Where my love's laid, there will I mourning sit,
And draw no air but from the damps that rise
Out of that hallow'd earth; and for my diet,
I mean my eyes alone shall feed
my mouth.
Thus will I live, till he in pity rise,

And the pale shade take me in his cold arms,
And lay me kindly by him in his grave.

THE STATE OF INNOCENCE.

1674.

Lucifer. O death to hear! and a worse heil on earth:

What mad profusion on this clod-born birth!
Abyss of joys, as if Heav'n meant to show
What, in base matters, such a hand could do:
Or was his virtue spent, and he no more
With angels could supply th' exhausted store
Of which I swept the sky?

And wanting subjects to his haughty will,
On this mean work employ'd his trifling skill?
Eve. Blest in ourselves, all pleasures else abound;
Without our care behold th' unlabour'd ground,
Bounteous of fruit, above our shady bowers

The creeping jess'mine thrusts her fragrant flowers;
The myrtle, orange, and the blushing rose,

[Aside.

With bending heaps so nigh their blooms disclose,
Each seems to swell the flavour which the other blows:
By these the peach, the guava, and the pine,
And creeping 'twixt them all, the mantling vine,
Does round their trunks her purple clusters twine.

Uriel. But I, with watchful eyes, observ'd his flight, And saw him on yon steepy mount alight;

There, as he thought unseen, he laid aside
His borrow'd mask, and re-assum'd his pride:
I mark'd his looks, averse to heav'n and good;
Dusky he grew, and long revolving stood

On some deep, dark design; thence shot with haste,
And o'er the mounds of Paradise he past:

By his proud port, he seem'd the prince of hell;
And here he lurks, in shades, till night: search well
Each grove and thicket, pry in ev'ry shape,
Lest, hid in some, th' arch-hypocrite escape.

Lucif. Their reason sleeps, but mimic fancy wakes,
Supplies her parts, and wild ideas takes

From words and things, ill-sorted and misjoin'd;
The anarchy of thought, and chaos of the mind.

Gabriel. What art thou? speak thy name and thy intent. Why here alone? and on what errand sent?

Not from above; no, thy wan looks betray
Diminish'd light, and eyes unus'd to day.

Adam. What joy, without your sight, has earth in store! While you were absent, Eden was no more. Winds murmur'd through the leaves your long delay; And fountains, o'er the pebbles, chid your stay. But with your presence cheer'd, they cease to mourn, And walks wear fresher green, at your return.

Eve. Henceforth you never shall have cause to chide; No future absence shall our joys divide:

'Twas a short death my love ne'er tried before,
And therefore strange; but yet the cause was more.

Aaam. My trembling heart forebodes some ill; I fear To ask that cause which I desire to hear.

What means that lovely fruit? what means (alas!)
That blood, which flushes guilty in your face?
Speak- -do not—yet, at last, I must be told.
Eve. Have courage then: 'tis manly to be bold.
This fruit-why dost thou shake? no death is nigh:
'Tis what I tasted first, yet do not die.

Adam. Is it (I dare not ask it all at first;
Doubt is some ease to those who fear the worst:)
Say, 'tis not-

Eve.

'Tis not what thou need'st to fear:
What danger does in this fair fruit appear?
We have been cozen'd; and had still been so,
Had I not ventur'd boldly first to know.
Yet, not I first; I almost blush to say
The serpent eating taught me first the way.
The serpent tasted, and the god-like fruit
Gave the dumb voice; gave reason to the brute.

Raph. Behold of ev'ry age; ripe manhood see,
Decrepit years, and helpless infancy:
Those who, by ling'ring sickness, lose their breath;
And those who, by despair, suborn their death:

See
yon mad fools, who, for some trivial right,
For love, or for mistaken honour, fight:

See those, more mad, who throw their lives away
In needless wars; the stakes which monarchs lay,
When for each other's provinces they play.
Then, as if earth too narrow were for fate,
On open seas their quarrels they debate;
In hollow wood they floating armies bear;

And force imprison'd winds to bring them near.

Adam. The deaths, thou show'st, are forc'd, and full of strife,

Cast headlong from the precipice of life.

Is there no smooth descent? no painless way
Of kindly mixing with our native clay?

Raph. There is; but rarely shall that path be trod,
Which, without horror, leads to death's abode.
Some few, by temp'rance taught, approaching slow,
To distant fate by easy journeys go:

Gently they lay them down, as ev'ning sheep
On their own woolly fleeces softly sleep.

Adam. So noiseless would I live, such death to find,
Like timely fruit, not shaken by the wind,
But ripely dropping from the sapless bough,
And, dying, nothing to myself would owe.

Eve. Thus daily changing, with a duller taste
Of less'ning joys, I, by degrees, would waste:
Still quitting ground, by unperceiv'd decay,
And steal myself from life, and melt away.

Arimant. What Heav'n decrees, no prudence can prevent.

To cure their mad ambition, they were sent

To rule a distant province each alone.

What could a careful father more have done?
He made provision against all, but fate,

While, by his health, we held our peace of state.
The weight of seventy winters press'd him down,
He bent beneath the burthen of a crown:
Sickness, at last, did his spent body seize,
And life almost sunk under the disease:
Mortal 'twas thought, at least by them desir'd,
Who, impiously, into his years inquir'd:
As at a signal, straight the sons prepare
For open force, and rush to sudden war:
Meeting, like winds broke loose upon the main,
To prove, by arms, whose fate it was to reign.

Solyman. The ministers of state, who gave us law,
In corners, with selected friends, withdraw:
There, in deaf murmurs, solemnly are wise;
Whisp'ring, like winds, ere hurricanes arise.

appears,

Solym. Unmov'd and brave, he like himself
And, meriting no ill, no danger fears:
Yet mourns his former vigour lost so far,
To make him now spectator of a war:
Repining that he must preserve his crown
By any help or courage but his own:
Wishes, each minute, he could unbeget
Those rebel sons, who dare t' usurp his seat,
To sway his empire with unequal skill,
And mount a throne, which none but he can fill.
Arim. Oh! had he still that character maintain'd
Of valour, which in blooming youth he gain'd!
He promis'd in his east a glorious race;
Now, sunk from his meridian, sets apace.
But as the sun, when he from noon declines,
And with abated heat less fiercely shines,
Seems to grow milder as he goes away,
Pleasing himself with the remains of day:
So he who, in his youth, for glory strove,
Would recompense his age with ease and love.

Aureng-Zebe. To some new clime, or to thy native sky, Oh friendless and forsaken virtue, fly!

Thy Indian air is deadly to thee grown:
Deceit and canker'd malice rule thy throne.
Why did my arms in battle prosp❜rous prove,
To gain the barren praise of filial love?
The best of kings by women is misled,
Charm'd by the witchcraft of a second bed.
Against myself I victories have won,
And by my fatal absence am undone.