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Paradise Lost

John Milton · 1660–1665 primary

passage 146 of 166 · BOOK I > Book XI (5/7)

in brief
Eve mourns losing Paradise and the garden’s flowers and bower, but Michael urges her to resign patiently; Adam submits, accepting the decree while grieving God’s absence from familiar places.

thus leave Thee, native soil! these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names, Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount? Thee lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorned 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, accustomed to immortal fruits? Whom thus the Angel interrupted mild. Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign What justly thou hast lost, nor set thy heart, Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine: Thy going is not lonely; with thee goes Thy husband; whom to follow thou art bound; Where he abides, think there thy native soil. Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp Recovering, and his scattered spirits returned, To Michael thus his humble words addressed. Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or named Of them the highest; for such of shape may seem Prince above princes! gently hast thou told Thy message, which might else in telling wound, And in performing end us; what besides Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring, Departure from this happy place, our sweet Recess, and only consolation left Familiar to our eyes! all places else Inhospitable appear, and desolate; Nor knowing us, nor known: And, if by prayer Incessant I could hope to change the will Of Him who all things can, I would not cease To weary him with my assiduous cries: But prayer against his absolute decree No more avails than breath against the wind, Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth: Therefore to his great bidding I submit. This most afflicts me, that, departing hence, As from his face I shall be hid, deprived His blessed countenance: Here I could frequent With worship place by place where he vouchsafed Presence Divine; and to my sons relate, On this mount he appeared; under this tree Stood visible; among these pines his voice I heard; here with him at this fountain talked: So many grateful altars I would rear Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone Of lustre from the brook, in memory, Or monument to ages; and theron Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flowers: In yonder nether world where shall I seek His bright appearances, or foot-step trace? For though I fled him angry, yet recalled To life prolonged and promised race, I now Gladly behold though but his utmost skirts Of glory; and far off his steps adore. To whom thus Michael with regard benign. Adam, thou knowest Heaven his, and all the Earth; Not this rock only;

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topics: equity, mercy, and pardon · fate, destiny, and necessity · mourning and grief

Paradise Lost · John Milton · 1660–1665