How fully hast thou satisfi'd mee, pure Intelligence of Heav'n, 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 farr off all anxious cares, And not molest us, unless we our selves Seek them with wandring thoughts, and notions vaine.
But apt the Mind or Fancie is to roave Uncheckt, and of her roaving is no end;
Till warn'd, or by experience taught, she learne, That not to know at large of things remote From use, obscure and suttle, but to know That which before us lies in daily life, Is the prime Wisdom, what is more, is fume, Or emptiness, or fond impertinence, And renders us in things that most concerne Unpractis'd, unprepar'd, and still to seek.
Therefore from this high pitch let us descend A lower flight, and speak of things at hand Useful, whence haply mention may arise Of somthing not unseasonable to ask By sufferance, and thy wonted favour deign'd.
Thee I have heard relating what was don Ere my remembrance: now hear mee relate My Storie, which perhaps thou hast not heard;
And Day is yet not spent; till then thou seest How suttly to detaine thee I devise, Inviting thee to hear while I relate, Fond, were it not in hope of thy reply:
For while I sit with thee, I seem in Heav'n, And sweeter thy discourse is to my eare Then Fruits of Palm-tree pleasantest to thirst And hunger both, from labour, at the houre Of sweet repast; they satiate, and soon fill, Though pleasant, but thy words with Grace Divine Imbu'd, bring to thir sweetness no satietie.
To whom thus RAPHAEL answer'd heav'nly meek.
Nor are thy lips ungraceful, Sire of men, Nor tongue ineloquent; for God on thee Abundantly his gifts hath also pour'd, Inward and outward both, his image faire:
Speaking or mute all comliness and grace Attends thee, and each word, each motion formes.
Nor less think wee in Heav'n of thee on Earth Then of our fellow servant, and inquire Gladly into the wayes of God with Man:
For God we see hath honour'd thee, and set On Man his equal Love: say therefore on;
For I that Day was absent, as befell, Bound on a voyage uncouth and obscure, Farr on excursion toward the Gates of Hell;
Squar'd in full Legion (such command we had)
To see that none thence issu'd forth a spie, Or enemie, while God was in his work, Least hee incenst at such eruption bold, Destruction with Creation might have mixt.
Not that they durst without his leave attempt, But us he sends upon his high behests For state, as Sovran King, and to enure Our prompt obedience. Fast we found, fast shut The dismal Gates, and barricado'd strong;
But long ere our approaching heard within Noise, other then the sound of Dance or Song, Torment, and lowd lament, and furious rage.
Glad we return'd up to the coasts of Light Ere Sabbath Eev'ning: so we had in charge.
But thy relation now; for I attend, Pleas'd with thy words no less then thou with mine.
So spake the Godlike Power, and thus our Sire.
For Man to tell how human Life began Is hard; for who himself beginning knew?
Desire with thee still longer to converse Induc'd me. As new wak't from soundest sleep Soft on the flourie herb I found me laid In Balmie Sweat, which with his Beames the Sun Soon dri'd, and on the reaking moisture fed.
Strait toward Heav'n my wondring Eyes I turnd, And gaz'd a while the ample Skie, till rais'd By quick instinctive motion up I sprung, As thitherward endevoring, and upright Stood on my feet; about me round I saw Hill, Dale, and shadie Woods, and sunnie Plaines, And liquid Lapse of murmuring Streams; by these, Creatures that livd, and movd, and walk'd, or flew, Birds on the branches warbling; all things smil'd, With fragrance and with joy my heart oreflow'd.
My self I then perus'd, and Limb by Limb Survey'd, and sometimes went, and sometimes ran With supple joints, as lively vigour led:
But who I was, or where, or from what cause, Knew not; to speak I tri'd, and forthwith spake, My Tongue obey'd and readily could name What e're I saw. Thou Sun, said I, faire Light, And thou enlight'nd Earth, so fresh and gay, Ye Hills and Dales, ye Rivers, Woods, and Plaines, And ye that live and move, fair Creatures, tell, Tell, if ye saw, how came I thus, how here?
Not of my self; by some great Maker then, In goodness and in power praeeminent;
Tell me, how may I know him, how adore, From whom I have that thus I move and live, And feel that I am happier then I know.
While thus I call'd, and stray'd I knew not whither, From where I first drew Aire, and first beheld This happie Light, when answer none return'd, On a green shadie Bank profuse of Flours Pensive I sate me down; there gentle sleep First found me, and with soft oppression seis'd My droused sense, untroubl'd, though I thought I then was passing to my former state Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve:
When suddenly stood at my Head a dream, Whose inward apparition gently mov'd My Fancy to believe I yet had being, And livd: One came, methought, of shape Divine, And said, thy Mansion wants thee, ADAM, rise, First Man, of Men innumerable ordain'd First Father, call'd by thee I come thy Guide To the Garden of bliss, thy seat prepar'd.
So saying, by the hand he took me rais'd, And over Fields and Waters, as in Aire Smooth sliding without step, last led me up A woodie Mountain; whose high top was plaine, A Circuit wide, enclos'd, with goodliest Trees Planted, with Walks, and Bowers, that what I saw Of Earth before scarse pleasant seemd. Each Tree Load'n with fairest Fruit, that hung to the Eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eate; whereat I wak'd, and found Before mine Eyes all real, as the dream Had lively shadowd: Here had new begun My wandring, had not hee who was my Guide Up hither, from among the Trees appeer'd, Presence Divine. Rejoycing, but with aw In adoration at his feet I fell Submiss: he rear'd me, & Whom thou soughtst I am, Said mildely, Author of all this thou seest Above, or round about thee or beneath.
This Paradise I give thee, count it thine To Till and keep, and of the Fruit to eate:
