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Воок IV.—619-652]

PARADISE LOST.

Appointed, which declares his dignity,

And the regard of Heaven on all his ways;

While other animals unactive range,

And of their doings God takes no account.

To-morrow, ere fresh morning streaks the east

With first approach of light, we must be risen,

And at our pleasant labour, to reform

Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green,

Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,

That mock our scant manuring, and require

More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth;

Those blossoms also, and those dropping gums,

That lie bestrewn, unsightly and unsmooth,

Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease;

Meanwhile, as Nature wills, night bids us rest.

To whom thus Eve, with perfect beauty 'dorned My author and disposer, what thou bidd'st Unargued I obey; so God ordains: God is thy law, thou mine: to know no more Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise. With thee conversing, I forgot all time; All seasons, and their change, all please alike. Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild; then silent night, With this her solemn bird, and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train: But neither breath of morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower,

Our manuring.—Our culture. "The manuring hand of the tiller shall root out all that burdens the soil."—

So promised he; and Uriel to his charge Returned.

Book IV., lines 589, 590.