The other's not, for his was not fincere ;
Whereat he inly rag'd, and as they talk'd,
Smote him into the midriff with a stone
That beat out life; he fell, and deadly pale
Groan'd out his foul with gushing blood effus'd.
Much at that fight was Adam in his heart
Difmay'd, and thus in hafte to th' Angel cry'd.
O Teacher, fome great mischief hath befall'n 450
To that meek man, who well had facrific'd;
Is piety thus and pure devotion paid?
T'whom Michael thus, he also mov'd, reply'd.
These two are brethren, Adam, and to come
Out of thy loins; th' unjuft the juft hath flain,
For envy that his brother's offering found
From Heav'n acceptance; but the bloody fact
Will be aveng'd, and th' other's faith approv'd
Lofe no reward, though here thou see him die,
Rolling in duft and gore. To which our fire.
Alas, both for the deed and for the caufe!
But have I now feen Death? Is this the way
I must return to native duft? O fight
Of terror, foul and ugly to behold,
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel!
To whom thus Michaël. Death thou haft feen
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 th' entrance than within.
Some, as thou faw'ft, by violent stroke shall die,
By fire, flood, famin, by intemp'rance more
In meats and drinks, which on the earth fhall bring Difeafes dire, of which a monftrous crew
Before thee fhall appear; that thou mayft know 475
What mifery th' inabftinence of Eve
Shall bring on men. Immediately a place
Before his eyes appear'd, fad, noifome, dark,
A lazar-house it seem'd, wherein were laid
Numbers of all diseas'd, all maladies
Of ghaftly fpafm, or racking torture, qualms
Of heart-fick agony, all feverous kinds,
Convulfions, epilepfies, fierce catarrhs,
Inteftin ftone and ulcer, colic
Demoniac phrenzy, moaping melancholy,
And moon-ftruck madness, pining atrophy,
Marasmus, and wide-wafting peftilence,
Dropfies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums.
Dire was the toffing, deep the groans; Despair
Tended the fick bufieft from couch to couch;
And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook, but delay'd to ftrike, though oft invok'd
With vows, as their chief good, and final hope.
Sight fo deform what heart of rock could long
Dry-ey'd behold? Adam could not, but wept,
Though not of woman born; compaffion quell'd
His beft of man, and gave him up to tears
A space, till firmer thoughts restrain'd excess;
And scarce recovering words his plaint renew'd.
O miserable mankind, to what fall
Degraded, to what wretched ftate referv'd!
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 not accept
Life offer'd, or foon beg to lay it down,
Glad to be fo difmifs'd in peace. Can thus
Th' image of God in man created once
So goodly and erect, though faulty fince,
To fuch unfightly fufferings be debas'd
Under inhuman pains? Why should not man,
Retaining ftill divine fimilitude
In part, from fuch deformities be free,
And for his Maker's image fake exempt?
Their Maker's image, anfwer'd Michael, then 515 Forfook them, when themselves they vilify'd To ferve ungovern'd appetite, and took His image whom they ferv'd, a brutish vice, Inductive mainly to the fin of Eve. Therefore fo abject is their punishment, Disfiguring not God's likenefs, but their own, Or if his likeness, by themselves defac'd, While they pervert pure nature's healthful rules To loathfome fickness, worthily, fince they God's image did not reverence in themselves. I yield it juft, faid Adam, and fubmit. But is there
yet no other way, befides
These painful paffages, how we may come
To death, and mix with our connatural duft?
There is, faid Michael, if thou well obferve The rule of not too much, by temp'rance taught, In what thou eat'ft and drink'ft, feeking from thence
Due nourishment, not gluttonous delight,
Till many years over thy head return :
So may'ft thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop 535
Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease
Gather'd, not harshly pluck'd, for death mature:
This is old age; but then thou must outlive
Thy youth, thy ftrength, thy beauty, which will change
To wither'd, weak, and gray; thy fenses then
Obtufe, all tafte of pleasure must forgo,
To what thou haft; and for the air of youth,
Hopeful and chearful, in thy blood will reign
A melancholy damp of cold and dry
To weigh thy spirits down, and laft confume
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 rendring up, and patiently attend
My diffolution. Michaël reply'd,
Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv'st Live well, how long or short permit to Heaven: And now prepare thee for another fight.
He look'd, and saw a spacious plain, whereon Were tents of various hue; by fome were herds Of cattel grazing; others, whence the found Of inftruments that made melodious chime Was heard, of harp and organ; and who mov'd 560 Their ftops and chords was feen; his volant touch
Inftinct through all proportions low and high
Fled and purfu'd tranfverse the resonant fugue.
In other part ftood one who at the forge
Lab'ring, two maffy clods of ir'on 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 fome cave's mouth, or whether wash'd by ftream
From underground) the liquid ore he drain'd
Into fit molds prepar'd; from which he form'd
First his own tools; then, what might elfe be wrought
Fufil or grav'n in metal. After thefe,
But on the hither fide, a different fort
From the high neighb'ring hills, which was their seat,
Down to the plain descended: by their guise
Juft men they seem'd, and all their study bent
To worship God aright, and know his works
Not hid, nor those things last which might preferve
Freedom and peace to men: they on the plain 580
Long had not walk'd, when from the tents behold
A bevy of fair women, richly gay
In gems and wanton drefs; to th' harp they fung
Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on:
The men, though grave, ey'd them, and let their eyes
Rove without rein, till in the amorous net
Faft caught, they lik'd, and each his liking chofe;
And now of love they treat, till th' evening ftar,
Love's harbinger, appear'd; then all in heat
They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke
Hymen, then firft to marriage rites invok'd:
With feaft and mufic all the tents refound.
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