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-open'd wide On golden hinges turning, as by work
Divine the sov'reign Architect had fram'd. From hence, no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight, Star interpos'd, however small he sees,
Not unconform to other shining globes,
Earth and the gard'n of God, with cedars crown'd Above all hills. As when by night the glass 261 Of Galileo, less assur'd, observes Imagin'd lands and regions in the moon: Or pilot, from amidst the Cyclades Delos or Samos first appearing, kens
A cloudy spot. Down thither prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan Winnows the buxom air: till within soar Of tow'ring eagles, to' all the fowls he seems A Phoenix, gaz'd by all, as that sole bird, When to inshrine his reliques in the sun's Bright temple, to Egyptian Thebes he flies. At once on th' eastern cliff of Paradise He lights, and to his proper shape returns A Seraph wing'd; six wings he wore, to shade His lineaments divine; the pair that clad
Each shoulder broad, came mantling o'er his breast With regal ornament; the middle pair
Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round
Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold And colours dipt in Heav'n; the third his feet Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail, Sky-tinctur'd grain. Like Maria's son he stood, And shook his plumes, that heav'nly fragrance fill'd The circuit wide. Straight knew him all the bands Of Angels under watch; and to his state, And to his message high in honour rise; For on some message high they guess'd him bound, Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, And flow'ring odours, cassia, nard, and balm ; A wilderness of sweets; for Nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art; enormous bliss. Him through the spicy forest onward come Adam discern'd, as in the door he sat
Of his cool bow'r, while now the mounted sun 300 Shot down direct his fervid rays to warm
Earth's inmost womb, more warmth than Adam needs :
And Eve within, due at her hour prepar'd
For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please True appetite, and not disrelish thirst
Of necta'rous draughts between, from milky stream, Berry 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 310 Ris'n on mid-noon; some great behest from Heaven
To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe This day to be our guest. But go with speed, And what thy stores contain, bring forth and pour Abundance, fit to honour and receive
Our heav'nly stranger: well we may afford Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow From large bestow'd, where Nature multiplies Her fertile growth, and by disburd'ning grows More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare. 320 To whom thus Eve. Adam, earth's hallow'd 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 brake, Each plant and juiciest gourd, will pluck such choice To entertain our Angel guest, as he
Beholding shall confess, that here on Earth God hath dispens'd his bounties as in Heaven. 330 So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent What choice to choose for delicacy best, What order, so contriv'd as not to mix Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change; Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk Whatever Earth all-bearing mother yields In India East or West, or middle shore In Pontus or the Punic coast, or where Alcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat 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 must, and meaths
From many a berry', and from sweet kernels press'd 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 330 His God-like guest, walks forth, without more train Accompanied than with his own complete
Perfections in himself was all his state, More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits On princes, when their rich retinue long Of horses led, and grooms besmear'd with gold, Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape, Nearer his presence Adam though not aw'd, Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek, As to a superior nature, bowing low,
360 Thus said. Native of Heav'n, for other place None can than Heav'n such glorious shape contain; Since by descending from the thrones above, Those happy places thou hast deign'd a while To want, and honour these, vouchsafe with us Two' only, who yet by sov'reign gift possess This spacious ground, in yonder shady bower To rest, and what the garden choicest bears To sit and taste, till this meridian heat Be over, and the sun more cool decline.
Whom thus th' angelic Virtue answer'd mild. 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 bower O'ershades; for these mid-hours, till evening rise, I have at will. So to the sylvan lodge
They came, that like Pomona's arbour smil'd With flow'rets deck'd and fragrant smells; but Eve Undeck'd save with herself, more lovely fair 380 Than 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 veil She needed, virtue roof; no thought infirm Alter'd her cheek. On whom the Angel Hail Bestow'd, the holy salutation us'd
Long after to blest Mary, second Eve.
Hail Mother of Mankind, whose fruitful womb Shall fill the world more numerous with thy sons, Than with these various fruits the trees of God 390 Have heap'd this table. Rais'd of grassy turf Their table was, and mossy 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 cool; when thus began Our author. Heav'nly stranger, please to taste These bounties, which our Nourisher, from whom All perfect good, unmeasur'd out, descends, To us for food and for delight hath caus'd 4.00 The earth to yield; unsavoury food perhaps To spiritual natures; only this I know,
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