The solace of their sin; till dewy sleep Oppress'd them, wearied with their amorous play. Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit, That, with exhilarating vapour bland, About their spirits had play'd, and inmost powers Made err, was now exhaled; and grosser sleep, Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams Encumber'd, now had left them up they rose As from unrest; and, each the other viewing, Soon found their eyes how open'd, and their minds How darken'd; innocence, that, as a veil, Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone; Just confidence, and native righteousness, And honour, from about them, naked left To guilty shame he cover'd, but his robe Uncover'd more. So rose the Danite strong, Herculean Samson, from the harlot-lap Of Philistean Dalilah, and waked
Shorn of his strength; they, destitute and bare Of all their virtue, silent, and in face Confounded; long they sat, as stricken mute: Till Adam, though not less than Eve abash'd, At length gave utterance to these words constrain'd: "O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear To that false worm, of whomsoever taught To counterfeit man's voice; true in our fall, False in our promised rising; since our eyes Open'd we find, indeed, and find we know Both good and evil; good lost and evil got; Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know; Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void, Of innocence, of faith, of purity,
Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd, And in our faces evident the signs
Of foul concupiscence; whence evil store; Even shame, the last of evils; of the first Be sure then. How shall I behold the face Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy
And rapture so oft beheld? Those heavenly shapes Will dazzle now this earthly, with their blaze Insufferably bright. O! might I here
In solitude live savage, in some glade
Obscured, where highest woods, impenetrable To star or sun light, spread their umbrage broad And brown as evening! Cover me, ye pines! Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs
Hide me, where I may never see them more! But let us now, as in bad plight, devise What best may, for the present, serve to hide The parts of each from other, that seem most To shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen;
Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves, together sew'd, And girded on our loins, may cover round Those middle parts; that this new comer, Shame, There sit not, and reproach us as unclean."
So counsell'd he, and both together went Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose The fig-tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, But such as, at this day, to Indians known, In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms, Branching so broad and long, that in the ground The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade, High overarch'd, and echoing walks between : There oft the Indian herdsman, shunning heat, Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds At loop-holes cut through thickest shade: those leaves They gather'd, broad as Amazonian targe;
And, with what skill they had, together sew'd, To gird their waist: vain covering, if to hide Their guilt and dreaded shame! O, how unlike To that first naked glory! Such, of late, Columbus found the American, so girt
With feather'd cincture; naked else, and wild Among the trees on isles and woody shores. Thus fenced, and, as they thought, their shame in part
Cover'd, but not at rest or ease of mind,
They sat them down to weep: nor only tears Rain'd at their eyes, but high winds worse within Began to rise; high passions, anger, hate, Mistrust, suspicion, discord; and shook sore Their inward state of mind, calm region once, And full of peace, now tost and turbulent : For understanding ruled not, and the will Heard not her lore; both in subjection now To sensual appetite, who, from beneath, Usurping over sovereign reason, claim'd Superior sway from thus distemper'd breast, Adam, estranged in look and alter'd style, Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd:
"Would thou hadst hearken'd to my words, and stay'd With me, as I besought thee, when that strange Desire of wandering, this unhappy morn,
I know not whence possess'd thee; we had then Remain'd still happy; not as now, despoil'd Of all our good; shamed, naked, miserable! Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe: when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude they then begin to fail."
To whom, soon moved with touch of blame, thus Eve: "What words have pass'd thy lips, Adam, severe ? Imputest thou that to my default, or will
Of wandering, as thou call'st it, which who knows But might as ill have happen'd, thou being by, Or to thyself, perhaps? Hadst thou been there, Or here the attempt, thou couldst not have discern'd Fraud in the serpent, speaking as he spake ; No ground of enmity between us known, Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. Was I to have never parted from thy side? As good have grown there still, a lifeless rib. Being as I am, why didst not thou, the head,
Command me absolutely not to go, Going into such danger, as thou saidst? Too facile, then, thou didst not much gainsay: Nay, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me." To whom, then first incensed, Adam replied: "Is this the love, is this the recompense Of mine to thee, ingrateful Eve, express'd Immutable when thou wert lost, not I;
Who might have lived, and 'joyed immortal bliss, Yet willingly chose rather death with thee? And am I now upbraided as the cause Of thy transgressing? Not enough severe, It seems, in my restraint what could I more? I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold The danger, and the lurking enemy
That lay in wait; beyond this had been force; And force upon free-will hath here no place. But confidence then bore thee on, secure Either to meet no danger, or to find Matter of glorious trial; and, perhaps, I also err'd in overmuch admiring
What seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought No evil durst attempt thee; but I rue That error now, which is become my crime, And thou the accuser. Thus it shall befal Him who, to worth in woman overtrusting, Lets her will rule: restraint she will not brook ; And, left to herself, if evil thence ensue, She first his weak indulgence will accuse." Thus they in mutual accusation spent The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning; And of their vain contest appear'd no end.
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