Page 211 of 239

276

That must be mortal to us both? O flowers,

That never will in other climate grow,

My early visitation, and my last

At even, which I bred up with tender hand

From the first opening bud, and gave ye names!

Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank

Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?

Thee, lastly, nuptial bower, by me adorned

With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee

How shall I part, and wither wander down

Into a lower world, to this obscure

And wild? How shall we breathe in other air

Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits?

Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild:

Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign

What justly thou hast lost, nor set thy heart,

Thus over fond, on that which is not thine.

Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes

Thy husband; him to follow thou art bound;

Where he abides, think there thy native soil.

Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scattered spirits returned, To Michael thus his humble words addressed:

Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named Of them the Highest, for such of shape may seem Prince above princes! gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And, in performing, end us. What besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place—our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes—all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate,

Nor knowing us, nor known: and if, by prayer Incessant, I could hope to change the will

Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries. But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth. Therefore to His great bidding I submit. This most afflicts me; that, departing hence, As from His face I shall be hid, deprived His blessed countenance. Here I could frequent, With worship, place by place where he vouchsafed Presence Divine, and to my sons relate, On this mount He appeared; under this tree Stood visible; among these pines his voice I heard; here with Him at this fountain talked. So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory Or monument to ages, and thereon Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowers. In yonder nether world where shall I seek His bright appearances, or footstep trace? For though I fled him angry, yet, recalled To life prolonged and promised race, I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory, and far off his steps adore.

PARADISE LOST.

To whom thus Michael, with regard benign:

Adam, thou knowest heaven His, and all the earth;

Not this rock only. His omnipresence fills

Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives,

Fomented by his virtual power, and warmed.

All the earth he gave thee to possess and rule,

No despicable gift. Surmise not, then,

His presence to these narrow bounds confined

Of Paradise, or Eden; this had been

Perhaps, thy capital seat, from whence had spread,

All generations, and had hither come,