第69章（1 / 1）

Of everie Beast, and Bird, and Insect small

Came seavens, and pairs, and enterd in, as taught

Thir order; last the Sire, and his three Sons

With thir four Wives, and God made fast the dore.

Meanwhile the Southwind rose, & with black wings

Wide hovering, all the Clouds together drove

From under Heav'n; the Hills to their supplie

Vapour, and Exhalation dusk and moist,

Sent up amain; and now the thick'nd Skie

Like a dark Ceeling stood; down rush'd the Rain

Impetuous, and continu'd till the Earth

No more was seen; the floating Vessel swum

Uplifted; and secure with beaked prow

Rode tilting o're the Waves, all dwellings else

Flood overwhelmd, and them with all thir pomp

Deep under water rould; Sea cover'd Sea,

Sea without shoar; and in thir Palaces

Where luxurie late reign'd, Sea-monsters whelp'd

And stabl'd; of Mankind, so numerous late,

All left, in one small bottom swum imbark't.

How didst thou grieve then, ADAM, to behold

The end of all thy Ofspring, end so sad,

Depopulation; thee another Floud,

Of tears and sorrow a Floud thee also drown'd,

And sunk thee as thy Sons; till gently reard

By th' Angel, on thy feet thou stoodst at last,

Though comfortless, as when a Father mourns

His Childern, all in view destroyd at once;

And scarce to th' Angel utterdst thus thy plaint.

O Visions ill foreseen! better had I

Liv'd ignorant of future, so had borne

My part of evil onely, each dayes lot

Anough to bear; those now, that were dispenst

The burd'n of many Ages, on me light

At once, by my foreknowledge gaining Birth

Abortive, to torment me ere thir being,

With thought that they must be. Let no man seek

Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall

Him or his Childern, evil he may be sure,

Which neither his foreknowing can prevent,

And hee the future evil shall no less

In apprehension then in substance feel

Grievous to bear: but that care now is past,

Man is not whom to warne: those few escap't

Famin and anguish will at last consume

Wandring that watrie Desert: I had hope

When violence was ceas't, and Warr on Earth,

All would have then gon well, peace would have crownd

With length of happy days the race of man;

But I was farr deceav'd; for now I see

Peace to corrupt no less then Warr to waste.

How comes it thus? unfould, Celestial Guide,

And whether here the Race of man will end.

To whom thus MICHAEL. Those whom last thou sawst

In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they

First seen in acts of prowess eminent

And great exploits, but of true vertu void;

Who having spilt much blood, and don much waste

Subduing Nations, and achievd thereby

Fame in the World, high titles, and rich prey,

Shall change thir course to pleasure, ease, and sloth,

Surfet, and lust, till wantonness and pride

Raise out of friendship hostil deeds in Peace.

The conquerd also, and enslav'd by Warr

Shall with thir freedom lost all vertu loose

And feare of God, from whom thir pietie feign'd

In sharp contest of Battel found no aide

Against invaders; therefore coold in zeale

Thenceforth shall practice how to live secure,

Worldlie or dissolute, on what thir Lords

Shall leave them to enjoy; for th' Earth shall bear

More then anough, that temperance may be tri'd:

So all shall turn degenerate, all deprav'd,

Justice and Temperance, Truth and Faith forgot;

One Man except, the onely Son of light

In a dark Age, against example good,

Against allurement, custom, and a World

Offended; fearless of reproach and scorn,

Or violence, hee of thir wicked wayes

Shall them admonish, and before them set

The paths of righteousness, how much more safe,

And full of peace, denouncing wrauth to come

On thir impenitence; and shall returne

Of them derided, but of God observd

The one just Man alive; by his command

Shall build a wondrous Ark, as thou beheldst,

To save himself and houshold from amidst

A World devote to universal rack.

No sooner hee with them of Man and Beast

Select for life shall in the Ark be lodg'd,

And shelterd round, but all the Cataracts

Of Heav'n set open on the Earth shall powre

Raine day and night, all fountaines of the Deep

Broke up, shall heave the Ocean to usurp

Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise

Above the highest Hills: then shall this Mount

Of Paradise by might of Waves be moovd

Out of his place, pushd by the horned floud,

With all his verdure spoil'd, and Trees adrift

Down the great River to the op'ning Gulf,

And there take root an Iland salt and bare,

The haunt of Seales and Orcs, and Sea-mews clang.

To teach thee that God attributes to place

No sanctitie, if none be thither brought

By Men who there frequent, or therein dwell.

And now what further shall ensue, behold.

He lookd, and saw the Ark hull on the floud,

Which now abated, for the Clouds were fled,

Drivn by a keen North-winde, that blowing drie

Wrinkl'd the face of Deluge, as decai'd;

And the cleer Sun on his wide watrie Glass

Gaz'd hot, and of the fresh Wave largely drew,

As after thirst, which made thir flowing shrink

From standing lake to tripping ebbe, that stole

With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopt

His Sluces, as the Heav'n his windows shut.

The Ark no more now flotes, but seems on ground

Fast on the top of som high mountain fixt.

And now the tops of Hills as Rocks appeer;

With clamor thence the rapid Currents drive

Towards the retreating Sea thir furious tyde.

Forthwith from out the Arke a Raven flies,

And after him, the surer messenger,

A Dove sent forth once and agen to spie

Green Tree or ground whereon his foot may light;

The second time returning, in his Bill

An Olive leafe he brings, pacific signe:

Anon drie ground appeers, and from his Arke

The ancient Sire descends with all his Train;

Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout,

Grateful to Heav'n, over his head beholds

A dewie Cloud, and in the Cloud a Bow

Conspicuous with three lifted colours gay,

Betok'ning peace from God, and Cov'nant new.

Whereat the heart of ADAM erst so sad

Greatly rejoyc'd, and thus his joy broke forth.

O thou that future things canst represent

As present, Heav'nly instructer, I revive

At this last sight, assur'd that Man shall live

With all the Creatures, and thir seed preserve.

Farr less I now lament for one whole World

Of wicked Sons destroyd, then I rejoyce

For one Man found so perfet and so just,

That God voutsafes to raise another World

From him, and all his anger to forget.

But say, what mean those colourd streaks in Heavn,

Distended as the Brow of God appeas'd,

Or serve they as a flourie verge to binde

The fluid skirts of that same watrie Cloud,

Least it again dissolve and showr the Earth?