To me committed and by me expos'd. But rife; let us no more contend, nor blame Each other blam'd enough elsewhere! But ftrive In offices of love, how we may lighten 960 Each other's burden, in our share of woe: Since this day's death denounc'd, if ought I fee, Will prove no fudden but a flow-pac'd evil; Adam by fad experiment, I know How little weight my words with thee can find, Found fo erroneous; thence by just event 970 Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain heart Living or dying, from thee I will not hide, What thoughts in my unquiet breast are ris'n : Tending to fome relief of our extremes, 975 Or end, though fharp and fad, yet tolerable Which must be born to certain woe, de vour'd By Death at laft; and miferable it is To be to others cause of mifery, 980 Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring Into this curfed world a woeful race; 985 That after wretched life must be at last Be forc'd to fatisfy his rav'nous maw. 1000 Let us feek Death: or he not found, fupply With our own hands his office on ourselves, Why stand we longer shivering under fears, That show no end but death; and have the pow'r Of many ways to die the shortest choofing 1005 Destruction with deftruction to destroy? She ended here, or vehement despair Broke off the reft: fo much of death her thoughts Had entertain'd, as dy'd her cheeks with pale. But Adam, with fuch counsel nothing fway'd, 1010 To better hopes his more attentive mind Lab'ring had rais'd; and thus to Eve replyd. Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems A To ague in thee fomeeting more fublime, And excellent than what thy mind con1015 temns. 1020 But felf-deftruction therefore fought, refutes To make death in us live! Then, let us feek ,,The Serpents head:" Piteous amends! unless Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe Satan who in the Serpent hath contriv'd Against us this deceit: to crush his head 1035 Would be revenge indeed, which will be loft By death brought on ourselves; or childless days Refolv'd, as thou propofeft: so, our foe Pains only in child-bearing were, foretold, Glanc'd on the ground; with labor I must earn My bread: what harm? Idleness had been worfe: 1055 My labor will sustain me: and left cold Be open, and his heart to pity incline, winds 1065 Blow moift and keen, Thattering the graceful locks Of those fair spreading trees; which bids us feek Some better fhrowd, fome better warmth to cherish Our limbs benumm'd; e're this diurnal star Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd Reflected, may with matter fere foment Shock |