Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains,
Lowly they bowed adoring, and began
Their orisons, each morning duly paid
In various style; for neither various style
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise
Their Maker, in fit strains pronounced, or sung
Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence

Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse;
More tuneable than needed lute or harp

To add more sweetnesss; and they thus began:
These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty! Thine this universal frame,

Thus wondrous fair: Thyself how wondrous then,
Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens
To us invisible, or dimly seen

In these thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought and power divine.
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light,
Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs
And choral symphonies, day without night,
Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in heaven,
On earth join all ye creatures, to extol
Him first, him last, him midst and without end.
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,

Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere,
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun! now fly'st,
With the fixed stars, fixed in their orb that flies;
And ye, five other wandering fires, that move
In mystic dance not without song, resound
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 ceaseless change
Vary to our great Maker still new praise.
Ye mists and exhalations, that now rise
From hill or streaming lake, dusky or gray,

Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the world's great Author rise;
Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling, still advance his praise.

His praise, ye winds that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow
Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise.
Join voices, all ye living souls; ye birds,
That singing up to heaven gate ascend,
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 silent, morn or even,
To hill or valley, fountain or fresh shade,
Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise.
Hail! universal Lord, be bounteous still
To give us only good; and if the night
Have gather'd aught of evil or conceal'd,
Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.
So pray'd thy innocent, and to their thoughts
Firm peace recover'd soon, and wonted calm.-Book V.
Meanwhile our primitive great sire, to meet
His godlike guest, walks forth, without more train
Accompanied than with his own complete
Perfections; in himself was all his state,
More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits
On princes, when their rich retinue long
Of horses led, and grooms besmear'd with gold,
Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape.-id.
'O Adam, one Almighty is, from whom
All things proceed, and up to him return,
If not depraved from good, created all
Such to perfection, one first matter all,
Endued with various forms, various degrees
Of substance, and, in things that live, of life;
But more refined, more spirituous, and pure,
As nearer to him placed, or nearer tending
Each in their several active spheres assign'd;
Till body up to spirit work, in bounds
Proportion'd to each kind, so from the root
Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leaves

More aëry, last the bright consummate flower
Spirits odorous breathes.-id.

Son of heaven and earth,
Attend: that thou art happy, owe to God;
That thou continuest such, owe to thyself,
That is, to thy obedience; therein stand.-id.
Shalt thou give law to God? shalt thou dispute
With him the points of liberty, who made
Thee what thou art, and form'd the powers of heaven
Such as he pleased, and circumscribed their being ?—id.
All night the dreadless angel, unpursued,

Through heaven's wide champain held his way, till morn,
Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand
Unbarr'd the gates of life.-Book VI.

Heaven, the seat of bliss,

Brooks not the works of violence and war.-id.

Knowledge is as food, and needs no less

Her temperance over appetite, to know

In measure what the mind may well contain:
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns

Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.-Book VII.
Necessity and chance

Approach not me, and what I will is fate."

So spake the Almighty.-id.

"Let there be light," said God; and forthwith light Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,

Sprung from the deep.-id.

The angel ended, and in Adam's ear

So charming left his voice, that he awhile

Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear.

-Book VIII.

So spake our sire, and by his countenance seem'd
Entering on studious thoughts abstruse; which Eve
Perceiving, where she sat retired in sight,
With lowliness majestic from her seat,

And grace that won who saw to wish her stay,
Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flowers,
To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom,
Her nursery; they at her coming sprung,
And, touch'd by her fair tendance, gladlier grew.
Yet went she not, as not with such discourse
Delighted, or not capable her ear

Of what was high; such pleasure she reserved,
Adam relating, she sole auditress;

Her husband the relater she preferr'd
Before the angel, and of him to ask
Chose rather; he, she knew, would intermix
Grateful digressions and solve high dispute
With conjugal caresses: from his lip

Not words alone pleased her. O! when meet now
Such pairs in love and mutual honour join'd?
With goddess-like demeanour forth she went,
Not unattended; for on her, as queen,

A pomp of winning graces waited still,
And from about her shot darts of desire
Into all eyes, to wish her still in sight.-id.
'To ask or search, I blame thee not; for heaven
Is as the book of God before thee set,
Wherein to read his wondrous works.

Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid;
Leave them to God above; him serve and fear.
Of other creatures, as him pleases best,
Wherever placed, let him dispose; joy thou
In what he gives to thee, this Paradise

And thy fair Eve; heaven is for thee too high
To know what passes there; be lowly wise.

To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, replied:
'How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure
Intelligence of heaven, angel serene!

And freed from intricacies, taught to live
The easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughts
To interrupt the sweet of life, from which
God hath bid dwell far off all anxious cares,

And not molest us; unless we ourselves

Seek them with wandering thoughts and notions vain. But apt the mind or fancy is to rove

Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end;

Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn,
That not to know at large of things remote
From use, obscure and subtle, but to know
That which before us lies in daily life,
Is the prime wisdom: what is more, is fame,
Or emptiness, or fond impertinence:

And renders us, in things that most concern,

Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek.
Therefore from this high pitch let us descend
A lower flight, and speak of things at hand
Useful; whence, haply, mention may arise
Of something not unseasonable to ask,
By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd.
Thee I have heard relating what was done
Ere my remembrance; now, hear me relate
My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard;
And day is not yet spent ; till then thou seest
How subtly to detain thee I devise:
Inviting thee to hear while I relate;
Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply:
For, while I sit with thee, I seem in heaven;
And sweeter thy discourse is to my ear
Than fruits of palm-tree pleasantest to thirst
And hunger both, from labour at the hour
Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill,
Though pleasant; but thy words, with grace divine
Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.'

To whom thus Raphael answer'd, heavenly meek:
Nor are thy lips ungraceful, sire of men,

Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee
Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd,
Inward and outward both, his image fair:
Speaking, or mute, all comeliness and grace
Attends thee; and each word, each motion forms;
Nor less think we in heaven of thee on earth
Than of our fellow-servant, and inquire
Gladly into the ways of God with man:
For God, we see, hath honour'd thee, and set
On man his equal love: say therefore on.

So spake the godlike power, and thus our sire:

For man to tell how human life began

Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?

Desire with thee still longer to converse

Induced me. As new waked from soundest sleep,
Soft on the flowery herb I found me laid,

In balmy sweat; which with his beams the sun
Soon dried, and on the reeking moisture fed.

Straight toward heaven my wondering eyes I turned,
And gazed awhile the ample sky; till raised
By quick instinctive motion, up I sprung,