Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone; Just confidence, and native righteousness, And honour, from about them, naked left To guilty shame; he cover'd, but his robe Uncover'd more. So rose the Danite strong, Herculean Samson, from the harlot-lap
Of Philistean Dalilah, and wak'd
Shorn of his strength.
They destitute and bare
Of all their virtue; silent, and in face
Confounded, long they sat, as stricken mute: Till Adam, though not less than Eve abash'd; At length gave utterance to these words constrain’d. « O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear To that false worm, of whomsoever taught To counterfeit man's voice; true in our fall, False in our promis'd rising; since our eyes Open'd we find indeed, and find we know Both good and evil; good lost, and evil got, Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know; Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity,
Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd, And in our faces evident the signs
Of foul concupiscence; whence the evil store; Even shame, the last of evils; of the first Be sure then. How shall I behold the face Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy
And rapture so oft beheld? those heavenly shapes Will dazzle now this earthly with their blaze Insufferably bright. O! might 1 here
In solitude live savage; in some glade
Obscur'd, where highest woods, impenetrable To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad And brown as evening: cover me, ye pines! Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs
Hide me, where I may never see them more! But let us now, as in bad plight, devise What best may for the present serve to hide The parts of each from other, that seem most To shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen; Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves together sew'd And girded on our loins, may cover round Those middle parts; that this new comer, shame, There sit not, and reproach us as unclean. » So counsell'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose The fig-tree: not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar's shade High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between : There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat, Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds At loop-holes cut through thickest shade.
They gather'd, broad as Amazonian targe; And, with what skill they had, together sew'd, To gird their waste; vain covering, if to hide Their guilt and dreaded shame! O, how unlike To that first naked glory! such of late Columbus, found the American, so girt
With feather'd cincture; naked else, and wild
Among the trees on isles and woody shores.
Thus fenc'd, and, as they thought, their shame in part Cover'd, but not at rest or ease of mind,
They sat them down to weep; nor only tears Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord; and shook sore Their inward state of mind, calm region once And full of peace, now tost and turbulent : For understanding rul'd not, and the will Heard not her lore: both in subjection now To sensual appetite, who from beneath Usurping over sovran reason claim'd Superior sway.
From thus distemper'd breast,
Adam, estrang'd in look and alter'd style,
Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd:
« Would thou hadst hearken'd to my words, and staid With me, as I besought thee, when that strange Desire of wandering, this unhappy morn, I know not whence possess'd thee; we had then Remain'd still happy; not, as now, despoil'd Of all our good; sham'd, naked, miserable! Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
To whom, soon mov'd with touch of blame, thus Eve: << What words have pass'd thy lips, Adam severe!
Imput'st thou that to my default, or will
Of wandering, as thou call'st it, which who knows
But might as ill have happen'd thou being by,
Or to thyself perhaps? hadst thou been there,
Or here the attempt, thou could'st not have discern'd Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. Was I to have never parted from thy side? As good have grown there still a lifeless rib. Being as I am, why didst not thou, the head, Command me absolutely not to go,
Going into such danger, as thou saidst? Too facile then, thou didst not much gainsay; Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, Neither had I transgressed, nor thou with me. » To whom, then first incens'd, Adam replied: « Is this the love, is this the recompense Of mine to thee, ungrateful Eve! express'd Immutable, when thou wert lost, not I; Who might have liv'd and joy'd immortal bliss, Yet willingly chose rather death with thee? And am I now upbraided as the cause Of thy transgressing? not enough severe, It seems, in thy restraint: what could I more? I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold The danger, and the lurking enemy
That lay in wait; beyond this, had been force; And force upon free will hath here no place. But confidence then bore thee on, secure Either to meet no danger, or to find Matter of glorious trial; and perhaps
I also err'd, in overmuch admiring
What seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought
No evil durst attempt thee; but I rue That error now, which is become my crime, And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befal Him, who, to worth in women overtrusting, Lets her will rule: restraint she will not brook, And, left to herself, if evil thence ensue, She first his weak indulgence will accuse. »> Thus they in mutual accusation spent
The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning; And of their vain contest appeared no end.
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