The World's Greatest Books [Volumes 1-15, 17-20]

"Account me Man. I for his sake will leave Thy bosom, and this glory next to Thee Freely put off, and for him lastly die Well pleased; on me let Death wreak all his rage. Under his gloomy power I shall not long Lie vanquished."

While the immortal quires chanted their praise, Satan drew near, and sighted the World—the sun, earth, moon, and companion planets—

As when a scout, Through dark and desert ways with peril gone All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, Which to his eye discovers unaware The goodly prospect of some foreign land First seen, or some renowned metropolis With glistening spires and pinnacles adorned, Which now the rising Sun gilds with his beams, Such wonder seized, though after Heaven seen, The Spirit malign, but much more envy seized, At sight of all this world beheld so fair.

Flying to the Sun, and taking the form of "a stripling Cherub," Satan recognises there the Archangel Uriel and accosts him.

"Brightest Seraph, tell In which of all these shining orbs hath Man His fixed seat."

And Uriel, although held to be "the sharpest-sighted Spirit of all in Heaven," was deceived, for angels cannot discern hypocrisy. So Uriel, pointing, answers:

"That place is Earth, the seat of Man.... That spot to which I point is Paradise, Adam's abode; those lofty shades his bower. Thy way thou canst not miss; me mine requires." Thus said, he turned; and Satan, bowing low, As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven, Where honour due and reverence none neglects, Took leave, and toward the coast of Earth beneath, Down from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success, Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel, Nor stayed till on Niphantes' top he lights.

IV.—Of Adam and Eve in Paradise

Coming within sight of Paradise Satan's conscience is aroused, and he grieves over the suffering his dire work will entail, exclaiming

"Me miserable; which way shall I fly Infinite wrath and infinite despair? Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell."

But he cannot brook submission, and hardens his heart afresh.

"So farewell hope, and, with hope, farewell fear, Farewell remorse! All good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my Good."

As he approaches Paradise more closely, the deliciousness of the place affects even his senses.

As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest, with such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles, So entertained those odorous sweets the Fiend.

At last, after sighting "all kind of living creatures new to sight and strange," he descries Man.

Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall, God-like erect, with native honour clad In naked majesty, seemed lords of all, And worthy seemed; for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone. For contemplation he and valour formed, For softness she and sweet attractive grace; He for God only, she for God in Him. So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pair That ever since in love's embraces met— Adam the goodliest man of men since born His sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.

At the sight of the gentle pair, Satan again almost relents. Taking the shape of various animals, he approaches to hear them talk and finds from Adam that the only prohibition laid on them is partaking of the Tree of Knowledge. Eve, replying, tells how she found herself alive, saw her form reflected in the water, and thought herself fairer even than Adam until

"Thy gentle hand Seized mine; I yielded, and from that time see How beauty is excelled by manly grace And wisdom, which alone is truly fair."

While Satan roams through Paradise, with "sly circumspection," Uriel descends on an evening sunbeam to warn Gabriel, chief of the angelic guards, that a suspected Spirit, with looks "alien from Heaven," had passed to earth, and Gabriel promises to find him before dawn.

Now came still Evening on, and Twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale. She all night long her amorous descant sung. Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon, Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

Adam and Eve talk ere they retire to rest—she questioning him

"Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistening with dew; fragrant the fertile Earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon, And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train; But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds; nor rising Sun On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistening with dew; nor fragrance after showers, Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night, With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet. But wherefore all night long shine these? For whom This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes?"