John Milton: Paradise Lost

10. BOOK X (continued)

  He added not, for ADAM at the newes
Heart-strook with chilling gripe of sorrow stood,
That all his senses bound; EVE, who unseen
Yet all had heard, with audible lament
Discover'd soon the place of her retire.

  O unexpected stroke, worse then of Death!
Must I thus leave thee Paradise? thus leave
Thee Native Soile, these happie Walks and Shades,
Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend,
Quiet though sad, the respit of that day
That must be mortal to us both. O flours,
That never will in other Climate grow,
My early visitation, and my last
At Eev'n, which I bred up with tender hand
From the first op'ning bud, and gave ye Names,
Who now shall reare ye to the Sun, or ranke
Your Tribes, and water from th' ambrosial Fount?
Thee lastly nuptial Bowre, by mee adornd
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 wilde, how shall we breath in other Aire
Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?

  Whom thus the Angel interrupted milde.
Lament not EVE, but patiently resigne
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, him to follow thou art bound;
Where he abides, think there thy native soile.

  ADAM by this from the cold sudden damp
Recovering, and his scatterd spirits returnd,
To MICHAEL thus his humble words addressd.