How fhall I behold the face
Henceforth of God or Angel, earft with joy And rapture fo oft beheld? thofe heav'nly shapes Will dazle now this earthly, with their blaze Infufferably bright. O might I here
In folitude live favage, in fome glade
Obfcur'd, where highest Woods impenetrable
To Star or Sun-light, fpread their umbrage broad
And brown as Evening: Cover me ye Pines,
Ye Cedars, with innumerable boughs
Hide me, where I may never fee them more. 1990
But let us now, as in bad plight, devife
What best may for the prefent ferve to hide
The Parts of each from other, that seem moft
To fhame obnoxious, and unfeemliest seen,
Some Tree whose broad finooth Leaves together fow'd,
And girded on our loyus may cover round
Thofe middle parts, that this new commer, Shame,
There fit not, and reproach us as unclean.
So counfell'd he, and both together went Into the thickeft Wood, there foon they chofe 1100 The Figtree, not that kind for Fruit renown'd, But fuch as at this day to Indians known In Malabar or Decan fpreds her Arms
Braunching fo broad and long, that in the ground
The bended Twigs take root, and Daughters grow
About the Mother Tree, a Pillard shade
Hign overarch'd, and echoing Walks between;
There oft the Indian Herdfman shunning heat
Shelters in cool, and tends his pafturing Herds
At Loopholes cut thro' thickest shade: Those Leaves
They gather'd broad as Amazonian Targe,
And with what skill they had, together fow'd,
To gird their wafte, vain Covering if to hide
Their guilt and dreaded shame; O how unlike
To that first naked Glory. Such of late
Columbus found th' American fo girt
With feather'd Cincture, naked elfe and wild
Among the Trees on Ifles and woody Shores.
Thus fenc'd, and as they thought their fhame in part
Cover'd, but not at reft or ease of Mind,
They fate them down to weep, nor only Tears
Rain'd at their Eyes, but high Winds worse within
Began to rife, high Paffions, Anger, Hate,
Miftruft, Sufpicion, Difcord, and fhook fore
Their inward State of Mind, calm Region once 1125
And full of Peace, now toft and turbulent:
For Understanding rul'd not, and the Will
Heard not her lore, but in fubjection now
To fenfual Appetite, who from beneath
Ulurping over Sov'reign Reason claim'd
Superior fway from thus diftemper'd Breast,
Adam, estrang'd in look and alter'd stile,
Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd.
Would thou hadst harken'd to my words, and stay'd With me, as I befought thee, when that firange Defire of wandring this unhappy Morn,
I know not whence poffefs'd thee; we had then
Remain'd ftill happy, not as now, difpoil'd
Of all our good, sham'd, naked, miserable,
Let none henceforth feek needless cause to approve The Faith they owe; when earneftly they seek 1140 Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.
To whom foon mov'd with touch of blame thus Eve What words have paft thy Lips, Adam fevere, Imput'ft thou that to my default, or will
Of wandring, as thou call'st it, which who knows
But might as ill have happen'd thou being by,
Or to thy felf perhaps: hadft thou been there,
Or here th'attempt, thou couldst not have difcern'd
Fraud in the Serpent, fpeaking as he fpake; 1150
No ground of enmity between us known,
Why he should mean me ill, or feek to harm.
Was I to have never parted from thy fide?
As good have grown there ftill a liveless Rib.
Being as I am, why didst not thou the Head
Command me abfolutely not to go,
Going into fuch danger, as thou saidft?
Too facil then thou didst not much gainfay,
Nay didft permit, approve, and fair dismiss.
Hadft thou been firm and fixt in thy diffent,
Neither had I tranfgrefs'd, nor thou with me.
To whom then firft incenft Adam reply'd,
Is this the Love, is this the
recompence
Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, exprest
Immutable when thou wert loft, not I,
Who might have liv'd, and joy'd immortal bliss,
Yet willingly chose rather Death with thee:
And am I now upbraided, as the cause
Of thy tranfgreffing? not enough severe,
It seems, in my restraint: what could I more? 1170 I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold
The danger, and the lurking Enemy
That lay in wait; beyond this had been force,
And force upon free will hath here no place.
But confidence then bore thee on, fecure
Either to meet no danger, or to find
Matter of glorious trial; and perhaps
I alfo err'd in overmuch admiring
What feem'd in thee fo perfect, that I thought
No evil duift attempt thee, but I rue
That error now, which is become my crime,
And thou th' accufer. Thus it fhall befal
Him who to worth in Women overtrusting
Lets her will rule; reftrant fhe will not brook,
And left to her felf, if evil thence enfue,
She firft his weak indulgence will accufe.
Thus they in mutual accufation spent
The fruitless hours, but neither felf-condemning,
And of their vain conteft appear'd no end.
The End of the Ninth Book.
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