On our belief, that all from them proceeds: I question it; for this fair Earth I see, Warm'd by the Sun, producing every kind; Them, nothing: if they all things, who inclos'd Knowledge of good and evil in this tree, That whoso eats thereof forthwith attains Wisdom without their leave? and wherein lies The offence, that man should thus attain to know? What can your knowledge hurt him, or this tree Impart against his will, if all be his ?
Or is it envy? and can envy dwell
Or fancied so, through expectation high
Of knowledge; nor was godhead from her thought Greedily she engorg'd without restraint,
And knew not eating death; satiate at length, And heighten'd as with wine, jocund and boon, Thus to herself she pleasingly began.
“O sovran, virtuous, precious of all trees In Paradise! of operation blest
To sapience, hitherto obscur'd, infam'd, And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end Created; but henceforth my early care,
In heavenly breasts?—These, these, and many more Not without song, each morning, and due praise, Causes import your need of this fair fruit. Goddess humane, reach then, and freely taste."
He ended; and his words, replete with guile, Into her heart too easy entrance won: Fix'd on the fruit she gaz'd, which to behold Might tempt alone; and in her ears the sound Yet rung of his persuasive words, impregn'd With reason, to her seeming, and with truth; Meanwhile the hour of noon drew on, and wak'd An eager appetite, rais'd by the smell
So savory of that fruit, which with desire, Inclinable now grown to touch or taste, Solicited her longing eye; yet first Pausing awhile, thus to herself she mus'd.
"Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits, Though kept from man, and worthy to be admir'd; Whose taste, too long forborne, at first assay Gave elocution to the mute, and taught
Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease Of thy full branches offer'd free to all; Till, dieted by thee, I grow mature
In knowledge, as the gods, who all things know; Though others envy what they cannot give. For, had the gift been theirs, it had not here Thus grown. Experience, next, to thee I owe, Best guide: not following thee, I had remain'd In ignorance; thou open'st wisdom's way, And giv'st access, though secret she retire. And I perhaps am secret: Heaven is high, High, and remote to see from thence distinct Each thing on Earth; and other care perhaps May have diverted from continual watch Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies About him. But to Adam in what sort Shall I appear? shall I to him make known As yet my change, and give him to partake
The tongue not made for speech, to speak thy praise: Full happiness with me, or rather not, Thy praise he also, who forbids thy use, Conceals not from us, naming thee the tree
But keep the odds of knowledge in my power Without copartner? so to add what wants
Of knowledge, knowledge both of good and evil; In female sex, the more to draw his love, Forbids us then to taste! but his forbidding Commends thee more, while it infers the good By thee communicated, and our want: For good unknown sure is not had; or, had And yet unknown, is as not had at all. In plain then, what forbids he but to know, Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise? Such prohibitions bind not. But, if death Bind us with after-bands, what profits then Our inward freedom? In the day we eat Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die! How dies the serpent? he hath eat'n and lives, And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns, Irrational, till then. For us alone Was death invented? or to us denied This intellectual food, for beasts reserv'd?
And render me more equal; and perhaps, A thing not undesirable, sometime Superior: for, inferior, who is free?
This may be well: but what if God have seen, And death ensue? then I shall be no more! And Adam, wedded to another Eve, Shall live with her enjoying, I extinct; A death to think! Confirm'd then I resolve, Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe: So dear I love him, that with him all deaths I could endure, without him live no life."
For beasts it seems: yet that one beast which first Hath tasted envies not, but brings with joy The good befall'n him, author unsuspect, Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile. What fear I then? rather, what know to fear Under this ignorance of good and evil, Of God or death, of law or penalty? Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine, Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,
Of virtue to make wise: what hinders then To reach, and feed at once both body and mind?" So saying, her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat! Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe, That all was lost. Back to the thicket slunk The guilty serpent; and well might; for Eve, Intent now wholly on her taste, nought else Regarded; such delight till then, as seem'd, In fruit she never tasted, whether true
So saying, from the tree her step she turn'd; But first low reverence done, as to the Power That dwelt within, whose presence had infus'd Into the plant sciential sap, deriv'd From nectar, drink of gods. Adam the while Waiting desirous her return, had wove Of choicest flowers a garland, to adorn Her tresses, and her rural labors crown; As reapers oft are wont their harvest-queen. Great joy he promis'd to his thoughts, and new Solace in her return, so long delay'd: Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill, Misgave him; he the faltering measure felt; And forth to meet her went, the way she took That morn when first they parted: by the tree Of knowledge he must pass; there he her met, Scarce from the tree returning; in her hand A bough of fairest fruit, that downy smil'd, New gather'd, and ambrosial smell diffus'd. To him she hasted; in her face excuse Came prologue, and apology too prompt; Which, with bland words at will, she thus address'd "Hast thou not wonder'd, Adam, at my stay? Thee I have miss'd, and thought it long, depriv'd Thy presence; agony of love till now
Not felt, nor shall be twice; for never more Mean I to try, what rash untried I sought, The pain of absence from thy sight. But strange Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear: This tree is not, as we are told, a tree Of danger tasted, nor to evil unknown Opening the way, but of divine effect
To open eyes, and make them gods who taste; And hath been tasted such: the serpent wise, Or not restrain'd as we, or not obeying, Hath eaten of the fruit; and is become, Not dead, as we are threaten'd, but thenceforth Endued with human voice and human sense, Reasoning to admiration; and with me Persuasively hath so prevail'd, that I Have also tasted, and have also found The effects to correspond; opener mine eyes Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart, And growing up to godhead; which for thee Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise. For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss; Tedious, unshar'd with thee, and odious soon. Thou therefore also taste, that equal lot May join us, equal joy, as equal love; Lest, thou not tasting, different degree Disjoin us, and I then too late renounce Deity for thee when Fate will not permit."
Is not so heinous now, foretasted fruit, Profan'd first by the serpent, by him first Made common, and unhallow'd, ere our taste: Nor yet on him found deadly; he yet lives; Lives, as thou saidst, and gains to live, as Man, Higher degree of life: inducement strong To us, as likely tasting to attain Proportional ascent; which cannot be But to be gods, or angels, demi-gods. Nor can I think that God, Creator wise, Though threatening, will in earnest so destroy Us his prime creatures, dignified so high, Set over all his works; which in our fall, For us created, needs with us must fail, Dependent made; so God shall uncreate, Be frustrate, do, undo, and labor lose; Not well conceiv'd of God, who, though his power Creation could repeat, yet would he loth Us to abolish, lest the adversary
Triumph, and say; 'Fickle their state whom God Most favors; who can please him long? Me first He ruin'd, now Mankind; whom will he next?" Matter of scorn, not to be given the foe. However I with thee have fix'd my lot, Certain to undergo like doom: if death
Consort with thee, death is to me as life; So forcible within my heart I feel
Thus Eve with countenance blithe her story told; The bond of Nature draw me to my own;
But in her cheek distemper flushing glow'd.
On the other side, Adam, soon as he heard The fatal trespass done by Eve, amaz'd, Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax'd; From his slack hand the garland wreath'd for Eve Down dropt, and all the faded roses shed: Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length First to himself he inward silence broke.
"O fairest of creation, last and best
Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet! How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost, Defac'd, deflower'd, and now to death devote! Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgress The strict forbiddance, how to violate
The sacred fruit forbidden! Some cursed fraud Of enemy hath beguil'd thee, yet unknown, And me with thee hath ruin'd; for with thee Certain my resolution is to die :
How can I live without thee! how forego Thy sweet convérse, and love so dearly join'd, To live again in these wild woods forlorn! Should God create another Eve, and I Another rib afford, yet loss of thee Would never from my heart: no, no! I feel The link of Nature draw me: flesh of flesh, Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe."
So having said, as one from sad dismay Recomforted, and after thoughts disturb'd Submitting to what seem'd remediless,
Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turn'd.
My own in thee, for what thou art is mine: Our state cannot be sever'd; we are one,
One flesh to lose thee were to lose myself." So Adam; and thus Eve to him replied. "O glorious trial of exceeding love, Illustrious evidence, example high! Engaging me to emulate; but, short Of thy perfection, how shall I attain,
Adam? from whose dear side I boast me sprung, And gladly of our union hear thee speak, One heart, one soul in both; whereof good proof This day affords, declaring thee resolv'd,
Rather than death, or aught than death more dread Shall separate us, link'd in love so dear, To undergo with me one guilt, one crime, If any be, of tasting this fair fruit; Whose virtue, (for of good still good proceeds; Direct, or by occasion,) hath presented This happy trial of thy love, which else So eminently never had been known. Were it I thought death menac'd would ensue This my attempt, I would sustain alone The worst, and not persuade thee, rather die Deserted, than oblige thee with a fact Pernicious to thy peace; chiefly, assur'd Remarkably so late of thy so true, So faithful, love unequall'd: but I feel Far otherwise the event; not death, but life Augmented, open'd eyes, new hopes, new joys, Taste so divine, that what of sweet before Hath touch'd my sense, flat seems to this, and harsh. On my experience, Adam, freely taste, And fear of death deliver to the winds."
So saying, she embrac'd him, and for joy Tenderly wept; much won, that he his love Had so ennobled, as of choice to incur Divine displeasure for her sake, or death. In recompense (for such compliance bad Such recompense best merits) from the bough She gave him of that fair enticing fruit With liberal hand: he scrupled not to eat, Against his better knowledge; not deceiv'd,
But fondly overcome with female charm. Earth trembled from her entrails, as again In pangs; and Nature gave a second groan; Sky lour'd; and, muttering thunder, some sad drops Wept at completing of the mortal sin Original: while Adam took no thought, Eating his fill: nor Eve to iterate
Her former trespass fear'd, the more to soothe Him with her lov'd society; that now, As with new wine intoxicated both,
They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel Divinity within them breeding wings,
To counterfeit man's voice; true in our fall, False in our promis'd rising; since our eyes Open'd we find indeed, and find we know Both good and evil; good lost, and evil got; Bad fruit of knowledge; if this be to know; Which leaves us naked thus, of honor void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity,
Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd. And in our faces evident the signs
Of foul concupiscence: whence evil store Even shame, the last of evils; of the first Be sure then.-How shall I behold the face
Wherewith to scorn the earth: but that false fruit Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy
Far other operation first display'd, Carnal desire inflaming: he on Eve Began to cast lascivious eyes; she him As wantonly repaid; in lust they burn: Till Adam thus 'gan Eve to dalliance move. "Eve, now I see thou art exact of taste, And elegant, of sapience no small part; Since to each meaning savor we apply And palate call judicious; I the praise Yield thee, so well this day thou hast purvey'd. Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstain'd From this delightful fruit, nor known till now True relish, tasting; if such pleasure be In things to us forbidd'n, it might be wish'd, For this one tree had been forbidden ten. But come, so well refresh'd, now let us play, As meet is, after such delicious fare; For never did thy beauty, since the day I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorn'd With all perfections, so inflame my sense With ardor to enjoy thee, fairer now Than ever: bounty of this virtuous tree!"
So said he, and forbore not glance or toy Of amorous intent; well understood
Of Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire. Her hand he seiz'd; and to a shady bank, Thick over-head with verdant roof embower'd, He led her nothing loth; flowers were the couch, Pansies, and violets, and asphodel, And hyacinths; Earth's freshest softest lap. There they their fill of love and love's disport Took largely, of their mutual guilt the seal, The solace of their sin: till dewy sleep
And rapture so oft beheld? Those heavenly shapes Will dazzle now this earthly with their blaze Insufferably bright. O! might I here
In solitude live savage; in some glade Obscur'd, where highest woods, impenetrable To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad And brown as evening: cover me, ye pines! Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs Hide me, where I may never see them more!— But let us now, as in bad plight, devise What best may for the present serve to hide The parts of each from other, that seem most To shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen; Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves together sew'd And girded on our loins, may cover round Those middle parts; that this new comer, Shame, There sit not, and reproach us as unclean."
So counsell'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose The fig-tree; not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade High over-arch'd, and echoing walks between: There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat, Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds At loop-holes cut through thickest shade: those leaves
They gather'd, broad as Amazonian targe; And, with what skill they had, together sew'd, To gird their waist; vain covering, if to hide
Oppress'd them, wearied with their amorous play. Their guilt and dreaded shame! O, how unlike
Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit, That with exhilarating vapor bland
About their spirits had play'd, and inmost powers Made err, was now exhal'd; and grosser sleep, Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams Encumber'd, now had left them; up they rose As from unrest; and, each the other viewing, Soon found their eyes how open'd, and their minds How darken'd: innocence, that as a veil Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone; Just confidence, and native righteousness, And honor, from about them, naked left To guilty shame; he cover'd, but his robe Uncover'd more. So rose the Danite strong, Herculean Samson, from the harlot-lap Of Philistéan Dalilah, and wak'd
Shorn of his strength, they destitute and bare Of all their virtue: silent, and in face Confounded, long they sat, as strucken mute: Till Adam, though not less than Eve abash'd, At length gave utterance to these words constrain'd. "O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear To that false worm, of whomsoever taught
To that first naked glory! Such of late Columbus found the American, so girt With feather'd cincture; naked else, and wild Among the trees on isles and woody shores. Thus fenc'd, and, as they thought, their shame in part Cover'd, but not at rest or ease of mind, They sat them down to weep; nor only tears Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord; and shook sore Their inward state of mind, calm region once And full of peace, now tost and turbulent: For Understanding rul'd not, and the Will Heard not her lore; both in subjection now To Sensual Appetite, who from beneath Usurping over sovran Reason claim'd Superior sway: from thus distemper'd breast, Adam, estrang'd in look and alter'd style, Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd. "Would thou hadst hearkened to my words, and With me, as I besought thee, when that strange Desire of wandering, this unhappy morn,
I know not whence possess'd thee; we had then
Remain'd still happy; not, as now, despoil'd Of all our good; sham'd, naked, miserable! Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail."
To whom, soon mov'd with touch of blame, thus Eve.
"What words have pass'd thy lips, Adam severe ! Imput'st thou that to my default, or will Of wandering, as thou call'st it, which who knows But might as ill have happen'd thou being by, Or to thyself perhaps? Hadst thou been there, Or here the attempt, thou couldst not have discern'd Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. Was I to have never parted from thy side? As good have grown there still a lifeless rib. Being as I am, why didst not thou, the head, Command me absolutely not to go, Going into such danger, as thou saidst?
Too facile then, thou didst not much gainsay; Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me." To whom, then first incens'd, Adam replied. "Is this the love, is this the recompense Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve! Express'd Immutable, when thou wert lost, 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 transgressing? Not enough severe, It seems, in thy restraint: what could I more? 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; secure Either to meet no danger, or to find Matter of glorious trial; and perhaps I also err'd, in over-much admiring
What seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought No evil durst attempt thee; but I rue That error now, which is become my crime, And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befall Him, who, to worth in women overtrusting, Lets her will rule: restraint she will not brook; And, left to herself, if evil thence ensue, She first his weak indulgence will accuse." Thus they in mutual accusation spent The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning, And of their vain contést appear'd no end.
committed, resolve to sit no longer confined in Hell, but to follow Satan their sire up to the place of Man: to make the way easier from Hell to this world to and fro, they pave a broad highway or bridge over Chaos, according to the track that Satan first made; then, preparing for Earth, they meet him, proud of his success, re- turning to Hell; their mutual gratulation. arrives at Pandemonium, in full assembly relates with boasting his success against Man; instead of applause is entertained with a general hiss by all his audience, transformed with himself also suddenly into serpents according to his doom given in Paradise; then, deluded with a show of the forbidden tree springing up before them, they, greedily reaching to take of the fruit, chew dust and bitter ashes. The proceedings of Sin and Death; God foretells the final victory of his Son over them, and the renewing of all things; but for the present, commands his angels to make several alterations in the Heavens and elements. Adam, more and more perceiving his fallen con- dition, heavily bewails, rejects the condolement of Eve; she persists, and at length appeases him: then, to evade the curse likely to fall on their off- spring, proposes to Adam violent ways, which he approves not; but, conceiving better hope, puts her in mind of the late promise made them, that her seed should be revenged on the serpent; and exhorts her with him to seek peace of the offended Deity, by repentance and supplication.
MEANWHILE the heinous and despiteful act Of Satan done in Paradise; and how He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve, Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit, Was known in Heaven; for what can 'scape the eye Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just, Hinder'd not Satan to attempt the mind
Of Man, with strength entire, and free-will, arm'd; Complete to have discover'd and repuls'd Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.
For still they knew, and ought to have still remember'd,
The high injunction, not to taste that fruit, Whoever tempted; which they not obeying Incurr'd (what could they less?) the penalty; And, manifold in sin, deserv'd to fall. Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste The angelic guards ascend, mute, and sad, For Man; for of his state by this they knew, Much wondering how the subtle fiend had stol'n Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeas'd All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare That time celestial visages, yet, mix'd With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new-arriv'd, in multitudes
Man's transgression known; the guardian-angels The ethereal people ran, to hear and know forsake Paradise, and return up to Heaven to How all befell; they towards the throne supreme, approve their vigilance, and are approved; God Accountable, made haste, to make appear declaring that the entrance of Satan could With righteous plea their utmost vigilance, not be by them prevented. He sends his Son And easily approv'd; when the Most High to judge the transgressors, who descends and Eternal Father, from his secret cloud gives sentence accordingly; then in pity clothes Amidst, in thunder utter'd thus his voice. them both, and reascends. Sin and Death. "Assembled angels, and ye powers return'd sitting till then at the gates of Hell, by won- From unsuccessful charge, be not dismay'd, drous sympathy feeling the success of Satan Nor troubled at these tidings from the Earth, in this new world, and the Sin by Man there Which your sincerest care could not prevent,
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
Or come I less conspicuous, or what change
When first this tempter cross'd the gulf from Hell. Absents thee, or what chance detains?—Cons
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed On his bad errand; Man should be seduc'd, And flatter'd out of all, believing lies Against his Maker; no decree of mine Concurring to necessitate his fall,
Or touch'd with lightest moment of impulse His free-will, to her own inclining left
In even scale. But fall'n he is; and now What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass On his transgression,-death denounc'd that day? Which he presumes already vain and void, Because not yet inflicted, as he fear'd,
By some immediate stroke; but soon shall find Forbearance no acquittance, ere day end. Justice shall not return as bounty scorn'd.
But whom send I to judge them? whom but thee, Vicegerent Son? To thee I have transferr'd
He came; and with him Eve, more loth, though To offend; discountenanc'd both, and discompos'd; Love was not in their looks, either to God,
Or to each other; but apparent guilt, And shame, and perturbation, and despair, Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. Whence Adam, faltering long, thus answer'd brief "I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice Afraid, being naked, hid myself." To whom The gracious Judge without revile replied.
"My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd, But still rejoic'd; how is it now become
So dreadful to thee? That thou art naked, who Hath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the tree, Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat? To whom thus Adam sore beset replied.
All judgment, whether in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell." O Heaven! in evil strait this day I stand Easy it may be seen that I intend
Mercy colleague with justice, sending thee Man's friend, his Mediator, his design'd Both ransom and Redeemer voluntary,
And destin'd Man himself to judge Man fall'n." So spake the Father; and, unfolding bright Toward the right hand his glory, on the Son Blaz'd forth unclouded deity: he full Resplendent all his Father manifest Express'd, and thus divinely answer'd mild. "Father Eternal, thine is to decree; Mine, both in Heaven and Earth, to do thy will Supreme; that thou in me, thy Son belov'd, May'st ever rest well pleas'd. I go to judge On Earth these thy transgressors; but thou know'st, Whoever judg'd, the worst on me must light, When time shall be; for so I undertook Before thee; and, not repenting, this obtain Of right, that I may mitigate their doom On me deriv'd; yet I shall temper so Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most Them fully satisfied, and thee appease. Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none Are to behold the judgment, but the judg'd, Those two; the third best absent is condemn'd, Convict by flight, and rebel to all law: Conviction to the serpent none belongs."
Thus saying, from his radiant seat he rose Of high collateral glory. Him thrones, and powers, Princedoms, and dominations ministrant, Accompanied to Heaven-gate; from whence Eden, and all the coast, in prospect lay. Down he descended straight; the speed of gods Time counts not, though with swiftest minutes wing'd.
Now was the Sun in western cadence low From noon, and gentle airs, due at their hour, To fan the Earth now wak'd, and usher in
Before my judge; either to undergo Myself the total crime, or to accuse My other self, the partner of my life; Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, I should conceal, and not expose to blame By my complaint: but strict necessity Subdues me, and calamitous constraint; Lest on my head both sin and punishment, However insupportable, be all
Devolv'd; though should I hold my peace, yet thon Wouldst easily detect what I conceal.— This woman, whom thou mad'st to be my help, And gav'st me as thy perfect gift, so good, So fit, so acceptable, so divine, That from her hand I could suspect no ill, And what she did, whatever in itself, Her doing seem'd to justify the deed; She gave me of the tree, and I did eat."
To whom the Sovran Presence thus replied. "Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey Before his voice? or was she made thy guide, Superior, or but equal, that to her
Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place Wherein God set thee above her made of thee, And for thee, whose perfection far excell'd Hers in all real dignity? Adorn'd She was indeed, and lovely, to attract Thy love, not thy subjection; and her gifts Were such, as under government well seem'd ; Unseemly to bear rule; which was thy part And person, hadst thou known thyself aright." So having said, he thus to Eve in few. "Say, woman, what is this which thou hast done
To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelm'ð Confessing soon, yet not before her judge Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied. The serpent me beguil'd, and I did eat." Which when the Lord God heard, without delay
The evening cool; when he, from wrath more cool, To judgment he proceeded on the accus'd
Came the mild judge, and intercessor both, To sentence Man: the voice of God they heard Now walking in the garden, by soft winds Brought to their ears, while day declin'd; they heard, And from his presence hid themselves among The thickest trees, both man and wife; till God, Approaching, thus to Adam call'd aloud.
Serpent, though brute; unable to transfer The guilt on him, who made him instrument Of mischief, and polluted from the end Of his creation; justly then accurs'd, As vitiated in nature: more to know Concern'd not Man, (since he no further knew,) Nor alter'd his offence; yet God at last
"Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meet To Satan first in sin his doom applied,
My coming seen far off? I miss thee here, Not pleas'd, thus entertain'd with solitude, Where obvious duty erewhile appear'd unsought:
Though in mysterious terms, judg'd as then best And on the serpent thus his curse let fall.
Because thou hast done this, thou art accurs'd
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