To shew 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 destin'd walls Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne, To Pacquin of Sinæan 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 Hispaban, or where the Russian Ksar In Moscow, or the Sultan in Bizance, Turchestan-born; nor could his eye not ken Th' empire of Negus to his utmost port Ercoco, and the less maritime kings Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, Aud 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
The world in spirit perhaps he also saw Rich Mexico the great seat of Montezume, And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoil'd Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons Call El Dorado: bat to nobler sights Michael from Adam's eyes the film remov’d, Which that false fruit that promis'd clearer sight
Had bred; then purg'd with euphrasy and The visual nerve, for he had much to see; Aud from the well of life three drops in- still'd.
So deep the pow'r of these ingredients pierc'd, E'en to the inmost seat of mental sight, That Adam now enforc'd to close his eyes, Sunk down, and all his spirits became en- tranc'd;
But him the gentle Angel by the hand Soon rais'd, and his attention thus recall'd.
Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold Th effects which thy original crime hath wrought
In some to spring from thee, who never touch'd Th' excepted tree, nor with the Snake con
Nor sinn'd thy sin, yet from that sin derive Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds. His eyes he open'd, and beheld a field, Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves New-reap'd, the other part sheep-walks and folds;
I' th' midst an altar as the land-mark stood, Rustic, of grassy sord; thither anon A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought
The other's not, for his was not sincere; Whereat he inly rag'd, and as they talk'd Smote him into the midriff with a stone That beat out life; he fell, and deadly pale Groau'd out his soul with gushing blood ef fus'd.
Much at that sight was Adam in his heart Dismay'd, and thus in haste to the Angel [fallen
O Teacher, some great mischief hath beTo that meek man, who well had sacrific'd; Is picty thus and pure devotion paid?
T'whom Michael thus, he also mov'd, reply'd.
These two are brethren, Adam, and to come Out of thy loins; the unjut the just hath slain, For envy that his brother's offering found From Heav'u acceptance: but the bloody fact Will be aveng'd, and the other's faith approv'd 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 terror, foul and ugly to behold, Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
To whom thus Michaël. Death thou hast 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 th' entrance than within. Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die, By fire, flood, famine, by intemp'rance more In meats and drinks, which on the earth shall
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew Before thee shall appear; that thou may'st know
What misery th' inabstinence of Eve Shall bring on men. Immediately a place Before his eyes appear'd, sad, noisome, dark, Numbers of all diseas'd, all maladies; A lazar-house it seem'd, wherein were laid Of gastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds, Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, Jutestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, Demoniac phrenzy, moping melancholy,
And moon-struck madness, pining atrophy, Alarasmus, 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 delay'd to strike, though oft invok’d With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. Sight so deform what heart of rock could long Dry-ey'd behold? Adam could not, but wept, Though not of woman born; compassion quell'd His best of man, and gave him up to tears A space, tili firmer thoughts restrain'd excess; And scarce recovering words bis plaint renew'd. O miserable mankind, to what fall Degraded, to what wretched state reserv'd! Better end here unborn. Why is life given To be thus wrested from us? Rather why Obtruded on us thus? Who if we knew What we receive, would either not accept Life offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down, Glad to be so dismiss'd in peace. Can thus Th' image of God in man created once So goodly and erect, though faulty since, To such unsightly sufferings be debas'd Under inhuman pain? Why should not man, Retaining still divine similitude
In part, from such deformities be free, And for his Maker's image sake exempt? Their Maker's image, answer'd Michael,then Forsook them, when themselves they vilify'd To serve ungovern'd appetite, aud took His image whom they serv'd, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. Therefore so abject is their punishment, Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own, Or if his likeness, by themselves defac'd, While they pervert pure nature's healthful rules To loathsome sickness, worthily, since they God's image did not reverence in themselves. I yield it just, said Adam, and submit. But is there no other way, besides These painful passages, how we may come To death, and mix with our connatural dust? There is, said Michael, if thou well observe The rule of not too much,by temp'rance taught, In what thou eat'st and drink'st, seeking from thence
Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight, Till many years over thy head return:
Obtuse, all taste of pleasure must forego, To what thou hast; and for the air of youth, Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life. To whom our ancestor. Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong Life much, bent rather how I may be quit Fairest and easiest of this camb'rous charge, Which I must keep till my appointed day Of rend'ring up, and patiently attend My dissolution. Michaël reply'd.
Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou
Live well, how long or short permit to Heaven: And now prepare thee for another sight.
He look'd, and saw a spacious plain, whereon Were tents of various hue; by some were herds
Of cattle grazing; others, whence the sound Of instruments that made delicious chime Was heard, of harp and organ; and who mov'd Their stops and chords was seen: his volant
Instinct through all proportions low and high Fled and pursu'd transverse the resonant fugue.
In other part stood one who at the forge Lab'ring, two massy clods of iron and brass Had melted, (whether found where casual fire Had wasted woods in mountain or in vale, Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot To some cave's mouth, or whether wash'd by stream
From under-ground) the liquid ore he drain'd Into fit moulds prepar'd; from whence he form'd [wrought First his own tools; then, what might else be Fusile or grav'n in metal. After these, But on the hither side, a different sort From the high neighb'ring hills, which was their seat,
Down to the plain descended: by their guise Just men they seem'd, and all their study bent To worship God aright, and know his works Not hid, nor those things last which might preserve
Freedom and peace to men: they on the plain Long had not walk'd, when from the tents behold
A bevy of fair women, richly gay
So may'st thou live,till like ripe fruit thou drop In gems and wanton dress; to th' harp they Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease Gather'd, not harshly pluck'd, for death ma-
This is old age; but then thou must outlive Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty which
Soft amorus ditties, and in dance came on: The men though grave, ey'd them, and let
Rove without rein, till in the amorous net Fast caught, they lik'd, and each his liking chose;
To wither'd, weak, and grey; thy senses then And now of love they treat, till th' evening star
Love's barbinger, appear'd; then all in heat They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke Hymen, then first to marriage rites invok'd: With feast and music all the tents resound. Such happy interview and fair event
Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flowers,
And charming symphonies attach'd the heart Of Adam, soon inclin`d t'admit delight, The bent of nature; which he thus express'd : || True opener of mine eyes, prime angel blest,
Much better seems this vision, and more hope Of peaceful days portends, than those two past;
Cities of men with lofty gates and towers, Coucourse in arms, fierce faces threat'ning
Giants of mighty bone, and bold emprise; Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed,
Single or in array of battle rang'd Both horse and foot, nor idly must'ring stood; One way a band select from forage drives A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine From a fat meadow ground; or fleecy flock, Ewes and their bleating lambs over the plain, Their booty; scarce with life shepherds fly, But call in aid, which makes a bloody fray; With cruel torneament the squadrons join;
Those were of hate and death, or pain much Where cattle pastur'd late, now scatter'd lies With carcasses and arms th' insanguin'd field Deserted; others to a city strong
Here nature seems fulfill'd in all her ends.
To whom thus Michael. Judge not what is Lay siege, incamp'd; by battery, scale, and
By pleasure, though to Nature seeming meet, Assaulting; others from the wall defend Created, as thou art, to nobler end With dart and javelin, stones aud sulphurous fire;
Holy and pure, conformity divine.
Those tents thou saw'st so pleasant, were the On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds.
Of Wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race Who slew his brother; studious they appear Of arts that polish life, inventors rare, Unmindful of their Maker, though his spirit
In other part the scepter'd heralds call To council in the city gates: anon Grey-headed men and grave, with warriors mix'd,
Assemble, and harangues are heard, but soon
Taught them, but they his gifts acknowledg'd || In factious opposition, till at last
Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget; For that fair female troop thou saw'st, that seem'd
Of goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, Yet empty of all good, wherein consists Woman's domestic honour and chief praise; Bred only and completed to the taste Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, To dress and troll the tongue, and roll the eye. To these that sober race of men, whose lives Religious titled them the sons of God, Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles
Of these fair atheists, and now swim in joy, Erclong to swim at large; and laugh, for which The world erelong a world of tears must weep To whom thus Adam of short joy hereft. O pity and shame, that they who to live well Enter'd so fair, should turn aside to tread Paths indirect, or in the mid way faint! But still I see the tenor of man's woe Holds on the same, from woman to begin.
From man's effeminate slackness it begins, Said th' angel, who should better hold his place By wisdom and superior gifts receiv'd: But now prepare thee for another scene.
He look'd, and saw wide territory spread Before him, towns, and rural works between,
Of middle age one rising, eminent
In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong,
Of justice, of religion, truth and peace, And judgment from above: him old and young Exploded and had seiz'd with violent hands, Had not a cloud descending snatch'd him thence
Unseen amid the throng: so violence Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law Through all the plain, and refuge none was
Adam was all in tears, and to his guide Lamenting turn'd full sad: O what are these, Death's ministers, not men, who thus deal death
Inhumanly to men, and multiply
Ten thousandfold the sin of him who slew His brother: for of whom such massacre Make they but of their brethren, men of men? But who was that just man, whom had not Heav'n
Rescu'd, bad in bis righteousness been lost? To whom thus Michael. These are the product
Of those ill-mated marriages thon saw'st; Where good with bad were match'd, who of
Abhor to join; and by imprudence mix'd,
Produce prodigious births of body or mind. Such were these giants, men of high renown; For in those days might only shall be admir'd, And valour and beroic virtue call'd; To overcome in battle, and subdue Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite Man-slaughter, shall be held the highest pitch Of human glory, and for glory done
Of triumph, to he stil❜d greater conquerors, Patrous of mankind, Gods and sons of Gods, Destroyers rightlier call'd and plagues of men. Thus fame shall be achiev'd, renown on earth, And what most merits fame in silence hid. But he the sev'nth from thee, whom thou be- heldst
The only righteous in a world perverse, And therefore hated, therefore so beset With foes for daring single to be just,
And utter odious truth, that God should come To judge them with his saints: him the most High
Rapt in a balmy cloud, with winged steeds Did, as thou saw'st, receive, to walk with God High in salvation and the climes of bliss, Exempt from death; to show thee what re- ward
Awaits the good, the rest what punishment; Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold. He look'd, and saw the face of things quite chang'd;
The brazen throat of war had ceas'd to roar; All now was turn'd to jollity and game, To luxury and riot, feast and dance, Marrying or prostituting, as befel, Rape or adultery, where passing fair Allur'd them; thence from cups to civil broils. At length a reverend sire among them came, And of their doings great dislike declar'd, And testify'd against their ways; he oft Frequented their assemblies, whereso met, Triumphs of festivals, and to them preach'd Conversion and repentance, as to souls In prison under judgments imminent : But all in vain which when he saw, he ceas'd Contending, and remov'd his tents far off; Then from the mountain hewing timber tall, Began to build a vessel of huge bulk, Measur'd by cubit, length, and breadth, and heighth, [door Smear'd round with pitch, and in the side a Contriv'd, and of provisions laid in large For man and beast: when low a wonder strange!
Of every beast and bird, and insect small Came sev'ns, and pairs, and enter'd in, as taught
Their order: last the sire, and his three sons With their four wives; and God made fast the door.
Meanwhile the south-wind rose, and with hinc
Wide hovering, all the clouds together drove From under Heav'n; the hills to their supply Vapour and exhalation dusk and moist, Sent up amain; and now the thicken'd sky Like a dark cieling stood; down rush'd the rain
Impetuous, and continued till the earth No more was seen; the floating vessel swain Uplifted, and secure with beaked prow Rode tilting o'er the waves; all dwellings else Flood overwhelm'd, and them with all their pomp
Deep under water roll'd; sea cover'd sea, Sea without shore; and in their palaces Where luxury late reign'd, sea-monsters whelp'd
And stabled; of mankind, so numerous late, All left in one small bottom swam imbark'd. How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold The end of all thy offspring, end so sad, Depopulation? thee another flood,
Of tears and sorrow a flood thee also drown'd, And sunk thee as thy sons; till gently rear'd By the angel, on thy fect thou stood'st at last, Though comfortless, as when a father mourns His children, all in view destroy'd at once; Aud scarce to th' angel utter'dst thus thy plaint.
O visions ill foreseen! better had I Liv'd ignorant of future, so bad borne My part of evil only, each day's lot [pens'd Enough to hear; those now that were dis- The burd'n of many ages, on me light At once by my foreknowledge gaining birth Abortive, to torment me ere their being, With thought that they must be.
Henceforth to be foretold what shall befal Him or his children; evil he may be sure, Which neither his foreknowing can prevent, And he the future evil shall no less In apprehension than in substance feel Grievous to bear: but that care now is past, Man is not whom to warn: those few escap'd Famine and anguish will at last consume Wand'ring that wat'ry desert: I had hope When violence was ceas'd, aud war on earth, All would have then gone well, peace would have crown'd
With length of happy days the race of man; But I was far deceiv'd; for now I see
Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste. How comes it thus? unfold, celestial Guide, And whether here the race of man with end. To whom thus Michael. Those whom last thou saw'st
In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they
First seen in acts of prowess eminent And great exploits, but of true virtue void; Who having spilt much blood, and done much
Subduing nations, and achiev'd thereby Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey, Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth,
Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and pride Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. The conquer'd also, aud inslav'd by war Shall with their freedom lost all virtue lose And fear of God, from whom their piety feign'd
In sharp contest of battle found no aid Against invaders; therefore cool'd in zeal Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure, Worldly or dissolute, on what their lords Shall leave them to enjoy; for th' carth shall bear
More than enough, that temp'rance may be try'd:
So all shall turn degenerate, all deprav'd, Justice and temp'rauce, truth and faith for- got:
One man except, the only son of Light In a dark age, against example good, Against allurement, custom, and a world Offended; fearless of reproach and scorn, Or violence, he of their wicked ways Shall them admonish, aud before them set The paths of righteousness, how much more safe
And full of peace, denouncing wrath to come On their impenitence; and shall return Of them derided, but of God observ'd The one just man alive; by his commaud Shall build a wondrous ark, as thou beheldst, To save himself and houshold from amidst A world devote to universal wrack. No sooner he with them of inan and beast Select for life shall in the ark be lodg'd, And shelter'd round, but all the cataracts Of Heav'n set open on the earth shall pour Rain day and night; all fountains of the deep
Broke up, shall beave the ocean to usurp Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise Above the highest bills: then shall this
Of Paradise by might of waves be mov'd Out of his place, push'd by the horned flood With all his verdure spoil'd, and trees adrift, Down the great river to the opening gulf, And there take root an island salt and bare, The haunt of seals and orcs, and sea-mews clang:
To teach thee that God attributes to place
No sanctity, if noue be thither brought By men who there frequent, or therein dwell. And now what further shall ensue behold.
He look'd, and saw the ark hull on the flood Which now abated; for the clouds were fled, Driv'n by a keen north-wind, that blowing dry
Wrinkled the face of Deluge, as decay'd; And the clear sun on his wide watry glass Gaz'd hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, As after thirst, which made their flowing shrink
From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole
With soft foot towards thee Deep, who now had stopt
His sluices, as the Heav'n his windows shut. The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground
Past on the top of some high mountain fix'd. And now the tops of hills as rocks appear; With clamour thence the rapid currents drive Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, And after him the surer messenger,
A dove sent forth once aud again to spy Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light;
The second time returning, in his bill An olive leaf he brings, pacific sign: Anon dry ground appears and from his ark The ancient sire descends with all his train ; Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout, Grateful to Heav'n, over his head beholds A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a bow Conspicuous with three listed colours gay, Betokening peace from God, and covenant
Whereat the heart of Adam erst so sad Greatly rejoic'd, and thus his joy broke forth. O thou who future things caust represent As present, heav'nly Instructor, I revive At this last sight, assur'd that man shall live With all the creatures, and their seed pre-
Far less I now lament for one whole world Of wicked sons destroy'd, than I rejoice For one man found so perfect and so just, That God vouchsafes to raise another world From him, and all his anger to forget. But say what mean those colour'd streakes in Heav'n
Distended as the brow of God appeas'd, Or serve they as a flow'ry verge to bind The fluid skirts of that same watry cloud, Lest it again dissolve and show'r the earth? To whom th' arch-angel. Dextrously thou
So willingly doth God remit his ire,
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