Paradife Loft.

BOOK V.

The ARGUMENT.

Morning approach'd, Eve relates to Adam her troublefume 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 inexcufable fends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free eftate, 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 Paradife, his

appearance defcrib'd, his coming difcern'd by Adam afar off fitting at the door of his Bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains him with the choiceft fruits of Paradife got together by Eve; their difcourfe at Table: Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his ftate and of his enemy, relates at Adam's request who that enemy is, and how he came to be fo, beginning from his first revolt in Heaven, and the occafion thereof; how he drew his Legions after him to the parts of the North, and there incited them to rebel with him, perfwading all but only Abdiel a Seraph, who in Argument diffwades and oppofes him, then forfakes him.

JOW Morn her rofie fteps in th'Eastern Clime

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Advancing, fow'd the earth wirh Orient Pearl, When Adam wak'd, so cuftom'd, for his fleep Was Aerie light from pure digeftion bred, And temperat vapours bland, which th' only found Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan, Lightly difpers'd, and the fhrill Matin Song Of Birds on every bough; fo much the more His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve With Treffes difcompos'd, and glowing Cheek to As through unquiet rest: he on his fide 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 foft touching, whisper'd thus. Awake My faireft, my efpous'd, my latest found, Heav'ns last best gift, my ever new delight, Awake, the morning fines, 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 Myrrhe, and what the balmie Reed, How Nature paints her colour, how the Bee Sits on the Bloom extracting liquid fweet.

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Such whispering wak'd her, but with startl'd eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus the spake. O Sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, My Glory, my Perfection, glad I fee