To this high exaltation; suddenly
My guide was gone, and I, methought, funk down, And fell asleep; but o how glad. I wak'd
To find this but a dream! Thus Eve her night Related, and thus Adam answer'd fad.
Best image of myself and dearer half, The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep Affects me equally; nor can I like
This uncouth dream, of evil fprung I fear; Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none, Created pure. But know that in the foul Are many leffer faculties that ferve
Reason as chief; among thefe fanfie next Her office holds of all external things, Which the five watchful fenfes represent, She forms imaginations, aerie shapes, Which reafon joining or disjoining, frames All what we affirm or what deny, and call Our knowledge or opinion; then retires Into her private cell when nature rests. Oft in her abfence mimic fanfie wakes To imitate her; but misjoining shapes, Wilde work produces oft, and most in dreams, Ill matching words and deeds long paft or late. Some fuch refeinblances methinks I find Of our last ev'ning's talk, in this thy dream, But with addition ftrange; yet be not fad. Evil into the mind of God or man
May come and go, so unapprov'd, and leave No fpot or blame behind: which gives me hope That what in fleep thou didst abhor to dream,
Waking thou never wilt confent to do.
Be not difheart'n'd then, nor cloud thofe looks That wont to be more cheatful and feréne Than 'when fair 'morning first smiles on the world, And let us to our freth imployments rise
Among the groves, the fountains and the flours That open now their choiceft bofom'd smells Referv'd from night, and kept for thee in ftore. So chear'd he his fair fpoufe; and the was chear'd, But filently a gentle tear let fall
From either eye, and wip'd them with her hair; Two other precious drops that ready ftood, Each in their chrystal fluce, he ere they fell Kifs'd as the gracious figns of 'fweet rémbrfe And pious awe, that fear'd to have offended. So all was clear'd, and to the field they lafte. But first from under shadie arborous roof, Soon as they forth were come to open fight Of day-spring, and the fun, who scarce up rifen With wheels yet hovring o're the ocean brim, Shot parallel to the earth his dewie ray, Discovering in wide lantskip all the east Of Paradife and Eden's happie plains, Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began Their orifons, each morning duly paid In various ftyle, for neither various ftyle Nor holy rapture wanted they to praïfe Their maker, in fit trains pronounc't or fung
Unmeditated, füch prompt eloquente
Flow'd from their lips, in profe or numerous verse,
More tuneable then needed lute or harp
To add more fweetness, and they thus began. These are thy glorious works, parent of good, Almightie, thine this univerfal frame,
Thus wondrous fair; thyfelf how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who fitft above these heavens To us invifible or dimly feen
In these thy loweft works, yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine : Speak ye who beft can tell, ye fons of light, Angels, for ye behold him, and with fongs. And choral fymphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing, ye in heav'n, On earth join all ye creatures to extoll
Him first, him last, him midft, and without end. Faireft of stars, laft in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'ft the fmiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy fphere While day arifes, that fweet hour of prime. Thou fun, of this great world both eye and foul, Acknowledge him thy greater, found his praise. In thy eternal courfe, both when, thou climb'ft, And when high noon haft gain'd, and when thou fallft Moon, that now meetft the orient fun, now fli'Lt With the fixt stars, fixt in their orb that flies, And ye five other wand'ring fires that move. In myftic dance not without fong, refound His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. Air, and ye elements the eldest birth Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix
And nourish all things, let your ceaflefs change Varie to our great maker ftill new praise. Ye mifts and exhalations that now rise From hill or steaming lake, duskie or grey, Till the fun paint your fleecie skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great author rife, Whether to deck with clouds th'uncolour'd skie, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling fhowers, Rifing or falling ftill advance his praife.
His praise ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe foft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in fign of worship wave. Fountains and ye, that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living fouls, ye birds, That finging up to heaven gate afcend,
Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise; Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be filent, morn or even, To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade Made vocal by my fong, and taught his praise. Hail univerfal Lord, be bounteous ftill To give us onely good; and if the night Have gather'd aught of evil or conceal'd, Disperse it, as now light difpels the dark. So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts Firm peace recover'd foon and wonted calm. On to their morning's rural work they hafte Among sweet dews and flours; where any row Of fruit trees over-woodie reach'd too far
Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check Fruitless embraces: or they led the vine
To wed her elm; she spous'd about him twines Her marriageable arms, and with her brings Her dowr th'adopted clusters, to adorn
His barren leaves. Them thus imploi'd beheld With pitie heav'n's high king, and to him call'd Raphael, the fociable spirit, that deign'd To travel with Tobias, and fecur'd
His marriage with the feaventimes-wedded maid. Raphael, faid he, thou hearft what ftir on earth Satan from hell fcap't through the darksome gulf Hath rais'd in Paradise, and how disturb'd This night the human pair, how he designes In them at once to ruin all mankind.
Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend Converse with Adam, in what bowre or fhade Thou find'ft him from the heat of noon retir'd, To respite his day-labour with repast, Or with repofe; and fuch difcourfe bring on, As may advise him of his happie state, Happiness in his power left free to will, Left to his own free will, his will though free, Yet mutable; whence warn him to beware He fwerve not too fecure: tell him withal His danger, and from whom, what enemie Late fall'n himself from heav'n, is plotting now The fall of others from like ftate of blifs; By violence, no, for that shall be withstcod, But by deceit and lies; this let him know, Left willfully tranfgreffing he pretend
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