Reserv'd from night, and kept for thee in store.
So cheer'd he his fair spouse, and she was cheer'd; But silently a gentle tear let fall
From either eye, and wip'd them with her hair; Two other precious drops that ready stood, Each in their chrystal sluice, he ere they fell Kiss'd, as the gracious signs of sweet remorse And pious awe, that fear'd to have offended.
So all was clear'd, and to the field they haste. But first, from under shady arborous roof. Soon as they forth were come to open sight Of day-spring, and the sun, who, scarce up-risen, With wheels yet hovering o'er the ocean-brim, Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray, Discovering in wide landskip all the east Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains, Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began Their orisons, each morning duly paid In various style; for neither various style Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise
Their Maker, in fit strains pronounc'd, or sung
Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence
Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse,
More tuneable than needed lute or harp
To add more sweetness; and they thus began. These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty! Thine this universal frame,
Thus wonderous fair; Thyself how wonderous then!
Unspeakable, who sitst above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen
In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine, Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven. On Earth join all ye Creatures to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end, Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn,
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. Thou Sun, of this great world both eye and soul, Acknowledge him thy greater; sound his praise In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st, And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st, With the fix'd Stars, fix'd in their orb that flies; And ye five other wandering Fires, that move In mystick dance not without song, resound His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. Air, and ye Elements, the eldest birth Of Nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix
And nourish all things; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise. Ye Mists and Exhalations, that now rise From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Author rise; Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky, Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers, Rising or falling still advance his praise.
His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble, as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices all ye living Souls: Ye Birds, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill, or valley, fountain or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still To give us only good; and if the night Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd, Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark!
So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts Firm peace recover'd soon, and wonted calm.
On to their morning's rural work they haste,
Among sweet dews and flowers; where any row Of fruit-trees over-woody reach'd too far
Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check Fruitless embraces: or they led the vine
To wed her elm; she, spous'd, about him twines Her marriageable arms, and with her brings Her dower, the adopted clusters, to adorn
His barren leaves. Them thus employ'd beheld With pity Heaven's high King, and to him call'd Raphael, the sociable Spirit, that deign'd To travel with Tobias, and secur'd
His marriage with the seventimes-wedded maid. Raphael, said he, thou hear'st what stir on Earth Satan, from Hell 'scap'd through the darksome gulf,
Hath rais'd in Paradise; and how disturb'd This night the human pair; how he designs In them at once to ruin all mankind. Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade Thou find'st him from the heat of noon retir'd To respite his day-labour with repast, Or with repose; and such discourse bring on, As may advise him of his happy state, Happiness in his power left free to will,
Left to his own free will, his will though free, Yet mutable; whence warn him to beware
He swerve not, too secure: Tell him withal His danger, and from whom; what enemy, Late fall'n himself from Heaven, is plotting now The fall of others from like state of bliss ; By violence? no, for that shall be withstood; But by deceit and lies: This let him know, Lest, wilfully transgressing, he pretend Surprisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd.
So spake the Eternal Father, and fulfill'd All justice: Nor delay'd the winged Saint After his charge receiv'd; but from among Thousand celestial Ardours, where he stood
Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light, Flew through the midst of Heaven; the angelick quires On each hand parting, to his speed gave way Through all the cmpyreal road; till, at the gate Of Heaven arriv'd, the gate self-open'd wide On golden hinges turning, as by work Divine the sovran Architect had fram'd.
From hence no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight, Star interpos'd, however small he sees,
Not unconform'd to other shining globes,
Earth, and the garden of God, with cedars crown'd Above all hills. As when by night the glass
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
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