And flow'ring odors, caffia, nard, and balm; A wilderness of sweets; for Nature here Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild above rule or art; enormous bliss. Him through the spicy forest onward come Adam difcern'd, as in the door he fat
Of his cool bow'r, while now the mounted fun
Shot down direct his fervid rays to warm
Earth's inmoft womb, more warmth than Adam needs: And Eve within, due at her hour prepar'd
For dinner favory fruits, of taste to please True appetite, and not difrelish thirst
Of necta'rous draughts between, from milky stream, Berry or grape: to whom thus Adam call'd. Hafte hither Eve, and worth thy fight behold Eastward among thofe trees, what glorious shape Comes this way moving; feems another morn 310 Ris'n on mid-noon; fome great behest from Heaven To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchfafe This day to be our gueft. But go with speed, And what thy ftores contain, bring forth, and pour Abundance, fit to honor and receive Our heav'nly ftranger: well we may afford
Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow From large beftow'd, where Nature multiplies Her fertil growth, and by disburd'ning grows More fruitful, which inftructs us not to fpare.
To whom thus Eve. Adam, earth's hallow'd mold, Of God infpir'd, fmall ftore will ferve, where ftore,
All feafons, ripe for ufe hangs on the stalk; Save what by frugal ftoring firmnefs gains To nourish, and fuperfluous moist confumes:
But I will hafte, and from each bough and brake,
Each plant and jucieft gourd, will pluck fuch choice To entertain our Angel gueft, as he
Beholding fhall confefs, that here on Earth
God hath difpens'd his bounties as in Heaven. So faying, with dispatchful looks in haste She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent What choice to choose for delicacy best, What order, fo contriv'd as not to mix Taftes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change; Beftirs her then, and from each tender stalk Whatever Earth all-bearing mother yields In India Eaft or Weft, or middle shore In Pontus or the Punic coaft, or where Alcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat Rough or smooth rin'd, or bearded husk, or shell, She gathers, tribute large, and on the board Heaps with unfparing hand; for drink the grape She crushes, inoffenfive muft, and meaths From many a berry', and from sweet kernels prefs'd She tempers dulcet creams, nor these to hold Wants her fit veffels pure, then ftrows the ground With rofe and odors from the fhrub unfum'd. Mean while our primitive great fire, to meet His God-like gueft, walks forth, without more train Accompanied than with his own complete
Perfections; in himself was all his ftate, More folemn than the tedious pomp that waits On princes, when their rich retinue long Of horses led, and grooms befmear'd with gold, Dazles the croud, and fets them all agape. Nearer his prefence Adam though not aw'd, Yet with fubmifs approach and reverence meek, As to a fuperior nature, bowing low,
Thus faid. Native of Heav'n, for other place None can than Heav'n fuch glorious shape contain Since by defcending from the thrones above, Thofe happy places thou haft deign'd a while To want, and honor thefe, vouchfafe with us Two' only, who yet by sovran gift poffefs This fpacious ground, in yonder fhady bower To reft, and what the garden choicest bears To fit and tafte, till this meridian heat Be over, and the fun more cool decline.
Whom thus th' angelic Virtue answer'd mild. Adam, I therefore came, nor art thou fuch Created, or such place haft here to dwell, As may not oft invite, though Spi'rits of Heaven, To vifit thee; lead on then where thy bower O'erfhades; for thefe mid-hours, till evening rife, I have at will. So to the fylvan lodge They came, that like Pomona's arbor fmil'd With flow'rets deck'd and fragrant fmells; but Eve Undeck'd fave with herself, more lovely fair 380 Than Wood-Nymph, or the fairest Goddess feign'd Of three that in mount Ida naked ftrove, L 4
Stood to' entertain her guest from Heav'n; no veil
She needed, virtue-proof; no thought infirm
Alter'd her cheek. On whom the Angel Hail 385 Bestow'd, the holy falutation us'd
Long after to bleft Mary, fecond Eve.
Hail Mother of Mankind, whofe fruitful womb Shall fill the world more numerous with thy fons, Than with these various fruits the trees of God Have heap'd this table. Rais'd of graffy turf Their table was, and mossy seats had round, And on her ample square from fide to fide All autumn pil'd, though spring and autumn here Danc'd hand in hand. A while difcourfe they hold; No fear left dinner cool; when thus began
Our author. Heav'nly ftranger, please to taste These bounties, which our Nourisher, from whom All perfect good, unmeasur'd out, defcends, To us for food and for delight hath caus'd The earth to yield; unfavory food perhaps To fpiritual natures; only this I know, That one celeftial Father gives to all.
To whom the Angel. Therefore what he gives
(Whose praise be ever fung) to Man in part
Spiritual, may of pureft Spi'rits be found
No' ingrateful food: and food alike those pure
Intelligential fubftances require,
As doth your rational; and both contain
Within them every lower faculty
Of fenfe, whereby they hear, fee, fmell, touch, tafte," Tafting concoct, digeft, affimilate,
And corporeal to incorporeal turn.
For know, whatever was created, needs
To be fuftain'd and fed; of elements
The grosser feeds the purer, earth the sea,
Earth and the fea feed air, the air those fires
Ethereal, and as lowest first the moon;
Whence in her visage round those spots, unpurg'd Vapors not yet into her fubftance turn'd.
Nor doth the moon no nourishment exhale From her moist continent to higher orbs. The fun, that light imparts to all, receives From all his alimental recompenfe
In humid exhalations, and at even
Sups with the ocean. Though in Heav'n the trees Of life ambrofial fruitage bear, and vines Yield nectar; though from off the boughs each morn We brush mellifluous dews, and find the ground Cover'd with pearly grain: yet God hath here Varied his bounty fo with new delights, As may compare with Heaven; and to taste Think not I shall be nice. So down they fat, And to their viands fell; nor feemingly
The Angel, nor in mift, the common glofs
Of Theologians; but with keen dispatch
Of real hunger, and concoctive heat
To transubstantiate: what redounds, transpires
Through Spi'rits with ease; nor wonder; if by fire
Of footy coal th' empiric alchemist
Can turn, or holds it poffible to turn,
Metals of drofficft ore to perfect gold
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