Poems, moral and descriptive :: :: University of Virginia Library

Poems, moral and descriptive

By the late Richard Jago ... (Prepared for the press, and improved by the author, before his death.) To which is added, some account of the life and writings of Mr. Jago

Jago, Richard (1715-1781)

II.

III.

IV.

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES.

To a LADY working a Pair of RUFFLES.

FEMALE EMPIRE.

On Mr. Samuel Cooke's POEMS.

The MISTAKE.

To a LADY, with a basket of fruit.

PEYTOE's GHOST.

To a LADY, Furnishing her LIBRARY, at ---, in Warwickshire.

To WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Esq. on receiving a gilt pocket-book. 1751.

An ELEGY on MAN.

On receiving a little IVORY BOX from a lady, curiously wrought by her own hands.

VALENTINE's DAY.

HAMLET's SOLILOQUY, IMITATED.

ROUNDELAY, WRITTEN FOR THE JUBILEE AT STRATFORD UPON AVON,

ADAM:

II.

III.

II.

II.

III.

III.

II.

III.

RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.

IV.

SCENE IV.

RECITATIVE.

CHORUS. ALLEGRO.

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ADAM:

OR, THE Fatal Disobedience.

AN ORATORIO. COMPILED FROM THE PARADISE LOST OF MILTON. AND ADAPTED TO MUSIC.

By R. J.

224

The Persons here represented are

ADAM, and
EVE; with the
Guardian Angels of Paradise, and others.

The Scene is Paradise.

225

ACT I.

SCENE I.

RECITATIVE.

Under a tuft of shade, that, on a green,
Stood whisp'ring soft, on Eden's blissful plain,
Sate the first human Pair. (Not that fair Field
Of Enna, where Proserpine, gath'ring flow'rs,
Herself, a fairer flow'r, by gloomy Dis
Was gather'd; nor that sweet Elysian Grove
Of Daphne by Orontes, and th'inspir'd

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Castalian Spring, might with this Paradise
Of Eden strive: nor that Nysean Isle,
Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,
Whom Gentiles Ammon call, and Lybian Jove,
Hid Amalthea, and her florid son,
Young Bacchus from his step-dame Rhea's eye—
Nor where Abassine kings their issue guard,
Mount Amara! enclos'd with shining rock,
A whole day's journey high.) Around them grew
All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste,
And all amid them grew the Tree of Life,
High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit
Of vegetable gold; and, next to Life,
Our Death! the Tree of Knowledge grew fast by.
Here waving boughs wept od'rous gums, and balm:
On others fruit, burnish'd with golden rind,
Hung amiable: betwixt them lawns, and downs,
Or palmy hillock, or the flow'ry lap
Of some irriguous valley spread her store,
Flow'rs of all hues, and without thorn the rose.
Another side umbrageous grots, and caves
Of cool recess! o'er which the mantling vine

227

Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant. Mean while murm'ring waters fall
Down the slope hills dispers'd, or, in a lake,
That to the fringed bank, with myrtle crown'd,
Her crystal mirrour holds, unite their streams.
The birds their quire apply—airs, vernal airs
Breathing the smell of field, or grove attune
The trembling leaves, and whisper whence they stole
Their balmy spoils. About them frisking play'd
All beasts of th'earth, since wild, and of all chase
In wood, or wilderness, forest, or den.
Sporting the lion ramp'd, and, in his paw,
Dandled the kid. Bears, tygers, ounces, pards
Gambol'd before them. Th'unwieldy elephant,
To make them mirth, us'd all his might, and wreath'd
His lithe proboscis. Close the serpent sly,
Insinuating, wove, with Gordian twine,
His braided train, and, of his fatal guile
Gave proof unheeded. They superior sate
As lords of all, of God-like shape erect!
For valour he, and contemplation form'd,
For softness she, and sweet attractive grace!

228

AIR.

“They superior sate,
“As lords of all, of God-like shape erect!
“For valour he, and contemplation form'd,
“For softness she, and sweet attractive grace!”

SCENE II.

RECITATIVE.

On the soft downy bank, damaskt with flow'rs,
Reclin'd they sate, when Adam first of men
To first of women Eve thus smiling spake.
ADAM.
Sole partner, and sole part of all these joys,
Dearer thyself than all! needs must the Pow'r,
That made us, and, for us, this ample world,
Be infinitely good, and, of his good
As liberal, and free as infinite;
Who rais'd us from the dust, and plac'd us here,

229

In all this happiness; who yet requires
From us no other service, than to keep
This one, this easy charge—Of all the Trees
In Paradise, that bear delicious fruit
So various, not to taste that only Tree
Of Knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life.

SONG.

“Then let us ever praise Him, and extol
“His bounty, following our delightful task,
“To prune these growing plants, and tend these flow'rs,
“Which, were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet.”

RECITATIVE.

EVE.
O thou! for whom
And from whom I was form'd! Flesh of thy flesh!
And without whom am to no end! My guide,
And head! what thou hast said is just, and right:
For we indeed to Him all praises owe,

230

And daily thanks: I chiefly, who enjoy
So much the happier lot, enjoying thee.

AFFETUOSO.

“That day I oft remember, when from sleep
“I first awak'd, and found myself repos'd
“Under a shade of flow'rs, much wond'ring where,
“And what I was, whence thither brought, and how.
“Not distant far from thence, a murm'ring sound
“Of waters issued from a cave, and spread
“Into a liquid plain, then stood unmov'd
“Pure as th'expanse of Heav'n. I thither went,
“With unexperienc'd thought, and laid me down
“On the green bank to look into the clear,
“Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky.
“As I bent down to look, just opposite,
“A shape within the watry gleam appear'd,
“Bending to look on me. I started back,
“It started back. But pleas'd I soon return'd,
“Pleas'd it return'd as soon, with answ'ring looks
“Of sympathy, and love. There I had fix'd
“Mine eyes till now, and pin'd with vain desire,

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“Had not a voice thus warn'd me. What thou see'st,
“What there thou see'st, fair creature! is thyself.
“With thee it came, and goes. But follow me,
“And I will bring thee where no shadow stays
“Thy coming, and thy soft embraces—He!
“Whose image thou art—him thou shalt enjoy
“Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear
“Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd
“Mother of human race. What cou'd I do,
“But follow strait, invisibly thus led?
“Till I espied thee, fair, indeed, and tall,
“Under a platan. Yet methought less fair,
“Less winning soft, less amiably mild,
“Than that smooth watry image. Back I turn'd.
“Thou following cry'dst aloud;

AIR.

“Return, fair Eve!
“Whom fly'st thou? whom thou fly'st, of him thou art,
“His flesh, his bone! To give thee being I lent
“Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart,

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“Substantial life, to have thee by my side,
“Henceforth an individual solace dear.
“Part of my soul I seek thee, and thee claim
“My other half.” With that thy gentle hand
“Seiz'd mine; I yielded—and from that time see
“How beauty is excell'd by manly grace,
“And wisdom, which alone is truly fair.”

RECITATIVE.

So spake our gen'ral Mother, and with eyes
Of conjugal affection, unreprov'd,
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd
On our first Father. Half her swelling breast
Naked met his, under the flowing gold
Of her loose tresses hid. He, in delight
Both of her beauty, and submissive charms,
Smil'd with superior love, and press'd her lip
With kisses pure. Thus they in am'rous sport,
As well beseems fair couple, linkt as they,
In happy nuptial league, their minutes pass'd,
Crown'd with sublime delight. The loveliest pair
That ever yet in Love's embraces met:

233

Adam the goodliest man of men since born
His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve!

CHORUS.

“Hail! Hymen's first, accomplish'd Pair!
“Goodliest he of all his sons!
“Of her daughters she most fair!
“Goodliest he!
“She most fair!
“Goodliest he of all his sons!
“Of her daughters she most fair.

SCENE III.

RECITATIVE.

Now came still Ev'ning on, and Twilight grey
Had, in her sober liv'ry all things clad.
Silence accompanied: for beast, and bird,
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests
Were slunk: all but the wakeful Nightingale!
She all night long her am'rous descant sung.

234

Silence was pleas'd. Now glow'd the firmament
With living saphires. Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length,
Apparent queen! unveil'd her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.
When Adam thus to Eve.
ADAM.
Fair Consort! th'hour
Of Night, and all things now retir'd to rest
Mind us of like repose: since God hath set
Labour, and rest as day, and night to men
Successive, and the timely due of sleep,
Now falling with soft slumb'rous weight, inclines
Our eye-lids. Ere fresh Morning streak the east
With first approach of light, we must be ris'n,
And at our pleasant labour, to reform
Yon' flow'ry arbours, yonder alleys green,
Our walk at Noon, with branches overgrown.
Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest.

235

EVE.
My author, and disposer, what thou bid'st
Unargu'd I obey, so God ordains.
God is thy law, thou mine. To know no more
Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise.

AIR.

“With thee conversing, I forget all time.
“All seasons, and their change, all please alike.
“Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,
“With charm of earliest birds! Pleasant the Sun!
“When first on this delightful land he spreads
“His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flow'r,
“Glist'ring with dew: fragrant the fertile Earth,
“After soft show'rs! and sweet the coming on
“Of grateful Evening mild; the silent Night,
“With this her solemn bird; and this fair Moon,
“And those the gems of Heav'n, her starry train!
“But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends,
“With charm of earliest birds, nor rising Sun
“On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flow'r,

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“Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after show'rs,
“Nor grateful Evening mild, nor silent Night,
“With this her solemn bird, nor walk by Moon,
“Or glitt'ring star-light without thee is sweet.”

RECITATIVE.

Thus talking, hand in hand, alone they pass'd
On to their blissful bow'r. It was a place,
Chos'n by the Sov'reign Planter, when he fram'd
All things to man's delightful use; the roof,
Of thickest covert, was in-woven shade,
Laurel, and myrtle, and what higher grew
Of firm, and fragrant leaf; on either side,
Acanthus, and each od'rous, bushy shrub
Fenc'd up the verdant wall, each beauteous flow'r,
Iris, all hues, roses, and jessamine
Rear'd high their flourish'd heads between, and wrought
Mosaic; under foot the violet,
Crocus, and hyacinth, with rich inlay,
Broider'd the ground, more colour'd than with stone

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Of costliest emblem. Other creature here
Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none,
Such was their awe of Man. In shady bow'r,
More sacred, and sequester'd; tho' but feign'd,
Pan, or Sylvanus never slept, nor Nymph,
Or Faunus haunted. Here, in close recess,
With flow'rs, and garlands, and sweet smelling herbs
Espoused Eve deck'd first her nuptial bed,
And heav'nly quires the Hymenæan sung.

Thus at their shady lodge arriv'd, both stood,
Both turn'd, and, under open Sky, ador'd
The God that made both Sky, Air, Earth, and Heav'n,
Which they beheld, the Moon's resplendent globe,
And starry pole.

EVENING HYMN.

“Thou also mad'st the night,
“Maker omnipotent! and Thou the day,
“Which we, in our appointed work employ'd,
“Have finish'd, happy in our mutual help,

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“And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss;
“Ordain'd by Thee, and this delicious place,
“For us too large, where Thy abundance wants
“Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground.
“But Thou hast promis'd from us two a race,
“To fill the earth, who shall, with us, extol
“Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake,
“And when we seek, as now, thy gift of Sleep.

END OF THE FIRST ACT.

239

ACT II.

SCENE I.

RECITATIVE.

O! for that warning voice, which he, who saw
Th'Apocalyps, heard cry in Heav'n aloud,
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,
Came furious down, to be reveng'd on men,
Woe to th'inhabitants of th'earth! that now,
While time was, our first Parents had been warn'd
The coming of their secret foe, and scap'd,
Haply so scap'd his mortal snare; for now
Satan, now first inflam'd with rage, came down,
The tempter, ere th'accuser of mankind.

CHORUS.
He, who sits enthron'd on high,
Above the circle of the sky,

240

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,

241

Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft-touching, whisper'd thus.

SONG.

“Awake!
“My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found,
“Heav'n's last, best gift, my ever newdelight,
“Awake! the morning shines, and the fresh field
“Calls us; we lose the prime, to mark how spring
“Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove,
“What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed;
“How Nature paints her colours; how the bee
“Sits on the bloom, extracting liquid sweets.”

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

242

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;

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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.

AIR.

“The wife, where danger, or dishonour lurks,
“Safest, and seemliest near her husband stays,
“Who guards her, or with her the worst endures.”

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:

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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?

245

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?

AIR.

“Frail is our happiness, if this be so,
“And Eden were no Eden thus expos'd.”

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.

246

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.

AIR.

“But if thou think'st trial unsought may find
“Us both securer, than thus warn'd thou seem'st,
“Go! for thy stay, not free, absents thee more.
“Go in thy native innocence. Rely
“On what thou hast of virtue: summon all,
“For God towards thee hath done his part, do thine.”

247

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.

248

MORNING HYMN.

“These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good,
“Almighty! Thine this universal frame!
“Thus wond'rous fair! Thyself how wond'rous then!
“Unspeakable! who sit'st above these heav'ns,
“To us invisible; or dimly seen
“In these Thy lowest works: yet these declare
“Thy goodness beyond thought, and pow'r divine.

“Speak ye, who best can tell, ye sons of light!
“Angels, for ye behold Him, and, with songs,
“And choral symphonies day without night,
“Circle His throne rejoicing; ye in heav'n,
“On earth join all ye creatures to extol
“Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end.

“Fairest of Stars, last in the train of night,
“If better thou belong not to the dawn,
“Sure pledge of day! that crown'st the smiling morn
“With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere,
“While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.

“Thou Sun, both eye, and soul of this great world!
“Acknowledge Him thy greater, sound His praise

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“In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st,
“And when high noon hast gain'd, and when hast fall'n.

“Moon! that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fly'st
“With the fixt stars, fixt in their orb that flies,
“And ye five other wand'ring fires, that move
“In mystic dance, not without song, resound
“His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light.

“Air! and ye Elements, the eldest birth
“Of Nature's womb, that, in quaternion, run
“Perpetual circle multiform, and mix,
“And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change
“Vary to your great Maker still new praise.

“Ye Mists, and Exhalations that now rise,
“From hill, or steaming lake, dusky, or grey,
“Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
“In honour to the world's great Maker rise,
“Whether to deck with clouds th'uncolour'd sky,
“Or wet the thirsty earth with falling show'rs,
“Rising, or falling still advance His praise.

250

“His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,
“Breathe soft, or loud; and wave your tops, ye pines,
“With ev'ry plant, in sign of honour wave.

“Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow,
“Melodious murmurs, warbling tune His praise.

“Join voices, all ye living souls! ye birds!
“That singing, up to Heav'n's bright gates ascend,
“Bear on your wings, and in your notes His praise.

“Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk
“The earth; and stately tread, or lowly creep,
“Witness if I be silent morn, or ev'n,
“To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade
“Made vocal by my song, and taught His praise.

“Hail, universal Lord! be bounteous still
“To give us only good; and, if the night
“Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd,
“Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark.”

RECITATIVE.

So pray'd they innocent; then to their task
They diff'rent ways repair—he, where his choice

251

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.”

END OF ACT THE SECOND.

252

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The GUARDIAN ANGELS.

RECITATIVE.

Our charge, tho' unsuccessful, is fulfill'd.
The Tempter hath prevail'd, and Man is fall'n.
Earth felt the wound, and Nature, from her seat
Sighing thro' all her works, gave signs of woe,
That all was lost. The fatal omens reach'd
Our glitt'ring files, and thro' th'angelic guard
Spread sadness, mixt with pity, not with guilt,
Or conscious negligence. After short pause,
Earth trembled from her entrails, as again
In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan;
Sky lower'd, and, mutt'ring thunder, some sad drops
Wept at compleating of the mortal sin.
Now up to Heav'n we haste, before the throne
Supreme, t'approve our faithful vigilance.

253

CHORUS.

“Righteous art thou, O Lord! and just are thy judgments.
“HALLELUJAH!”

RECITATIVE.

But see! with visage discompos'd, and dim'd
With passions foul, like this late azure clime
With clouds, and storms o'ercast, the human pair
Bend hitherward their steps disconsolate.

SCENE II.

ADAM, and EVE.

RECITATIVE.

ADAM.
O Eve! in evil hour thou didst give ear
To that false worm, of whomsoever taught
To counterfeit man's voice, true in our fall,

254

False in our promis'd rising, since our eyes
Open'd we find indeed, and find we know
Both good and evil, good lost, and evil got,
Bad fruit of knowledge!

AIR.

“How shall I behold
“Henceforth or God, or angel, erst with joy,
“And rapture oft beheld? O! might I here
“In solitude live savage, in some glade
“Obscur'd, where highest woods, impenetrable
“To star, or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad,
“And brown as evening. Cover me, ye pines,
“Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs
“Hide me, where I may never see them more.”

RECITATIVE.

Wou'd thou had'st hearken'd to my words, and stay'd
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange
Desire of wand'ring, this unhappy morn,
I know not whence possess'd thee! we had then

255

Remain'd still happy; not as now despoil'd
Of all our good, shamed, naked, mis'rable!

AIR.

“Let none henceforth seek needless cause t'approve
“The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek
“Such proof, conclude they then begin to fail.”
EVE.
Imput'st thou that to my desire, or will
Of wand'ring, as thou call'st it, which who knows
But might as ill have happen'd thou being by,
Or to thyself perhaps, had'st thou been there?
“Was I t'have never parted from thy side,
“As good have grown there still a lifeless rib.
“Being as I am, why did'st not thou, the head,
“Command me absolutely not to go,
“Going into such danger as thou said'st.”
Too facil then, thou did'st not much gainsay,
Nay, did'st permit, approve, and fair dismiss.
Had'st thou been firm, and fix'd in thy dissent,
Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me.

256

ADAM.

AIR.

“Thus it shall befall
“Him, who to worth in woman overtrusting,
“Lets her will rule; restraint she will not brook,
“And left t'herself, if evil thence ensue,
“She first his weak indulgence will accuse.”

SCENE III.

RECITATIVE.

ADAM.
O mis'rable of happy! Is this the end
Of this new glorious world, and me so late
The glory of that glory? who now become
Accurst of blessed! Hide me from the face
Of God, whom to behold was then my height
Of happiness. Yet well, if here wou'd end
The mis'ry; I deserv'd it, and wou'd bear

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My own deservings; but this will not serve.
All that I eat, or drink, or shall beget,
Is propagated curse. O voice once heard
Delightfully, “Increase, and multiply.”
Now death to hear! For what can I increase,
Or multiply but curses on my head,
Heavy! though in their place? O fleeting joys
Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woe!
“Did I request thee, Maker! from my clay,
“To mould me man? Did I solicit thee
“From darkness to promote me, or to place
“In this delicious garden? As my will
“Concurr'd not to my being, 'twere but right
“And equal to reduce me to my dust,
“Desirous to resign, and render back
“All I receiv'd.”

EVE.
O Adam! can I thus behold thee wretched,
Thus mis'rable thro' my default, nor strive
To sooth thy grief, and soften thy distress?

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ADAM.

Out of my sight, thou serpent! that name best
Befits thee, with him leagu'd, thyself as false,
And hateful!—

—But for thee,
I had continued happy, had not thy pride,
And wand'ring vanity, when least was safe,
Rejected my forewarning, and disdain'd
Not to be trusted; longing to be seen,
Tho' by the Devil himself.

AIR.

“O! why did God,
“Creator wise! that peopled highest Heav'n
“With spirits masculine, create at last
“This novelty on earth, this fair defect
“Of Nature! and not fill the world at once
“With men, as angels without feminine?”

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EVE.
Forsake me not thus, Adam! Witness Heav'n!
What love sincere, and rev'rence in my heart
I bear thee, and unweeting have offended,
Unhappily deceiv'd! Thy supplicant
I beg, and clasp thy knees; “Bereave me not,
“Whereon I live, thy gentle looks—thy aid—
“Thy counsel in this uttermost distress:
“My only strength, and stay! Forlorn of thee,
“Whither shall I betake me, where subsist?”
While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps,
Between us two let there be peace, both joining,
As join'd in injuries, one enmity
Against a foe, by doom express assign'd us,
That cruel serpent. On me exercise not
Thy hatred for this misery befall'n,
On me already lost, me than thyself
More miserable: both have sinn'd, but thou
Against God only, I against God, and thee:
And to the place of judgment will return,

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There with my cries importune Heav'n, that all
The sentence, from thy head remov'd, may light
On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe,
Me! me! just object only of his ire.

ADAM.
Alas! ill able art thou to sustain
His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part,
And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If pray'rs
Cou'd alter high decrees, I to that place
Wou'd speed before thee, and be louder heard,
That on my head all might be visited,
Thy frailty, and infirmer sex forgiv'n,
To me committed, and by me expos'd.
But rise—Let us no more contend, and blame
Each other, blam'd enough elsewhere, but strive
In offices of love, how we may lighten
Each other's burthen in our share of woe.
Then to the place repairing, where our Judge
Pronounc'd our doom, there let us both confess

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Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears
Wat'ring the ground, and with our sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.

RECITATIVE ACCOMPANIED.

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 beg'd, with tears
Wat'ring the ground, and with their sighs the air
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign
Of sorrow unfeign'd, and humiliation meek.

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SCENE IV.

RECITATIVE.

EVE.
What tidings bring'st thou, Adam! from this new guest
Angelical, so late arriv'd? Alas!
My trembling heart forebodes some further ill;
For far less mild methought his aspect seem'd,
Than Raphael's, social spirit! who wont so oft
To sit indulgent with us, and partake
Rural repast, permitting us the while
Venial discourse unblam'd. What tidings? say.

ADAM.
Our pray'rs are heard in Heav'n, and Death our due
By sentence then, when first we did transgress,
Is of his prey defeated many days

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Giv'n us of grace, wherein we may repent.
So God appeas'd, from his rapacious claim
Will quite redeem us, and to life restore.
But longer in this Paradise to dwell,
As not befitting creatures stain'd with sin,
He suffers not, but sends us forth to till
The ground from whence he took us, fitter soil!

EVE.

AIR. AFFETUOSO.

“O! unexpected stroke, worse than of death!
“Must I then leave thee, Paradise, thus leave
“Thee, native soil! These happy walks, and shades,
“Fit haunt of Gods! where I had hope to spend
“Quiet, tho' sad the respite of that day,
“That must be mortal to us both. O flow'rs!
“That never will in other climate grow,
“My early visitation, and my last
“At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand,
“From the first op'ning bud, and gave you names,
“Who now shall rear you to the sun, and rank

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“Your tribes, and water from th'ambrosial fount?
“Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r! by me adorn'd
“With what to sight, or smell was sweet; from thee
“How shall I part, and whither wander down
“Into a lower world, to this obscure,
“And wild; how shall we breathe in other air
“Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?”

ADAM.
Lament not, Eve! but patiently resign
What justly we have lost, nor set thine heart
Thus overfond on that which is not ours.
Thy going is not lonely—I will guard
Thy steps from harm, and all thy wants supply.

EVE.

Adam! I feel within new life, new hopes
By Heav'n, and thee inspir'd. Then now lead on,
In me is no delay. “With thee to go,
“Is to stay here. Without thee here to stay,
“Is to go hence unwilling. Thou to me

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“Art all things under Heav'n, all places thou!
“Who for my wilful crime art banish'd hence.”
This further consolation yet secure
I carry hence—tho' all by me is lost,
Such favour I unworthy am vouchsaf'd,
By me the promis'd Seed shall all restore.

So spake our mother Eve. And Adam heard
Well pleas'd, but answer'd not. For now too nigh
The Cherubim advanc'd; and, in their front,
The brandish'd sword of God before them blaz'd,
Fierce as a comet, which, with torrid-heat,
Smote on that clime, so late their blest abode!
Some nat'ral tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon:
The world was all before them, where to chuse
Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.

CHORUS. ALLEGRO.

“The world was all before them, where to chuse
“Their place of rest, and Providence their guide.”