PARADISE LOST.

BOOK V.

THE ARGUMENT.

MORNING approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; he likes it not, yet comforts her: they come forth to their day-labours: their morning hymn at the door of their bower. GOD, to render man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand, who he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to paradise; his appearance described, his coming discerned by Adam afar off, sitting at the door of his bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choicest fruits of paradise got together by Eve; their discourse at table: Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his state, and of his enemy; relates, at Adam's request, who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his first revolt in heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew his legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them to rebel with him; persuading all but only Abdiel a seraph, who in argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him.

Now morn, her rosy steps in th' eastern clime Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,

1

rosy steps] Quintus Smyınæus applies the epithet, ῥοδόσφυρος to Aurora. v. Lib. i. 137. A. Dyce.

2 sow'd] 'Ambo de comis calorem, et ambo radios conserunt.' See Anthol. Lat. vol. i. p. 8, ed. Burm. Avieni, Orb.

Desc. ver. 580. and Fragm. in Aristot. Poet.

Σπείρων θεοκτίσταν φλόγα. Upton.

6

When Adam wak'd, so custom'd, for his sleep
Was aery light, from pure digestion bred, [sound
And temperate vapours bland, which th' only
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,
Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill matin song
Of birds on every bough: so much the more
His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve
With tresses discompos'd and glowing cneek, 10
As through unquiet rest: he, on his side
Leaning half-rais'd, with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces: then with voice
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus: Awake,

* only] For 'alone.' Spens. F. Q. v. xi. 30.
• As if the only sound thereof she fear'd.'

6 fuming] v. Lucretii. lib. vi. Virg. Geo. ii. 217.
6 fan] Sylvester's Du Bartas, p. 116.

15

Calls forth the winds. Oh Heaven's fresh fans, quoth he:' and p. 161;

' now began

Aurora's usher with his windy fan

Gently to shake the woods on every side.'

7 matin] Virg. Æn. viii. 456.

• Et matutini volucrum sub culmine cantus.' Newton.

17 awake] See Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, ver. 10012. (Marchant's Tale.)

'Rise up, my wif, my love, my lady free,
The turtle's vois is heard, myn owen swete!
The winter is gon, with all his raines wete!
Come forth now,' &c.

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 20
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 sweet.
Such whisp'ring wak'd her, but with startled eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake.

25

O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose,
My glory, my perfection, glad I see
Thy face, and morn return'd; for I this night, 30
Such night till this I never pass'd, have dream'd,
If dream'd, not, as I oft am wont, of thee,
Works of day pass'd, or morrow's next design,
But of offence and trouble, which my mind
Knew never till this irksome night: methought 35
Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walk
With gentle voice; I thought it thine: it said,
Why sleep'st thou Eve? now is the pleasant time,
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields
To the night-warbling bird, that now awake
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song; now reigns
Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light

40

45

Shadowy sets off the face of things; in vain,
If none regard: heav'n wakes with all his eyes,
Whom to behold but thee, nature's desire,
In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment
Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.
I rose as at thy call, but found thee not;
To find thee I directed then my walk;
And on, methought, alone I pass'd through ways 50
That brought me on a sudden to the tree

Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seem'd,
Much fairer to my fancy than by day :

And as I wond'ring look'd, beside it stood
One shap'd and wing'd like one of those from heav'n

By us oft seen; his dewy locks distill'd

Ambrosia; on that tree he also gaz'd;

56

And O fair plant, said he, with fruit surcharg'd,
Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet,
Nor God, nor man; is knowledge so despis'd? 60
Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste?
Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold
Longer thy offer'd good; why else set here?
This said, he paus'd not, but with vent'rous arm
He pluck'd, he tasted; me damp horror chill'd 65
At such bold words vouch'd with a deed so bold.
But he thus overjoy'd: O fruit divine,