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Floted redundant: pleafing was his shape
And lovely; never fince of ferpent kind
Lovelier, not those that in Illyria chang'd
Hermione and Cadmus, or the God
In Epidaurus; nor to which transform'd
Ammonian Jove, or Capitoline was seen,
He with Olympias, this with her who bore
Scipio the highth of Rome. With tract oblique 510
At first, as one who fought accefs, but fear'd
To interrupt, fide-long he works his way.
As when a fhip by skilful steersman wrought
Nigh river's mouth or foreland, where the wind
Veers oft, as oft fo fteers, and shifts her fail:
So varied he, and of his tortuous train

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Curl'd many a wanton wreath in fight of Eve,
To lure her eye; fhe bufied heard the found

Of rufling leaves, but minded not, as us'd

To fuch difport before her through the field,
From every beaft, more duteous at her call,
Than at Circean call the herd difguis'd.
He bolder now, uncall'd before her stood,
But as in gaze admiring: oft he bow'd
His turret creft, and fleek enamel'd neck,

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Fawning, and lick'd the ground whereon fhe trod.

His gentle dumb expreffion turn'd at length

The eye of Eve to mark his play; he glad

Of her attention gain'd, with ferpent tongue
Organic, or impulfe of vocal air,

His fraudulent temptation thus began.

Wonder not, fovran Miftrefs, if perhaps

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Thou

Thou canst, who art fole wonder; much less arm
Thy looks, the Heav'n of mildnefs, with disdain,
Difpleas'd that I approach thee thus, and gaze
Infatiate, I thus fingle, nor have fear'd
Thy awful brow, more awful thus retir'd.
Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair,

Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine
By gift, and thy celestial beauty' adore
With ravishment beheld, there best beheld
Where univerfally admir'd; but here
In this inclosure wild, these beafts among,
Beholders rude, and shallow to discern
Half what in thee is fair, one man except,

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Who fees thee'? (and what is one?) who shouldst be seen A Goddess among Gods, ador'd and serv'd

By Angels numberless, thy daily train.

So gloz'd the Tempter, and his proem tun'd; Into the heart of Eve his words made way, Though at the voice much marvelling; at length Not unamaz'd fhe thus in answer spake.

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What may this mean? language of man pronounc'd
By tongue of brute, and human fenfe exprefs'd?
The first at least of these I thought deny'd
To beasts, whom God on their creation-day
Created mute to all articulate found;
The latter I demur, for in their looks
Much reas'on, and in their actions oft
Thee, Serpent, fubtlest beast of all the field
I knew, but not with human voice indued;
Redouble then this miracle, and say,

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appears.

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How

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How cam'ft thou fpeakable of mute, and how
To me fo friendly grown above the rest

Of brutal kind, that daily are in fight:
Say, for fuch wonder clames attention due.

To whom the guileful Tempter thus reply'd.
Emprefs of this fair world, refplendent Eve,
Eafy to me it is to tell thee all

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[obey'd:

What thou command'st, and right thou shouldst be’
I was at first as other beafts that graze

The trodden herb, of abject thoughts and low,

As was my food; nor ought but food difcern'd
Or fex, and apprehended nothing high:
Till on a day roving the field, I chanc'd
A goodly tree far diftant to behold

Loaden with fruit of faireft colors mix'd,
Ruddy and gold: I nearer drew to gaze;
When from the boughs a favory odor blown,
Grateful to appetite, more pleas'd my fenfe
Than fmell of fweeteft fenel, or the teats
Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at even,

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Unfuck'd of lamb or kid, that tend their play.

To fatisfy the fharp defire I had

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Of tafting those fair apples, I refolv'd
Not to defer; hunger and thirst at once,
Pow'rful perfuaders, quicken'd at the fcent
Of that alluring fruit, urg'd me fo keen.
About the moffy trunk I wound me foon,

For high from ground the branches would require 590
Thy utmost reach or Adam's: Round the tree

All other beafts that faw, with like defire

Longing

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Longing and envying ftood, but could not reach.
Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung
Tempting fo nigh, to pluck and eat my fill
I fpar'd not, for fuch pleafure till that hour
At feed or fountain never had I found.
Sated at length, ere long I might perceive
Strange alteration in me, to degree
Of reafon in my inward pow'rs, and fpeech
Wanted not long, though to this shape retain'd.
Thenceforth to fpeculations high or deep

I turn'd my thoughts, and with capacious mind
Confider'd all things visible in Heaven,

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Or Earth, or Middle, all things fair and good; 605
But all that fair and good in thy divine

Semblance, and in thy beauty's heav'nly ray
United I beheld; no fair to thine

Equivalent or fecond, which compell'd

Me thus, though importune perhaps, to come
And gaze, and worship thee of right declar'd
Sovran of creatures, univerfal Dame.

So talk'd the fpirited fly fnake; and Eve
Yet more amaz'd unwary thus reply'd.
Serpent, thy overpraifing leaves in doubt
The virtue of that fruit, in thee first proy'd:

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But say, where grows the tree, from hence how far?

For many are the trees of God that grow

In Paradise, and various, yet unknown

To us, in fuch abundance lies our choice,
As leaves a greater store of fruit untouch'd,
Still hanging incorruptible, till men

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Grow

Grow up to their provision, and more hands
Help to difburden Nature of her birth.

To whom the wily Adder, blithe and glad.
Emprefs, the way is ready, and not long,
Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat,
Faft by a fountain, one fmall thicket past ~
Of blowing myrrh and balm; if thou accept
My conduct, I can bring thee thither foon.

Lead then, faid Eve. He leading swiftly roll'd
In tangles, and made intricate seem strait,
To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joy
Brightens his creft; as when a wand'ring fire,
Compact of unctuous vapor, which the night
Condenfes, and the cold environs round,
Kindled through agitation to a flame,

Which oft, they say, fome evil Spi'rit attends,
Hovering and blazing with delusive light,

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Misleads th' amaz'd night-wand'rer from his way 640
To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool,
There swallow'd up and loft, from fuccour far.
So glifter'd the dire Snake, and into fraud
Led Eve our credulous mother, to the tree

Of prohibition, root of all our woe;

Which when she faw, thus to her guide she spake.

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Serpent, we might have spar'd our coming hither, Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to' excess, The credit of whofe virtue reft with thee, Wondrous indeed, if caufe of fuch effects. But of this tree we may not taste nor touch; God fo commanded, and left that command

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Sole

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