Which, tasted, works knowledge of good and evil,
Thou may'st not; in the day thou eat'st, thou diest;
Death is the penalty imposed; beware,

And govern well thy appetite; lest Sin
Surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.
Here finish'd he, and all that he had made
View'd, and behold all was entirely good;
So even and morn accomplish'd the sixth day:
Yet not till the Creator from his work

Desisting, though unwearied, up return'd,

Up to the Heaven of Heavens, his high abode;
Thence to behold this new created world,

The addition of his empire, how it show'd

In prospect from his throne, how good, how fair,
Answering his great idea. Up he rode
Follow'd with acclamation, and the sound
Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tun'd
Angelick harmonies; The earth, the air
Resounded (thou remember'st, for thou heardst,)
The heavens and all the constellations rung,
The planets in their station listening stood,
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant.
Open, ye everlasting gates! they sung,
Open, ye Heavens! 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 Heaven,
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 seventh
Evening arose in Eden, for the sun'

Was set, and twilight from the east came on,
Forerunning night; when at the holy mount
Of Heaven's high-seated top, the imperial throne
Of Godhead, fix'd for ever firm and sure,

The Filial Power arriv'd, and sat him down
With his Great Father; for he also went
Invisible, yet staid, (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 seventh 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 power! what thought can measure thee, or tongue
Relate thee! Greater now in thy return

Than from the giant Angels: Thee that day
Thy thunders magnified; but to create

Is greater than created to destroy.

Who can impair thee, Mighty King, or bound
Thy empire! Easily the proud attempt
Of Spirits 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 Heaven
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 cireumfus'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 empyréan rung
With halleluiahs: 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 knów: If else thou seek'st Aught, not surpassing human measure, say

PARADISE LOST.

BOOK VIIL/

THE Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he a while
Thought him still speaking, still stood fix'd to hear,
Then, as new wak'd, thus gratefully replied.
What thanks sufficient, or what recompence
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 Heaven 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