The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more From the sun's axle; they with labour push'd Oblique the centric globe: some say the sun Was bid turn reins from th' equinoctial road Like distant breadth to Taurus with the seven Atlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins, Up to the Tropie Crab; thence down amain By Leo, and the Virgin, and the Scales, As deep as Capricorn, to bring in change Of seasons to each clime; else had the spring Perpetual smil❜d on earth with vernant flowers, Equal in days and nights, except to those Beyond the polar circles; to them day Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun, To recompense his distance, in their sight Had rounded still th' horizon, and not known Or east or west, which had forbid the snow From cold Estotiland, and south as far Beneath Magellan. At that tasted fruit The sun, as from Thyéstean banquet, turn'd His course intended; else, how had the world Inhabited, though sinless, more than now, Avoiding pinching cold and scorching heat? These changes in the Heav'ns, though slow, produc'd Like change on sea and land; sideral blast, Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot, Corrupt and pestilent: now from the north Of Norumbega, and the Samoed shore,
Bursting their brazen dungeon, arm'd with ice, And snow, and hail, and stormy gust and flaw, Boreas, and Cæcias, and Argestes loud,
And Thrascias, rend the woods and seas upturn; 700 With adverse blast upturn them from the south Notus, and Afer black with thund'rous clouds From Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierce, Forth rush the levant and the ponent winds, Eurus and Zephyr, with their lateral noise, Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began Outrage from lifeless things; but Discord first, Daughter of Sin, among th' irrational
Death introdue'd, through fierce antipathy:
Beast now with beast 'gan war, and fowl with fowl, And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leaving, Devour'd each other; nor stood much in awe Of man, but fled him, or, with count'nance grim, Glar'd on him passing. These were from without The growing miseries, which Adam saw Already' in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, To sorr❜ow abandon'd, 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 end Of this new glorious world, and me so late The glory of that glory, who now become Accurs'd of blessed? hide me from the face Of God, whom to behold was then my height Of happiness! yet well, if here would end The misery; I deserv'd it, and would bear My own deservings; but this will not serve: All that I eat or drink, or shall beget, Is propagated curse. O voice, once heard Delightfully, Increase and multiply,
Now death to hear! for what can I increase
Or multiply, but curses on my head?
Who of all ages to succeed, but, feeling
The evil on him brought by me, will curse My head? Ill fare our ancestor impure,
For this we may thank Adam; but his thanks Shall be the execration: so, besides
Mine own that bide upon me, all from me Shall with a fierce reflux on me rebound, On me, as on their natural centre, light Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes! Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay To mould me man? did I solicit thee From darkness to promote me, or here place In this delicious garden? as my Concurr'd not to my bei'ng, it were but right And equal to reduce me to my dust,
Desirous to resign and render back
All I receiv'd, unable to perform
Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold The good I sought not. To the loss of that, Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added The sense of endless woes? inexplicable Thy justice seems; yet, to say truth, too late I thus contest; then should have been refus'd Those terms, whatever, when they were propos'd: Thou didst accept them; wilt thou' enjoy the good, Then cavil the conditions? and, though God Made thee without thy leave, what if thy son Prove disobedient, and, reprov'd, retort, Wherefore didst thou beget me'? I sought it not: Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee That proud excuse? yet him not thy election, But natural necessity, begot.
God made thee' of choice his own, and of his own To 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 delays His hand to execute what his decree
Fix'd on this day? why do I overlive?
Why am I mock'd with death, and lengthen'd out To deathless pain? how gladly would I meet
Mortality my sentence, and be earth Insensible! how glad would lay me down As in my mother's lap! there I should rest And sleep secure; his dreadful voice no more Would thunder in my ears; no fear of worse To me and to my offspring would torment me With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die;
Least that pure breath of life, the spirit of man Which God inspir'd, cannot together perish With this corporeal clod; then in the grave, Or in some other dismal place, who knows But I shall die a living death? O thought
Horrid, if true! yet why? it was but breath Of life that sinn'd; what dies but what had life And sin? the body properly hath neither. All of me then shall die: let this appease The 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 doom'd. How can he exercise
Wrath without end on man, whom death must end? Can he make deathless death? that were to make Strange contradiction, which to God himself
Impossible is held, as argument
Of weakness, not of pow'r. Will he draw out, For anger's sake, finite to infinite
In punish'd man, to satisfy his rigour, Satisfy'd never? that were to extend
His sentence beyond dust and nature's law,
By which all causes else, according still
To the reception of their matter, act,
Not to th' extent of their own sphere. But say
That death be not one stroke, as I suppos'd,
Bereaving sense, but endless misery
From this day onward, which I feel begun
Both in me, and without me, and so last
To perpetuity; ay me! that fear
Comes thund'ring back with dreadful revolution
On my defenceless head; both death and I
Am found eternal, and incorporate both; Nor 1 on my part single; in me all Posterity stands curs'd: fair patrimony That I must leave ye, sons! O were I able To waste it all myself, and leave ye none !
So disinherited, how would ye bless
Me, now your curse! Ah, why should all mankind, For one man's fault, thus guiltless be condemn'd, If guiltless? But from me what can proceed, But all corrupt, both mind and will deprav'd Not to do only, but to will the same With me? how can they then acquitted stand In sight of God? Him, after all disputes,
Fore'd I absolve: all my evasions vain,
And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still But to my own conviction: first and last
On me, me only, as the source and spring Of all corruption, all the blame lights due;
So might the wrath! Fond wish! couldst thou support That burden, heavier than the earth to bear, Than all the world much beavier, though divided With that bad woman? Thus what thou desir'st And what thou fear'st, alike destroys all hope Of refuge, and concludes thee miserable Beyond all past example and futúre, To Satan only like both crime and doom. O conscience! into what abyss of fears
And horrors hast thou driv'n me; out of which I find no way, from deep to deeper plung'd!" Thus Adam to himself lamented loud Through the still night, not now, as ere man fell, Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black air Accompanied, with damps and dreadful gloom, Which to his evil conscience represented "All things with double terror: on the ground Outstretch'd he lay, on the cold ground, and oft Curs'd his creation; death as oft accus'd Of tardy execution, since denounc'd
The day of his offence. "Why comes not death," Said he, "with one thrice-acceptable stroke To end me? shall Truth fail to keep her word, Justice divine not hasten to be just?
But Death comes not at call, Justice divine Mends not her slowest pace for pray'rs or cries.
O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bowers! 860 With other echo late I taught your shades To 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 assay'd: But her with stern regard he thus repell'd. "Out of my sight, thou serpent! that name best
Befits thee with him leagu'd, thyself as false
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