| |
| MEANWHILE the hainous and despiteful act | |
| Of Satan done in Paradise, and how | |
| He, in the Serpent, had perverted Eve, | |
| Her Husband she, to taste the fatal Fruit, | |
| Was known in Heaven; for what can scape the eye | 5 |
| Of God all—seeing, or deceive his heart | |
| Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just, | |
| Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind | |
| Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed | |
| Complete to have discovered and repulsed | 10 |
| Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend. | |
| For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered, | |
| The high injunction not to taste that Fruit, | |
| Whoever tempted; which they not obeying | |
| Incurred (what could they less?) the penalty, | 15 |
| And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall. | |
| Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste | |
| The Angelic Guards ascended, mute and sad | |
| For Man; for of his state by this they knew, | |
| Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen | 20 |
| Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news | |
| From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased | |
| All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare | |
| That time celestial visages, yet, mixed | |
| With pity, violated not their bliss. | 25 |
| About the new-arrived in multitudes, | |
| The Ethereal People ran, to hear and know | |
| How all befell. They towards the Throne supreme, | |
| Accountable, made haste, to make appear, | |
| With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance, | 30 |
| And easily approved; when the Most High, | |
| Eternal Father, from his secret Cloud | |
| Amidst, in thunder uttered thus his voice:— | |
| “Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned | |
| From unsuccessful charge, be not dismayed | 35 |
| Nor troubled at these tidings from the Earth, | |
| Which your sincerest care could not prevent, | |
| Foretold so lately what would come to pass, | |
| When first this Tempter crossed the gulf from Hell. | |
| I told ye then he should prevail, and speed | 40 |
| On his bad errand—Man should be seduced, | |
| And flattered out of all, believing lies | |
| Against his Maker; no decree of mine, | |
| Concurring to necessitate his fall, | |
| Or touch with lightest moment of impulse | 45 |
| His free will, to her own inclining left | |
| In even scale. But fallen he is; and now | |
| What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass | |
| On his transgression, Death denounced that day | |
| Which he presumes already vain and void, | 50 |
| Because not yet inflicted, as he feared, | |
| By some immediate stroke, but soon shall find | |
| Forbearance no acquittance ere day end. | |
| Justice shall not return, as bounty, scorned. | |
| But whom send I to judge them? whom but thee, | 55 |
| Vicegerent Son? To thee I have transferred | |
| All judgment, whether in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell. | |
| Easy it may be seen that I intend | |
| Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee, | |
| Man’s Friend, his Mediator, his designed | 60 |
| Both Ransom and Redeemer voluntary, | |
| And destined Man himself to judge Man fallen.” | |
| So spake the Father; and, unfolding bright | |
| Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son | |
| Blazed forth unclouded deity. He full | 65 |
| Resplendent all his Father manifest | |
| Expressed, and thus divinely answered mild:— | |
| “Father Eternal, thine is to decree; | |
| Mine both in Heaven and Earth to do thy will | |
| Supreme, that thou in me, thy Son beloved, | 70 |
| May’st ever rest well pleased. I go to judge | |
| On Earth these thy transgressors; but thou know’st, | |
| Whoever judged, the worst on me must light, | |
| When time shall be; for so I undertook | |
| Before thee, and, not repenting, this obtain | 75 |
| Of right, that I may mitigate their doom | |
| On me derived. Yet I shall temper so | |
| Justice with mercy as may illustrate most | |
| Them fully satisfied, and thee appease. | |
| Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none | 80 |
| Are to behold the judgment but the judged, | |
| Those two; the third best absent is condemned, | |
| Convict by flight, and rebel to all law; | |
| Conviction to the Serpent none belongs.” | |
| Thus saying, from his radiant Seat he rose | 85 |
| Of high collateral glory. Him Thrones and Powers, | |
| Princedoms, and Dominations ministrant, | |
| Accompanied to Heaven-gate, from whence | |
| Eden and all the coast in prospect lay. | |
| Down he descended straight; the speed of Gods | 90 |
| Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes winged. | |
| Now was the Sun in western cadence low | |
| From noon, and gentle airs due at their hour | |
| To fan the Earth now waked, and usher in | |
| The evening cool, when he, from wrauth more cool, | 95 |
| Came, the mild Judge and Intercessor both, | |
| To sentence Man. The voice of God they heard | |
| Now walking in the Garden, by soft winds | |
| Brought to their ears, while day declined; they heard, | |
| And from his presence hid themselves among | 100 |
| The thickest trees, both man and wife, till God, | |
| Approaching, thus to Adam called aloud:— | |
| “Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meet | |
| My coming, seen far off? I miss thee here, | |
| Not pleased thus entertained, with solitude, | 105 |
| Where obvious duty erewhile appeared unsought. | |
| Or come I less conspicuous, or what change | |
| Absents thee, or what chance detains? Come forth!” | |
| He came, and with him Eve, more loth, though first | |
| To offend, discountenanced both, and discomposed. | 110 |
| Love was not in their looks, either to God | |
| Or to each other, but apparent guilt, | |
| And shame, and perturbation, and despair, | |
| Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. | |
| Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answered brief:— | 115 |
| “I heard thee in the Garden, and, of thy voice | |
| Afraid, being naked, hid myself.” To whom | |
| The gracious Judge, without revile, replied:— | |
| “My voice thou oft has heard, and hast not feared, | |
| But still rejoiced; how is it now become | 120 |
| So dreadful to thee? That thou art naked who | |
| Hath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the Tree | |
| Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat?” | |
| To whom thus Adam, sore beset, replied:— | |
| “O Heaven! in evil strait this day I stand | 125 |
| Before my Judge—either to undergo | |
| Myself the total crime, or to accuse | |
| My other self, the partner of my life, | |
| Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, | |
| I should conceal, and not expose to blame | 130 |
| By my complaint. But strict necessity | |
| Subdues me, and calamitous constraint, | |
| Lest on my head both sin and punishment, | |
| However insupportable, be all | |
| Devolved; though, should I hold my peace, yet thou | 135 |
| Wouldst easily detect what I conceal. | |
| This Woman, whom thou mad’st to be my help, | |
| And gav’st me as thy perfect gift, so good, | |
| So fit, so acceptáble, so divine, | |
| That from her hand I could suspect no ill, | 140 |
| And what she did, whatever in itself, | |
| Her doing seemed to justify the deed— | |
| She gave me of the Tree, and I did eat.” | |
| To whom the Sovran Presence thus replied:— | |
| “Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey | 145 |
| Before his voice? or was she made thy guide, | |
| Superior, or but equal, that to her | |
| Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place | |
| Wherein God set thee above her, made of thee | |
| And for thee, whose perfection far excelled | 150 |
| Hers in all real dignity? Adorned | |
| She was indeed, and lovely, to attract | |
| Thy love, not thy subjection; and her gifts | |
| Were such as under government well seemed— | |
| Unseemly to bear rule; which was thy part | 155 |
| And person, hadst thou known thyself aright.” | |
| So having said, he thus to Eve in few:— | |
| “Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?” | |
| To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelmed, | |
| Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge | 160 |
| Bold or loquacious, thus abashed replied:— | |
| “The Serpent me beguiled, and I did eat.” | |
| Which when the Lord God heard, without delay | |
| To judgment he proceeded on the accused | |
| Serpent, though brute, unable to transfer | 165 |
| The guilt on him who made him instrument | |
| Of mischief, and polluted from the end | |
| Of his creation—justly then accursed, | |
| As vitiated in nature. More to know | |
| Concerned not Man (since he no further knew), | 170 |
| Nor altered his offence; yet God at last | |
| To Satan, first in sin, his doom applied, | |
| Though in mysterious terms, judged as then best; | |
| And on the Serpent thus his curse let fall:— | |
| “Because thou hast done this, thou art accursed | 175 |
| Above all cattle, each beast of the field; | |
| Upon thy belly grovelling thou shalt go, | |
| And dust shalt eat all the days of thy life. | |
| Between thee and the Woman I will put | |
| Enmity, and between thine and her seed; | 180 |
| Her seed shall bruise thy head, thou bruise his heel.” | |
| So spake this oracle—then verified | |
| When Jesus, son of Mary, second Eve, | |
| Saw Satan fall like lightning down from Heaven, | |
| Prince of the Air; then, rising from his grave, | 185 |
| Spoiled Principalities and Powers, triumphed | |
| In open shew, and, with ascension bright, | |
| Captivity led captive through the Air, | |
| The realm itself of Satan, long usurped, | |
| Whom He shall tread at last under our feet, | 190 |
| Even He who now foretold his fatal bruise, | |
| And to the Woman thus his sentence turned:— | |
| “Thy sorrow I will greatly multiply | |
| By thy conception; children thou shalt bring | |
| In sorrow forth, and to thy husband’s will | 195 |
| Thine shall submit; he over thee shall rule.” | |
| On Adam last thus judgment he pronounced:— | |
| “Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife, | |
| And eaten of the Tree concerning which | |
| I charged thee, saying, Thou shalt not eat thereof, | 200 |
| Curs’d is the ground for thy sake; thou in sorrow | |
| Shalt eat thereof all the days of thy life; | |
| Thorns also and thistles it shall bring thee forth | |
| Unbid; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field; | |
| In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread, | 205 |
| Till thou return unto the ground; for thou | |
| Out of the ground wast taken: know thy birth, | |
| For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return.” | |
| So judged he Man, both Judge and Saviour sent, | |
| And the instant stroke of death, denounced that day, | 210 |
| Removed far off; then, pitying how they stood | |
| Before him naked to the air, that now | |
| Must suffer change, disdained not to begin | |
| Thenceforth the form of servant to assume. | |
| As when he washed his servants’ feet, so now, | 215 |
| As Father of his family, he clad | |
| Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain, | |
| Or, as the snake, with youthful coat repaid; | |
| And thought not much to clothe his enemies. | |
| Nor he their outward only with the skins | 220 |
| Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more | |
| Opprobrious, with his robe of righteousness | |
| Arraying, covered from his Father’s sight. | |
| To him with swift ascent he up returned, | |
| Into his blissful bosom reassumed | 225 |
| In glory as of old; to him, appeased, | |
| All, though all-knowing, what had passed with Man | |
| Recounted, mixing intercession sweet. | |
| Meanwhile, ere thus was sinned and judged on Earth, | |
| Within the gates of Hell sat Sin and Death, | 230 |
| In counterview within the gates, that now | |
| Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame | |
| Far into Chaos, since the Fiend passed through, | |
| Sin opening; who thus now to Death began:— | |
| “O Son, why sit we here, each other viewing | 235 |
| Idly, while Satan, our great author, thrives | |
| In other worlds, and happier sent provides | |
| For us, his offspring dear? It cannot be | |
| But that success attends him; if mishap | |
| Ere this he had returned, with fury driven | 240 |
| By his Avengers, since no place like this | |
| Can fit his punishment, or their revenge. | |
| Methinks I feel new strength within me rise, | |
| Wings growing, and dominion given me large | |
| Beyond this Deep—whatever draws me on, | 245 |
| Or sympathy, or some connatural force, | |
| Powerful at greatest distance to unite | |
| With secret amity things of like kind | |
| By secretest conveyance. Thou, my shade | |
| Inseparable, must with me along; | 250 |
| For Death from Sin no power can separate. | |
| But, lest the difficulty of passing back | |
| Stay his return perhaps over this gulf | |
| Impassable, impervious, let us try | |
| (Adventrous work, yet to thy power and mine | 255 |
| Not unagreeable!) to found a path | |
| Over this Main from Hell to that new World | |
| Where Satan now prevails—a monument | |
| Of merit high to all the infernal Host, | |
| Easing their passage hence, for intercourse | 260 |
| Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead. | |
| Nor can I miss the way, so strongly drawn | |
| By this new-felt attraction and instinct.” | |
| Whom thus the meagre Shadow answered soon:— | |
| “Go whither fate and inclination strong | 265 |
| Leads thee; I shall not lag behind, nor err | |
| The way, thou leading: such a scent I draw | |
| Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste | |
| The savour of death from all things there that live. | |
| Nor shall I do the work thou enterprisest | 270 |
| Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid.” | |
| So saying, with delight he snuffed the smell | |
| Of mortal change on Earth. As when a flock | |
| Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote, | |
| Against the day of battle, to a field | 275 |
| Where armies lie encamped come flying, lured | |
| With scent of living carcases designed | |
| For death the following day in bloody fight; | |
| So scented the grim Feature, and upturned | |
| His nostril wide into the murky air, | 280 |
| Sagacious of his quarry from so far. | |
| Then both, from out Hell-gates, into the waste | |
| Wide anarchy of Chaos, damp and dark, | |
| Flew diverse, and, with power (their power was great) | |
| Hovering upon the waters, what they met | 285 |
| Solid or slimy, as in raging sea | |
| Tossed up and down, together crowded drove, | |
| From each side shoaling, towards the mouth of Hell; | |
| As when two polar winds, blowing adverse | |
| Upon the Cronian sea, together drive | 290 |
| Mountains of ice, that stop the imagined way | |
| Beyond Petsora eastward to the rich | |
| Cathaian coast. The aggregated soil | |
| Death with his mace petrific, cold and dry, | |
| As with a trident smote, and fixed as firm | 295 |
| As Delos, floating once; the rest his look | |
| Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move, | |
| And with asphaltic slime; broad as the gate, | |
| Deep to the roots of Hell the gathered beach | |
| They fastened, and the mole immense wraught on | 300 |
| Over the foaming Deep high-arched, a bridge | |
| Of length prodigious, joining to the wall | |
| Immovable of this now fenceless World, | |
| Forfeit to Death—from hence a passage broad, | |
| Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to Hell. | 305 |
| So, if great things to small may be compared, | |
| Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke, | |
| From Susa, his Memnonian palace high, | |
| Came to the sea, and, over Hellespont | |
| Bridging his way, Europe with Asia joined, | 310 |
| And scourged with many a stroke the indignant waves. | |
| Now had they brought the work by wondrous art | |
| Pontifical—a ridge of pendent rock | |
| Over the vexed Abyss, following the track | |
| Of Satan, to the self-same place where he | 315 |
| First lighted from his wing and landed safe | |
| From out of Chaos—to the outside bare | |
| Of this round World. With pins of adamant | |
| And chains they made all fast, too fast they made | |
| And durable; and now in little space | 320 |
| The confines met of empyrean Heaven | |
| And of this World, and on the left hand Hell, | |
| With long reach interposed; three several ways | |
| In sight of each of these three places led. | |
| And now their way to Earth they had described, | 325 |
| To Paradise first tending, when, behold | |
| Satan, in likeness of an Angel bright, | |
| Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steering | |
| His zenith, while the Sun in Aries rose! | |
| Disguised he came; but those his children dear | 330 |
| Their parent soon discerned, though in disguise. | |
| He, after Eve seduced, unminded slunk | |
| Into the wood fast by, and, changing shape | |
| To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act | |
| By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded | 335 |
| Upon her husband—saw their shame that sought | |
| Vain covertures; but, when he saw descend | |
| The Son of God to judge them, terrified | |
| He fled, not hoping to escape, but shun | |
| The present—fearing, guilty, what his wrauth | 340 |
| Might suddenly inflict; that past, returned | |
| By night, and, listening where the hapless pair | |
| Sat in their sad discourse and various plaint, | |
| Thence gathered his own doom; which understood | |
| Not instant, but of future time, with joy | 345 |
| And tidings fraught, to Hell he now returned, | |
| And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot | |
| Of this new wondrous pontifice, unhoped | |
| Met who to meet him came, his offspring dear. | |
| Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight | 350 |
| Of that stupendious bridge his joy increased. | |
| Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair | |
| Inchanting daughter, thus the silence broke:— | |
| “O Parent, these are thy magnific deeds, | |
| Thy trophies! which thou view’st as not thine own; | 355 |
| Thou art their Author and prime Architect. | |
| For I no sooner in my heart divined | |
| (My heart, which by a secret harmony | |
| Still moves with thine, joined in connexion sweet) | |
| That thou on Earth hadst prospered, which thy looks | 360 |
| Now also evidence, but straight I felt— | |
| Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt— | |
| That I must after thee with this thy son; | |
| Such fatal consequence unites us three. | |
| Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds, | 365 |
| Nor this unvoyageable gulf obscure | |
| Detain from following thy illustrious track. | |
| Thou hast achieved our liberty, confined | |
| Within Hell-gates till now; thou us impowered | |
| To fortify thus far, and overlay | 370 |
| With this portentous bridge the dark Abyss. | |
| Thine now is all this World; thy virtue hath won | |
| What thy hands builded not; thy wisdom gained, | |
| With odds, what war hath lost, and fully avenged | |
| Our foil in Heaven. Here thou shalt Monarch reign, | 375 |
| There didst not; there let him still victor sway, | |
| As battle hath adjudged, from this new World | |
| Retiring, by his own doom alienated, | |
| And henceforth monarchy with thee divide | |
| Of all things, parted by the empyreal bounds, | 380 |
| His quadrature, from thy orbicular World, | |
| Or try thee now more dangerous to his Throne.” | |
| Whom thus the Prince of Darkness answered glad:— | |
| “Fair daughter, and thou, son and grandchild both, | |
| High proof ye now have given to be the race | 385 |
| Of Satan (for I glory in the name, | |
| Antagonist of Heaven’s Almighty King), | |
| Amply have merited of me, of all | |
| The Infernal Empire, that so near Heaven’s door | |
| Triumphal with triumphal act have met, | 390 |
| Mine with this glorious work, and made one realm | |
| Hell and this World—one realm, one continent | |
| Of easy thoroughfare. Therefore, while I | |
| Descend through Darkness, on your road with ease, | |
| To my associate Powers, them to acquaint | 395 |
| With these successes, and with them rejoice | |
| You two this way, among these numerous orbs, | |
| All yours, right down to Paradise descend; | |
| There dwell and reign in bliss; thence on the Earth | |
| Dominion exercise and in the air, | 400 |
| Chiefly on Man, sole lord of all declared; | |
| Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill. | |
| My substitutes I send ye, and create | |
| Plenipotent on Earth, of matchless might | |
| Issuing from me. On your joint vigour now | 405 |
| My hold of this new kingdom all depends, | |
| Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit. | |
| If your joint power prevail, the affairs of Hell | |
| No detriment need fear; go, and be strong.” | |
| So saying, he dismissed them; they with speed | 410 |
| Their course through thickest constellations held, | |
| Spreading their bane; the blasted stars looked wan, | |
| And planets, planet-strook, real eclipse | |
| Then suffered. The other way Satan went down | |
| The causey to Hell-gate; on either side | 415 |
| Disparted Chaos overbuilt exclaimed, | |
| And with rebounding surge the bars assailed, | |
| That scorned his indignation. Through the gate, | |
| Wide open and unguarded, Satan passed, | |
| And all about found desolate; for those | 420 |
| Appointed to sit there had left their charge, | |
| Flown to the upper World; the rest were all | |
| Far to the inland retired, about the walls | |
| Of Pandemonium, city and proud seat | |
| Of Lucifer, so by allusion called | 425 |
| Of that bright star to Satan paragoned. | |
| There kept their watch the legions, while the Grand | |
| In council sat, solicitous what chance | |
| Might intercept their Emperor sent; so he | |
| Departing gave command, and they observed. | 430 |
| As when the Tartar from his Russian foe, | |
| By Astracan, over the snowy plains, | |
| Retires, or Bactrian Sophi, from the horns | |
| Of Turkish crescent, leaves all waste beyond | |
| The realm of Aladule, in his retreat | 435 |
| To Tauris or Casbeen; so these, the late | |
| Heaven-banished host, left desert utmost Hell | |
| Many a dark league, reduced in careful watch | |
| Round their Metropolis, and now expecting | |
| Each hour their great Adventurer from the search | 440 |
| Of foreign worlds. He through the midst unmarked, | |
| In shew plebeian Angel militant | |
| Of lowest order, passed, and, from the door | |
| Of that Plutonian hall, invisible | |
| Ascended his high Throne, which, under state | 445 |
| Of richest texture spread, at the upper end | |
| Was placed in regal lustre. Down a while | |
| He sat, and round about him saw, unseen. | |
| At last, as from a cloud, his fulgent head | |
| And shape star-bright appeared, or brighter, clad | 450 |
| With what permissive glory since his fall | |
| Was left him, or false glitter. All amazed | |
| At that so sudden blaze, the Stygian throng | |
| Bent their aspect, and whom they wished beheld, | |
| Their mighty Chief returned: loud was the acclaim. | 455 |
| Forth rushed in haste the great consulting Peers, | |
| Raised from their dark Divan, and with like joy | |
| Congratulant approached him, who with hand | |
| Silence, and with these words attention, won:— | |
| “Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers!— | 460 |
| For in possession such, not only of right, | |
| I call ye, and declare ye now, returned, | |
| Successful beyond hope, to lead ye forth | |
| Triumphant out of this infernal Pit | |
| Abominable, accursed, the house of woe, | 465 |
| And dungeon of our tyrant! Now possess, | |
| As lords, a spacious World, to our native Heaven | |
| Little inferior, by my adventure hard | |
| With peril great achieved. Long were to tell | |
| What I have done, what suffered, with what pain | 470 |
| Voyaged the unreal, vast, unbounded Deep | |
| Of horrible confusion—over which | |
| By Sin and Death a broad way now is paved, | |
| To expedite your glorious march; but I | |
| Toiled out my uncouth passage, forced to ride | 475 |
| The untractable Abyss, plunged in the womb | |
| Of unoriginal Night and Chaos wild, | |
| That, jealous of their secrets, fiercely opposed | |
| My journey strange, with clamorous uproar | |
| Protesting Fate supreme; thence how I found | 480 |
| The new-created World, which fame in Heaven | |
| Long had foretold, a fabric wonderful, | |
| Of absolute perfection; therein Man | |
| Placed in a Paradise, by our exile | |
| Made happy. Him by fraud I have seduced | 485 |
| From his Creator, and, the more to increase | |
| Your wonder, with an apple! He, thereat | |
| Offended—worth your laughter!—hath given up | |
| Both his beloved Man and all his World | |
| To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us, | 490 |
| Without our hazard, labour, or alarm, | |
| To range in, and to dwell, and over Man | |
| To rule, as over all he should have ruled. | |
| True is, me also he hath judged; or rather | |
| Me not, but the brute Serpent, in whose shape | 495 |
| Man I deceived. That which to me belongs | |
| Is enmity, which he will put between | |
| Me and Mankind: I am to bruise his heel; | |
| His seed—when is not set—shall bruise my head! | |
| A world who would not purchase with a bruise, | 500 |
| Or much more grievous pain? Ye have the account | |
| Of my performance; what remains, ye Gods, | |
| But up and enter now into full bliss?” | |
| So having said, a while he stood, expecting | |
| Their universal shout and high applause | 505 |
| To fill his ear; when, contrary, he hears, | |
| On all sides, from innumerable tongues | |
| A dismal universal hiss, the sound | |
| Of public scorn. He wondered, but not long | |
| Had leisure, wondering at himself now more. | 510 |
| His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare, | |
| His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining | |
| Each other, till, supplanted, down he fell, | |
| A monstrous serpent on his belly prone, | |
| Reluctant, but in vain; a greater power | 515 |
| Now ruled him, punished in the shape he sinned, | |
| According to his doom. He would have spoke, | |
| But hiss for hiss returned with forkèd tongue | |
| To forkèd tongue; for now were all transformed | |
| Alike, to serpents all, as accessories | 520 |
| To his bold riot. Dreadful was the din | |
| Of hissing through the hall, thick-swarming now | |
| With complicated monsters, head and tail— | |
| Scorpion, and Asp, and Amphisbæna dire, | |
| Cerastes horned, Hydrus, and Ellops drear, | 525 |
| And Dipsas (not so thick swarmed once the soil | |
| Bedropt with blood of Gordon, or the isle | |
| Ophiusa); but still greatest the midst, | |
| Now Dragon grown, larger than whom the Sun | |
| Ingendered in the Phythian vale on slime, | 530 |
| Huge Python; and his power no less he seemed | |
| Above the rest still to retain. They all | |
| Him followed, issuing forth to the open field, | |
| Where all yet left of that revolted rout, | |
| Heaven-fallen, in station stood or just array, | 535 |
| Sublime with expectation when to see | |
| In triumph issuing forth their glorious Chief. | |
| They saw, but other sight instead—a crowd | |
| Of ugly serpents! Horror on them fell, | |
| And horrid sympathy; for what they saw | 540 |
| They felt themselves now changing. Down their arms, | |
| Down fell both spear and shield; down they as fast, | |
| And the dire hiss renewed, and the dire form | |
| Catched by contagion, like in punishment | |
| As in their crime. Thus was the applause they meant | 545 |
| Turned to exploding hiss, triumph to shame | |
| Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There stood | |
| A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change, | |
| His will who reigns above, to aggravate | |
| Their penance, laden with fair fruit, like that | 550 |
| Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve | |
| Used by the Tempter. On that prospect strange | |
| Their earnest eyes they fixed, imagining | |
| For one forbidden tree a multitude | |
| Now risen, to work them further woe or shame; | 555 |
| Yet, parched with scalding thirst and hunger fierce | |
| Though to delude them sent, could not abstain, | |
| But on they rowled in heaps, and, up the trees | |
| Climbing, sat thicker than the snaky locks | |
| That curled Megæra. Greedily they plucked | 560 |
| The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew | |
| Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed; | |
| This, more delusive, not the touch, but taste | |
| Deceived; they fondly thinking to allay | |
| Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit | 565 |
| Chewed bitter ashes, which the offended taste | |
| With spattering noise rejected. Off they assayed, | |
| Hunger and thirst constraining; drugged as oft, | |
| With hatefulest disrelish writhed their jaws | |
| With soot and cinder filled; so oft they fell | 570 |
| Into the same illusion, not as Man | |
| Whom they triumphed’ once lapsed. Thus were they plagued, | |
| And, worn with famine, long and ceaseless hiss, | |
| Till their lost shape, permitted, they resumed— | |
| Yearly enjoined, some say, to undergo | 575 |
| This annual humbling certain numbered days, | |
| To dash their pride, and joy for Man seduced. | |
| However, some tradition they dispersed | |
| Among the Heathen of their purchase got, | |
| And fabled how the Serpent, whom they called | 580 |
| Ophion, with Eurynome (the wide— | |
| Encroaching Eve perhaps), had first the rule | |
| Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driven | |
| And Ops, ere yet Dictæan Jove was born. | |
| Meanwhile in Paradise the Hellish pair | 585 |
| Too soon arrived—Sin, there in power before | |
| Once actual, now in body, and to dwell | |
| Habitual habitant; behind her Death, | |
| Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet | |
| On his pale horse; to whom Sin thus began:— | 590 |
| “Second of Satan sprung, all-conquering Death! | |
| What think’st thou of our empire now? though earned | |
| With travail difficult, not better far | |
| Than still at Hell’s dark threshold to have sat watch, | |
| Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half-starved?” | 595 |
| Whom thus the Sin-born Monster answered soon:— | |
| “To me, who with eternal famine pine, | |
| Alike is Hell, or Paradise, or Heaven— | |
| There best where most with ravin I may meet: | |
| Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems | 600 |
| To stuff this maw, this vast unhide-bound corpse.” | |
| To whom the incestuous Mother thus replied:— | |
| “Thou, therefore, on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers, | |
| Feed first; on each beast next, and fish, and fowl— | |
| No homely morsels; and whatever thing | 605 |
| The scythe of Time mows down devour unspared; | |
| Till I, in Man residing through the race, | |
| His thoughts, his looks, words, actions, all infect, | |
| And season him thy last and sweetest prey.” | |
| This said, they both betook them several ways, | 610 |
| Both to destroy, or unimmortal make | |
| All kinds, and for destruction to mature | |
| Sooner or later; which the Almighty seeing, | |
| From his transcendent Seat the Saints among, | |
| To those bright Orders uttered thus his voice:— | 615 |
| “See with what heat these dogs of Hell advance | |
| To waste and havoc yonder World, which I | |
| So fair and good created, and had still | |
| Kept in that state, had not the folly of Man | |
| Let in these wasteful furies, who impute | 620 |
| Folly to me (so doth the Prince of Hell | |
| And his adherents), that with so much ease | |
| I suffer them to enter and possess | |
| A place so heavenly, and, conniving, seem | |
| To gratify my scornful enemies, | 625 |
| That laugh, as if, transported with some fit | |
| Of passion, I to them had quitted all, | |
| At random yielded up to their misrule; | |
| And know not that I called and drew them thither, | |
| My Hell-hounds, to lick up the draft and filth | 630 |
| Which Man’s polluting sin with taint hath shed | |
| On what was pure; till, crammed and gorged, nigh burst | |
| With sucked and glutted offal, at one sling | |
| Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son, | |
| Both Sin and Death, and yawning Grave, at last | 635 |
| Through Chaos hurled, obstruct the mouth of Hell | |
| For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. | |
| Then Heaven and Earth, renewed, shall be made pure | |
| To sanctity that shall receive no stain: | |
| Till then the curse pronounced on both precedes.” | 640 |
| He ended, and the Heavenly Audience loud | |
| Sung Halleluiah, as the sound of seas, | |
| Through multitude that sung:—“Just are thy ways, | |
| Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works; | |
| Who can extenuate thee? Next, to the Son, | 645 |
| Destined restorer of Mankind, by whom | |
| New Heaven and Earth shall to the ages rise, | |
| Or down from Heaven descend.” Such was their song, | |
| While the Creator, calling forth by name | |
| His mighty Angels, gave them several charge, | 650 |
| As sorted best with present things. The Sun | |
| Had first his precept so to move, so shine, | |
| As might affect the Earth with cold and heat | |
| Scarce tolerable, and from the north to call | |
| Decrepit winter, from the south to bring | 655 |
| Solstitial summer’s heat. To the blanc Moon | |
| Her office they prescribed; to the other five | |
| Their planetary motions and aspects, | |
| In sextile, square, and trine, and opposite, | |
| Of noxious efficacy, and when to join | 660 |
| In synod unbenign; and taught the fixed | |
| Their influence malignant when to shower— | |
| Which of them, rising with the Sun or falling, | |
| Should prove tempestuous. To the winds they set | |
| Their corners, when with bluster to confound | 665 |
| Sea, air, and shore; the thunder when to roll | |
| With terror through the dark aerial hall. | |
| Some say he bid his Angels turn askance | |
| The poles of Earth twice ten degrees and more | |
| From the Sun’s axle; they with labour pushed | 670 |
| Oblique the centric Globe: some say the Sun | |
| Was bid turn reins from the equinoctial road | |
| Like distant breadth—to Taurus with the seven | |
| Atlantic Sisters, and the Spartan Twins, | |
| Up to the Tropic Crab; thence down amain | 675 |
| 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 smiles on Earth with vernant flowers, | |
| Equal in days and nights, except to those | 680 |
| Beyond the polar circles; to them day | |
| Had unbenighted shon, while the low Sun, | |
| To recompense his distance, in their sight | |
| Had rounded still the horizon, and not known | |
| Or east or west—which had forbid the snow | 685 |
| From cold Estotiland, and south as far | |
| Beneath Magellan. At that tasted Fruit, | |
| The Sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turned | |
| His course intended; else how had the world | |
| Inhabited, though sinless, more than now | 690 |
| Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? | |
| These changes in the heavens, though slow, produced | |
| Like change on sea and land—sidereal blast, | |
| Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot, | |
| Corrupt and pestilent. Now from the north | 695 |
| Of Norumbega, and the Samoed shore, | |
| Bursting their brazen dungeon, armed 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 blasts upturns them from the south | |
| Notus and Afer, black with thundrous clouds | |
| From Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierce | |
| Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds, | |
| Eurus and Zephyr, with their lateral noise, | 705 |
| Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began | |
| Outrage from lifeless things; but Discord first, | |
| Daughter of Sin, among the irrational | |
| Death introduced through fierce antipathy. | |
| Beast now with beast ’gan war, and fowl with fowl, | 710 |
| And fish with fish. To graze the herb all leaving | |
| Devoured each other; nor stood much in awe | |
| Of Man, but fled him, or with countenance grim | |
| Glared on him passing. These were from without | |
| The growing miseries; which Adam saw | 715 |
| Already in part, though hid in gloomiest shade, | |
| To sorrow abandoned, 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 | 720 |
| Of this new glorious World, and me so late | |
| The glory of that glory? who now, become | |
| Accursed of blessèd, hide me from the face | |
| Of God, whom to behold was then my highth | |
| Of happiness! Yet well, if here would end | 725 |
| The misery! I deserved 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, ’Encrease and multiply,’ | 730 |
| Now death to hear! for what can I encrease | |
| 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! | 735 |
| 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 redound— | |
| On me, as on their natural centre, light; | 740 |
| 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 | 745 |
| In this delicious Garden? As my will | |
| Concurred not to my being, it were but right | |
| And equal to reduce me to my dust, | |
| Desirous to resign and render back | |
| All I received, unable to perform | 750 |
| Thy term 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 | 755 |
| I thus contest; then should have been refused | |
| Those terms, whatever, when they were proposed. | |
| 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 | 760 |
| Prove disobedient, and, reproved, 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. | 765 |
| 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. | 770 |
| O welcome hour whenever! Why delays | |
| His hand to execute what his decree | |
| Fixed on this day? Why do I overlive? | |
| Why am I mocked with death, and lengthened out | |
| To deathless pain? How gladly would I meet | 775 |
| 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 | 780 |
| To me and to my offspring would torment me | |
| With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt | |
| Pursues me still—lest all I cannot die; | |
| Lest that pure breath of life, the Spirit of Man | |
| Which God inspired, cannot together perish | 785 |
| 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 sinned: what dies but what had life | 790 |
| 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 wrauth also? Be it, Man is not so, | 795 |
| But mortal doomed. But can he exercise | |
| Wrauth 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 | 800 |
| Of weakness, not of power. Will he draw out, | |
| For anger’s sake, finite to infinite | |
| In punished Man, to satisfy his rigour | |
| Satisfied never? That were to extend | |
| His sentence beyond dust and Nature’s law; | 805 |
| By which all causes else according still | |
| To the reception of their matter act, | |
| Not to the extent of their own sphere. But say | |
| That death be not one stroke, as I supposed, | |
| Bereaving sense, but endless misery | 810 |
| From this day onward, which I feel begun | |
| Both in me and without me, and so last | |
| To perpetuity——Ay me! that fear | |
| Comes thundering back with dreadful revolution | |
| On my defenceless head! Both Death and I | 815 |
| Am found eternal, and incorporate both: | |
| Nor I on my part single; in me all | |
| Posterity stands cursed. Fair patrimony | |
| That I must leave ye, sons! Oh, were I able | |
| To waste it all myself, and leave ye none! | 820 |
| So disinherited, how would ye bless | |
| Me, now your curse! Ah, why should all Mankind, | |
| For one man’s fault, thus guiltless be condemned? | |
| If guiltless! But from me what can proceed | |
| But all corrupt—both mind and will depraved | 825 |
| 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, | |
| Forced I absolve. All my evasions vain | |
| And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still | 830 |
| 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 wrauth! Fond wish! could’st thou support | |
| That burden, heavier than the Earth to bear— | 835 |
| Than all the world much heavier, 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 future’— | 840 |
| To Satan only like, both crime and doom. | |
| O Conscience! into what abyss of fears | |
| And horrors hast thou driven me; out of which | |
| I find no way, from deeper to deeper plunged!” | |
| Thus Adam to himself lamented loud | 845 |
| 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 | 850 |
| Outstretched he lay, on the cold ground, and oft | |
| Cursed his creation; Death as oft accused | |
| Of tardy execution, since denounced | |
| The day of his offence. “Why comes not Death,” | |
| Said he, “with one thrice-acceptáble stroke | 855 |
| 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 prayers 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 assayed; | 865 |
| But her, with stern regard, he thus repelled:— | |
| “Out of my sight, thou Serpent! That name best | |
| Befits thee, with him leagued, thyself as false | |
| And hateful: nothing wants, but that thy shape | |
| Like his, and colour serpentine, may shew | 870 |
| Thy inward fraud, to warn all creatures from thee | |
| Henceforth, lest that too heavenly form, pretended | |
| To hellish falsehood, snare them. But for thee | |
| I had persisted happy, had not thy pride | |
| And wandering vanity, when least was safe, | 875 |
| Rejected my forewarning, and disdained | |
| Not to be trusted—longing to be seen, | |
| Though by the Devil himself; him overweening | |
| To overreach; but, with the Serpent meeting, | |
| Fooled and beguiled; by him thou, I by thee, | 880 |
| To trust thee from my side, imagined wise, | |
| Constant, mature, proof against all assaults, | |
| And understood not all was but a shew, | |
| Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib | |
| Crooked by nature—bent, as now appears, | 885 |
| More to the part sinister—from me drawn; | |
| Well if thrown out, as supernumerary | |
| To my just number found! O, why did God | |
| Creator wise, that peopled highest Heaven | |
| With Spirits masculine, create at last | 890 |
| This novelty on Earth, this fair defect | |
| Of Nature, and not fill the World at once | |
| With men as Angels, without fiminine; | |
| Or find some other way to generate | |
| Mankind? This mischief had not then befallen, | 895 |
| And more that shall befall—innumerable | |
| Disturbances on Earth through female snares, | |
| And strait conjunction with this sex. For either | |
| He never shall find out fit mate, but such | |
| As some misfortune brings him, or mistake; | 900 |
| Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain, | |
| Through her perverseness, but shall see her gained | |
| By a far worse, or, if she love, withheld | |
| By parents; or his happiest choice too late | |
| Shall meet, already linked and wedlock—bound | 905 |
| To a fell adversary, his hate or shame: | |
| Which infinite calamity shall cause | |
| To human life, and household peace confound.” | |
| He added not, and from her turned; but Eve, | |
| Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing, | 910 |
| And tresses all disordered, at his feet | |
| Fell humble, and, imbracing them, besought | |
| His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint:— | |
| “Forsake me not thus, Adam! witness Heaven | |
| What love sincere and reverence in my heart | 915 |
| I bear thee, and unweeting have offended, | |
| Unhappily deceived! Thy suppliant | |
| I beg, and clasp thy knees; bereave me not | |
| Whereon I live, they gentle looks, thy aid, | |
| Thy counsel in this uttermost distress, | 920 |
| My only strength and stay. Forlorn of thee, | |
| Whither shall I betake me, where subsist? | |
| While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, | |
| Between us two let there be peace; both joining, | |
| As joined in injuries, one enmity | 925 |
| Against a Foe by doom express assigned us. | |
| That cruel Serpent. On me exercise not | |
| Thy hatred for this misery befallen— | |
| On me already lost, me than thyself | |
| More miserable. Both have sinned; but thou | 930 |
| Against God only; I against God and thee, | |
| And to the place of judgment will return, | |
| There with my cries impor’tune Heaven, that all | |
| The sentence, from thy head removed, may light | |
| On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe, | 935 |
| Me, me only, just object of His ire.” | |
| She ended, weeping; and her lowly plight, | |
| Immovable till peace obtained from fault | |
| Acknowledged and deplored, in Adam wraught | |
| Commiseration. Soon his heart relented | 940 |
| Towards her, his life so late, and sole delight, | |
| Now at his feet submissive in distress— | |
| Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking, | |
| His counsel whom she had displeased, his aid. | |
| As one disarmed, his anger all he lost, | 945 |
| And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon:— | |
| “Unwary, and too desirous, as before | |
| So now, of what thou know’st not, who desir’st | |
| The punishment all on thyself! Alas! | |
| Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain | 950 |
| His full wrauth whose thou feel’st as yet least part, | |
| And my displeasure bear’st so ill. If prayers | |
| Could alter high decrees, I to that place | |
| Would speed before thee, and be louder heard, | |
| That on my head all might be visited, | 955 |
| Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiven, | |
| To me committed, and by me exposed. | |
| But rise; let us no more contend, nor blame | |
| Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive | |
| In offices of love how we may lighten | 960 |
| Each other’s burden in our share of woe; | |
| Since this day’s death denounced, if aught I see, | |
| Will prove no sudden, but a slow—paced evil, | |
| A long day’s dying, to augment our pain, | |
| And to our seed (O hapless seed!) derived.” | 965 |
| To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied:— | |
| “Adam, by sad experiment I know | |
| How little weight my words with thee can find, | |
| Found so erroneous, thence by just event | |
| Found so unfortunate. Nevertheless, | 970 |
| Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place | |
| Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain | |
| Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart, | |
| Living or dying from thee I will not hide | |
| What thoughts in my unquiet breast are risen, | 975 |
| Tending to some relief of our extremes, | |
| Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable, | |
| As in our evils, and of easier choice. | |
| If care of our descent perplex us most, | |
| Which must be born to certain woe, devoured | 980 |
| By Death at last (and miserable it is | |
| To be to others cause of misery, | |
| Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring | |
| Into this cursed world a woeful race, | |
| That, after wretched life, must be at last | 985 |
| Food for so foul a Monster), in thy power | |
| It lies, yet ere conception, to prevent | |
| The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. | |
| Childless thou art; childless remain. So Death | |
| Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two | 990 |
| Be forced to satisfy his ravenous maw. | |
| But, if thou judge it hard and difficult, | |
| Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain | |
| From love’s due rites, nuptial imbraces sweet, | |
| And with desire to languish without hope | 995 |
| Before the present object languishing | |
| With like desire—which would be misery | |
| And torment less than none of what we dread— | |
| Then, both our selves and seed at once to free | |
| From what we fear for both, let us make short; | 1000 |
| Let us seek Death, or, he not found, supply | |
| With our own hands his office on ourselves. | |
| Why stand we longer shivering under fears | |
| That shew no end but death, and have the power, | |
| Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, | 1005 |
| Destruction with destruction to destroy?” | |
| She ended here, or vehement despair | |
| Broke off the rest; so much of death her thoughts | |
| Had entertained as dyed her cheeks with pale. | |
| But Adam, with such counsel nothing swayed, | 1010 |
| To better hopes his more attentive mind | |
| Labouring had raised, and thus to Eve replied:— | |
| “Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems | |
| To argue in thee something more sublime | |
| And excellent than what thy mind contemns: | 1015 |
| But self-destruction therefore sought refutes | |
| That excellence thought in thee, and implies | |
| Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret | |
| For loss of life and pleasure overloved. | |
| Or, if thou covet death, as utmost end | 1020 |
| Of misery, so thinking to evade | |
| The penalty pronounced, doubt not but God | |
| Hath wiselier armed his vengeful ire than so | |
| To be forestalled. Much more I fear lest death | |
| So snatched will not exempt us from the pain | 1025 |
| We are by doom to pay; rather such acts | |
| Of contumacy will provoke the Highest | |
| To make death in us live. Then let us seek | |
| Some safer resolution—which methinks | |
| I have in view, calling to mind with heed | 1030 |
| Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise | |
| The Serpent’s head. Piteous amends! unless | |
| Be meant whom I conjecture, our grand foe, | |
| Satan, who in the Serpent hath contrived | |
| Against us this deceit. To crush his head | 1035 |
| Would be revenge indeed—which will be lost | |
| By death brought on ourselves, or childless days | |
| Resolved as thou proposest; so our foe | |
| Shall scape his punishment ordained, and we | |
| Instead shall double ours upon our heads. | 1040 |
| No more be mentioned, then, of violence | |
| Against ourselves, and wilful barrenness | |
| That cuts us off from hope, and savours only | |
