Fruit of thy womb: On me the curse aslope
Glanc'd on the ground; with labour I must earn
My bread; what harm? Idleness had been worse;
My labour will sustain me; and, lest cold

Or heat should injure us, his timely care
Hath, unbesought, provided; and his hands
Cloth'd us unworthy, pitying while he judg'd;
How much more, if we pray him, will his ear
Be open, and his heart to pity incline,

And teach us further by what means to shun
The inclement seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow!
Which now the sky, with various face, begins
To show us in this mountain; while the winds
Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks
Of these fair spreading trees; which bids us seek
Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish
Our limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal star

Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams
Reflected may with matter sere foment;

Or, by collision of two bodies, grind

The air attrite to fire; as late the clouds

Justling, or push'd with winds, rude in their shock, Tine the slant lightning; whose thwart flame, driven Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine;

And sends a comfortable heat from far,

[down,

Which might supply the sun: Such fire to use,
And what may else be remedy or cure

To evils which our own misdeeds have wrought,
He will instruct us praying, and of grace
Beseeching him; so as we need not fear

Το
pass commodiously this life, sustain'd
By him with many comforts, till we end
In dust, our final rest and native home.
What better can we do, than, to the place
Repairing where he judg'd us, prostrate fall
Before him reverent; and there confess
Humbly our faults, and pardon beg; with tears
Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek?
Undoubtedly he will relent, and turn

From his displeasure; in whose look serene,
When angry most he seem'd and most severe,
What else but favour, grace, and mercy, shone?
So spake our father penitent; nor Eve

Felt less remorse: they, forthwith to the place
Repairing where he judg'd them, prostrate fell
Before him reverent; and both confess'd
Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd: with tears
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek,

'Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods.
First hunter then, pursu'd a gentle brace,
Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind;

L.187.

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK XI:

DRAWN BY RICHARD WESTALL R.A. ENGRAVED BY CHARLES HEATH: PUBLISHED BY JOHN SHARPE, PICCADILLY,

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK XI.

The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first parents now repenting, and intercedes for them: God accepts them, but declares that they must no longer abide in Paradise; sends Michael with a band of Cherubim to dispossess them; but first to reveal to Adam future things: Michael's coming down. Adam shows to Eve certain ominous signs; he discerns Michael's approach; goes out to meet him; the Angel denounces their departure. Eve's Lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits: The Angel leads him up to a high hill; sets before him in vision what shall happen till the Flood.

THUS they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood
Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
Prevenient grace descending had remov'd

The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breath'd
Unutterable; which the Spirit of prayer

Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heaven with speedier flight
Than loudest oratory: Yet their port

Not of mean suitors; nor important less
Seem'd their petition, than when the ancient pair
In fables old, less ancient yet than these,
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore

The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine
Of Themis stood devout. To Heaven their prayers
Flew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious winds