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PARADISE LOST.

BOOK V.

The ARGUMENT.

Morning approach'd, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; be likes it not, yet comforts her: They come forth to their day labours: Their Morning Hymn at the Door of their Bower. God, to render Man inexcufable, fends Raphael to admonish him of his obedience, of his free eftate, of his enemy near at hand, who he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradife; his appearance deferib'd, his coming difcern'd, by Adam afar off fitting at the Door of his Bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, enter tains him with the choiceft Fruits of Paradife got together by Eve; their discourse at Table: Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his ftate and of his enemy;

relates

relates at Adam's request who that enemy is, and how he came to be fo, beginning from his first revolt in Heaven, and the occafion thereof; how he drew his Legions' after him to the parts of the North, and there incited them to rebel with him, perfuading all but only Abdiel a Seraph, who in Argument diffsuades and oppofes him, then forfakes him.

NOW

James Gwim sc.

N

OW Morn her rofie fteps in th' Eaftern
Clime

Advancing, fow'd the Earth with Orient
Pearl,

When Adam wak'd, so custom'd, for his sleep
Was Acrie light from pure digeftion bred,
And temperat vapours bland, which th' only found
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,
Lightly dispers'd, and the fhrill Matin Song
Of Birds on every bough; fo much the more
His wonder was to find unwaken'd Eve
With Treffes difcompos'd, and glowing Check
As through unquiet rest: he on his fide
Leaning half rais'd, with looks of cordial Love
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
Beauty, which whether waking or afleep,
Shot forth peculiar Graces; then with voice
Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus. Awake
My faireft, my efpous'd, my latest found,
Heav'n's last beft gift, my ever new delight,
Awake. The morning fhines, and the fresh field
Calls us, we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tender Plants, how blows the Citron Grove,
What drops the Myrrhe, and what the balmie Reed,
How Nature paints her colour, how the Bee

Sits on the Bloom extracting liquid sweet.

Such whispering wak'd her, but with startled eye On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake.

O Sole in whom my thoughts find all repose,

My Glory, my Perfection, glad I fee

Thy face, and Morn return'd; for I this Night
(Such Night till this I never pass'd,) have dream'd,
If dream'd, not as I oft am wont, of thee,

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