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But us he sends upon his high behests

For state, as sovereign King, and to inure

Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut,

The dismal gates, and barricadoed strong.

The dismal gates, and barricadoed strong.

But, long ere our approaching, heard within

Noise, other than the sound of dance or song;

Torment, and loud lament, and furious rage.

Glad we returned up to the coasts of light

Ere Sabbath evening. So we had in charge.

But thy relation now; for I attend,

Pleased with thy words no less than thou with mine.

So spake the godlike Power, and thus our Sire: For man to tell how human life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew? Desire with thee still longer to converse Induced me. As new waked from soundest sleep Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid, In balmy sweat, which with his beams the sun Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed. Straight toward heaven my wondering eyes I turned, And gazed awhile the ample sky; till, raised By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung, As thitherward endeavouring, and upright Stood on my feet. About me round I saw Hill, dale, and shady woods, and sunny plains, And liquid lapse of murmuring streams; by these, Creatures that lived and moved, and walked or flew; Birds on the branches warbling; all things smiled; With fragrance and with joy my heart o'erflowed. Myself I then perused,1 and limb by limb Surveyed, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran With supple joints, as lively vigour led. But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not. To speak I tried, and forthwith spake;

\* Person -Examined

Ere my remembrance. Now, hear me relate

My story, which, perhaps, thou hast not heard;

And day is yet not spent, till then thou seest

How subtly to detain thee I devise,

Inviting thee to hear while I relate;

Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply.

For, while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven;

And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear

Than fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirst

And hunger both, from labour, at the hour

Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill,

Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divine

Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.

To whom thus Raphael answered heavenly meek: Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men, Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also poured, Inward and outward both, his image fair: Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and grace Attends thee, and each word, each motion, forms. Nor less think we in heaven of thee on earth Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire Gladly into the ways of God with Man; For God, we see, hath honoured thee, and set On man his equal love. Say therefore on; For I that day was absent, as befell, Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure, Far on excursion toward the gates of hell; Squared in full legion—such command we had— To see that none thence issued forth a spy, Or enemy, while God was in his work; Lest he, incensed at such eruption bold, Destruction with creation might have mixed. Not that they durst without his leave attempt;

Fona. - Foolish.