And surging waves, as mountains, to assault
Heaven's height, and with the centre mix the
fole.
[peace,'
"Silence, ye troubled waves, and thou deep,
Said then the omnific Word; your discord end!'
Nor staid; but, on the wings of cherubim,
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode

Far into Chaos, and the world unborn;
For Chaos heard his voice: him all his train
Follow'd in bright procession, to behold
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
Then staid the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepar'd
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things:
One foot he center'd, and the other turn'd
Round through the vast profundity obscure;
And said, 'Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O World !'

за Thus God the Heaven created, thus the Earth,
Matter unform'd and void: darkness profound
Cover'd the abyss: but on the watery caim
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,
And vital virtue infus'd, and vital warmth
Throughout the fluid mass; but downward
purg'd

The black tartareous cold infernal dregs,
Adverse to life: then founded, then conglob'd
Like things to like; the rest to several piace
Disparted, and between spun out the air;
And Earth, self-balanc'd, on her centre hung.
"Let there be light,' said God; and forthwith
Light

Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure
Sprung from the deep; and from her native east
To journey through the aery gloom began,
Spher'd in a radiant cloud, for yet the Sun
Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle
Sojourn'd the while. God saw the light was good;
And light from darkness by the hemisphere
Divided: light the Day, and darkness Night,
He nam'd. Thus was the first day even and inorn:
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung
By the celestial quires, when orient light
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld;
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and
The hollow universal orb they fill'd, [shout
And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning
prais'd

God and his works; Creator him they sung, Both when first evening was, and when first

Appear'd not: over all the face of Earth
Main ocean How'd, not idle; but, with warm
Prolific humour softening all her globe,
Fermented the great mother to conceive,
Satiate with genial moisture; when God said,
'Be gather'd now ye waters under fleaven
Into one place, and let dry land appear.'
Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave
Into the clouds; their tops ascend the sky:
So high as heav'd the tumid bills, so low
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters: thither they
Hasted with glad precipitance, uproil d,
As drops on dust conglobing from the dry:
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct,
For haste; such flight the great cominand im-
press'd

morn.

"Again, God said, 'Let there be firmament Amid the waters, and let it divide The waters from the waters;' and God made The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure, Transparent, elemental air, diffus'd In circuit to the uttermost convex Of this great round; partition firm and sure, The waters underneath from those above Dividing for as Earth, so he the world Built on circumfluous waters cam, in wide Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule Of Chaos far remov'd; lest fierce extremes Contiguous might distemper the whole frame: And Heaven he nam'd the Firmament: so even And morning chorus sung the second day. [yet

"The Earth was form'd, but in the womb as Of waters, embryon immature involv'd,

On the swift floods: as armies at the call
Of trumpets (for of armies thou hast heard)
Troop to their standard; so the watery throng,
Wave rolling after wave, whefe way they found,
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain,
Soft-ebbing! nor withstood them rock or hill;
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide
With serpent errour wandering, found their way,
And on the washy oose deep channels wore;
Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry,
All but within those banks, where rivers now
Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train.
The dry land, Earth; and the great receptacle
Of congregated waters, he call'd Seas:
And saw that it was good; and said, Let the
Earth

Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed,
And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind,
Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth.'
He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then
Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorn'd,
[clad
Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure
Her universal face with pleasant green;
Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower'd
Opening their various colours, and ina le gay
Her bosom, smelling sweet: and, these scarce
blown,
[cre, t
Forth flourish'd thick the clustering vine, forth
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit: last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or
gemm'd
[crown'd,
Their blossoms: with high woods the hills were
With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side;
With borders long the rivers: that Earth now
Seem'd like to Heaven, a seat where gods might
dwell,

Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
Her sacred sides: though God had yet not
rain d
Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground
None was; but from the Earth a dewy mist
Went up, and water'd all the ground, and each
Plant of the field; which, ere it was in the Earth,
God made, and every herb, before it grew
On the green stem: God saw that it was good:
So even and morn recorded the third day.

Again the Almighty spake, "Let there be High in the expanse of Heaven, to divide [lights

11 Of future; in small room large heart enclos'd; Pattern of just equality perhaps Hereafter, join'd in her popular tribes

Of commonalty: swarming next appear'd

The female bee, that feeds her husband drone
Deliciously, and builds her waxen cells
With honey stor'd: the rest are numberless,
And thou their natures know'st, and gav'st them

Bore up his branching head: scarce from his

|

mould

Behemoth, biggest born of Earth, upheav'd [rose,
His vastness: fleec'd the flocks and bleating
As plants: ambiguous between sea and land
The river-horse, and scaly crocodile.

At once came forth whatever creeps the ground,
Insect or worm: those wav'd their limber fans
For wings, and smallest lineaments exact
In all the liveries deck'd of summer's pride,
With spots of gold and purple, azure and green:
These, as a line, their long dimension drew,
Streaking the ground with sinuous trace; not all
Minims of nature; some of serpent-kind,
Wonderous in length and corpulence, involv'd
Their snaky folds, and added wings. First crept
The parsimonious emmet, provident

names,

Needless to thee repeated; nor unknown
The serpent, subtlest beast of all the field,
Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes
And hairy mane terrific, though to thee
Not noxious, but obedient at thy call.

"Now Heaven in all her glory shone, and roll'd
Her motions, as the great first Mover's hand
First wheel'd their course: Earth in her rich
attire
Consummate lovely smil'd; air, water, earth,
By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was
walk'd

Frequent; and of the sixth day yet remain❜d: There wanted yet the master-work, the end Of all yet done; a creature, who, not prone And brute as other creatures, but endued With sanctity of reason, might erect His stature, and upright with front serene Govern the rest, self-knowing; and from thence Magnanimous to correspond with Heaven, But grateful to acknowledge whence his good Descends, thither with heart, and voice, and eyes = Directed in devotion, to adore [chief And worship God Supreme, who made him Of all his works: therefore the Omnipotent Eternal Father (for where is not he Present?) thus to his Son audibly spake.

"Let us make now Man in our image, Man In our similitude, and let them rule Over the fish and fowl of sea and air, Beast of the field, and over all the Earth, And every creeping thing that creeps the ground.' [Man,

This said, he form'd thee, Adam, thee, O
Dust of the ground, and in thy nostrils breath'd
The breath of life; in his own image he
Created thee, in the image of God
Express; and thou becam'st a living soul.
Male he created thee; but thy consórt
Female, for race; then bless'd mankind,
'Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the Earth.'
Sabdue it, and throughout dominion hold
Over fish of the sea, and fowl of the air,

1

And every living thing that moves on the Earth.
Wherever thus created, for no place
Is yet distinct by name, thence, as thou know'st,
He brought thee into this delicious grove,
This garden, planted with the trees of God,
Delectable both to behold and taste;
And freely all their pleasant fruit for food
Gave thee; all sorts are here that all the Earth
Variety without end; but of the tree, [yields,
Which, tasted, works knowledge of good and
evil,
[diest;
Thou may'st not; in the day thou eat'st, thou
Death is the penalty imposed; beware,
And govern well thy appetite; lest Sin
Surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.

"Here finished he, and all that he had made
View'd, and behold all was entirely good;
So even and morn accomplish'd the sixth day:
Yet not till the Creator from his work
Desisting, though unwearied, up return'd,
Up to the Heaven of Heavens, his high abode;
Thence to behold this new created world,
The addition of his empire, how it show'd
In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair,
Answering his great idea. Up he rode
Follow'd with acclamation, and the sound
Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tun'd
Angelic harmonies: the Earth, the air
Resounded, (thou remember'st, for thou
heard'st,)

[said, and

The Heavens and all the constellations rung,
The planets in their station listening stood,
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant.
'Open, ye everlasting gates!' they sung,
Open, ye Heavens! your living doors; let in
The great Creator from his work return'd
Magnificent, his six days work, a world;
Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deign
To visit oft the dwellings of just men,
Delighted; and with frequent intercourse
Thither will send his winged messengers
On errands of supernal grace.' So sung [ven,
The glorious train ascending: he through Hea
That open'd wide her blazing portals, led
To God's eternal house direct the way;
A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold
And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear,
Seen in the galaxy, that milky way,
Which nightly, as a circling zone, thou seest
And now on Earth the
Powder'd with stars.
Evening arose in Eden, for the Sun [seventh
Was set, and twilight from the east came on,
Forerunning night; when at the holy mount
Of Heaven's high-seated top, the imperial

throne

Of Godhead fix'd for ever firm and sure,
The Filial Power arriv'd, and sat him down
With his great Father! for he also went
Invisible, yet staid, (such privilege
Hath Omnipresence) and the work ordain'd,
Author and End of all things; and, from work
Now resting, bless'd and hallow'd the seventh
As resting on that day from all his work, [day,
But not in silence holy kept: the harp
Had work and rested not; the solemn pipe,
And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop,
All sounds on fret by string or golden wire,
Temper'd soft tunings, intermix'd with voice
Choral or unison: of incense clouds,

Imports not, if thou reckon right; the rest
From man or angel the great Architect
Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge
His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought
Rather admire; or, if they list to try
Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heavens
Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move
His laughter at their quaint opinions wide
Hereafter; when they come to model Heaven
And calculate the stars, how they will wield
The mighty frame; how build, unbuild, contrive
To save appearances; how gird the sphere
With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er,
Cycle and epicycle, orb in orb:

Already by thy reasoning this I guess,
Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest
That bodies bright and greater should not serve
The less not bright, nor Heaven such journeys
Farth sitting still, when she alone receives [run,
The benefit: consider first, that great

Or bright infers not excellence: the Earth
Though, in comparison of Heaven, so small,
Nor glistering, may of solid good contain
More plenty than the Sun that barren shines;
Whose virtue on itself works no effect,
But in the fruitful Earth; there first receiv'd,
His beams, unactive else, their vigour find.
Yet not to Farth are those bright luminaries
Officious; but to thee, Earth's habitant.
And for the Heaven's wide circait, let it speak
The Maker's high magnificence, who built
So spacious, and his line stretch'd out so far,
That man may know he dwells not in his own;
An edifice too large for him to fill,
Lodg'd in a small partition; and the rest
Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known.
The swiftness of those circles attribute,
Though numberless, to his omnipotence,
That to corporeal substances could add
Speed almost spiritual: me thou think'st not
Who since the morning-hour set out from Hea-

[slow,

ven

Where God resides, and ere mid-day arriv'd
In Eden; distance inexpressible
By numbers that have name.
But this I urge,
Admitting motion in the Heavens, to show
Invalid that which thee to doubt it mov'd;
Not that I so affirm, though so it seem
To thee who hast thy dwelling here on Earth.
God, to remove his ways from human sense,
Plac'd Heaven from Earth so far, that earthly
sight,

If it presume, might err in things too high,
And no advantage gain. What if the Sun
Be centre to the world; and other stars,
By his attractive virtue and their own
Incited, dance about him various rounds?
Their wandering course now high, now low,
then hid,

Progressive, retrograde, or standing still,
In six thou seest; and what if seventh to these
The planet Earth, so stedfast though she seem,
Insensibly three different motions move?
Which else to several spheres thou must ascribe,
Mov'd contrary with thwart obliquities;
Or save the Sun his labour, and that swift
Nocturnal and diurnal rhomb suppos'd,
Invisible else above all stars, the wheel
Of day and night; which needs not thy belief,

If Earth, industrious of herself, fetch day
Travelling east, and with her part averse
From the Son's beam meet night, her other part
Still luminous by his ray. What if that light,
Sent from her through the wide transpicuous air,
To the terrestrial Moon be as a star,
Enlightening her by day as she by night
This Earth? reciprocal if land be there,
Fields and inhabitants: her spots thou seest
As clouds, and clouds may rain, and rain produce
Fruits in her soften'd soil, for some to eat
Allotted there; and other suns perhaps,
With their attendant moons, thou wilt descry,
Communicating male and female light;
Which two great sexes animate the world,
Stor'd in each orb perhaps with some that live.
For such vast room in Nature unpossess'd
By living soul, desert, and desolate,
Only to shine, yet scarce to contribute
Each orb a glimpse of light, convey'd so far
Down to this habitable, which returns
Light back to them, is obvious to dispute.
But whether thus these things, or whether not;
Whether the Son, predominant in Heaven,
Rise on the Earth; or Earth rise on the Sun';
He from the east his flaming road begin ;
Or she from west her silent course advance,
With inoffensive pace that spinning sleeps
On her soft axle, while she paces even,
And bears thee soft with the smooth air along;
Solicit not thy thoughts with matters hid;
Leave them to God above; him serve, and fear!
Of other creatures, as him pleases best,
Wherever plac'd, let him dispose; joy thou
In what he gives to thee, this Paradise
And thy fair Eve; Heaver is for thee too high
To know what passes there; be lowly wise:
Think only what concerns then, and thy being;
Dream not of other worlds, what creatures there
Live, in what state, condition, or degree;
Contented that thus far hath been reveal'd
Not of Earth only, but of highest Heaven."

To whom thus Adam, clear'd of doubt, replied. "How fully hast thou satisfied me, pure Intelligence of Heaven, angel serene! And freed from intricacies, taught to live The easiest way; nor with perplexing thoughts To interrupt the sweet of life, from which God hath bid dwell far off all enxious cares, And not molest ns; unless we ourselves Seek them with wandering thoughts, and noBut apt the mind or finey is to rove [tions vain. Uncheck'd, and of her roving is no end ; Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learn, That not to know at large of things remote From use, obscure and subtle; but to know That which before us lies in daily life, Is the prime wisdom: what is more, is fame, Or emptiness, or fond impertincoce: And renders us, in things that most concern, Unpractis'd, unprepard, and still to seek." Therefore from this nigh pitch let us descend A lower flight, and speak of things at hand Useful; whence, haply, mention may arise Of something not unseasonable to ask, By sufferance, and thy wonted fivour, deign'1, Thee I have hear i relating what was done Ere my remembrance: now, hear me relate My story, which perhaps thou hast not heard;