life, fustain'd
By him with many comforts, till we end
In duft, our final reft and native home.
What better can we do, than to the place
Repairing where he judg'd us, proftrate fall
Before him reverent, and there confefs
Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears
Watering the ground, and with our fighs the air
Frequenting, fent from hearts contrite, in fign
Of forrow' unfeign'd, and humiliation meek?
Undoubtedly he will relent and turn
From his difpleasure; in whose look ferene,
When angry most he seem'd and most severe,
What else but favor, grace, and mercy fhone?

1085

1090

1095

So

1100

So fpake our father penitent, nor Eve Felt lefs remorfe: they forthwith to the place Repairing where he judg'd them, proftrate fell Before him reverent, and both confefs'd Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd, with tears Watering the ground, and with their fighs the air Frequenting, fent from hearts contrite, in fign Of forrow' unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.

THE END OF THE TENTH BOOK.

THE

ELEVENTH BOOK

O F

PARADISE LOST.