Obrázky stránek

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 ardour 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 overhead with verdant roof imbow'r'd,

He led her nothing loath; flow'rs were the couch,
Pansies, and violets, and asphodel,


And hyacinth, 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

Oppressed them, wearied with their amorous play.
Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit,


That with exhilarating vapour bland

About their spi'rits had play'd, and inmost powers
Made err, was now exhal'd; and grosser sleep
Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams
Incumber'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, 1055

Just confidence, and native righteousness,

And honour 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 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 ev'il, good lost, and evil got,
Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know,


Which leaves us naked thus, of honour 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;

Ev'n shame, the last of evils: of the first

Be sure then. How shall I behold the face


Henceforth of God or Angel, erst with joy
And rapture so' oft beheld? those heav'nly 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 counsel'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 overarch'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
Their guilt and dreaded shame ; O how unlike
To that first naked glory! Such of late
Columbus found th' 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 sov'reign 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 hearken'd to my words, and stay'd
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange
Desire of wand'ring 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 wand'ring, 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 th' attempt, thou could'st 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 reply'd.
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


also err'd in overmuch admiring

« PředchozíPokračovat »