980 Their phalanx, and began to hem him round His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest What seem'd both spear and shield. Now dreadful deeds Might have ensued, nor only Paradise In this commotion, but the starry cope At least, had gone to wrack, disturb'd and torn 990 995 Th' Eternal, to prevent such horrid fray, The pendulous round earth with balanc'd air 1000 Battles and realms: in these he put two weights, The sequel each of parting and of fight: 1010 The latter quick up flew, and kick'd the beam; ARGUMENT. Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; he likes it not, yet comforts her. They come forth to their day-labours: their morning hymn at the door of their bower. God, to render man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience; of his free estate; of his enemy near at hand, who he is, and why his enemy; and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradise; his appearance described; his coming discerned by Adam afar off sitting at the door of his bower: he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choicest fruits of Paradise got together by Eve; their discourse at table. Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his state and of his enemy; relates, at Adam's request, who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his first revolt in Heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew his legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them to rebel with him, persuading all but only Abdiel, a Seraph, who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him. Paradise Lost. BOOK V. NOW W morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, When Adam'wak'd, so custom'd, for his sleep Was airy light from pure digestion bred, 6 10 15 And temp'rate vapours bland, which th' only sound 25 Such whisp'ring wak'd her, but with startled eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake. 30 "O sole, in whom my thoughts find all repose, My glory, my perfection, glad I see Thy face and morn return'd; for I this night (Such night till this I never pass'd) have dream'd, If dream'd, not as I oft am wort of thee, Works of day past, or morrow's next design, But of offence and trouble, which my mind Knew never till this irksome night. Methought 35 Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walk With gentle voice, I thought it thine; it said, Why sleep'st thou, Eve? now is the pleasant time, The cool, the silent, save where silence yields To the night-warbling bird, that now awake Tunes sweetest her love-labour'd song; now reigns Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain If none regard; Heav'n wakes with all his eyes, Whom to behold but thee, Nature's desire? In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze. 40 45 50 I rose as at thy call, but found thee not: 56 And O fair plant,' said he,' with fruit surcharg'd, Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet, Nor God, nor man? is knowledge so despis'd? 60 Or envy', or what reserve, forbids to taste? Forbid who will none shall from me withhold Longer thy offer'd good, why else set here?" This said he paus'd not, but with vent'rous arm |