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As plauts: ambiguous between sea and land The river horse and scaly crocodile.

At once came forth whatever creeps the ground,

Insect or worm: those wav'd their limber fans
For wings, and smallest linaments exact
In all their liveries deck'd of Summer's pride
With spots of gold and purple, azure and
green:

These as a line their long dimensions drew, Streaking the ground with sinuous trace; not all

Minims of Nature; some of serpent kind, Wond'rous in length and corpulence, involv'd Their snaky folds, and added wings. First

crept

The parsimonious emmet, provident

Of future, in small room large heart inclos'd,
Pattern of just equality perhaps
Hereafter, joined in their popular tribes
Of commonalty: swarming next appear'd
The female bee, that feeds her husband drone
Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells
With honey stor'd: the rest are numberless,
And thou their natures know'st, and gav'st
them names,

Needless to thee repeated; nor unknown
Of buge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes
And hoary mane terrific, though to thee
The serpent subtlest beast of all the field,
Not noxious, but obedient at thy call.

Now Heav'n in all her glory shone, and
roli'd

Her motions, as the great first Mover's hand First wheel'd their course, Earth in her rich | attire

Consummate lovely smil'd; air, water, earth, By fowl, fish,beast, was flown, was swum, was

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Over the fish and fowl of sea, and air,
Beast of the field, and over all the Earth,
And every creeping thing that creeps the
ground.

This said, he form'd thee, Adam, thee, O Man, Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breath'd

The breath of life; in his own image he
Created thee, in the image of God
Express, and thou becam'st a living soul.
Male he created thee, but thy consort
Female for race; then blest Mankind, and

said,

Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the Earth,
Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold
Over fish of the sea, and fowl of the air,
And every living thing that moves on th
Earth.

Wherefore thus created, for no place

Is yet distinct by name, thence as thou know'st,

He brought thee into this delicious grove,
This garden, planted with the trees of God,
Delectable both to behold and taste;

Aud freely all their present fruit for food
Gave thee; all sorts are here that all th' Earth
yields

Variety without end; but of the tree, Which tasted works knowledge of good and evil,

Thou may'st not; in the day thou cat'st, thou dy'st;

Death is the penalty impos'd, beware,
And govern well thy appetite, lest Sin
Surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.

Here finish'd he, and all that he had made
View'd, and behold all was entirely good;
So Bv'n and Moru accomplish'd the sixth day:
Yet not till the Creator from his work
Desisting though unwearied, up return'd,
Up to the Heav'n of Heav'ns his high abode,
Thence to behold this new created world
Th' addition of his empire, how it show'd
In prospect from his throne, how good, how
fair,

Answering his great idea. Up he rode
Follow'd with acclamation and the sound
Symphonious of ten thousand harps that tun'd
Angelic harmonies: the earth, the air,
Resounded, (thou remember'st, for thou
heard'st)

The Heav'ns and all the constellations rung,
The planets in their station list'ning stood,
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant.
Open, ye everlasting Gates, they sung,
Open, ye Heav'ns, your living Doors; let in
The great Creator from his work return'd
Magnificent, his six day's work, a World;
Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deiga

To visit oft the dwellings of just Men
Delighted, and with frequent intercourse
Thither will send his winged messengers
On errands of supernal grace. So sung

The glorious train ascending: he through
Heav'n,

That open'd wide her blazing portals, led
To God's eternal house direct the way,
A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold
And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear,
Seen in the galaxy, that milky way,

Which nightly as a circling zone thou sec'st Powder'd with stars. And now on earth the seventh

Evening rose in Eden, for the sun

Was set, and twilight from the east came ou,

Forerunning Night; when at the holy mount Of Heav'n's high-seated top, th' imperial throne

Of Godhead, fix'd for ever firm and sure,
The Filial Power arriv'd, and sat him down
With his great Father, for he also went
Invisible, yet stay'd, (such privilege
Hath Omnipresence) and the work ordain'd,
Author and end of all things, and from work
Now resting, blest and hallow'd the sev'nth
day,

As resting on that day from all his work,
But not in silence holy kept; the harp
Had work and rested not, the solemn pipe,
And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop,
All sounds ou fret by string or golden wire
Temper'd soft tunings, intermix'd with voice
Choral or unison: of incense clouds
Fuming from golden censers hid the mount.
Creation and the six days' acts they sung,
Great are thy works Jehovab, infinite
Thy power: what thought can measure thee

or tongue

Relate thee? greater now in thy return Than from the giant angels; thee that day Thy thunders magnify'd; but to create

Is greater than created to destroy.
Who can impair thee, mighty King, or bound
Thy empire? casily the proud attempt
Of spirits apostate and their councils vain
Thou hast repell'd, while impiously they
thought

Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw
The number of thy worshippers. Who secks
To lessen thee against his purpose serves
To manifest the more thy might: bis evil
Thou usest, and from thence creat'st more
good.

Witness this new-made World, another Heav'n
From Heav'n gate not far, founded in view
On the clear hyaline, the glassy sea;
Of amplitude almost immense, with stars
Numerous, and every star perhaps a world
Of destin'd habitation; but thou know'st
Their seasons: among those the seat of

men,

Earth with her nether ocean circumfus'd, Their pleasant dwelling place. Thrice happy

men,

And sons of men, whom God hath thus ad vanc'd,

Created in his image there to dwell
And worship him, and in reward to rule
Over his works, on earth, in sea, or air,
And multiply a race of worshippers
Holy and just thrice happy if they know
Their happiness, and persevere upright.

So sung they, and the empyrean rung With halleluiahs: thus was sabbath kept. And thy request think now fulfill'd, that ask'd

How first this World and face of things began,

And what before thy memory was done
From the beginning, that posterity
Inform'd by thee might know if else thon
seek'st

Ought, not surpassing human measure, say.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK VIII.

THE ARGUMENT.

Adam enquires concerning celestial motions, is doubtfully answered, and exhorted to search rather things more worthy of knowledge. Adam assents, and still desirous to retain Raphael, relates to him what he remembered since his own creation, his placing in Paradise, his talk with God concerning solitude and fit society, his first meeting and auptials with Eve, his discourse with the Angel thereupon; who after admonition repeated departs.

THE Angel ended, and in Adam's ear

So charming left his voice, that he a while
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to
bear;

Then as new wak'd thus gratefully reply'd :
What thanks sufficient, or what recompense
Equal have I to render to thee, divine
Historian, who thus largely hast allay'd
The thirst I had of knowledge, and vouch-
saf'd

This friendly condescension to relate
Thiugs eise by me unsearchable, now heard
With wonder, but delight, and, as is due,
With glory attributed to the high
Creator? Something yet of doubt remains,
Which only thy solution can resolve.
When I behold this goodly frame, this world
Of Heav'n and Earth consisting, aud compute
Their magnitutes, this earth a spost, a grain,||
An atom, with the firmament compar'd
And all her number'd stars, that seem to roll
Spaces incomprehensible (for such
Their distance argues and their swift return
Diurnal) merely to officiate light

Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot,
One day and night, in all their vast survey
Useless besides; reasoning I oft admire,
How nature wise and frugal could commit
Such disproportions, with superfluous hand
So many nobler bodies to create,
Greater so manifold to this one use,
For ought appears, and on their orbs impose
Such restless revolution day by day
Repeated, while the sedentary earth,
That better might with far less compass move,
Serv'd by more noble than herself, attains
Her end without least motion, and receives,
As tribute, such a sumless journey brought
Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light;

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 teudance glad ier grew.
Yet went she not, as not with such discourse
Delighted, or not capable ber ear

Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd,
Adam relating, she sole auditress;
Her husband the relator 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 pleas'd 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.
And Raphael now to Adam's doubt propos'd
Benevolent and facile thus reply'd.

To ask or search I blame thee not, for
Heaven

Is as the book of God before thee set,
Wherein to read his wond'rous works, and
[years;

learn

His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or
This to attain, whether Heav'n niove or Earth
Imports not, if thou reckon 1ight; the rest
From Man or Angel the great Architect
Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge
His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought
Rather admire; or if they list to try
Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heavens
Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move
His laughter at their quaint opinions wide

Speed, to describe whose swiftness number || Hereafter, when they come to mode! Heaven

fails.

[seem'd So spake our Sire, and by his count'nance Eut'ring on studious thoughts abstruse, which

Eve

Perceiving where she sat retir'd in sight,
With lowliness majestic from her seat,

And calculate the stars, how they will wield
The mighty frame, how build, uubuild, con-

trive

To save appearances, how gird the sphere
With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb :

And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Already by thy reasoning this I guess,

No. VII.-N. S.

K

serve

Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest
That bodies bright and greater should not
[rut,
The less not bright, nor Heav'n such journies
Earth sitting still when she alone receives
The benefit: consider first, that great
Or bright infers not excellence: the earth
Though, in comparison of Heav'n, so small,
Nor glist'ring, may of solid gold contain
More plenty than the sun that barren shines,
Whose virtue on itself works no effect,
But in the fruitfal earth; there first receiv'd
His beams unactive else, their vigour find.
Yet not to earth are those bright luminaries
Officious, but to thee, earth's habitant.
And for the Heav'n's wide circuit, let it speak
The Maker's high magnificence, who built
So spacious, and his line stretch'd out so far;
That Man may know he dwells not in his own;
An edifice too large for him to fill,
Lodg'd in a small partition, and the rest
Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known.
The swiftness of those circles attribute,
Though numberless, to his omnipoteuce,
That to corporeal substances could add
Speed almost spiritual: me thou think'st not
slow,
[Heaven
Who since the morning hour set out from
Where God resides, and ere mid-day arriv'd
In Eden, distance inexpressible

By numbers that have name. But this I urge,
Admitting motion in the Heav'ns, to show
Invalid that which thee to doubt it mov'd;
Not that I so affirm, though so it seem
To thee who hast thy dwelling here on earth.
God to remove his ways from human sense
Plac'd Heav'n from Earth so far, that earthly
sight,

If it presume, might err in things too high,
And no advantage gain. What if the sun
Be centre to the world, and other stars
By his attractive virtue and their own
Incited, dance about him various rounds?
Their wand'ring course now high, now low,
then hid,

Progressive, retrograde, or standing still,
In six thou seest, and what if sev'nth to these
The planet earth, so stedfast though she seem,
Insensibly three different motions move?
Which else to several spheres thou must
ascribe,

Mov'd contrary with thwart obliquities,
Or save the sun his labour, and that swift
Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb suppos'd,
Invisible else above all stars, the wheel
Of day and night; which needs not thy belief,
If earth industrious of herself fetch day
Travelling east, and with her part averse
From the sun's beam meet night, her other part

Still luminous by his ray. What if that light Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air,

To the terrestrial moon be as a star
Enlight'ning her by day, as she by night
This earth? reciprocal, if land be there,
Fields and inhabitants: Her spots thou seest
As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain pro-
duce

Fruits in her soften'd soil for some to cat
Allotted there; and other suns perhaps
With their attendant moons thou wilt descry
Communicating male and female light,
Which two great sexes animate the world,
Stor'd in each orb perhaps with some that live,
For such vast room in nature unpossess'd
By living soul, desert and desolate,
Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute
Each orb a glimpse of light convey'd so far
Down to this habitable, which returns
Light back to them, is obvious to dispute.
But whether thus these things, or whether not,
Whether the sun predominant in Heaven
Rise on the earth, or earth rise on the sun,
He from the east his flaming road begin,
Or she from west her silent course advance
With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps
Ou her soft axle, while she paces even,
And bears thee soft with the smooth air along,
Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid,
Leave them to God above, him serve and fear;
Of other creatures, as him pleases best,
Wherever plac'd, let him dispose: joy thos
In what he gives to thee, this Paradise
And thy fair Eve; Heav'n is for thee too high
To know what passes there; be lowly wise:
Think only what concerns thee and thy being;
Dream not of other worlds, what creatures

there

Live, in what state, condition or degree,
Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd
Not of Earth only but of highest Heaven.

To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt,
reply'd.

How fully hast thou satisfy'd me, pure
Intelligence of Heav'n, Angel serene,
And freed from intricacies, taught to live,
The easiest way, nor with perplexing throught
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 wand'ring thoughts, and no
tions 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; which is more, is fume,
Or emptiness, or food impertinence,
And renders us in things that most concern
Uupractis'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 sufference, 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 di-

vine

Imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety. To whom thus Raphael answer'd heav'nly

meek.

Nor are thy lips ungaceful, 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 Heav'n of thee on Earth
Than of our fellow-servant, and enquire
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;
For I that day was absent, as befel,
Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure,
Far on excursion toward the gates of Hell;
Squar'd in full legion (such command we had)
To see that none thence issued forth a spy,
Or enemy, while God was in his work,
Lest he incens'd at such eruption bold,
Destruction with creation night have mix'd.
Not that they durst without his leave attempt,
But us he sends upon his high behests
For state, as Sov'reign King, and to inure
Our prompt obedience. Fast wc found, fast shut
The dismal gates, aud barricado'd strong;
But long ere our approaching heard within
Noise, other than the sound of dance or song,
Torment, and loud lament, aud furious rage.
Glad we return'd up to the coasts of light
Ere sabbath evening: so we had in charge.
But thy relation now; for I attend,

Pleas'd with thy words no less than thou with inine.

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With supple joints, as lively vigour led:

But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not; to speak I try'd, and forthwith

spake;

My tongue obey'd, and readily could name
Whate'er I saw. Thou Sun, said I, fair light,
And thou enlighten'd Earth, so fresh and gay,
Ye Hills, and Dales, ye Rivers, Woods, aud
Plains,

And ye that live and move, fair Creatures tell,
Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?
Not of myself; by some great Maker then,
In goodness and in pow'r pre-eminent;
Tell me how may I know him, how adore,
From whom I have that thus I move and live,
And feel that I am happier than I know.
While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not
whither,

From where I firt drew air, and first beheld
This happy light, when answer none return'd,
On a green shady bank profuse of flow'rs
Pensive I sat me down; there gentle sleep
First found me, and with soft oppression seiz'd
My droused sense, untroubled, though I
thought

I then was passing to my former state
Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve:
When suddenly stood at my head a dream,
Whose inward apparition gently mov'd
My fancy to believe I yet had being,
And liv'd: One came, methought, of shapé

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