And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
Nor distant far from thence, a murm'ring sound
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmov'd
Pure as th' expanse of Heav'n. I thither went,
With unexperienc'd thought, and laid me down
On the green bank to look into the clear,
Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky.
As I bent down to look, just opposite,
A shape within the watry gleam appear'd,
Bending to look on me. I started back,
It started back. But, pleas'd, I soon return'd,
Pleas'd it return'd as soon, with answ'ring looks
Of sympathy and love. There I had fix'd
Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire,
Had not a voice thus warn'd me. "What thou see'st,
What there thou see'st, fair creature! is thyself.
With thee it came, and goes. But follow me,
And I will bring thee where no shadow stays
Thy coming, and thy soft embraces-He!
Whose image thou art-him thou shalt enjoy
Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear
Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd
Mother of human race." What could I do,
But follow straight, invisibly thus led?
Till I espied thee, fair, indeed, and tall,
Under a platan. Yet methought less fair,
Less winning soft, less amiably mild,
Than that smooth watry image. Back I turn'd.
Thou following cry'dst aloud;

AIR.

.' Return, fair Exe!

Whom fly'st thou? whom thou fly'st, of him thou art,

His flesh, his bone! To give thee being I lent
Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart,
Substantial life, to have thee by my side,
Henceforth an individual solace dear.
Part of my soul I seek thee, and thee claim
My other half.' With that thy gentle hand
Seiz'd mine; I yielded-and from that time see
How beauty is excell'd by manly grace,
And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.

RECITATIVE.

So spake our genʼral mother, and with eyes
Of conjugal affection, unreprov'd,
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd
On our first father. Half her swelling breast
Naked met his, under the flowing gold
Of her loose tresses hid. He, in delight
Both of her beauty and submissive charms,
Smil'd with superior love, and press'd her lip
With kisses pure. Thus they in am'rous sport,
As well beseems fair couple, link'd as they,
In happy nuptial league, their minutes pass'd,
Crown'd with sublime delight. The loveliest pair
That ever yet in love's embraces met:
Adam the goodliest man of men since born
His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve!

CHORUS.

"Hail! Hymen's first, accomplish'd pair!
Goodliest he of all his sons!
Of her daughters she most fair!
Goodliest he!

She most fair!

Goodliest he of all his sons!

Of her daughters she most fair." VOL. XVII.

SCENE III.

RECITATIVE.

Now came still ev'ning on, and twilight grey
Had, in her sober liv'ry all things clad.
Silence accompanied: for beast, and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests
Were slunk: all but the wakeful nightingale!
She all night long her am'rous descant sung.
Silence was pleas'd. Now glow'd the firmament
With living sapphires. Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen! unveil'd her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
When Adam thus to Eve.

Of night, and all things now retir'd to rest,
Mind us of like repose: since God hath set
Labour and rest, as day and night, to men
Successive; and the timely dew of sleep,
Now falling with soft slumb'rous weight, inclines
Our eye-lids. Ere fresh morning streak the east
With first approach of light, we must be ris'n,
And at our pleasant labour to reform
Yon flow'ry arbours, yonder alleys green,
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown.
Meanwhile, as Nature wills, night bids us rest.

EVE.

My author and disposer, what thou bid'st
Unargu'd I obey, so God ordains.
God is thy law, thou mine. To know no more
Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise.

AIR.

"With thee conversing, I forget all time.
All seasons, and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds! Pleasant the Sun!
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flow'r,
Glist'ring with dew: fragrant the fertile Earth,
After soft show'rs! and sweet the coming on
Of grateful evening mild; the silent Night,
With this her solemn bird; and this fair Moon,
And those the gems of Heav'n, her starry train!
But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends,
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising Sun
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow'r,
Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after show'rs,
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent Night,
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by Moon,
Or glitt'ring star-light without thee is sweet."

RECITATIVE.

Thus talking, hand in hand, alone they pass'd
On to their blissful bow'r. It was a place,
Chos'n by the Sov'reign Planter, when he fraın'd
All things to man's delightful use; the roof,
Of thickest covert, was in woven shade,
Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew
Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side,
Acanthus, and each od'rous bushy shrub,
Fenc'd up the verdant wall, each beauteous flow'r,
Iris, all hues, roses, and jessamine [wrought
Rear'd high their flourish'd heads between, and

Y

Mosaic; under foot the violet,

Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlay,
Broider'd the ground, more colour'd than with stone
Of costliest emblem. Other creature here
Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none,
Such was their awe of man. In shady bow'r,
More sacred and sequester'd, though but feign'd,
Pan or Sylvanus never slept, nor Nymph,
Or Faunus haunted. Here, in close recess,
With flow'rs, and garlands, and sweet smelling herbs,
Espoused Eve deck'd first her nuptial bed,
And heav'nly quires the Hymenæan sung.

Thus at their shady lodge arriv'd, both stood, Both turn'd, and, under open sky, ador'd

The God that made both sky, air, Earth, and Heav'n,

Which they beheld, the Moon's resplendent globe, And starry pole.

EVENING HYMN.

"Thou also mad'st the night, Maker omnipotent! and thou the day, Which we, in our appointed work employ'd, Have finish'd, happy in our mutual help, And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss, Ordain'd by thee, and this delicious place, For us too large, where thy abundance wants Partakers, and uncrop'd falls to the ground. But thou hast promis'd from us two a race, To fill the Earth, who shall, with us, extol Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep."

ACT II. SCENE I.

RECITATIVE.

O! FOR that warning voice, which he, who saw
Th' Apocalypse, heard cry in Heav'n aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,
Came furious down, to be reveng'd on men,
Woe to the inhabitants of th' Earth! that now
While time was, our first parents had been warn'd
The coming of their secret foe, and 'scap'd,
Haply so 'scap'd his mortal snare; for now
Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down,
The tempter, ere th' accuser of mankind.

CHORUS.

He, who sits enthron'd on high,
Above the circle of the sky,
Sees his rage, and mocks his toil,
Which on himself shall soon recoil :
In the snare, with malice, wrought
For others, shall his feet be caught.

SCENE II.

RECITATIVE.

Now Morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak'd, so custom'd, for his sleep
Was airy light, from pure digestion bred,

And temp'rate vapours bland, which th' only sound
Of leaves, and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,
Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill matin song
Of birds on ev'ry bough. Unwaken'd Eve

Close at his side, in naked beauty lay,
Beauty! which, whether waking, or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar charms. He, on his side,
Leaning, half rais'd, with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamour'd: then, with voice,
Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft-touching, whisper'd thus.

SONG.

"Awake!

My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found,
Heav'n's last, best gift, my ever new delight,
Awake! the morning shines, and the fresh field
Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove,
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed;
How Nature paints her colours; how the bee
Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweets."

RECITATIVE.

EVE.

Adam! well may we labour still to dress
This garden, still to tend herb, plant, and flow'r,
Our pleasant task enjoin'd; but till more hands
Aid us, the work under our labour grows
Luxurious by restraint. Let us divide
Our labours then, for while together thus
Our task we choose, what wonder if so near
Looks intervene, and smiles, or object new
Casual discourse draw on, which intermits
Our day's work, brought to little, though begun
Early, and th' hour of supper comes unearn'd.

ADAM.

These paths and bow'rs doubt not but our joint

hands

Will keep from wilderness with ease as wide
As we need walk, till younger hands ere long
Assist us. But if much converse perhaps
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield,
For solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.
But other doubt possesses me, lest harm
Befall thee sever'd from me; for thou know'st
What hath been warn'd us, what malicious foe,
Envying our happiness, and of his own
Despairing, seeks to work us woe, and shame,
By sly assault; and somewhere, nigh at hand,
Watches no doubt, with greedy hope, to find
His wish, and best advantage! us asunder;
Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each
To other speedy aid might lend at need.
Then leave not, I advise, the faithful side
Which gave thee being, shades thee, and protects.

AIR.

"The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, Safest, and seemliest near her husband stays, Who guards her, or with her the worst endures."

RECITATIVE.

EVE.

Offspring of Heav'n and Earth, and all Earth's lord!
That such an enemy we have, who seeks
Our ruin, oft inform'd by thee, I learn.
But that thou should'st my firmness therefore doubt,
To God, or thee, because we have a foe
May tempt it, I expected not to hear.

ADAM.

Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve!
For such thou art, from sin and blame entire:
Nor diffident of thee, do I dissuade

Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid

Th' attempt, which thou thyself with virtuous scorn
And anger would'st resent. Misdeem not then,

If such affront I labour to avert
From thee alone, which on us both at once
The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare,
Or daring, first on me th' assault shall light.
Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn.
Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce
Angels; nor think superfluous others' aid.
"I, from the influence of thy looks, receive
Access in ev'ry virtue; in thy sight,

More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were,
Of outward strength; while shame, thou looking on,
Shame to be overcome, or over-reach'd!
Would utmost vigour raise, and rais'd unite."
Why should'st not thou like sense within thee feel,
When I am present, and thy trial choose
With me, best witness of thy virtue tried?

EVE.

If this be our condition, thus to dwell
In narrow circuit straiten'd by a foe,
Subtle, or violent, we not endued,
Single, with like defence, wherever met,
How are we happy, still in fear of arm?

AIR.

"Frail is our happiness, if this be so, And Eden were no Eden thus expos'd."

RECITATIVE.

ADAM.

O, woman! best are all things as the will
Of God ordain'd them. His creating hand
Nothing imperfect or deficient left

Of all that he created, much less man,
Or aught that might his happy state secure :
Secure from outward force. Within himself
The danger lies, yet lies within his pow'r.
Against his will he can receive no harm;
But God left free the will, for what obeys
Reason is free, and reason he made right,
And bid her still beware, and still erect,
Lest by some fair, appearing good surpris'd,
She dictate false, and misinform the will
To do what God expressly hath forbid.
Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoins
That I should mind thee oft, and mind thou me,
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve.

AIR.

"But if thou think'st trial unsought may find
Us both securer than thus warn'd thou seem'st,
Go! for thy stay, not free, absents thee more.
Go in thy native innocence. Rely

On what thou hast of virtue: summon all,
For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine."

SCENE III.

RECITATIVE.

So haste they to the field, their pleasing task! But first, from under shady, arb'rous roof,

Soon as they forth were come to open sight
Of day-spring, and the Sun, who scarce upris'n,
With wheels yet hov'ring o'er the ocean brim,
Shot parallel to the Earth his dewy ray,
Discov'ring, in wide circuit, all the bounds
Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains,
Lowly they bow'd 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, pronounc'd, or sung,
Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence
Flow'd from their lips, in prose, or num'rous verse,
More tuneable than needed lute, or harp
To add more sweetness: and they thus began.

MORNING HYMN.

"These are thy glorious works, parent of good,
Almighty thine this universal frame!
Thus wondrous fair! thyself how wondrous then!
To us invisible; or dimly seen
Unspeakable! who sit'st above these Heav'ns,

66

In these thy lowest works: yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r 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 Heav'n,
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, both eye and soul of this great world!
Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when hast fall'n,
"Moon! that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fly'st
With the fix'd stars, fix'd in their orb that flies,
And ye five other wand'ring fires, that move
In mystic dance, not without song, resound
His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.
"Air! and ye elements, th' 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 your great Maker still new praise,

"Ye mists and exhalations that now rise From hill, or steaming lake, dusky, or grey, Till the Sun paint your feecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Maker rise, Whether to deck with clouds th' uncolour'd sky, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs, Rising, or falling, still advance his praise. "His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters Breathe soft, or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines, With ev'ry plant, in sign of honour wave.

[blow,

"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 Heav'n's bright gates 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 ev'n, 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."

RECITATIVE.

So pray'd they innocent; then to their task
They diff'rent ways repair-he, where his choice
Leads him, or where most needs, whether to wind
The woodbine round his arbour, or direct
The clasping ivy where to twine; while she
In yonder spring of roses, intermix'd
With myrtle, seeks what to redress till noon.
Her long, with ardent look, his eye pursu'd
Delighted, but desiring more her stay.

She, like a wood-nymph light of Delia's train,
Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self
In gait surpass'd, and goddess-like deport.
Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye;
In ev'ry gesture dignity and love.

AIR.

"Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye; In ev'ry gesture dignity and love."

ACT III. SCENE I.

THE GUARDIAN ANGELS.

RECITATIVE.

OUR charge, though unsuccessful, is fulfill'd.
The tempter hath prevail'd, and man is fall'n.
Earth felt the wound, and Nature, from her seat
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe,
That all was lost. The fatal omens reach'd
Our glitt'ring files, and through th' angelic guard
Spread sadness, mix'd with pity, not with guilt,
Or conscious negligence. After short pause,
Earth trembled from her entrails, as again
In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan;
Sky lower'd, and, mutt'ring thunder, some sad drops
Wept at completing of the mortal sin.

Now up to Heav'n we haste, before the throne
Supreme, t' approve our faithful vigilance.

CHORUS.

Both good and evil, good lost, and evil got, Bad fruit of knowledge!

AIR.

"How shall I behold

Henceforth or God, or angel, erst with joy,
And rapture oft beheld? O! might I here
In solitude live savage, in some glade
Obscur'd, where highest woods, impenetrable
To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad,
And brown as evening. Cover me, ye pines,
Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs

Hide me, where I may never see them more."

RECITATIVE.

Would thou had'st hearken'd to my words, and stay'd
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange
Desire of wand'ring, this unhappy morn,

I know not whence possess'd thee! we had then
Remain'd still happy; not as now despoil'd
Of all our good, shamed, naked, mis'rable!

AIR.

"Let none henceforth, seek needless cause t'ap

prove

The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude they then begin to fail."

EVE.

Imput'st thou that to my desire, or will
Of wand'ring, as thou call'st it, which who knows
But might as ill have happen'd thou being by,
Or to thyself perhaps, had'st thou been there?
"Was I t' have never parted from thy side,
As good have grown there still a lifeless rib.
Being as I am, why did'st not thou, the head,
Command me absolutely not to go,
Going into such danger as thou said'st."
Too facil then, thou did'st not much gainsay,
Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss.
Had'st thou been firm, and fix'd in thy dissent,
Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me,

ADAM,

AIR.

O mis'rable of happy! Is this the end
Of this new glorious world, and me so late
The glory of that glory? who now become
Accurs'd of blessed! Hide me from the face
Of God, whom to behold was then my height
Of happiness. Yet well, if here would end
The mis'ry; I deserv'd 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," Increase, and multiply."
Now death to hear! For what can I increase,
Or multiply, but curses on my head,

Heavy! though in their place? O fleeting joys
Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woe!
"Did I request thee, Maker! from my clay,
To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
From darkness to promote me, or to place
In this delicious garden? As my will
Concurr'd not to my being,' 't were but right
And equal to reduce me to my dust,
Desirous to resign, and render back
All I receiv'd.”

EVE.

O Adam! can I thus behold thee wretched,
Thus mis'rable through my default, nor strive
To soothe thy grief, and soften thy distress?
ADAM.

Out of my sight, thou serpent! that name best
Befits thee, with him leagu'd, thyself as false,
And hateful..
.But for thee,

I had continued happy, had not thy pride,
And wand'ring vanity, when least was safe,
Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd
Not to be trusted; longing to be seen,
Though by the Devil himself.

AIR.

"O! why did God, Creator wise! that peopled highest Heav'n With spirits masculine, create at last This novelty on Earth, this fair defect Of Nature! and not fill the world at once With men, as angels without feminine?"

EVE.

Forsake me not thus, Adam! Witness Heav'n !
What love sincere, and rev'rence in my heart
I bear thee, and unweeting have offended,
Unhappily deceiv'd! Thy supplicant

I beg, and clasp thy knees; "bereave me not,
Whereon I live, thy gentle looks-thy aid-
Thy counsel in this uttermost distress:
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 join'd in injuries, one enmity
Against a foe, by doom express assign'd 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 sinn'd, but thou
Against God only, I against God and thee:
And to the place of judgment will return,
There with my cries importune Heav'n, that all
The sentence, from thy head remov'd, may light
On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe,
Me! me! just object only of his ire.

ADAM.

Alas! ill able art thou to sustain

His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part,
And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If pray'rs
Could alter high decrees, I to that place
Would speed before thee, and be louder heard,
That on my head all might be visited,
Thy frailty, and infirmer sex forgiv❜n,
To me committed, and by me expos'd.
But rise-let us no more contend, and blame

AIR.

EVE.

AFFETUOSO. .

"O! unexpected stroke, worse than of death!
Must I then leave thee, Paradise, thus leave
Thee, native soil! these happy walks, and shades,
Fit haunt of gods! where I had hope to spend
Quiet, though sad, the respite of that day,
That must be mortal to us both. O flow'rs!
That never will in other climate grow,
My early visitation, and my last
At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand,
From the first op'ning bud, and gave you names,
Who now shall rear you to the Sun, and rank
Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount?
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r! by me adorn'd
With what to sight or smell was sweet; from thee
How shall I part, and whither wander down

Into a lower world, to this obscure,
And wild; how shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits ?"

ADAM.

Lament not, Eve! but patiently resign What justly we have lost, nor set thine heart