A Collection of Miscellanies Consisting of Poems, Essays, Discourses & Letters, Occasionally Written. By John Norris ... The Second Edition Corrected |
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The Complaint of Adam turn'd out of Paradise.
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 | A Collection of Miscellanies |  |
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The Complaint of Adam turn'd out of Paradise.
I
And must I go, and must I be no moreThe Tenant of this happy ground?
Can no reserves of pity me restore,
Can no attonement for my stay compound?
All the rich Odours that here grow I'd give
To Heaven in Incense, might I here but live,
Or if it be a Grace too high
To live in Eden, let me there but dye.
II
Fair place, thy sweets I just began to know,And must I leave thee now again?
Ah why does Heaven such short-liv'd Bliss bestow?
A taste of pleasure, but full draught of pain.
I ask not to be chief in this blest state,
Let Heaven some other for that place create.
So 'tis in Eden, let me but have
An under-gardiner's place, 'tis all I crave.
III
But 'twill not do I see, I must away,My feet profane this sacred ground;
Stay then bright Minister, one Minute stay,
Let me in Eden take one farewell round.
Let me go gather but one fragrant Bough
Which as a Relique, I may keep and shew;
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A Curse to be immortal, and not here.
IV
'Tis done; Now farewell thou most happy place,Farewell ye streams that softly creep,
I ne're again in you shall view my face,
Farewell ye Bowers, in you I ne're shall sleep.
Farewell ye Trees, ye flow'ry Beds farewell,
You ne're will bless my taste, nor you my smell.
Farewell thou Guardian divine,
To thee my happy Rival I resign.
V
O whither now, whither shall I repairExil'd from this Angelic coast?
There's nothing left that's pleasant, good or fair,
The World can't recompence for Eden lost.
'Tis true, I've here a Universal sway,
The Creatures me as their chief Lord obey;
But yet the World tho all my Seat,
Can't make me happy, tho it make me great.
VI
Had I lost lesser and but seeming Bliss,Reason my sorrows might relieve.
But when the loss great and substantial is,
To think is but to see good cause to grieve.
'Tis well I'm mortal, 'tis well I shortly must
Lose all the thoughts of Eden in the dust.
Senseless and thoughtless now I'd be,
I'd lose even my self, since I've lost thee.
| A Collection of Miscellanies | |