University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

CHORUS.
He, who sits enthron'd on high,
Above the circle of the sky,
Sees his rage, and mocks his toil,
Which on himself shall soon recoil:
In the snare, with malice, wrought
For others, shall his feet be caught.

SCENE II.

RECITATIVE.

Now Morn her rosy steps in th'eastern clime
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl,
When Adam wak'd, so custom'd, for his sleep
Was airy light, from pure digestion bred,
And temp'rate vapours bland, which th'only sound
Of leaves, and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,
Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill matin song
Of birds on ev'ry bough. Unwaken'd Eve
Close at his side, in naked beauty lay,
Beauty! which, whether waking, or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar charms. He, on his side,
Leaning, half rais'd, with looks of cordial love
Hung over her enamour'd: then, with voice,
Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft-touching, whisper'd thus.

RECITATIVE.

EVE.
Adam! well may we labour still to dress
This garden, still to tend, herb, plant, and flow'r,
Our pleasant task enjoin'd! but till more hands
Aid us, the work under our labour grows
Luxurious by restraint. Let us divide
Our labours then, for while together thus
Our task we choose, what wonder if so near
Looks intervene, and smiles, or object new
Casual discourse draw on, which intermits
Our day's work, brought to little, though begun
Early, and th'hour of supper comes unearn'd.

ADAM.
These paths, and bow'rs doubt not but our joint hands
Will keep from wilderness with ease as wide
As we need walk, till younger hands ere long
Assist us. But if much converse perhaps
Thee satiate, to short absence I cou'd yield,
For solitude sometimes is best society,
And short retirement urges sweet return.
But other doubt possesses me, lest harm
Befal thee sever'd from me; for thou know'st
What hath been warn'd us, what malicious foe,
Envying our happiness, and of his own
Despairing, seeks to work us woe, and shame,
By sly assault; and somewhere, nigh at hand,
Watches no doubt, with greedy hope, to find
His wish, and best advantage! us asunder;
Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each
To other speedy aid might lend at need.
Then leave not, I advise, the faithful side
Which gave thee being, shades thee, and protects.

RECITATIVE.

EVE.
Offspring of Heav'n, and Earth, and all Earth's Lord!
That such an enemy we have, who seeks
Our ruin, oft inform'd by thee, I learn.
But that thou shou'dst my firmness therefore doubt,
To God, or thee, because we have a foe
May tempt it, I expected not to hear.

ADAM.
Daughter of God, and man, immortal Eve!
For such thou art, from sin, and blame entire:
Not diffident of thee, do I dissuade
Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid
Th'attempt, which thou thyself with virtuous scorn
And anger wou'd'st resent. Misdeem not then,
If such affront I labour to avert
From thee alone, which on us both at once
The enemy, tho' bold, will hardly dare,
Or daring, first on me th'assault shall light.
Nor thou his malice, and false guile contemn.
Subtle he needs must be, who cou'd seduce
Angels; nor think superfluous others aid.
“I, from the influence of thy looks, receive
“Access in ev'ry virtue; in thy sight,
“More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were,
“Of outward strength; while shame, thou looking on,
“Shame to be overcome, or over-reach'd!
“Wou'd utmost vigour raise, and rais'd unite.”
Why shou'd'st not thou like sense within thee feel,
When I am present, and thy trial chuse
With me, best witness of thy virtue tried?

EVE.
If this be our condition, thus to dwell
In narrow circuit, straiten'd by a foe,
Subtle, or violent, we not endued,
Single, with like defence, wherever met,
How are we happy, still in fear of harm?

RECITATIVE.

ADAM.
O woman! best are all things, as the will
Of God ordain'd them. His creating hand
Nothing imperfect, or deficient left
Of all that he created, much less Man,
Or aught that might his happy state secure:
Secure from outward force. Within himself
The danger lies, yet lies within his pow'r.
Against his will he can receive no harm;
But God left free the will, for what obeys
Reason is free, and reason he made right,
And bid her still beware, and still erect,
Lest by some fair, appearing good surpriz'd,
She dictate false, and misinform the will
To do what God expressly hath forbid.
Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoins
That I shou'd mind thee oft, and mind thou me,
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve.

SCENE III.

RECITATIVE.

So haste they to the field, their pleasing task!
But first, from under shady, arb'rous roof,
Soon as they forth were come to open sight
Of day-spring, and the Sun, who scarce upris'n,
With wheels yet hov'ring o'er the ocean brim,
Shot parallel to th'earth his dewy ray,
Discov'ring, in wide circuit, all the bounds
Of Paradise, and Eden's happy plains,
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began
Their orisons, each morning duly paid,
In various style: for neither various style
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise
Their Maker in fit strains, pronounc'd, or sung,
Unmeditated; such prompt eloquence
Flow'd from their lips, in prose, or num'rous verse,
More tuneable than needed lute, or harp
To add more sweetness: and they thus began.

MORNING HYMN.

RECITATIVE.

So pray'd they innocent; then to their task
They diff'rent ways repair—he, where his choice
Leads him, or where most needs, whether to wind
The woodbine round his arbour, or direct
The clasping ivy where to twine; while she
In yonder spring of roses, intermixt
With myrtle, seeks what to redress till noon.
Her long, with ardent look, his eye pursu'd
Delighted, but desiring more her stay.
She, like a wood-nymph light of Delia's train,
Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self
In gait surpass'd, and goddess-like deport.
Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye;
In ev'ry gesture dignity, and love.

AIR.

“Grace was in all her steps, Heav'n in her eye;
“In ev'ry gesture dignity, and love.”