About this book

Paradise Lost

John Milton

These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almightie, thine this universal Frame, Thus wondrous fair; thy self how wondrous then! Unspeakable, who sitst 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 yee who best can tell, ye Sons of light, Angels, for yee behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, Day without Night, Circle his Throne rejoycing, yee in Heav’n, On Earth joyn all yee Creatures to extoll Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of Starrs, last in the train of Night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crownst the smiling Morn With thy bright Circlet, praise him in thy Spheare While day arises, that sweet hour of Prime. Thou Sun, of this great World both Eye and Soule, Acknowledge him thy Greater, sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb’st, And when high Noon hast gaind, & when thou fallst. Moon, that now meetst the orient Sun, now fli’st With the fixt Starrs, fixt in thir Orb that flies, And yee five other wandring Fires that move In mystic Dance not without Song, resound His praise, who out of Darkness call’d up Light. Aire, and ye Elements the eldest birth Of Natures Womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual Circle, multiform; and mix And nourish all things, let your ceasless change Varie to our great Maker still new praise. Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise From Hill or steaming Lake, duskie or grey, Till the Sun paint your fleecie skirts with Gold, In honour to the Worlds great Author rise, Whether to deck with Clouds the uncolourd skie, Or wet the thirstie Earth with falling showers, Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise ye Winds, that from four Quarters blow, Breath soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines, With every Plant, in sign of Worship wave. Fountains and yee, that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Joyn voices all ye living Souls, ye Birds, That singing up to Heaven Gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise; Yee that in Waters glide, and yee that walk The Earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be silent, Morn or Eeven, 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 onely good; and if the night Have gathered aught of evil or conceald, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. So pray’d they innocent, and to thir thoughts Firm peace recoverd soon and wonted calm. On to thir mornings rural work they haste Among sweet dewes and flours; where any row Of Fruit-trees overwoodie reachd too farr Thir pamperd boughes, and needed hands to check Fruitless imbraces: or they led the Vine To wed her Elm; she spous’d about him twines Her mariageable arms, and with her brings Her dowr th’ adopted Clusters, to adorn His barren leaves. Them thus imploid beheld With pittie Heav’ns high King, and to him call’d _Raphael_, the sociable Spirit, that deign’d To travel with _Tobias_, and secur’d His marriage with the seaventimes-wedded Maid. _Raphael_, said hee, thou hear’st what stir on Earth _Satan_ from Hell scap’t through the darksom Gulf Hath raisd in Paradise, and how disturbd This night the human pair, how he designes In them at once to ruin all mankind. Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend Converse with _Adam_, in what Bowre or shade Thou find’st him from the heat of Noon retir’d, To respit his day-labour with repast, Or with repose; and such discourse bring on, As may advise him of his happie state, Happiness in his power left free to will, Left to his own free Will, his Will though free, Yet mutable; whence warne him to beware He swerve not too secure: tell him withall His danger, and from whom, what enemie Late falln himself from Heav’n, is plotting now The fall of others from like state of bliss; By violence, no, for that shall be withstood, But by deceit and lies; this let him know, Least wilfully transgressing he pretend Surprisal, unadmonisht, unforewarnd. So spake th’ Eternal Father, and fulfilld All Justice: nor delaid the winged Saint After his charge receivd, but from among Thousand Celestial Ardors, where he stood Vaild with his gorgeous wings, up springing light Flew through the midst of Heav’n; th’ angelic Quires On each hand parting, to his speed gave way Through all th’ Empyreal road; till at the Gate Of Heav’n arriv’d, the gate self-opend wide On golden Hinges turning, as by work Divine the sov’ran Architect had fram’d. From hence, no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight, Starr interpos’d, however small he sees, Not unconform to other shining Globes, Earth and the Gard’n of God, with Cedars crownd Above all Hills. As when by night the Glass Of _Galileo_, less assur’d, observes Imagind Lands and Regions in the Moon: Or Pilot from amidst the _Cyclades_ _Delos_ or _Samos_ first appeering kenns A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast Ethereal Skie Sailes between worlds & worlds, with steddie wing Now on the polar windes, then with quick Fann Winnows the buxom Air; till within soare Of Towring Eagles, to all the Fowles he seems A _Phoenix_, gaz’d by all, as that sole Bird When to enshrine his reliques in the Sun’s Bright Temple, to _Aegyptian Theb’s_ he flies. At once on th’ Eastern cliff of Paradise He lights, and to his proper shape returns A Seraph wingd; six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments Divine; the pair that clad Each shoulder broad, came mantling o’re his brest With regal Ornament; the middle pair Girt like a Starrie Zone his waste, and round Skirted his loines and thighes with downie Gold And colours dipt in Heav’n; the third his feet Shaddowd from either heele with featherd maile Skie-tinctur’d grain. Like _Maia’s_ son he stood, And shook his Plumes, that Heav’nly fragrance filld The circuit wide. Strait knew him all the bands Of Angels under watch; and to his state, And to his message high in honour rise; For on som message high they guessd him bound. Thir glittering Tents he passd, and now is come Into the blissful field, through Groves of Myrrhe, And flouring Odours, Cassia, Nard, and Balme; A Wilderness of sweets; for Nature here Wantond as in her prime, and plaid at will Her Virgin Fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wilde above rule or art; enormous bliss. Him through the spicie Forrest onward com _Adam_ discernd, as in the dore he sat Of his coole Bowre, while now the mounted Sun Shot down direct his fervid Raies, to warme Earths inmost womb, more warmth then _Adam_ need; And _Eve_ within, due at her hour prepar’d For dinner savourie fruits, of taste to please True appetite, and not disrelish thirst Of nectarous draughts between, from milkie stream, Berrie or Grape: to whom thus _Adam_ call’d. Haste hither _Eve_, and worth thy sight behold Eastward among those Trees, what glorious shape Comes this way moving; seems another Morn Ris’n on mid-noon; som great behest from Heav’n To us perhaps he brings, and will voutsafe This day to be our Guest. But goe with speed, And what thy stores contain, bring forth and poure Abundance, fit to honour and receive Our Heav’nly stranger; well we may afford Our givers thir own gifts, and large bestow From large bestowd, where Nature multiplies Her fertil growth, and by disburd’ning grows More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare. To whom thus _Eve_. _Adam_, earths hallowd mould, Of God inspir’d, small store will serve, where store, All seasons, ripe for use hangs on the stalk; Save what by frugal storing firmness gains To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes: But I will haste and from each bough and break, Each Plant & juciest Gourd will pluck such choice To entertain our Angel guest, as hee Beholding shall confess that here on Earth God hath dispenst his bounties as in Heav’n. So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent What choice to chuse for delicacie best, What order, so contriv’d as not to mix Tastes, not well joynd, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change, Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk Whatever Earth all-bearing Mother yeilds In _India_ East or West, or middle shoare In _Pontus_ or the _Punic_ Coast, or where _Alcinous_ reign’d, fruit of all kindes, in coate, Rough, or smooth rin’d, or bearded husk, or shell She gathers, Tribute large, and on the board Heaps with unsparing hand; for drink the Grape She crushes, inoffensive moust, and meathes From many a berrie, and from sweet kernels prest She tempers dulcet creams, nor these to hold Wants her fit vessels pure, then strews the ground With Rose and Odours from the shrub unfum’d. Mean while our Primitive great Sire, to meet His god-like Guest, walks forth, without more train Accompani’d then with his own compleat Perfections, in himself was all his state, More solemn then the tedious pomp that waits On Princes, when thir rich Retinue long Of Horses led, and Grooms besmeard with Gold Dazles the croud, and sets them all agape. Neerer his presence _Adam_ though not awd, Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek, As to a superior Nature, bowing low, Thus said. Native of Heav’n, for other place None can then Heav’n such glorious shape contain; Since by descending from the Thrones above, Those happie places thou hast deignd a while To want, and honour these, voutsafe with us Two onely, who yet by sov’ran gift possess This spacious ground, in yonder shadie Bowre To rest, and what the Garden choicest bears To sit and taste, till this meridian heat Be over, and the Sun more coole decline. Whom thus the Angelic Vertue answerd milde. _Adam_, I therefore came, nor art thou such Created, or such place hast here to dwell, As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heav’n To visit thee; lead on then where thy Bowre Oreshades; for these mid-hours, till Eevning rise I have at will. So to the Silvan Lodge They came, that like _Pomona’s_ Arbour smil’d With flourets deck’t and fragrant smells; but _Eve_ Undeckt, save with her self more lovely fair Then Wood-Nymph, or the fairest Goddess feign’d Of three that in Mount _Ida_ naked strove, Stood to entertain her guest from Heav’n; no vaile Shee needed, Vertue-proof, no thought infirme Alterd her cheek. On whom the Angel _Haile_ Bestowd, the holy salutation us’d Long after to blest _Marie_, second _Eve_. Haile Mother of Mankind, whose fruitful Womb Shall fill the World more numerous with thy Sons Then with these various fruits the Trees of God Have heap’d this Table. Rais’d of grassie terf Thir Table was, and mossie seats had round, And on her ample Square from side to side All _Autumn_ pil’d, though _Spring_ and _Autumn_ here Danc’d hand in hand. A while discourse they hold; No fear lest Dinner coole; when thus began Our Authour. Heav’nly stranger, please to taste These bounties which our Nourisher, from whom All perfet good unmeasur’d out, descends, To us for food and for delight hath caus’d The Earth to yeild; unsavourie food perhaps To spiritual Natures; only this I know, That one Celestial Father gives to all. To whom the Angel. Therefore what he gives (Whose praise be ever sung) to man in part Spiritual, may of purest Spirits be found No ingrateful food: and food alike those pure Intelligential substances require As doth your Rational; and both contain Within them every lower facultie Of sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste, Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate, And corporeal to incorporeal turn. For know, whatever was created, needs To be sustaind and fed; of Elements The grosser feeds the purer, earth the sea,