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 warriors, 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 hallow'd ground the unholy; and denounce
To them, and to their progeny, from thence
Perpetual banishment. Yet, lest they faint
At the sad sentence rigorously urg'd,
(For I behold them soften'd, and with tears
Bewailing their excess,) all terror 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 renew'd;
So send them forth, though sorrowing, yet h
And on the east side of the garden place, [peace :
Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs,
Cherubic 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 men once more to de ude."

He ceas'd; and the archangelic power prepar'd 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 drowse, Charm'd with Arcadian pipe, the pastoral reed Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile, To re-salute the world with sacred light, · Leueothea wak’d, and with fresh dews embalm'

The earth; when Adam and first matron Eve Had ended now their orisons, and found

Strength added from above; new hope to spring Dut of despair; joy, but with fear yet link'd; Which thus to Eve his welcome words renew'd: "Eve, easily may 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,
Kneel'd, 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 return'd
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 call'd, 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 transgressor; who, for thee ordain'd
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 grac'à
The source of life; next favourable thou,
Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsafest,
Far other name deserving. But the field
To labour calls us, now with sweat impos'd,
Though after sleepless night; for see! the morn,
All unconcern'd 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 enjoin'd
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 wish'd much-humbled Eve; but
fate
Subscrib'd not: nature first gave signs, impress'd
On bird, beast, air; air suddenly eclips'd,
After short blush of morn; nigh in her sight
The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aëry 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 observ'd, and with his eye the chase
Pursuing, not unmov'd, to Eve thus spake:

"O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh,
Which Heaven, by these mute signs in nature,
Forerunners of his purpose; or to warn [shows
Us, haply too secure of our discharge
From penalty, because from death releas'd

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 err'd 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 dimm'd Adam's eye.
Not that more glorious, when the angels met
Javob in Mahanaim, where he saw

The field pavilion'd with his guardians bright;
Nor that, which on the flaming mount appear'd
In Dothan, cover'd with a camp of fire,
Against the Syrian king, who to surprise
One man, assassin-like, had levied war,
War unproclaim'd. The princely Hierarch
in their bright stand there left his powers, to seize
Possession of the garden; he alone,

To find where Adam shelter'd, took his way,
Not unperceiv'd of Adam; who to Eve,
While the great visitant approach'd, thus spake :
"Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps
Of us will soon determine, or impose
New laws to be observ'd; 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 Raphaël, 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 archangel soon drew nigh,
Not in his shape celestial, but as man
Clad to meet man; over his lucid arms
A military vest of purple flow'd,
Livelier than Meliboan, or the grain
Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old
In time of truce: Iris had dipt the woof
His starry helm unbuckled show'd him prime
In manhood where youth ended; by his side,
As in a glistering zodiac, hung the sword,
Satan's dire dread; and in his hand the spear
Adam bow'd low; he, kingly, from his state
Fuclin'd not, but his coming thus declar'd ;

"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 seizure many days

Given thee of grace; wherein thou mayst repent,
And one bad act with many deeds well done
Mayst cover: well may then thy Lord, appeas'd,
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
Discover'd 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

At 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 adorn'd
With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee
How shail I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world; to this obscure

And wild? how shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits ?'
Whom thus the angel interrupted mil!:
"Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign
What justly thou hast lost, nor set thy heart,
Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine