Paradise Lost : Book XI.
Thus
they,
in
lowliest
plight,
repentant
stood
Praying;
for
from
the
mercy-seat
above
Prevenient
grace
descending
had
removed
The
stony
from
their
hearts,
and
made
new
flesh
Regenerate
grow
instead;
that
sighs
now
breathed
Unutterable;
which
the
Spirit
of
prayer
Inspired,
and
winged
for
Heaven
with
speedier
flight
Than
loudest
oratory:
Yet
their
port
Not
of
mean
suitors;
nor
important
less
Seemed
their
petition,
than
when
the
ancient
pair
In
fables
old,
less
ancient
yet
than
these,
Deucalion
and
chaste
Pyrrha,
to
restore
The
race
of
mankind
drowned,
before
the
shrine
Of
Themis
stood
devout.
To
Heaven
their
prayers
Flew
up,
nor
missed
the
way,
by
envious
winds
Blown
vagabond
or
frustrate:
in
they
passed
Dimensionless
through
heavenly
doors;
then
clad
With
incense,
where
the
golden
altar
fumed,
By
their
great
intercessour,
came
in
sight
Before
the
Father's
throne:
them
the
glad
Son
Presenting,
thus
to
intercede
began.
See$
Father,
what
first-fruits
on
earth
are
sprung
From
thy
implanted
grace
in
Man;
these
sighs
And
prayers,
which
in
this
golden
censer
mixed
With
incense,
I
thy
priest
before
thee
bring;
Fruits
of
more
pleasing
savour,
from
thy
seed
Sown
with
contrition
in
his
heart,
than
those
Which,
his
own
hand
manuring,
all
the
trees
Of
Paradise
could
have
produced,
ere
fallen
From
innocence.
Now
therefore,
bend
thine
ear
To
supplication;
hear
his
sighs,
though
mute;
Unskilful
with
what
words
to
pray,
let
me
Interpret
for
him;
me,
his
advocate
And
propitiation;
all
his
works
on
me,
Good,
or
not
good,
ingraft;
my
merit
those
Shall
perfect,
and
for
these
my
death
shall
pay.
Accept
me;
and,
in
me,
from
these
receive
The
smell
of
peace
toward
mankind:
let
him
live
Before
thee
reconciled,
at
least
his
days
Numbered,
though
sad;
till
death,
his
doom,
(which
I
To
mitigate
thus
plead,
not
to
reverse,)
To
better
life
shall
yield
him:
where
with
me
All
my
redeemed
may
dwell
in
joy
and
bliss;
Made
one
with
me,
as
I
with
thee
am
one.
To
whom
the
Father,
without
cloud,
serene.
All
thy
request
for
Man,
accepted
Son,
Obtain;
all
thy
request
was
my
decree:
But,
longer
in
that
Paradise
to
dwell,
The
law
I
gave
to
Nature
him
forbids:
Those
pure
immortal
elements,
that
know,
No
gross,
no
unharmonious
mixture
foul,
Eject
him,
tainted
now;
and
purge
him
off,
As
a
distemper,
gross,
to
air
as
gross,
And
mortal
food;
as
may
dispose
him
best
For
dissolution
wrought
by
sin,
that
first
Distempered
all
things,
and
of
incorrupt
Corrupted.
I,
at
first,
with
two
fair
gifts
Created
him
endowed;
with
happiness,
And
immortality:
that
fondly
lost,
This
other
served
but
to
eternize
woe;
Till
I
provided
death:
so
death
becomes
His
final
remedy;
and,
after
life,
Tried
in
sharp
tribulation,
and
refined
By
faith
and
faithful
works,
to
second
life,
Waked
in
the
renovation
of
the
just,
Resigns
him
up
with
Heaven
and
Earth
renewed.
But
let
us
call
to
synod
all
the
Blest,
Through
Heaven's
wide
bounds:
from
them
I
will
not
hide
My
judgements;
how
with
mankind
I
proceed,
As
how
with
peccant
Angels
late
they
saw,
And
in
their
state,
though
firm,
stood
more
confirmed.
He
ended,
and
the
Son
gave
signal
high
To
the
bright
minister
that
watched;
he
blew
His
trumpet,
heard
in
Oreb
since
perhaps
When
God
descended,
and
perhaps
once
more
To
sound
at
general
doom.
The
angelick
blast
Filled
all
the
regions:
from
their
blisful
bowers
Of
amarantine
shade,
fountain
or
spring,
By
the
waters
of
life,
where'er
they
sat
In
fellowships
of
joy,
the
sons
of
light
Hasted,
resorting
to
the
summons
high;
And
took
their
seats;
till
from
his
throne
supreme
The
Almighty
thus
pronounced
his
sovran
will.
O
Sons,
like
one
of
us
Man
is
become
To
know
both
good
and
evil,
since
his
taste
Of
that
defended
fruit;
but
let
him
boast
His
knowledge
of
good
lost,
and
evil
got;
Happier!
had
it
sufficed
him
to
have
known
Good
by
itself,
and
evil
not
at
all.
He
sorrows
now,
repents,
and
prays
contrite,
My
motions
in
him;
longer
than
they
move,
His
heart
I
know,
how
variable
and
vain,
Self-left.
Lest
therefore
his
now
bolder
hand
Reach
also
of
the
tree
of
life,
and
eat,
And
live
for
ever,
dream
at
least
to
live
For
ever,
to
remove
him
I
decree,
And
send
him
from
the
garden
forth
to
till
The
ground
whence
he
was
taken,
fitter
soil.
Michael,
this
my
behest
have
thou
in
charge;
Take
to
thee
from
among
the
Cherubim
Thy
choice
of
flaming
warriours,
lest
the
Fiend,
Or
in
behalf
of
Man,
or
to
invade
Vacant
possession,
some
new
trouble
raise:
Haste
thee,
and
from
the
Paradise
of
God
Without
remorse
drive
out
the
sinful
pair;
From
hallowed
ground
the
unholy;
and
denounce
To
them,
and
to
their
progeny,
from
thence
Perpetual
banishment.
Yet,
lest
they
faint
At
the
sad
sentence
rigorously
urged,
(For
I
behold
them
softened,
and
with
tears
Bewailing
their
excess,)
all
terrour
hide.
If
patiently
thy
bidding
they
obey,
Dismiss
them
not
disconsolate;
reveal
To
Adam
what
shall
come
in
future
days,
As
I
shall
thee
enlighten;
intermix
My
covenant
in
the
Woman's
seed
renewed;
So
send
them
forth,
though
sorrowing,
yet
in
peace:
And
on
the
east
side
of
the
garden
place,
Where
entrance
up
from
Eden
easiest
climbs,
Cherubick
watch;
and
of
a
sword
the
flame
Wide-waving;
all
approach
far
off
to
fright,
And
guard
all
passage
to
the
tree
of
life:
Lest
Paradise
a
receptacle
prove
To
Spirits
foul,
and
all
my
trees
their
prey;
With
whose
stolen
fruit
Man
once
more
to
delude.
He
ceased;
and
the
arch-angelick
Power
prepared
For
swift
descent;
with
him
the
cohort
bright
Of
watchful
Cherubim:
four
faces
each
Had,
like
a
double
Janus;
all
their
shape
Spangled
with
eyes
more
numerous
than
those
Of
Argus,
and
more
wakeful
than
to
drouse,
Charmed
with
Arcadian
pipe,
the
pastoral
reed
Of
Hermes,
or
his
opiate
rod.
Mean
while,
To
re-salute
the
world
with
sacred
light,
Leucothea
waked;
and
with
fresh
dews
imbalmed
The
earth;
when
Adam
and
first
matron
Eve
Had
ended
now
their
orisons,
and
found
Strength
added
from
above;
new
hope
to
spring
Out
of
despair;
joy,
but
with
fear
yet
linked;
Which
thus
to
Eve
his
welcome
words
renewed.
Eve,
easily
my
faith
admit,
that
all
The
good
which
we
enjoy
from
Heaven
descends;
But,
that
from
us
aught
should
ascend
to
Heaven
So
prevalent
as
to
concern
the
mind
Of
God
high-blest,
or
to
incline
his
will,
Hard
to
belief
may
seem;
yet
this
will
prayer
Or
one
short
sigh
of
human
breath,
upborne
Even
to
the
seat
of
God.
For
since
I
sought
By
prayer
the
offended
Deity
to
appease;
Kneeled,
and
before
him
humbled
all
my
heart;
Methought
I
saw
him
placable
and
mild,
Bending
his
ear;
persuasion
in
me
grew
That
I
was
heard
with
favour;
peace
returned
Home
to
my
breast,
and
to
my
memory
His
promise,
that
thy
seed
shall
bruise
our
foe;
Which,
then
not
minded
in
dismay,
yet
now
Assures
me
that
the
bitterness
of
death
Is
past,
and
we
shall
live.
Whence
hail
to
thee,
Eve
rightly
called,
mother
of
all
mankind,
Mother
of
all
things
living,
since
by
thee
Man
is
to
live;
and
all
things
live
for
Man.
To
whom
thus
Eve
with
sad
demeanour
meek.
Ill-worthy
I
such
title
should
belong
To
me
transgressour;
who,
for
thee
ordained
A
help,
became
thy
snare;
to
me
reproach
Rather
belongs,
distrust,
and
all
dispraise:
But
infinite
in
pardon
was
my
Judge,
That
I,
who
first
brought
death
on
all,
am
graced
The
source
of
life;
next
favourable
thou,
Who
highly
thus
to
entitle
me
vouchsaf'st,
Far
other
name
deserving.
But
the
field
To
labour
calls
us,
now
with
sweat
imposed,
Though
after
sleepless
night;
for
see!the
morn,
All
unconcerned
with
our
unrest,
begins
Her
rosy
progress
smiling:
let
us
forth;
I
never
from
thy
side
henceforth
to
stray,
Where'er
our
day's
work
lies,
though
now
enjoined
Laborious,
till
day
droop;
while
here
we
dwell,
What
can
be
toilsome
in
these
pleasant
walks?
Here
let
us
live,
though
in
fallen
state,
content.
So
spake,
so
wished
much
humbled
Eve;
but
Fate
Subscribed
not:
Nature
first
gave
signs,
impressed
On
bird,
beast,
air;
air
suddenly
eclipsed,
After
short
blush
of
morn;
nigh
in
her
sight
The
bird
of
Jove,
stooped
from
his
aery
tour,
Two
birds
of
gayest
plume
before
him
drove;
Down
from
a
hill
the
beast
that
reigns
in
woods,
First
hunter
then,
pursued
a
gentle
brace,
Goodliest
of
all
the
forest,
hart
and
hind;
Direct
to
the
eastern
gate
was
bent
their
flight.
Adam
observed,
and
with
his
eye
the
chase
Pursuing,
not
unmoved,
to
Eve
thus
spake.
O
Eve,
some
further
change
awaits
us
nigh,
Which
Heaven,
by
these
mute
signs
in
Nature,
shows
Forerunners
of
his
purpose;
or
to
warn
Us,
haply
too
secure,
of
our
discharge
From
penalty,
because
from
death
released
Some
days:
how
long,
and
what
till
then
our
life,
Who
knows?
or
more
than
this,
that
we
are
dust,
And
thither
must
return,
and
be
no
more?
Why
else
this
double
object
in
our
sight
Of
flight
pursued
in
the
air,
and
o'er
the
ground,
One
way
the
self-same
hour?
why
in
the
east
Darkness
ere
day's
mid-course,
and
morning-light
More
orient
in
yon
western
cloud,
that
draws
O'er
the
blue
firmament
a
radiant
white,
And
slow
descends
with
something
heavenly
fraught?
He
erred
not;
for
by
this
the
heavenly
bands
Down
from
a
sky
of
jasper
lighted
now
In
Paradise,
and
on
a
hill
made
halt;
A
glorious
apparition,
had
not
doubt
And
carnal
fear
that
day
dimmed
Adam's
eye.
Not
that
more
glorious,
when
the
Angels
met
Jacob
in
Mahanaim,
where
he
saw
The
field
pavilioned
with
his
guardians
bright;
Nor
that,
which
on
the
flaming
mount
appeared
In
Dothan,
covered
with
a
camp
of
fire,
Against
the
Syrian
king,
who
to
surprise
One
man,
assassin-like,
had
levied
war,
War
unproclaimed.
The
princely
Hierarch
In
their
bright
stand
there
left
his
Powers,
to
seise
Possession
of
the
garden;
he
alone,
To
find
where
Adam
sheltered,
took
his
way,
Not
unperceived
of
Adam;
who
to
Eve,
While
the
great
visitant
approached,
thus
spake.
Eve$
now
expect
great
tidings,
which
perhaps
Of
us
will
soon
determine,
or
impose
New
laws
to
be
observed;
for
I
descry,
From
yonder
blazing
cloud
that
veils
the
hill,
One
of
the
heavenly
host;
and,
by
his
gait,
None
of
the
meanest;
some
great
Potentate
Or
of
the
Thrones
above;
such
majesty
Invests
him
coming!
yet
not
terrible,
That
I
should
fear;
nor
sociably
mild,
As
Raphael,
that
I
should
much
confide;
But
solemn
and
sublime;
whom
not
to
offend,
With
reverence
I
must
meet,
and
thou
retire.
He
ended:
and
the
Arch-Angel
soon
drew
nigh,
Not
in
his
shape
celestial,
but
as
man
Clad
to
meet
man;
over
his
lucid
arms
A
military
vest
of
purple
flowed,
Livelier
than
Meliboean,
or
the
grain
Of
Sarra,
worn
by
kings
and
heroes
old
In
time
of
truce;
Iris
had
dipt
the
woof;
His
starry
helm
unbuckled
showed
him
prime
In
manhood
where
youth
ended;
by
his
side,
As
in
a
glistering
zodiack,
hung
the
sword,
Satan's
dire
dread;
and
in
his
hand
the
spear.
Adam
bowed
low;
he,
kingly,
from
his
state
Inclined
not,
but
his
coming
thus
declared.
Adam,
Heaven's
high
behest
no
preface
needs:
Sufficient
that
thy
prayers
are
heard;
and
Death,
Then
due
by
sentence
when
thou
didst
transgress,
Defeated
of
his
seisure
many
days
Given
thee
of
grace;
wherein
thou
mayest
repent,
And
one
bad
act
with
many
deeds
well
done
Mayest
cover:
Well
may
then
thy
Lord,
appeased,
Redeem
thee
quite
from
Death's
rapacious
claim;
But
longer
in
this
Paradise
to
dwell
Permits
not:
to
remove
thee
I
am
come,
And
send
thee
from
the
garden
forth
to
till
The
ground
whence
thou
wast
taken,
fitter
soil.
He
added
not;
for
Adam
at
the
news
Heart-struck
with
chilling
gripe
of
sorrow
stood,
That
all
his
senses
bound;
Eve,
who
unseen
Yet
all
had
heard,
with
audible
lament
Discovered
soon
the
place
of
her
retire.
O
unexpected
stroke,
worse
than
of
Death!
Must
I
thus
leave
thee$
Paradise?
thus
leave
Thee,
native
soil!
these
happy
walks
and
shades,
Fit
haunt
of
Gods?
where
I
had
hope
to
spend,
Quiet
though
sad,
the
respite
of
that
day
That
must
be
mortal
to
us
both.
O
flowers,
That
never
will
in
other
climate
grow,
My
early
visitation,
and
my
last
;t
even,
which
I
bred
up
with
tender
hand
From
the
first
opening
bud,
and
gave
ye
names!
Who
now
shall
rear
ye
to
the
sun,
or
rank
Your
tribes,
and
water
from
the
ambrosial
fount?
Thee
lastly,
nuptial
bower!
by
me
adorned
With
what
to
sight
or
smell
was
sweet!
from
thee
How
shall
I
part,
and
whither
wander
down
Into
a
lower
world;
to
this
obscure
And
wild?
how
shall
we
breathe
in
other
air
Less
pure,
accustomed
to
immortal
fruits?
Whom
thus
the
Angel
interrupted
mild.
Lament
not,
Eve,
but
patiently
resign
What
justly
thou
hast
lost,
nor
set
thy
heart,
Thus
over-fond,
on
that
which
is
not
thine:
Thy
going
is
not
lonely;
with
thee
goes
Thy
husband;
whom
to
follow
thou
art
bound;
Where
he
abides,
think
there
thy
native
soil.
Adam,
by
this
from
the
cold
sudden
damp
Recovering,
and
his
scattered
spirits
returned,
To
Michael
thus
his
humble
words
addressed.
Celestial,
whether
among
the
Thrones,
or
named
Of
them
the
highest;
for
such
of
shape
may
seem
Prince
above
princes!
gently
hast
thou
told
Thy
message,
which
might
else
in
telling
wound,
And
in
performing
end
us;
what
besides
Of
sorrow,
and
dejection,
and
despair,
Our
frailty
can
sustain,
thy
tidings
bring,
Departure
from
this
happy
place,
our
sweet
Recess,
and
only
consolation
left
Familiar
to
our
eyes!
all
places
else
Inhospitable
appear,
and
desolate;
Nor
knowing
us,
nor
known:
And,
if
by
prayer
Incessant
I
could
hope
to
change
the
will
Of
Him
who
all
things
can,
I
would
not
cease
To
weary
him
with
my
assiduous
cries:
But
prayer
against
his
absolute
decree
No
more
avails
than
breath
against
the
wind,
Blown
stifling
back
on
him
that
breathes
it
forth:
Therefore
to
his
great
bidding
I
submit.
This
most
afflicts
me,
that,
departing
hence,
As
from
his
face
I
shall
be
hid,
deprived
His
blessed
countenance:
Here
I
could
frequent
With
worship
place
by
place
where
he
vouchsafed
Presence
Divine;
and
to
my
sons
relate,
'On
this
mount
he
appeared;
under
this
tree
'Stood
visible;
among
these
pines
his
voice
'I
heard;
here
with
him
at
this
fountain
talked:
So
many
grateful
altars
I
would
rear
Of
grassy
turf,
and
pile
up
every
stone
Of
lustre
from
the
brook,
in
memory,
Or
monument
to
ages;
and
theron
Offer
sweet-smelling
gums,
and
fruits,
and
flowers:
In
yonder
nether
world
where
shall
I
seek
His
bright
appearances,
or
foot-step
trace?
For
though
I
fled
him
angry,
yet
recalled
To
life
prolonged
and
promised
race,
I
now
Gladly
behold
though
but
his
utmost
skirts
Of
glory;
and
far
off
his
steps
adore.
To
whom
thus
Michael
with
regard
benign.
Adam,
thou
knowest
Heaven
his,
and
all
the
Earth;
Not
this
rock
only;
his
Omnipresence
fills
Land,
sea,
and
air,
and
every
kind
that
lives,
Fomented
by
his
virtual
power
and
warmed:
All
the
earth
he
gave
thee
to
possess
and
rule,
No
despicable
gift;
surmise
not
then
His
presence
to
these
narrow
bounds
confined
Of
Paradise,
or
Eden:
this
had
been
Perhaps
thy
capital
seat,
from
whence
had
spread
All
generations;
and
had
hither
come
From
all
the
ends
of
the
earth,
to
celebrate
And
reverence
thee,
their
great
progenitor.
But
this
pre-eminence
thou
hast
lost,
brought
down
To
dwell
on
even
ground
now
with
thy
sons:
Yet
doubt
not
but
in
valley,
and
in
plain,
God
is,
as
here;
and
will
be
found
alike
Present;
and
of
his
presence
many
a
sign
Still
following
thee,
still
compassing
thee
round
With
goodness
and
paternal
love,
his
face
Express,
and
of
his
steps
the
track
divine.
Which
that
thou
mayest
believe,
and
be
confirmed
Ere
thou
from
hence
depart;
know,
I
am
sent
To
show
thee
what
shall
come
in
future
days
To
thee,
and
to
thy
offspring:
good
with
bad
Expect
to
hear;
supernal
grace
contending
With
sinfulness
of
men;
thereby
to
learn
True
patience,
and
to
temper
joy
with
fear
And
pious
sorrow;
equally
inured
By
moderation
either
state
to
bear,
Prosperous
or
adverse:
so
shalt
thou
lead
Safest
thy
life,
and
best
prepared
endure
Thy
mortal
passage
when
it
comes.—Ascend
This
hill;
let
Eve
(for
I
have
drenched
her
eyes)
Here
sleep
below;
while
thou
to
foresight
wakest;
As
once
thou
sleptst,
while
she
to
life
was
formed.
To
whom
thus
Adam
gratefully
replied.
Ascend,
I
follow
thee,
safe
Guide,
the
path
Thou
leadest
me;
and
to
the
hand
of
Heaven
submit,
However
chastening;
to
the
evil
turn
My
obvious
breast;
arming
to
overcome
By
suffering,
and
earn
rest
from
labour
won,
If
so
I
may
attain.
—
So
both
ascend
In
the
visions
of
God.
It
was
a
hill,
Of
Paradise
the
highest;
from
whose
top
The
hemisphere
of
earth,
in
clearest
ken,
Stretched
out
to
the
amplest
reach
of
prospect
lay.
Not
higher
that
hill,
nor
wider
looking
round,
Whereon,
for
different
cause,
the
Tempter
set
Our
second
Adam,
in
the
wilderness;
To
show
him
all
Earth's
kingdoms,
and
their
glory.
His
eye
might
there
command
wherever
stood
City
of
old
or
modern
fame,
the
seat
Of
mightiest
empire,
from
the
destined
walls
Of
Cambalu,
seat
of
Cathaian
Can,
And
Samarchand
by
Oxus,
Temir's
throne,
To
Paquin
of
Sinaean
kings;
and
thence
To
Agra
and
Lahor
of
great
Mogul,
Down
to
the
golden
Chersonese;
or
where
The
Persian
in
Ecbatan
sat,
or
since
In
Hispahan;
or
where
the
Russian
Ksar
In
Mosco;
or
the
Sultan
in
Bizance,
Turchestan-born;
nor
could
his
eye
not
ken
The
empire
of
Negus
to
his
utmost
port
Ercoco,
and
the
less
maritim
kings
Mombaza,
and
Quiloa,
and
Melind,
And
Sofala,
thought
Ophir,
to
the
realm
Of
Congo,
and
Angola
farthest
south;
Or
thence
from
Niger
flood
to
Atlas
mount
The
kingdoms
of
Almansor,
Fez
and
Sus,
Morocco,
and
Algiers,
and
Tremisen;
On
Europe
thence,
and
where
Rome
was
to
sway
The
world:
in
spirit
perhaps
he
also
saw
Rich
Mexico,
the
seat
of
Montezume,
And
Cusco
in
Peru,
the
richer
seat
Of
Atabalipa;
and
yet
unspoiled
Guiana,
whose
great
city
Geryon's
sons
Call
El
Dorado.
But
to
nobler
sights
Michael
from
Adam's
eyes
the
film
removed,
Which
that
false
fruit
that
promised
clearer
sight
Had
bred;
then
purged
with
euphrasy
and
rue
The
visual
nerve,
for
he
had
much
to
see;
And
from
the
well
of
life
three
drops
instilled.
So
deep
the
power
of
these
ingredients
pierced,
Even
to
the
inmost
seat
of
mental
sight,
That
Adam,
now
enforced
to
close
his
eyes,
Sunk
down,
and
all
his
spirits
became
entranced;
But
him
the
gentle
Angel
by
the
hand
Soon
raised,
and
his
attention
thus
recalled.
Adam,
now
ope
thine
eyes;
and
first
behold
The
effects,
which
thy
original
crime
hath
wrought
In
some
to
spring
from
thee;
who
never
touched
The
excepted
tree;
nor
with
the
snake
conspired;
Nor
sinned
thy
sin;
yet
from
that
sin
derive
Corruption,
to
bring
forth
more
violent
deeds.
His
eyes
he
opened,
and
beheld
a
field,
Part
arable
and
tilth,
whereon
were
sheaves
New
reaped;
the
other
part
sheep-walks
and
folds;
I'
the
midst
an
altar
as
the
land-mark
stood,
Rustick,
of
grassy
sord;
thither
anon
A
sweaty
reaper
from
his
tillage
brought
First
fruits,
the
green
ear,
and
the
yellow
sheaf,
Unculled,
as
came
to
hand;
a
shepherd
next,
More
meek,
came
with
the
firstlings
of
his
flock,
Choicest
and
best;
then,
sacrificing,
laid
The
inwards
and
their
fat,
with
incense
strowed,
On
the
cleft
wood,
and
all
due
rights
performed:
His
offering
soon
propitious
fire
from
Heaven
Consumed
with
nimble
glance,
and
grateful
steam;
The
other's
not,
for
his
was
not
sincere;
Whereat
he
inly
raged,
and,
as
they
talked,
Smote
him
into
the
midriff
with
a
stone
That
beat
out
life;
he
fell;and,
deadly
pale,
Groaned
out
his
soul
with
gushing
blood
effused.
Much
at
that
sight
was
Adam
in
his
heart
Dismayed,
and
thus
in
haste
to
the
Angel
cried.
O
Teacher,
some
great
mischief
hath
befallen
To
that
meek
man,
who
well
had
sacrificed;
Is
piety
thus
and
pure
devotion
paid?
To
whom
Michael
thus,
he
also
moved,
replied.
These
two
are
brethren,
Adam,
and
to
come
Out
of
thy
loins;
the
unjust
the
just
hath
slain,
For
envy
that
his
brother's
offering
found
From
Heaven
acceptance;
but
the
bloody
fact
Will
be
avenged;
and
the
other's
faith,
approved,
Lose
no
reward;
though
here
thou
see
him
die,
Rolling
in
dust
and
gore.
To
which
our
sire.
Alas!
both
for
the
deed,
and
for
the
cause!
But
have
I
now
seen
Death?
Is
this
the
way
I
must
return
to
native
dust?
O
sight
Of
terrour,
foul
and
ugly
to
behold,
Horrid
to
think,
how
horrible
to
feel!
To
whom
thus
Michael.
Death
thou
hast
seen
In
his
first
shape
on
Man;
but
many
shapes
Of
Death,
and
many
are
the
ways
that
lead
To
his
grim
cave,
all
dismal;
yet
to
sense
More
terrible
at
the
entrance,
than
within.
Some,
as
thou
sawest,
by
violent
stroke
shall
die;
By
fire,
flood,
famine,
by
intemperance
more
In
meats
and
drinks,
which
on
the
earth
shall
bring
Diseases
dire,
of
which
a
monstrous
crew
Before
thee
shall
appear;
that
thou
mayest
know
What
misery
the
inabstinence
of
Eve
Shall
bring
on
Men.
Immediately
a
place
Before
his
eyes
appeared,
sad,
noisome,
dark;
A
lazar-house
it
seemed;
wherein
were
laid
Numbers
of
all
diseased;
all
maladies
Of
ghastly
spasm,
or
racking
torture,
qualms
Of
heart-sick
agony,
all
feverous
kinds,
Convulsions,
epilepsies,
fierce
catarrhs,
Intestine
stone
and
ulcer,
colick-pangs,
Demoniack
phrenzy,
moaping
melancholy,
And
moon-struck
madness,
pining
atrophy,
Marasmus,
and
wide-wasting
pestilence,
Dropsies,
and
asthmas,
and
joint-racking
rheums.
Dire
was
the
tossing,
deep
the
groans;
Despair
Tended
the
sick
busiest
from
couch
to
couch;
And
over
them
triumphant
Death
his
dart
Shook,
but
delayed
to
strike,
though
oft
invoked
With
vows,
as
their
chief
good,
and
final
hope.
Sight
so
deform
what
heart
of
rock
could
long
Dry-eyed
behold?
Adam
could
not,
but
wept,
Though
not
of
woman
born;
compassion
quelled
His
best
of
man,
and
gave
him
up
to
tears
A
space,
till
firmer
thoughts
restrained
excess;
And,
scarce
recovering
words,
his
plaint
renewed.
O
miserable
mankind,
to
what
fall
Degraded,
to
what
wretched
state
reserved!
Better
end
here
unborn.
Why
is
life
given
To
be
thus
wrested
from
us?
rather,
why
Obtruded
on
us
thus?
who,
if
we
knew
What
we
receive,
would
either
no
accept
Life
offered,
or
soon
beg
to
lay
it
down;
Glad
to
be
so
dismissed
in
peace.
Can
thus
The
image
of
God
in
Man,
created
once
So
goodly
and
erect,
though
faulty
since,
To
such
unsightly
sufferings
be
debased
Under
inhuman
pains?
Why
should
not
Man,
Retaining
still
divine
similitude
In
part,
from
such
deformities
be
free,
And,
for
his
Maker's
image
sake,
exempt?
Their
Maker's
image,
answered
Michael,
then
Forsook
them,
when
themselves
they
vilified
To
serve
ungoverned
Appetite;
and
took
His
image
whom
they
served,
a
brutish
vice,
Inductive
mainly
to
the
sin
of
Eve.
Therefore
so
abject
is
their
punishment,
Disfiguring
not
God's
likeness,
but
their
own;
Or
if
his
likeness,
by
themselves
defaced;
While
they
pervert
pure
Nature's
healthful
rules
To
loathsome
sickness;
worthily,
since
they
God's
image
did
not
reverence
in
themselves.
I
yield
it
just,
said
Adam,
and
submit.
But
is
there
yet
no
other
way,
besides
These
painful
passages,
how
we
may
come
To
death,
and
mix
with
our
connatural
dust?
There
is,
said
Michael,
if
thou
well
observe
The
rule
of
Not
too
much;
by
temperance
taught,
In
what
thou
eatest
and
drinkest;
seeking
from
thence
Due
nourishment,
not
gluttonous
delight,
Till
many
years
over
thy
head
return:
So
mayest
thou
live;
till,
like
ripe
fruit,
thou
drop
Into
thy
mother's
lap;
or
be
with
ease
Gathered,
nor
harshly
plucked;
for
death
mature:
This
is
Old
Age;
but
then,
thou
must
outlive
Thy
youth,
thy
strength,
thy
beauty;
which
will
change
To
withered,
weak,
and
gray;
thy
senses
then,
Obtuse,
all
taste
of
pleasure
must
forego,
To
what
thou
hast;
and,
for
the
air
of
youth,
Hopeful
and
cheerful,
in
thy
blood
will
reign
A
melancholy
damp
of
cold
and
dry
To
weigh
thy
spirits
down,
and
last
consume
The
balm
of
life.
To
whom
our
ancestor.
Henceforth
I
fly
not
death,
nor
would
prolong
Life
much;
bent
rather,
how
I
may
be
quit,
Fairest
and
easiest,
of
this
cumbrous
charge;
Which
I
must
keep
till
my
appointed
day
Of
rendering
up,
and
patiently
attend
My
dissolution.
Michael
replied.
Nor
love
thy
life,
nor
hate;
but
what
thou
livest
Live
well;
how
long,
or
short,
permit
to
Heaven:
And
now
prepare
thee
for
another
sight.
He
looked,
and
saw
a
spacious
plain,
whereon
Were
tents
of
various
hue;
by
some,
were
herds
Of
cattle
grazing;
others,
whence
the
sound
Of
instruments,
that
made
melodious
chime,
Was
heard,
of
harp
and
organ;
and,
who
moved
Their
stops
and
chords,
was
seen;
his
volant
touch,
Instinct
through
all
proportions,
low
and
high,
Fled
and
pursued
transverse
the
resonant
fugue.
In
other
part
stood
one
who,
at
the
forge
Labouring,
two
massy
clods
of
iron
and
brass
Had
melted,
(whether
found
where
casual
fire
Had
wasted
woods
on
mountain
or
in
vale,
Down
to
the
veins
of
earth;
thence
gliding
hot
To
some
cave's
mouth;
or
whether
washed
by
stream
From
underground
the
liquid
ore
he
drained
Into
fit
moulds
prepared;
from
which
he
formed
First
his
own
tools;
then,
what
might
else
be
wrought
Fusil
or
graven
in
metal.
After
these,
But
on
the
hither
side,
a
different
sort
From
the
high
neighbouring
hills,
which
was
their
seat,
Down
to
the
plain
descended;
by
their
guise
Just
men
they
seemed,
and
all
their
study
bent
To
worship
God
aright,
and
know
his
works
Not
hid;
nor
those
things
last,
which
might
preserve
Freedom
and
peace
to
Men;
they
on
the
plain
Long
had
not
walked,
when
from
the
tents,
behold!
A
bevy
of
fair
women,
richly
gay
In
gems
and
wanton
dress;
to
the
harp
they
sung
Soft
amorous
ditties,
and
in
dance
came
on:
The
men,
though
grave,
eyed
them;
and
let
their
eyes
Rove
without
rein;
till,
in
the
amorous
net
Fast
caught,
they
liked;
and
each
his
liking
chose;
And
now
of
love
they
treat,
till
the
evening-star,
Love's
harbinger,
appeared;
then,
all
in
heat
They
light
the
nuptial
torch,
and
bid
invoke
Hymen,
then
first
to
marriage
rites
invoked:
With
feast
and
musick
all
the
tents
resound.
Such
happy
interview,
and
fair
event
Of
love
and
youth
not
lost,
songs,
garlands,
flowers,
And
charming
symphonies,
attached
the
heart
Of
Adam,
soon
inclined
to
admit
delight,
The
bent
of
nature;
which
he
thus
expressed.
True
opener
of
mine
eyes,
prime
Angel
blest;
Much
better
seems
this
vision,
and
more
hope
Of
peaceful
days
portends,
than
those
two
past;
Those
were
of
hate
and
death,
or
pain
much
worse;
Here
Nature
seems
fulfilled
in
all
her
ends.
To
whom
thus
Michael.
Judge
not
what
is
best
By
pleasure,
though
to
nature
seeming
meet;
Created,
as
thou
art,
to
nobler
end
Holy
and
pure,
conformity
divine.
Those
tents
thou
sawest
so
pleasant,
were
the
tents
Of
wickedness,
wherein
shall
dwell
his
race
Who
slew
his
brother;
studious
they
appear
Of
arts
that
polish
life,
inventers
rare;
Unmindful
of
their
Maker,
though
his
Spirit
Taught
them;
but
they
his
gifts
acknowledged
none.
Yet
they
a
beauteous
offspring
shall
beget;
For
that
fair
female
troop
thou
sawest,
that
seemed
Of
Goddesses,
so
blithe,
so
smooth,
so
gay,
Yet
empty
of
all
good
wherein
consists
Woman's
domestick
honour
and
chief
praise;
Bred
only
and
completed
to
the
taste
Of
lustful
appetence,
to
sing,
to
dance,
To
dress,
and
troll
the
tongue,
and
roll
the
eye:
To
these
that
sober
race
of
men,
whose
lives
Religious
titled
them
the
sons
of
God,
Shall
yield
up
all
their
virtue,
all
their
fame
Ignobly,
to
the
trains
and
to
the
smiles
Of
these
fair
atheists;
and
now
swim
in
joy,
Erelong
to
swim
at
large;
and
laugh,
for
which
The
world
erelong
a
world
of
tears
must
weep.
To
whom
thus
Adam,
of
short
joy
bereft.
O
pity
and
shame,
that
they,
who
to
live
well
Entered
so
fair,
should
turn
aside
to
tread
Paths
indirect,
or
in
the
mid
way
faint!
But
still
I
see
the
tenour
of
Man's
woe
Holds
on
the
same,
from
Woman
to
begin.
From
Man's
effeminate
slackness
it
begins,
Said
the
Angel,
who
should
better
hold
his
place
By
wisdom,
and
superiour
gifts
received.
But
now
prepare
thee
for
another
scene.
He
looked,
and
saw
wide
territory
spread
Before
him,
towns,
and
rural
works
between;
Cities
of
men
with
lofty
gates
and
towers,
Concourse
in
arms,
fierce
faces
threatening
war,
Giants
of
mighty
bone
and
bold
emprise;
Part
wield
their
arms,
part
curb
the
foaming
steed,
Single
or
in
array
of
battle
ranged
Both
horse
and
foot,
nor
idly
mustering
stood;
One
way
a
band
select
from
forage
drives
A
herd
of
beeves,
fair
oxen
and
fair
kine,
From
a
fat
meadow
ground;
or
fleecy
flock,
Ewes
and
their
bleating
lambs
over
the
plain,
Their
booty;
scarce
with
life
the
shepherds
fly,
But
call
in
aid,
which
makes
a
bloody
fray;
With
cruel
tournament
the
squadrons
join;
Where
cattle
pastured
late,
now
scattered
lies
With
carcasses
and
arms
the
ensanguined
field,
Deserted:
Others
to
a
city
strong
Lay
siege,
encamped;
by
battery,
scale,
and
mine,
Assaulting;
others
from
the
wall
defend
With
dart
and
javelin,
stones,
and
sulphurous
fire;
On
each
hand
slaughter,
and
gigantick
deeds.
In
other
part
the
sceptered
heralds
call
To
council,
in
the
city-gates;
anon
Gray-headed
men
and
grave,
with
warriours
mixed,
Assemble,
and
harangues
are
heard;
but
soon,
In
factious
opposition;
till
at
last,
Of
middle
age
one
rising,
eminent
In
wise
deport,
spake
much
of
right
and
wrong,
Of
justice,
or
religion,
truth,
and
peace,
And
judgement
from
above:
him
old
and
young
Exploded,
and
had
seized
with
violent
hands,
Had
not
a
cloud
descending
snatched
him
thence
Unseen
amid
the
throng:
so
violence
Proceeded,
and
oppression,
and
sword-law,
Through
all
the
plain,
and
refuge
none
was
found.
Adam
was
all
in
tears,
and
to
his
guide
Lamenting
turned
full
sad;
O!what
are
these,
Death's
ministers,
not
men?
who
thus
deal
death
Inhumanly
to
men,
and
multiply
Ten
thousandfold
the
sin
of
him
who
slew
His
brother:
for
of
whom
such
massacre
Make
they,
but
of
their
brethren;
men
of
men
But
who
was
that
just
man,
whom
had
not
Heaven
Rescued,
had
in
his
righteousness
been
lost?
To
whom
thus
Michael.
These
are
the
product
Of
those
ill-mated
marriages
thou
sawest;
Where
good
with
bad
were
matched,
who
of
themselves
Abhor
to
join;
and,
by
imprudence
mixed,
Produce
prodigious
births
of
body
or
mind.
Such
were
these
giants,
men
of
high
renown;
For
in
those
days
might
only
shall
be
admired,
And
valour
and
heroick
virtue
called;
To
overcome
in
battle,
and
subdue
Nations,
and
bring
home
spoils
with
infinite
Man-slaughter,
shall
be
held
the
highest
pitch
Of
human
glory;
and
for
glory
done
Of
triumph,
to
be
styled
great
conquerours
Patrons
of
mankind,
Gods,
and
sons
of
Gods;
Destroyers
rightlier
called,
and
plagues
of
men.
Thus
fame
shall
be
achieved,
renown
on
earth;
And
what
most
merits
fame,
in
silence
hid.
But
he,
the
seventh
from
thee,
whom
thou
beheldst
The
only
righteous
in
a
world
preverse,
And
therefore
hated,
therefore
so
beset
With
foes,
for
daring
single
to
be
just,
And
utter
odious
truth,
that
God
would
come
To
judge
them
with
his
Saints;
him
the
Most
High
Rapt
in
a
balmy
cloud
with
winged
steeds
Did,
as
thou
sawest,
receive,
to
walk
with
God
High
in
salvation
and
the
climes
of
bliss,
Exempt
from
death;
to
show
thee
what
reward
Awaits
the
good;
the
rest
what
punishment;
Which
now
direct
thine
eyes
and
soon
behold.
He
looked,
and
saw
the
face
of
things
quite
changed;
The
brazen
throat
of
war
had
ceased
to
roar;
All
now
was
turned
to
jollity
and
game,
To
luxury
and
riot,
feast
and
dance;
Marrying
or
prostituting,
as
befel,
Rape
or
adultery,
where
passing
fair
Allured
them;
thence
from
cups
to
civil
broils.
At
length
a
reverend
sire
among
them
came,
And
of
their
doings
great
dislike
declared,
And
testified
against
their
ways;
he
oft
Frequented
their
assemblies,
whereso
met,
Triumphs
or
festivals;
and
to
them
preached
Conversion
and
repentance,
as
to
souls
In
prison,
under
judgements
imminent:
But
all
in
vain:
which
when
he
saw,
he
ceased
Contending,
and
removed
his
tents
far
off;
Then,
from
the
mountain
hewing
timber
tall,
Began
to
build
a
vessel
of
huge
bulk;
Measured
by
cubit,
length,
and
breadth,
and
highth;
Smeared
round
with
pitch;
and
in
the
side
a
door
Contrived;
and
of
provisions
laid
in
large,
For
man
and
beast:
when
lo,
a
wonder
strange!
Of
every
beast,
and
bird,
and
insect
small,
Came
sevens,
and
pairs;
and
entered
in
as
taught
Their
order:
last
the
sire
and
his
three
sons,
With
their
four
wives;
and
God
made
fast
the
door.
Mean
while
the
south-wind
rose,
and,
with
black
wings
Wide-hovering,
all
the
clouds
together
drove
From
under
Heaven;
the
hills
to
their
supply
Vapour,
and
exhalation
dusk
and
moist,
Sent
up
amain;
and
now
the
thickened
sky
Like
a
dark
cieling
stood;
down
rushed
the
rain
Impetuous;
and
continued,
till
the
earth
No
more
was
seen:
the
floating
vessel
swum
Uplifted,
and
secure
with
beaked
prow
Rode
tilting
o'er
the
waves;
all
dwellings
else
Flood
overwhelmed,
and
them
with
all
their
pomp
Deep
under
water
rolled;
sea
covered
sea,
Sea
without
shore;
and
in
their
palaces,
Where
luxury
late
reigned,
sea-monsters
whelped
And
stabled;
of
mankind,
so
numerous
late,
All
left,
in
one
small
bottom
swum
imbarked.
How
didst
thou
grieve
then,
Adam,
to
behold
The
end
of
all
thy
offspring,
end
so
sad,
Depopulation!
Thee
another
flood,
Of
tears
and
sorrow
a
flood,
thee
also
drowned,
And
sunk
thee
as
thy
sons;
till,
gently
reared
By
the
Angel,
on
thy
feet
thou
stoodest
at
last,
Though
comfortless;
as
when
a
father
mourns
His
children,
all
in
view
destroyed
at
once;
And
scarce
to
the
Angel
utter'dst
thus
thy
plaint.
O
visions
ill
foreseen!
Better
had
I
Lived
ignorant
of
future!
so
had
borne
My
part
of
evil
only,
each
day's
lot
Enough
to
bear;
those
now,
that
were
dispensed
The
burden
of
many
ages,
on
me
light
At
once,
by
my
foreknowledge
gaining
birth
Abortive,
to
torment
me
ere
their
being,
With
thought
that
they
must
be.
Let
no
man
seek
Henceforth
to
be
foretold,
what
shall
befall
Him
or
his
children;
evil
he
may
be
sure,
Which
neither
his
foreknowing
can
prevent;
And
he
the
future
evil
shall
no
less
In
apprehension
than
in
substance
feel,
Grievous
to
bear:
but
that
care
now
is
past,
Man
is
not
whom
to
warn:
those
few
escaped
Famine
and
anguish
will
at
last
consume,
Wandering
that
watery
desart:
I
had
hope,
When
violence
was
ceased,
and
war
on
earth,
All
would
have
then
gone
well;
peace
would
have
crowned
With
length
of
happy
days
the
race
of
Man;
But
I
was
far
deceived;
for
now
I
see
Peace
to
corrupt
no
less
than
war
to
waste.
How
comes
it
thus?
unfold,
celestial
Guide,
And
whether
here
the
race
of
Man
will
end.
To
whom
thus
Michael.
Those,
whom
last
thou
sawest
In
triumph
and
luxurious
wealth,
are
they
First
seen
in
acts
of
prowess
eminent
And
great
exploits,
but
of
true
virtue
void;
Who,
having
spilt
much
blood,
and
done
much
wast
Subduing
nations,
and
achieved
thereby
Fame
in
the
world,
high
titles,
and
rich
prey;
Shall
change
their
course
to
pleasure,
ease,
and
sloth,
Surfeit,
and
lust;
till
wantonness
and
pride
Raise
out
of
friendship
hostile
deeds
in
peace.
The
conquered
also,
and
enslaved
by
war,
Shall,
with
their
freedom
lost,
all
virtue
lose
And
fear
of
God;
from
whom
their
piety
feigned
In
sharp
contest
of
battle
found
no
aid
Against
invaders;
therefore,
cooled
in
zeal,
Thenceforth
shall
practice
how
to
live
secure,
Worldly
or
dissolute,
on
what
their
lords
Shall
leave
them
to
enjoy;
for
the
earth
shall
bear
More
than
enough,
that
temperance
may
be
tried:
So
all
shall
turn
degenerate,
all
depraved;
Justice
and
temperance,
truth
and
faith,
forgot;
One
man
except,
the
only
son
of
light
In
a
dark
age,
against
example
good,
Against
allurement,
custom,
and
a
world
Offended:
fearless
of
reproach
and
scorn,
Or
violence,
he
of
their
wicked
ways
Shall
them
admonish,
and
before
them
set
The
paths
of
righteousness,
how
much
more
safe
And
full
of
peace;
denouncing
wrath
to
come
On
their
impenitence;
and
shall
return
Of
them
derided,
but
of
God
observed
The
one
just
man
alive;
by
his
command
Shall
build
a
wondrous
ark,
as
thou
beheldst,
To
save
himself
and
houshold
from
amidst
A
world
devote
to
universal
wrack.
No
sooner
he,
with
them
of
man
and
beast
Select
for
life,
shall
in
the
ark
be
lodged,
And
sheltered
round;
but
all
the
cataracts
Of
Heaven
set
open
on
the
Earth
shall
pour
Rain,
day
and
night;
all
fountains
of
the
deep,
Broke
up,
shall
heave
the
ocean
to
usurp
Beyond
all
bounds,
till
inundation
rise
Above
the
highest
hills:
then
shall
this
mount
Of
Paradise
by
might
of
waves
be
moved
Out
of
his
place,
pushed
by
the
horned
flood,
With
all
his
verdure
spoiled,
and
trees
adrift,
Down
the
great
river
to
the
opening
gulf,
And
there
take
root
an
island
salt
and
bare,
The
haunt
of
seals,
and
orcs,
and
sea-mews'
clang:
To
teach
thee
that
God
attributes
to
place
No
sanctity,
if
none
be
thither
brought
By
men
who
there
frequent,
or
therein
dwell.
And
now,
what
further
shall
ensue,
behold.
He
looked,
and
saw
the
ark
hull
on
the
flood,
Which
now
abated;
for
the
clouds
were
fled,
Driven
by
a
keen
north-wind,
that
blowing
dry,
Wrinkled
the
face
of
deluge,
as
decay'd;
And
the
clear
sun
on
his
wide
watery
glass
Gazed
hot,
and
of
the
fresh
wave
largely
drew,
As
after
thirst;
which
made
their
flowing
shrink
From
standing
lake
to
tripping
ebb,
that
stole
With
soft
foot
towards
the
deep;
who
now
had
stopt
His
sluces,
as
the
Heaven
his
windows
shut.
The
ark
no
more
now
floats,
but
seems
on
ground,
Fast
on
the
top
of
some
high
mountain
fixed.
And
now
the
tops
of
hills,
as
rocks,
appear;
With
clamour
thence
the
rapid
currents
drive,
Towards
the
retreating
sea,
their
furious
tide.
Forthwith
from
out
the
ark
a
raven
flies,
And
after
him,
the
surer
messenger,
A
dove
sent
forth
once
and
again
to
spy
Green
tree
or
ground,
whereon
his
foot
may
light:
The
second
time
returning,
in
his
bill
An
olive
leaf
he
brings,
pacifick
sign:
Anon
dry
ground
appears,
and
from
his
ark
The
ancient
sire
descends,
with
all
his
train;
Then
with
uplifted
hands,
and
eyes
devout,
Grateful
to
Heaven,
over
his
head
beholds
A
dewy
cloud,
and
in
the
cloud
a
bow
Conspicuous
with
three
lifted
colours
gay,
Betokening
peace
from
God,
and
covenant
new.
Whereat
the
heart
of
Adam,
erst
so
sad,
Greatly
rejoiced,
and
thus
his
joy
broke
forth.
O
thou,
who
future
things
canst
represent
As
present,
heavenly
Instructer!
I
revive
At
this
last
sight;
assured
that
Man
shall
live,
With
all
the
creatures,
and
their
seed
preserve.
Far
less
I
now
lament
for
one
whole
world
Of
wicked
sons
destroyed,
than
I
rejoice
For
one
man
found
so
perfect,
and
so
just,
That
God
vouchsafes
to
raise
another
world
From
him,
and
all
his
anger
to
forget.
But
say,
what
mean
those
coloured
streaks
in
Heaven
Distended,
as
the
brow
of
God
appeased?
Or
serve
they,
as
a
flowery
verge,
to
bind
The
fluid
skirts
of
that
same
watery
cloud,
Lest
it
again
dissolve,
and
shower
the
earth?
To
whom
the
Arch-Angel.
Dextrously
thou
aimest;
So
willingly
doth
God
remit
his
ire,
Though
late
repenting
him
of
Man
depraved;
Grieved
at
his
heart,
when
looking
down
he
saw
The
whole
earth
filled
with
violence,
and
all
flesh
Corrupting
each
their
way;
yet,
those
removed,
Such
grace
shall
one
just
man
find
in
his
sight,
That
he
relents,
not
to
blot
out
mankind;
And
makes
a
covenant
never
to
destroy
The
earth
again
by
flood;
nor
let
the
sea
Surpass
his
bounds;
nor
rain
to
drown
the
world,
With
man
therein
or
beast;
but,
when
he
brings
Over
the
earth
a
cloud,
will
therein
set
His
triple-coloured
bow,
whereon
to
look,
And
call
to
mind
his
covenant:
Day
and
night,
Seed-time
and
harvest,
heat
and
hoary
frost,
Shall
hold
their
course;
till
fire
purge
all
things
new,
Both
Heaven
and
Earth,
wherein
the
just
shall
dwell.
