Paradise Lost - John Milton (classic reads .txt) 📗

offend, With reverence I must meet, and thou retire.

He ended: and the Arch-Angel soon drew nigh, Not in his shape celestial, but as man Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms A military vest of purple flowed,

Livelier than Meliboean, or the grain Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old In time of truce; Iris had dipt the woof; His starry helm unbuckled showed him prime In manhood where youth ended; by his side, As in a glistering zodiack, hung the sword, Satan’s dire dread; and in his hand the spear.

Adam bowed low; he, kingly, from his state Inclined not, but his coming thus declared.

Adam, Heaven’s high behest no preface needs: Sufficient that thy prayers are heard; and Death, Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, Defeated of his seisure many days

Given thee of grace; wherein thou mayest repent, And one bad act with many deeds well done Mayest cover: Well may then thy Lord, appeased, Redeem thee quite from Death’s rapacious claim; But longer in this Paradise to dwell Permits not: to remove thee I am come, And send thee from the garden forth to till The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil.

He added not; for Adam at the news

Heart-struck with chilling gripe of sorrow stood, That all his senses bound; Eve, who unseen Yet all had heard, with audible lament Discovered soon the place of her retire.

O unexpected stroke, worse than of Death!

Must I thus leave thee$ Paradise? thus leave Thee, native soil! these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last

;t even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names!

Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?

Thee lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorned With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee How shall I part, and whither wander down Into a lower world; to this obscure

And wild? how shall we breathe in other air Less pure, accustomed to immortal fruits?

Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild.

Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign What justly thou hast lost, nor set thy heart, Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine: Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes Thy husband; whom to follow thou art bound; Where he abides, think there thy native soil.

Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scattered spirits returned, To Michael thus his humble words addressed.

Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named Of them the highest; for such of shape may seem Prince above princes! gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left

Familiar to our eyes! all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate;

Nor knowing us, nor known: And, if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries: But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth: Therefore to his great bidding I submit.

This most afflicts me, that, departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, deprived His blessed countenance: Here I could frequent With worship place by place where he vouchsafed Presence Divine; and to my sons relate, ‘On this mount he appeared; under this tree ‘Stood visible; among these pines his voice ‘I heard; here with him at this fountain talked: So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory, Or monument to ages; and theron

Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowers: In yonder nether world where shall I seek His bright appearances, or foot-step trace?

For though I fled him angry, yet recalled To life prolonged and promised race, I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory; and far off his steps adore.

To whom thus Michael with regard benign.

Adam, thou knowest Heaven his, and all the Earth; Not this rock only; his Omnipresence fills Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives, Fomented by his virtual power and warmed: All the earth he gave thee to possess and rule, No despicable gift; surmise not then His presence to these narrow bounds confined Of Paradise, or Eden: this had been

Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread All generations; and had hither come From all the ends of the earth, to celebrate And reverence thee, their great progenitor.

But this pre-eminence thou hast lost, brought down To dwell on even ground now with thy sons: Yet doubt not but in valley, and in plain, God is, as here; and will be found alike Present; and of his presence many a sign Still following thee, still compassing thee round With goodness and paternal love, his face Express, and of his steps the track divine.

Which that thou mayest believe, and be confirmed Ere thou from hence depart; know, I am sent To show thee what shall come in future days To thee, and to thy offspring: good with bad Expect to hear; supernal grace contending With sinfulness of men; thereby to learn True patience, and to temper joy with fear And pious sorrow; equally inured

By moderation either state to bear,

Prosperous or adverse: so shalt thou lead Safest thy life, and best prepared endure Thy mortal passage when it comes.—Ascend This hill; let Eve (for I have drenched her eyes) Here sleep below; while thou to foresight wakest; As once thou sleptst, while she to life was formed.

To whom thus Adam gratefully replied.

Ascend, I follow thee, safe Guide, the path Thou leadest me; and to the hand of Heaven submit, However chastening; to the evil turn My obvious breast; arming to overcome By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, If so I may attain. — So both ascend In the visions of God. It was a hill, Of Paradise the highest; from whose top The hemisphere of earth, in clearest ken, Stretched out to the amplest reach of prospect lay.

Not higher that hill, nor wider looking round, Whereon, for different cause, the Tempter set Our second Adam, in the wilderness;

To show him all Earth’s kingdoms, and their glory.

His eye might there command wherever stood City of old or modern fame, the seat Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can,

And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir’s throne, To Paquin of Sinaean kings; and thence To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul,

Down to the golden Chersonese; or where The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since In Hispahan; or where the Russian Ksar In Mosco; or the Sultan in Bizance,

Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken The empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco, and the less maritim kings

Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind,

And Sofala, thought Ophir, to the realm Of Congo, and Angola farthest south; Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez and Sus, Morocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen;

On Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway The world: in spirit perhaps he also saw Rich Mexico, the seat of Montezume,

And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat

Of Atabalipa; and yet unspoiled

Guiana, whose great city Geryon’s sons Call El Dorado. But to nobler sights Michael from Adam’s eyes the film removed, Which that false fruit that promised clearer sight Had bred; then purged with euphrasy and rue The visual nerve, for he had much to see; And from the well of life three drops instilled.

So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, Even to the inmost seat of mental sight, That Adam, now enforced to close his eyes, Sunk down, and all his spirits became entranced; But him the gentle Angel by the hand Soon raised, and his attention thus recalled.

Adam, now ope thine eyes; and first behold The effects, which thy original crime hath wrought In some to spring from thee; who never touched The excepted tree; nor with the snake conspired; Nor sinned thy sin; yet from that sin derive Corruption, to bring forth more violent deeds.

His eyes he opened, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves New reaped; the other part sheep-walks and folds; I’ the midst an altar as the land-mark stood, Rustick, of grassy sord; thither anon A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought First fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf, Unculled, as came to hand; a shepherd next, More meek, came with the firstlings of his flock, Choicest and best; then, sacrificing, laid The inwards and their fat, with incense strowed, On the cleft wood, and all due rights performed: His offering soon propitious fire from Heaven Consumed with nimble glance, and grateful steam; The other’s not, for his was not sincere; Whereat he inly raged, and, as they talked, Smote him into the midriff with a stone That beat out life; he fell;and, deadly pale, Groaned out his soul with gushing blood effused.

Much at that sight was Adam in his heart Dismayed, and thus in haste to the Angel cried.

O Teacher, some great mischief hath befallen To that meek man, who well had sacrificed; Is piety thus and pure devotion paid?

To whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied.

These two are brethren, Adam, and to come Out of thy loins; the unjust the just hath slain, For envy that his brother’s offering found From Heaven acceptance; but the bloody fact Will be avenged; and the other’s faith, approved, Lose no reward; though here thou see him die, Rolling in dust and gore. To which our sire.

Alas! both for the deed, and for the cause!

But have I now seen Death? Is this the way I must return to native dust? O sight Of terrour, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!

To whom thus Michael. Death thou hast seen In his first shape on Man; but many shapes Of Death, and many are the ways that lead To his grim cave, all dismal; yet to sense More terrible at the entrance, than within.

Some, as thou sawest, by violent stroke shall die; By fire, flood, famine, by intemperance more In meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew Before thee shall appear; that thou mayest know What misery the inabstinence of Eve

Shall bring on Men. Immediately a place Before his eyes appeared, sad, noisome, dark; A lazar-house it seemed; wherein were laid Numbers of all diseased; all maladies Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Intestine stone and ulcer, colick-pangs, Demoniack phrenzy, moaping melancholy, And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums.

Dire was the tossing, deep the groans; Despair Tended the sick busiest from couch to couch; And over them triumphant Death his dart Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked With vows, as their chief good, and final hope.

Sight so deform what heart of rock could long Dry-eyed behold? Adam could not, but wept, Though not of woman born; compassion quelled His best of man, and gave him up to tears A space, till firmer thoughts restrained excess; And, scarce recovering words, his plaint renewed.

O miserable mankind, to what fall

Degraded, to