While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung, Open, ye heav'ns, your living doors; let in The great Creator from his work return'd Magnificent, his six days' work, a world; Open, and henceforth oft; for God will deign To visit oft the dwellings of just men Delighted, and with frequent intercourse Thither will send his winged messengers On errands of supernal grace. So sung The glorious train ascending. He through heav'n, That open'd wide her blazing portals, led To God's eternal house direct the way; A broad and ample road, whose dust is gold And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear, Seen in the galaxy, that milky way;
Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest Powder'd with stars. And now on earth the sev'nth Ev'ning arose in Eden; for the sun
Was set, and twilight from the east came on, Fore-running night; when at the holy mount Of heav'n's high-seated top, th' Imperial throne Of Godhead, fix'd for ever firm and sure, The Filial Pow'r arriv'd, and sat him down. With his great Father; for he also went. Invisible, yet stay'd (such privilege
Hath Omnipresence) and the work ordain'd, Author and end of all things, and from work Now resting, bless'd and hallow'd the sev'nth day, As resting on that day from all his work: But not in silence holy kept; the harp Had work, and rested not; the solemn pipe And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop, All sounds on fret by string or golden wire Temper'd soft tunings, intermix'd with voice Choral or unison; of incense clouds Fuming from golden censers hid the mount. Creation and the six days' acts they sung, Great are thy works, Jehovah, infinite
Thy pow'r; what thought can measure thee, or tongue Relate thee? greater now in thy return Than from the giant angels: thee that day Thy thunders magnify'd; but to create Is greater, than created, to destroy. Who can impair thee, mighty King, or bound Thy empire? Easily the proud attempt Of sp'rits apostate and their counsels vain Thou hast repell'd, while impiously they thought Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw The number of thy worshippers. Who seeks To lessen thee, against his purpose serves To manifest the more thy might: his evil Thou usest, and from thence creat'st more good. Witness this new-made world, another heav'n, From heaven-gate not far, founded in view On the clear hyaline, the glassy sea; Of amplitude almost immense, with stars Numerous, and every star perhaps a world. Of destin❜d habitation; but thou know'st Their seasons: among these the seat of men, Earth, with her nether ocean circumfus'd,
Their pleasant dwelling place. Thrice happy men, And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanc'd, Created in his image, there to dwell,
And worship him; and in reward to rule Over his works, on earth, in sea, or air; And multiply a race of worshippers, Holy and just: thrice happy, if they know Their happiness, and persevere upright.
So sung they, and the empyrean rung With Hallelujahs: Thus was sabbath kept. And thy request think now fulfill'd, that ask'd How first this world and face of things began, And what before thy memory was done From the beginning, that posterity,
Inform'd by thee, might know: if else thou seek'st Ought, not surpassing human measure, say.
Adam enquires concerning celestial motions; is doubtfully answered, and exhorted to search rather things more worthy of knowledge: Adam assents; still desirous to detain Raphael, relates to him what he remembered since his own creation, his placing in Paradise, his talk with God concerning solitude and fit society, his first meeting and nuptials with Eve; his discourse with the Angel thereupon: who, after admonitions repeated, departs.
HE Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear: Then, as new wak'd, thus gratefully reply'd : What thanks sufficient, or what recompense Equal have I to render thee, divine Historian, who thus largely hast allay'd The thirst I had of knowledge, and vouchsaf'd This friendly condescension to relate Things else by me unsearchable, now heard With wonder, but delight, and, as is due, With glory attributed to the high
Creator? Something yet of doubt remains, Which only thy solution can resolve.
When I behold this goodly frame, this world Of Heav'n and Earth consisting, and compute Their magnitudes, this earth a spot, a grain, An atom, with the firmament compar'd, And all her number'd stars, that seem to roll Spaces incomprehensible (for such
Their distance argues, and their swift return
Diurnal) merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot, One day and night, in all their vast survey Useless besides; reasoning I oft admire, How nature wise and frugal could commit Such disproportions, with superfluous hand So many nobler bodies to create,
Greater so manifold to this one use,
For ought appears, and on their orbs impose Such restless revolution day by day Repeated, while the sedentary earth,
That better might with far less compass move, Serv'd by more noble than herself, attains Her end without least motion, and receives As tribute, such a sumless journey brought Of incorporeal speed, her warmth and light; Speed, to describe whose swiftness number fails.
So spake our sire, and by his count'nance seem'd Ent'ring on studious thoughts abstruse; which Eve Perceiving, where she sat retir'd in sight, With lowliness majestic from her seat,
And grace that won who saw to wish her stay, Rose, and went forth among her fruits and flow'rs, To visit how they prosper'd, bud and bloom, Her nursery; they at her coming sprung,
And touch'd by her fair tendance gladlier grew. Yet went she not, as not with such discourse. Delighted, or not capable her ear
Of what was high: such pleasure she reserv'd, Adam relating, she sole auditress;
Her husband the relator she preferr'd
Before the Angel, and of him to ask
Chose rather; he, she knew, would intermix Grateful digressions, and solve high dispute With conjugal caresses; from his lip
Not words alone pleas'd her. O when meet now Such pairs, in love and mutual honour join'd? With goddess-like demeanour forth she went, Not unattended; for on her, as queen,
A pomp of winning graces waited still, And from about her shot darts of desire Into all eyes, to wish her still in sight. And Raphael now, to Adam's doubt propos'd, Benevolent and facile, thus reply'd:
To ask or search I blame thee not; for Heav'n Is as the book of God before thee set,
Wherein to read his wond'rous works, and learn His seasons, hours, or days, or months, or years. This to attain, whether Heav'n move or Earth, Imports not, if thou reckon right; the rest From Man or Angel the great Architect Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge His secrets to be scann'd by them who ought Rather admire; or if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric of the heav'ns Hath left to their disputes, perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions wide Hereafter, when they come to model heav'n And calculate the stars, how they will wield The mighty frame, how build, unbuild, contrive To save appearances, how gird the sphere With centric and eccentric scribbled o'er, Cycle and epyciele, orb in orb.
Already by thy reasoning this I guess,
Who art to lead thy offspring, and supposest
That bodies bright and greater should not serve The less not bright, nor heav'n such journies run, Earth sitting still, when she alone receives The benefit. Consider first, that great Or bright infers not excellence: the earth, Though in comparison of heav'n, so small, Nor glist'ring, may of solid good contain More plenty than the sun that barren shines, Whose virtue on itself works no effect, But in the fruitful earth; there first receiv'd His beams unactive else, their vigour find. Yet not to earth are those bright luminaries Officious, but to thee, earth's habitant.
« PoprzedniaDalej » |