Book X

Meanwhile the heinous and despiteful actOf Satan done in Paradise, and howHe, in the Serpent, had perverted Eve,Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,Was known in Heaven; for what can scape the eyeOf God all-seeing, or deceive his heartOmniscient? who, in all things wise and just,Hindered not Satan to attempt the mindOf Man, with strength entire and free will armed,Complete to have discovered and repulsedWhatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered,The high injunction not to taste that fruit,Whoever tempted; which they not obeyingIncurred (what could they less?) the penalty,And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall.

Up into Heaven from Paradise in hasteThe Angelic guards ascended, mute and sadFor Man; for of his state by this they knew,Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolenEntrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome newsFrom Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeasedAll were who heard; dim sadness did not spareThat time celestial visages, yet, mixedWith pity, violated not their bliss.About the new-arrived, in multitudes,The ethereal people ran, to hear and knowHow all befell. They towards the throne supremeAccountable made haste to make appearWith righteous plea their utmost vigilance,And easily approved; when the Most HighEternal Father, from his secret cloudAmidst, in thunder uttered thus his voice:

“Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returnedFrom unsuccessful charge, be not dismayed,Nor troubled at these tidings from the Earth,Which your sincerest care could not prevent,Foretold so lately what would come to pass,When first this Tempter crossed the gulf from Hell.I told ye then he should prevail and speedOn his bad errand; Man should be seducedAnd flattered out of all, believing liesAgainst his Maker; no decree of mineConcurring to necessitate his fall,Or touch with lightest moment of impulseHis free will, to her own inclining leftIn even scale. But fallen he is; and nowWhat rests, but that the mortal sentence passOn his transgression, death denounced that day?Which he presumes already vain and void,Because not yet inflicted, as he feared,By some immediate stroke; but soon shall findForbearance no acquittance ere day end:Justice shall not return, as bounty, scorned.But whom send I to judge them? whom but thee,Vicegerent Son? to thee I have transferredAll judgment, whether in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell.Easy it may be seen that I intendMercy colleague with justice, sending thee,Man’s friend, his Mediator, his designedBoth ransom and Redeemer voluntary,And destined Man himself to judge Man fallen.”

So spake the Father; and, unfolding brightToward the right hand his glory, on the SonBlazed forth unclouded deity; he fullResplendent all his Father manifestExpressed, and thus divinely answered mild:

“Father Eternal, thine is to decree,Mine both in Heaven and Earth to do thy willSupreme, that thou in me, thy Son beloved,May’st ever rest well pleased. I go to judgeOn Earth these thy transgressors; but thou know’st,Whoever judged, the worst on me must light,When time shall be; for so I undertookBefore thee, and, not repenting, this obtainOf right, that I may mitigate their doomOn me derived; yet I shall temper soJustice with mercy, as may illustrate mostThem fully satisfied, and thee appease.Attendance none shall need, nor train, where noneAre to behold the judgment but the judged,Those two; the third best absent is condemned,Convict by flight, and rebel to all law:Conviction to the Serpent none belongs.”

Thus saying, from his radiant seat he roseOf high collateral glory; Him Thrones and Powers,Princedoms, and Dominations ministrantAccompanied to Heaven-gate, from whenceEden and all the coast in prospect lay.Down he descended straight; the speed of GodsTime counts not, though with swiftest minutes winged.

Now was the sun in western cadence lowFrom noon, and gentle airs due at their hourTo fan the Earth now waked, and usher inThe evening cool, when he, from wrath more cool,Came, the mild Judge and Intercessor both,To sentence Man. The voice of God they heardNow walking in the garden, by soft windsBrought to their ears, while day declined; they heard,And from his presence hid themselves amongThe thickest trees, both man and wife, till God,Approaching, thus to Adam called aloud:

“Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meetMy coming seen far off? I miss thee here,Not pleased, thus entertained with solitude,Where obvious duty erewhile appeared unsought.Or come I less conspicuous, or what changeAbsents thee, or what chance detains? Come forth.”

He came, and with him Eve, more loth, though firstTo offend, discountenanced both, and discomposed;Love was not in their looks, either to GodOr to each other, but apparent guilt,And shame, and perturbation, and despair,Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile.Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answered brief:

“I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voiceAfraid, being naked, hid myself.” To whomThe gracious Judge without revile replied:

“My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not feared,But still rejoiced; how is it now becomeSo dreadful to thee? That thou art naked, whoHath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the tree,Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat?”

To whom thus Adam, sore beset, replied:“O Heaven! in evil strait this day I standBefore my Judge—either to undergoMyself the total crime, or to accuseMy other self, the partner of my life;Whose failing, while her faith to me remains,I should conceal, and not expose to blameBy my complaint; but strict necessitySubdues me, and calamitous constraint,Lest on my head both sin and punishment,However insupportable, be allDevolved; though should I hold my peace, yet thouWouldst easily detect what I conceal.This woman, whom thou mad’st to be my help,And gav’st me as thy perfect gift, so good,So fit, so acceptable, so divine,That from her hand I could suspect no ill,And what she did, whatever in itself,Her doing seemed to justify the deed;She gave me of the tree, and I did eat.”

To whom the Sovereign Presence thus replied:“Was she thy God, that her thou didst obeyBefore his voice? or was she made thy guide,Superior, or but equal, that to herThou didst resign thy manhood, and the placeWherein God set thee above her, made of theeAnd for thee, whose perfection far excelledHers in all real dignity? AdornedShe was indeed, and lovely, to attractThy love, not thy subjection; and her giftsWere such as under government well seemed,Unseemly to bear rule; which was thy partAnd person, hadst thou known thyself aright.”

So having said, he thus to Eve in few:“Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?”To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelmed,Confessing soon, yet not before her JudgeBold or loquacious, thus abashed replied:“The Serpent me beguiled, and I did eat.”

Which when the Lord God heard, without delayTo judgment he proceeded on the accusedSerpent, though brute, unable to transferThe guilt on him who made him instrumentOf mischief, and polluted from the endOf his creation; justly then accursed,As vitiated in nature. More to knowConcerned not Man (since he no further knew),Nor altered his offence; yet God at lastTo Satan, first in sin, his doom applied,Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best;And on the Serpent thus his curse let fall:

“Because thou hast done this, thou art accursedAbove all cattle, each beast of the field;Upon thy belly grovelling thou shalt go,And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life.Between thee and the Woman I will putEnmity, and between thine and her seed;Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel.”

So spake this oracle, then verifiedWhen Jesus, son of Mary, second Eve,Saw Satan fall like lightning down from Heaven,Prince of the air; then, rising from his grave,Spoiled Principalities and Powers, triumphedIn open show, and with ascension brightCaptivity led captive through the air,The realm itself of Satan long usurped,Whom he shall tread at last under our feet;Even he who now foretold his fatal bruise,And to the Woman thus his sentence turned:

“Thy sorrow I will greatly multiplyBy thy conception; children thou shalt bringIn sorrow forth; and to thy husband’s willThine shall submit; he over thee shall rule.”

On Adam last thus judgment he pronounced:“Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife,And eaten of the tree, concerning whichI charged thee, saying, ‘Thou shalt not eat thereof,’Curs’d is the ground for thy sake; thou in sorrowShalt eat thereof all the days of thy life;Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forthUnbid; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field;In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,Till thou return unto the ground; for thouOut of the ground wast taken: know thy birth,For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.”

So judged he Man, both Judge and Saviour sent,And the instant stroke of death, denounced that day,Removed far off; then, pitying how they stoodBefore him naked to the air, that nowMust suffer change, disdained not to beginThenceforth the form of servant to assume;As when he washed his servants’ feet, so now,As father of his family, he cladTheir nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain,Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid;And thought not much to clothe his enemies.Nor he their outward only with the skinsOf beasts, but inward nakedness, much moreOpprobrious, with his robe of righteousnessArraying, covered from his Father’s sight.To him with swift ascent he up returned,Into his blissful bosom reassumedIn glory as of old; to him appeased,All, though all-knowing, what had passed with ManRecounted, mixing intercession sweet.

Meanwhile, ere thus was sinned and judged on Earth,Within the gates of Hell sat Sin and Death,In counterview within the gates, that nowStood open wide, belching outrageous flameFar into Chaos, since the Fiend passed through,Sin opening; who thus now to Death began:

“O Son, why sit we here each other viewingIdly, while Satan, our great author, thrivesIn other worlds, and happier seat providesFor us, his offspring dear? It cannot beBut that success attends him; if mishap,Ere this he had returned, with fury drivenBy his avengers, since no place like thisCan fit his punishment, or their revenge.Methinks I feel new strength within me rise,Wings growing, and dominion given me largeBeyond this Deep, whatever draws me on,Or sympathy, or some connatural force,Powerful at greatest distance to uniteWith secret amity things of like kindBy secretest conveyance. Thou, my shadeInseparable, must with me along;For Death from Sin no power can separate.But, lest the difficulty of passing backStay his return perhaps over this gulfImpassable, impervious, let us tryAdventurous work, yet to thy power and mineNot unagreeable, to found a pathOver this main from Hell to that new WorldWhere Satan now prevails; a monumentOf merit high to all the infernal host,Easing their passage hence, for intercourseOr transmigration, as their lot shall lead.Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawnBy this new-felt attraction and instinct.”

Whom thus the meagre Shadow answered soon:“Go whither fate and inclination strongLeads thee; I shall not lag behind, nor errThe way, thou leading; such a scent I drawOf carnage, prey innumerable, and tasteThe savour of death from all things there that live.Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisestBe wanting, but afford thee equal aid.”

So saying, with delight he snuffed the smellOf mortal change on Earth. As when a flockOf ravenous fowl, though many a league remote,Against the day of battle, to a field,Where armies lie encamped, come flying, luredWith scent of living carcases designedFor death the following day in bloody fight:So scented the grim Feature, and upturnedHis nostril wide into the murky air,Sagacious of his quarry from so far.Then both, from out Hell-gates, into the wasteWide anarchy of Chaos damp and darkFlew diverse, and with power (their power was great)Hovering upon the waters, what they metSolid or slimy, as in raging seaTossed up and down, together crowded drove,From each side shoaling, towards the mouth of Hell;As when two polar winds, blowing adverseUpon the Cronian sea, together driveMountains of ice, that stop the imagined wayBeyond Petsora eastward, to the richCathaian coast. The aggregated soilDeath with his mace petrific, cold and dry,As with a trident smote, and fixed as firmAs Delos, floating once; the rest his lookBound with Gorgonian rigour not to move,And with asphaltic slime; broad as the gateDeep to the roots of Hell the gathered beachThey fastened, and the mole immense wrought onOver the foaming Deep high-arched, a bridgeOf length prodigious, joining to the wallImmovable of this now fenceless World,Forfeit to Death; from hence a passage broad,Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to Hell.So, if great things to small may be compared,Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke,From Susa, his Memnonian palace high,Came to the sea, and, over HellespontBridging his way, Europe with Asia joined,And scourged with many a stroke the indignant waves.Now had they brought the work by wondrous artPontifical, a ridge of pendent rock,Over the vexed Abyss, following the trackOf Satan, to the self-same place where heFirst lighted from his wing, and landed safeFrom out of Chaos, to the outside bareOf this round World. With pins of adamantAnd chains they made all fast, too fast they madeAnd durable; and now in little spaceThe confines met of empyrean HeavenAnd of this World, and on the left hand HellWith long reach interposed; three several ways,In sight, to each of these three places led.And now their way to Earth they had descried,To Paradise first tending, when, beholdSatan, in likeness of an Angel bright,Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steeringHis zenith, while the sun in Aries rose!Disguised he came; but those his children dearTheir parent soon discerned, though in disguise.He, after Eve seduced, unminded slunkInto the wood fast by, and, changing shapeTo observe the sequel, saw his guileful actBy Eve, though all unweeting, secondedUpon her husband, saw their shame that soughtVain covertures; but when he saw descendThe Son of God to judge them, terrifiedHe fled, not hoping to escape, but shunThe present, fearing guilty what his wrathMight suddenly inflict; that past, returnedBy night, and listening where the hapless pairSat in their sad discourse and various plaint,Thence gathered his own doom; which understoodNot instant, but of future time, with joyAnd tidings fraught, to Hell he now returned,And at the brink of Chaos, near the footOf this new wondrous pontifice, unhopedMet who to meet him came, his offspring dear.Great joy was at their meeting, and at sightOf that stupendous bridge his joy increased.Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fairEnchanting daughter, thus the silence, broke:

“O Parent, these are thy magnific deeds,Thy trophies, which thou view’st as not thine own;Thou art their author and prime architect;For I no sooner in my heart divined(My heart, which by a secret harmonyStill moves with thine, joined in connexion sweet)That thou on Earth hadst prospered, which thy looksNow also evidence, but straight I felt,Though distant from thee worlds between, yet feltThat I must after thee with this thy son;Such fatal consequence unites us three.Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds,Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscureDetain from following thy illustrious track.Thou hast achieved our liberty, confinedWithin Hell-gates till now; thou us empoweredTo fortify thus far, and overlayWith this portentous bridge the dark Abyss.Thine now is all this World; thy virtue hath wonWhat thy hands builded not, thy wisdom gainedWith odds what war hath lost, and fully avengedOur foil in Heaven: here thou shalt monarch reign,There didst not; there let him still victor sway,As battle hath adjudged, from this new WorldRetiring, by his own doom alienated,And henceforth monarchy with thee divideOf all things, parted by the empyreal bounds,His quadrature, from thy orbicular World,Or try thee now more dangerous to his throne.”

Whom thus the Prince of Darkness answered glad:“Fair daughter, and thou son and grandchild both,High proof ye now have given to be the raceOf Satan (for I glory in the name,Antagonist of Heaven’s Almighty King),Amply have merited of me, of allThe infernal empire, that so near Heaven’s doorTriumphal with triumphal act have met,Mine with this glorious work, and made one realmHell and this World—one realm, one continentOf easy thoroughfare. Therefore, while IDescend through darkness, on your road with ease,To my associate Powers, them to acquaintWith these successes, and with them rejoice,You two this way, among these numerous orbs,All yours, right down to Paradise descend;There dwell and reign in bliss; thence on the EarthDominion exercise and in the air,Chiefly on Man, sole lord of all declared;Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill.My substitutes I send ye, and createPlenipotent on Earth, of matchless mightIssuing from me: on your joint vigour nowMy hold of this new kingdom all depends,Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit.If your joint power prevail, the affairs of HellNo detriment need fear; go, and be strong.”

So saying, he dismissed them; they with speedTheir course through thickest constellations held,Spreading their bane; the blasted stars looked wan,And planets, planet-struck, real eclipseThen suffered. The other way Satan went downThe causey to Hell-gate; on either sideDisparted Chaos over-built exclaimed,And with rebounding surge the bars assailed,That scorned his indignation. Through the gate,Wide open and unguarded, Satan passed,And all about found desolate; for thoseAppointed to sit there had left their charge,Flown to the upper World; the rest were allFar to the inland retired, about the wallsOf Pandemonium, city and proud seatOf Lucifer, so by allusion calledOf that bright star to Satan paragoned;There kept their watch the legions, while the GrandIn council sat, solicitous what chanceMight intercept their Emperor sent; so heDeparting gave command, and they observed.As when the Tartar from his Russian foe,By Astracan, over the snowy plainsRetires, or Bactrian Sophi, from the hornsOf Turkish crescent, leaves all waste beyondThe realm of Aladule, in his retreatTo Tauris or Casbeen: so these, the lateHeaven-banished host, left desert utmost HellMany a dark league, reduced in careful watchRound their metropolis, and now expectingEach hour their great adventurer from the searchOf foreign worlds. He through the midst unmarked,In show plebeian Angel militantOf lowest order, passed; and, from the doorOf that Plutonian hall, invisibleAscended his high throne, which, under stateOf richest texture spread, at the upper endWas placed in regal lustre. Down a whileHe sat, and round about him saw unseen.At last, as from a cloud, his fulgent headAnd shape star-bright appeared, or brighter, cladWith what permissive glory since his fallWas left him, or false glitter. All amazedAt that so sudden blaze, the Stygian throngBent their aspect, and whom they wished beheld,Their mighty Chief returned: loud was the acclaim.Forth rushed in haste the great consulting peers,Raised from their dark divan, and with like joyCongratulant approached him, who with handSilence, and with these words attention, won:

“Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers!For in possession such, not only of right,I call ye, and declare ye now, returned,Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forthTriumphant out of this infernal pitAbominable, accursed, the house of woe,And dungeon of our tyrant! Now possess,As lords, a spacious World, to our native HeavenLittle inferior, by my adventure hardWith peril great achieved. Long were to tellWhat I have done, what suffered, with what painVoyaged the unreal, vast, unbounded DeepOf horrible confusion, over whichBy Sin and Death a broad way now is paved,To expedite your glorious march; but IToiled out my uncouth passage, forced to rideThe untractable Abyss, plunged in the wombOf unoriginal Night and Chaos wild,That, jealous of their secrets, fiercely opposedMy journey strange, with clamorous uproarProtesting Fate supreme; thence how I foundThe new-created World, which fame in HeavenLong had foretold, a fabric wonderful,Of absolute perfection; therein ManPlaced in a Paradise, by our exileMade happy. Him by fraud I have seducedFrom his Creator, and, the more to increaseYour wonder, with an apple! He, thereatOffended—worth your laughter!—hath given upBoth his beloved Man and all his WorldTo Sin and Death a prey, and so to us,Without our hazard, labour, or alarm,To range in, and to dwell, and over ManTo rule, as over all he should have ruled.True is, me also he hath judged, or ratherMe not, but the brute serpent, in whose shapeMan I deceived: that which to me belongsIs enmity, which he will put betweenMe and mankind; I am to bruise his heel;His seed—when is not set—shall bruise my head:A world who would not purchase with a bruise,Or much more grievous pain? Ye have the accountOf my performance; what remains, ye Gods,But up and enter now into full bliss?”

So having said, a while he stood, expectingTheir universal shout and high applauseTo fill his ear; when, contrary, he hears,On all sides, from innumerable tongues,A dismal universal hiss, the soundOf public scorn. He wondered, but not longHad leisure, wondering at himself now more;His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare,His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwiningEach other, till, supplanted, down he fellA monstrous serpent on his belly prone,Reluctant, but in vain; a greater powerNow ruled him, punished in the shape he sinned,According to his doom. He would have spoke,But hiss for hiss returned with forked tongueTo forked tongue; for now were all transformedAlike, to serpents all, as accessoriesTo his bold riot. Dreadful was the dinOf hissing through the hall, thick-swarming nowWith complicated monsters, head and tail,Scorpion, and asp, and amphisbaena dire,Cerastes horned, hydrus, and ellops drear,And dipsas (not so thick swarmed once the soilBedropt with blood of Gorgon, or the isleOphiusa); but still greatest he the midst,Now dragon grown, larger than whom the sunEngendered in the Pythian vale on slime,Huge Python; and his power no less he seemedAbove the rest still to retain. They allHim followed, issuing forth to the open field,Where all yet left of that revolted rout,Heaven-fallen, in station stood or just array,Sublime with expectation when to seeIn triumph issuing forth their glorious Chief;They saw, but other sight instead, a crowdOf ugly serpents! Horror on them fell,And horrid sympathy; for what they sawThey felt themselves now changing: down their arms,Down fell both spear and shield; down they as fast,And the dire hiss renewed, and the dire formCatched by contagion, like in punishment,As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meantTurned to exploding hiss, triumph to shameCast on themselves from their own mouths. There stoodA grove hard by, sprung up with this their change,His will who reigns above, to aggravateTheir penance, laden with fair fruit, like thatWhich grew in Paradise, the bait of EveUsed by the Tempter. On that prospect strangeTheir earnest eyes they fixed, imaginingFor one forbidden tree a multitudeNow risen, to work them further woe or shame;Yet, parched with scalding thirst and hunger fierce,Though to delude them sent, could not abstain,But on they rolled in heaps, and, up the treesClimbing, sat thicker than the snaky locksThat curled Megaera. Greedily they pluckedThe fruitage fair to sight, like that which grewNear that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed;This, more delusive, not the touch, but tasteDeceived; they, fondly thinking to allayTheir appetite with gust, instead of fruitChewed bitter ashes, which the offended tasteWith spattering noise rejected. Oft they assayed,Hunger and thirst constraining; drugged as oft,With hatefulest disrelish writhed their jaws,With soot and cinders filled; so oft they fellInto the same illusion, not as ManWhom they triumphed once lapsed. Thus were they plaguedAnd worn with famine long, and ceaseless hiss,Till their lost shape, permitted, they resumed;Yearly enjoined, some say, to undergoThis annual humbling certain numbered days,To dash their pride, and joy for Man seduced.However, some tradition they dispersedAmong the heathen of their purchase got,And fabled how the Serpent, whom they calledOphion, with Eurynome (the wide-Encroaching Eve perhaps), had first the ruleOf high Olympus, thence by Saturn drivenAnd Ops, ere yet Dictaean Jove was born.

Meanwhile in Paradise the Hellish pairToo soon arrived; Sin there in power before,Once actual, now in body, and to dwellHabitual habitant; behind her Death,Close following pace for pace, not mounted yetOn his pale horse; to whom Sin thus began:

“Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death!What think’st thou of our empire now, though earnedWith travail difficult? not better farThan still at Hell’s dark threshold to have sat watch,Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half-starved?”

Whom thus the Sin-born Monster answered soon:“To me, who with eternal famine pine,Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven;There best, where most with ravin I may meet;Which here, though plenteous, all too little seemsTo stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corpse.”

To whom the incestuous Mother thus replied:“Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers,Feed first; on each beast next, and fish, and fowl,No homely morsels; and whatever thingThe scythe of Time mows down devour unspared;Till I, in Man residing, through the race,His thoughts, his looks, words, actions, all infect,And season him thy last and sweetest prey.”

This said, they both betook them several ways,Both to destroy, or unimmortal makeAll kinds, and for destruction to matureSooner or later; which the Almighty seeing,From his transcendent seat the Saints among,To those bright Orders uttered thus his voice:

“See with what heat these dogs of Hell advanceTo waste and havoc yonder World, which ISo fair and good created, and had stillKept in that state, had not the folly of ManLet in these wasteful furies, who imputeFolly to me (so doth the Prince of HellAnd his adherents), that with so much easeI suffer them to enter and possessA place so heavenly, and conniving seemTo gratify my scornful enemies,That laugh, as if, transported with some fitOf passion, I to them had quitted all,At random yielded up to their misrule;And know not that I called and drew them thither,My Hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filthWhich Man’s polluting sin with taint hath shedOn what was pure; till, crammed and gorged, nigh burstWith sucked and glutted offal, at one slingOf thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son,Both Sin, and Death, and yawning Grave at last,Through Chaos hurled, obstruct the mouth of HellFor ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws.Then Heaven and Earth, renewed, shall be made pureTo sanctity that shall receive no stain:Till then the curse pronounced on both precedes.”

He ended, and the Heavenly audience loudSung Hallelujah, as the sound of seas,Through multitude that sung: “Just are thy ways,Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works;Who can extenuate thee?” Next, to the Son,Destined restorer of mankind, by whomNew Heaven and Earth shall to the ages rise,Or down from Heaven descend. Such was their song,While the Creator, calling forth by nameHis mighty Angels, gave them several charge,As sorted best with present things. The sunHad first his precept so to move, so shine,As might affect the Earth with cold and heatScarce tolerable, and from the north to callDecrepit winter, from the south to bringSolstitial summer’s heat. To the blanc moonHer office they prescribed; to the other fiveTheir planetary motions and aspects,In sextile, square, and trine, and opposite,Of noxious efficacy, and when to joinIn synod unbenign; and taught the fixedTheir influence malignant when to shower;Which of them rising with the sun, or falling,Should prove tempestuous. To the winds they setTheir corners, when with bluster to confoundSea, air, and shore; the thunder when to rollWith terror through the dark aerial hall.Some say he bid his Angels turn askanceThe poles of Earth twice ten degrees and moreFrom the sun’s axle; they with labour pushedOblique the centric globe: some say the sunWas bid turn reins from the equinoctial roadLike distant breadth to Taurus with the sevenAtlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins,Up to the Tropic Crab; thence down amainBy Leo and the Virgin and the Scales,As deep as Capricorn; to bring in changeOf seasons to each clime: else had the springPerpetual smiled on Earth with vernant flowers,Equal in days and nights, except to thoseBeyond the polar circles; to them dayHad unbenighted shone, while the low sun,To recompense his distance, in their sightHad rounded still the horizon, and not knownOr east or west; which had forbid the snowFrom cold Estotiland, and south as farBeneath Magellan. At that tasted fruitThe sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turnedHis course intended: else how had the WorldInhabited, though sinless, more than nowAvoided pinching cold and scorching heat?These changes in the heavens, though slow, producedLike change on sea and land, sideral blast,Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot,Corrupt and pestilent. Now from the northOf Norumbega, and the Samoed shore,Bursting their brazen dungeon, armed with iceAnd snow and hail and stormy gust and flaw,Boreas and Caecias and Argestes loudAnd Thrascias rend the woods and seas upturn;With adverse blasts upturns them from the southNotus and Afer black with thundrous cloudsFrom Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierceForth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds,Eurus and Zephyr with their lateral noise,Sirocco, and Libecchio. Thus beganOutrage from lifeless things; but Discord first,Daughter of Sin, among the irrationalDeath introduced through fierce antipathy:Beast now with beast ’gan war, and fowl with fowl,And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leavingDevoured each other; nor stood much in aweOf Man, but fled him, or with countenance grimGlared on him passing. These were from withoutThe growing miseries, which Adam sawAlready in part, though hid in gloomiest shade,To sorrow abandoned, but worse felt within,And, in a troubled sea of passion tost,Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint:

“O miserable of happy! is this the endOf this new glorious World, and me so lateThe glory of that glory? who now, becomeAccursed of blessed, hide me from the faceOf God, whom to behold was then my highthOf happiness! Yet well, if here would endThe misery; I deserved it, and would bearMy own deservings; but this will not serve:All that I eat or drink, or shall beget,Is propagated curse. O voice, once heardDelightfully, ‘Increase and multiply’;Now death to hear! for what can I increaseOr multiply, but curses on my head?Who, of all ages to succeed, but, feelingThe evil on him brought by me, will curseMy head? ‘Ill fare our Ancestor impure!For this we may thank Adam!’ but his thanksShall be the execration; so, besidesMine own that bide upon me, all from meShall with a fierce reflux on me redound,On me, as on their natural centre, lightHeavy, though in their place. O fleeting joysOf Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes!Did I request thee, Maker, from my clayTo mould me Man? did I solicit theeFrom darkness to promote me, or here placeIn this delicious garden? As my willConcurred not to my being, it were but rightAnd equal to reduce me to my dust,Desirous to resign and render backAll I received, unable to performThy terms too hard, by which I was to holdThe good I sought not. To the loss of that,Sufficient penalty, why hast thou addedThe sense of endless woes? inexplicableThy justice seems. Yet, to say truth, too lateI thus contest; then should have been refusedThose terms whatever, when they were proposed.Thou didst accept them: wilt thou enjoy the good,Then cavil the conditions? And though GodMade thee without thy leave, what if thy sonProve disobedient, and, reproved, retort,‘Wherefore didst thou beget me? I sought it not!’Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of theeThat proud excuse? yet him not thy election,But natural necessity, begot.God made thee of choice his own, and of his ownTo serve him; thy reward was of his grace;Thy punishment then justly is at his will.Be it so, for I submit; his doom is fair,That dust I am, and shall to dust return.O welcome hour whenever! Why delaysHis hand to execute what his decreeFixed on this day? Why do I overlive?Why am I mocked with death, and lengthened outTo deathless pain? How gladly would I meetMortality, my sentence, and be earthInsensible! how glad would lay me downAs in my mother’s lap! There I should restAnd sleep secure; his dreadful voice no moreWould thunder in my ears; no fear of worseTo me and to my offspring would torment meWith cruel expectation. Yet one doubtPursues me still, lest all I cannot die;Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of ManWhich God inspired, cannot together perishWith this corporeal clod; then, in the grave,Or in some other dismal place, who knowsBut I shall die a living death? O thoughtHorrid, if true! Yet why? It was but breathOf life that sinned: what dies but what had lifeAnd sin? the body properly hath neither.All of me then shall die: let this appeaseThe doubt, since human reach no further knows.For though the Lord of all be infinite,Is his wrath also? Be it, Man is not so,But mortal doomed. How can he exerciseWrath without end on Man, whom death must end?Can he make deathless death? That were to makeStrange contradiction; which to God himselfImpossible is held, as argumentOf weakness, not of power. Will he draw out,For anger’s sake, finite to infiniteIn punished Man, to satisfy his rigourSatisfied never? That were to extendHis sentence beyond dust and Nature’s law;By which all causes else according stillTo the reception of their matter act,Not to the extent of their own sphere. But sayThat death be not one stroke, as I supposed,Bereaving sense, but endless miseryFrom this day onward, which I feel begunBoth in me and without me, and so lastTo perpetuity—Ay me! that fearComes thundering back with dreadful revolutionOn my defenceless head! Both Death and IAm found eternal, and incorporate both:Nor I on my part single; in me allPosterity stands cursed. Fair patrimonyThat I must leave ye, sons! Oh, were I ableTo waste it all myself, and leave ye none!So disinherited, how would ye blessMe, now your curse! Ah, why should all mankind,For one man’s fault, thus guiltless be condemned,If guiltless? But from me what can proceedBut all corrupt, both mind and will depravedNot to do only, but to will the sameWith me? How can they then acquitted standIn sight of God? Him, after all disputes,Forced I absolve; all my evasions vainAnd reasonings, though through mazes, lead me stillBut to my own conviction: first and lastOn me, me only, as the source and springOf all corruption, all the blame lights due;So might the wrath! Fond wish! couldst thou supportThat burden, heavier than the Earth to bear;Than all the World much heavier, though dividedWith that bad woman? Thus, what thou desir’st,And what thou fear’st, alike destroys all hopeOf refuge, and concludes thee miserableBeyond all past example and future;To Satan only like, both crime and doom.O Conscience! into what abyss of fearsAnd horrors hast thou driven me; out of whichI find no way, from deep to deeper plunged!”

Thus Adam to himself lamented loudThrough the still night, not now, as ere Man fell,Wholesome and cool and mild, but with black airAccompanied, with damps and dreadful gloom;Which to his evil conscience representedAll things with double terror. On the groundOutstretched he lay, on the cold ground, and oftCursed his creation; Death as oft accusedOf tardy execution, since denouncedThe day of his offence. “Why comes not Death,”Said he, “with one thrice-acceptable strokeTo end me? Shall Truth fail to keep her word,Justice divine not hasten to be just?But Death comes not at call; Justice divineMends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries.O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers!With other echo late I taught your shadesTo answer, and resound far other song.”

Whom thus afflicted when sad Eve beheld,Desolate where she sat, approaching nigh,Soft words to his fierce passion she assayed;But her with stern regard he thus repelled:

“Out of my sight, thou serpent! that name bestBefits thee, with him leagued, thyself as falseAnd hateful: nothing wants, but that thy shape,Like his, and colour serpentine, may showThy inward fraud, to warn all creatures from theeHenceforth; lest that too heavenly form, pretendedTo hellish falsehood, snare them. But for theeI had persisted happy, had not thy prideAnd wandering vanity, when least was safe,Rejected my forewarning, and disdainedNot to be trusted, longing to be seen,Though by the Devil himself, him overweeningTo overreach; but, with the Serpent meeting,Fooled and beguiled; by him thou, I by thee,To trust thee from my side, imagined wise,Constant, mature, proof against all assaults;And understood not all was but a show,Rather than solid virtue, all but a ribCrooked by nature—bent, as now appears,More to the part sinister—from me drawn;Well if thrown out, as supernumeraryTo my just number found! Oh, why did God,Creator wise, that peopled highest HeavenWith Spirits masculine, create at lastThis novelty on Earth, this fair defectOf Nature, and not fill the World at onceWith men, as Angels, without feminine;Or find some other way to generateMankind? This mischief had not then befallen,And more that shall befall—innumerableDisturbances on Earth through female snares,And strait conjunction with this sex. For eitherHe never shall find out fit mate, but suchAs some misfortune brings him, or mistake;Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain,Through her perverseness, but shall see her gainedBy a far worse, or, if she love, withheldBy parents; or his happiest choice too lateShall meet, already linked and wedlock-boundTo a fell adversary, his hate or shame:Which infinite calamity shall causeTo human life, and household peace confound.”

He added not, and from her turned; but Eve,Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing,And tresses all disordered, at his feetFell humble, and, embracing them, besoughtHis peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint:

“Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness HeavenWhat love sincere and reverence in my heartI bear thee, and unweeting have offended,Unhappily deceived! Thy suppliantI beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not,Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid,Thy counsel in this uttermost distress,My only strength and stay; forlorn of thee,Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps,Between us two let there be peace; both joining,As joined in injuries, one enmityAgainst a foe by doom express assigned us,That cruel Serpent. On me exercise notThy hatred for this misery befallen;On me already lost, me than thyselfMore miserable. Both have sinned; but thouAgainst God only; I against God and thee,And to the place of judgment will return,There with my cries importune Heaven, that allThe sentence, from thy head removed, may lightOn me, sole cause to thee of all this woe,Me, me only, just object of His ire.”

She ended weeping; and her lowly plight,Immovable till peace obtained from faultAcknowledged and deplored, in Adam wroughtCommiseration. Soon his heart relentedTowards her, his life so late and sole delight,Now at his feet submissive in distress,Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking,His counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid;As one disarmed, his anger all he lost,And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon:

“Unwary, and too desirous, as beforeSo now, of what thou know’st not, who desir’stThe punishment all on thyself! Alas!Bear thine own first, ill able to sustainHis full wrath, whose thou feel’st as yet least part,And my displeasure bear’st so ill. If prayersCould alter high decrees, I to that placeWould speed before thee, and be louder heard,That on my head all might be visited,Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven,To me committed, and by me exposed.But rise; let us no more contend, nor blameEach other, blamed enough elsewhere, but striveIn offices of love, how we may lightenEach other’s burden, in our share of woe;Since this day’s death denounced, if aught I see,Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil,A long day’s dying, to augment our pain,And to our seed (O hapless seed!) derived.”

To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied:“Adam, by sad experiment I knowHow little weight my words with thee can find,Found so erroneous, thence by just eventFound so unfortunate; nevertheless,Restored by thee, vile as I am, to placeOf new acceptance, hopeful to regainThy love, the sole contentment of my heart,Living or dying from thee I will not hideWhat thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen,Tending to some relief of our extremes,Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable,As in our evils, and of easier choice.If care of our descent perplex us most,Which must be born to certain woe, devouredBy Death at last (and miserable it isTo be to others cause of misery,Our own begotten, and of our loins to bringInto this cursed World a woeful race,That after wretched life must be at lastFood for so foul a monster), in thy powerIt lies, yet ere conception, to preventThe race unblest, to being yet unbegot.Childless thou art, childless remain; so DeathShall be deceived his glut, and with us twoBe forced to satisfy his ravenous maw.But if thou judge it hard and difficult,Conversing, looking, loving, to abstainFrom love’s due rites, nuptial embraces sweet,And with desire to languish without hope,Before the present object languishingWith like desire, which would be miseryAnd torment less than none of what we dread;Then, both our selves and seed at once to freeFrom what we fear for both, let us make short,Let us seek Death, or, he not found, supplyWith our own hands his office on ourselves.Why stand we longer shivering under fearsThat show no end but death, and have the power,Of many ways to die the shortest choosing,Destruction with destruction to destroy?”

She ended here, or vehement despairBroke off the rest; so much of death her thoughtsHad entertained as dyed her cheeks with pale.But Adam, with such counsel nothing swayed,To better hopes his more attentive mindLabouring had raised, and thus to Eve replied:

“Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seemsTo argue in thee something more sublimeAnd excellent than what thy mind contemns;But self-destruction therefore sought refutesThat excellence thought in thee, and implies,Not thy contempt, but anguish and regretFor loss of life and pleasure overloved.Or if thou covet death, as utmost endOf misery, so thinking to evadeThe penalty pronounced, doubt not but GodHath wiselier armed his vengeful ire than soTo be forestalled; much more I fear lest deathSo snatched will not exempt us from the painWe are by doom to pay; rather such actsOf contumacy will provoke the HighestTo make death in us live. Then let us seekSome safer resolution, which methinksI have in view, calling to mind with heedPart of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruiseThe Serpent’s head; piteous amends! unlessBe meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe,Satan, who in the serpent hath contrivedAgainst us this deceit. To crush his headWould be revenge indeed; which will be lostBy death brought on ourselves, or childless daysResolved as thou proposest; so our foeShall scape his punishment ordained, and weInstead shall double ours upon our heads.No more be mentioned then of violenceAgainst ourselves, and wilful barrenness,That cuts us off from hope, and savours onlyRancour and pride, impatience and despite,Reluctance against God and his just yokeLaid on our necks. Remember with what mildAnd gracious temper he both heard and judged,Without wrath or reviling; we expectedImmediate dissolution, which we thoughtWas meant by death that day; when, lo! to theePains only in child-bearing were foretold,And bringing forth, soon recompensed with joy,Fruit of thy womb; on me the curse aslopeGlanced on the ground: with labour I must earnMy bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse;My labour will sustain me; and, lest coldOr heat should injure us, his timely careHath, unbesought, provided, and his handsClothed us unworthy, pitying while he judged;How much more, if we pray him, will his earBe open, and his heart to pity incline,And teach us further by what means to shunThe inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow!Which now the sky with various face beginsTo show us in this mountain, while the windsBlow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locksOf these fair spreading trees; which bids us seekSome better shroud, some better warmth to cherishOur limbs benumbed, ere this diurnal starLeave cold the night, how we his gathered beamsReflected may with matter sere foment,Or by collision of two bodies grindThe air attrite to fire; as late the clouds,Justling or pushed with winds, rude in their shock,Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame driven downKindles the gummy bark of fir or pine,And sends a comfortable heat from far,Which might supply the sun. Such fire to use,And what may else be remedy or cureTo evils which our own misdeeds have wrought,He will instruct us praying, and of graceBeseeching him; so as we need not fearTo pass commodiously this life, sustainedBy him with many comforts, till we endIn dust, our final rest and native home.What better can we do, than, to the placeRepairing where he judged us, prostrate fallBefore him reverent, and there confessHumbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tearsWatering the ground, and with our sighs the airFrequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in signOf sorrow unfeigned and humiliation meek?Undoubtedly he will relent, and turnFrom his displeasure; in whose look serene,When angry most he seemed and most severe,What else but favour, grace, and mercy shone?”

So spake our father penitent; nor EveFelt less remorse. They, forthwith to the placeRepairing where he judged them, prostrate fellBefore him reverent, and both confessedHumbly their faults, and pardon begged, with tearsWatering the ground, and with their sighs the airFrequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in signOf sorrow unfeigned and humiliation meek.