August 20 The Harvard Classics, fifteen minutes a day
Plot Against Eve
Driven from Heaven, Satan meditated revenge. He decided his greatest opportunity to injure God was to bring sin to mankind. Satan’s plot against Eve is told by Milton.
- “Paradise Lost” published Aug. 20, 1667.
From the 1930 Reading Guide
Paradise Lost
John Milton
Page 154 opens with the end of another poem; the reading starts at “THE FOURTH BOOK”.
THE FOURTH BOOK
THE ARGUMENT.—Satan, now in prospect of Eden, and nigh the place where he must now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against God and Man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many passions—fear, envy, and despair; but at length confirms himself in evil; journeys on to Paradise, whose outward prospect and situation is described; overleaps the bounds; sits, in the shape of a Cormorant, on the Tree of Life, as highest in the Garden, to look about him. The Garden described; Satan’s first sight of Adam and Eve; his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with resolution to work their fall; overhears their discourse; thence gathers that the Tree of Knowledge was forbidden them to eat of under penalty of death, and thereon intends to found his temptation by seducing them to transgress; then leaves them a while, to know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile Uriel, descending on a sunbeam, warns Gabriel, who had in charge the gate of Paradise, that some evil Spirit had escaped the Deep, and passed at noon by his Sphere, in the shape of a good Angel, down to Paradise, discovered after by his furious gestures in the Mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest; their bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel, drawing forth his bands of night-watch to walk the rounds of Paradise, appoints two strong Angels to Adam’s bower, lest the evil Spirit should be there doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping: there they find him at the ear of Eve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though unwilling, to Gabriel; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers; prepares resistance; but, hindered by a sign from Heaven, flies out of Paradise.
O FOR that warning voice, which he who sawThe Apocalypse heard cry in Heaven aloud,Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,Came furious down to be revenged on men,Woe to the inhabitants on Earth! that now,While time was, our first parents had been warnedThe coming of their secret Foe, and scaped,Haply so scaped, his mortal snare! For nowSatan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,The tempter, ere the accuser, of mankind,To wreak on innocent frail Man his lossOf that first battle, and his flight to Hell.Yet not rejoicing in his speed, though boldFar off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,Begins his dire attempt; which, nigh the birthNow rowling, boils in his tumultuous breast,And like a devilish engine back recoilsUpon himself. Horror and doubt distractHis troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stirThe hell within him; for within him HellHe brings, and round about him, nor from HellOne step, no more than from Himself, can flyBy change of place. Now conscience wakes despairThat slumbered; wakes the bitter memoryOf what he was, what is, and what must beWorse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue!Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his viewLay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad;Sometimes towards Heaven and the full-blazing Sun,Which now sat high in his meridian tower:Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began:—“O thou that, with surpassing glory crowned,Look’st from thy sole dominion like the godOf this new World—at whose sight all the starsHide their diminished heads—to thee I call,But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,That bring to my remembrance from what stateI fell, how glorious once above thy sphere,Till pride and worse ambition threw me down,Warring in Heaven against Heaven’s matchless King!Ah, wherefore? He deserved no such returnFrom me, whom he created what I wasIn that bright eminence, and with his goodUpbraided none; nor was his service hard.What could be less than to afford him praise,The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,How due? Yet all his good proved ill in me,And wrought but malice. Lifted up so high,I ‘sdained subjection, and thought one step higherWould set me highest, and in a moment quitThe debt immense of endless gratitude,So burthensome, still paying, still to owe;Forgetful what from him I still received;And understood not that a grateful mindBy owing owes not, but still pays, at onceIndebted and discharged—what burden then?Oh, had his powerful destiny ordainedMe some inferior Angel, I had stoodThen happy; no unbounded hope had raisedAmbition. Yet why not? Some other PowerAs great might have aspired, and me, though mean,Drawn to his part. But other Powers as greatFell not, but stand unshaken, from withinOr from without to all temptations armed!Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?Thou hadst. Whom hast thou then, or what, to accuse,But Heaven’s free love dealt equally to all?Be then his love accursed, since, love or hate,To me alike it deals eternal woe.Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy willChose freely what it now so justly rues.Me miserable! which way shall I flyInfinite wrauth and infinite despair?Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;And, in the lowest deep, a lower deepStill threatening to devour me opens wide,To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.O, then, at last relent! Is there no placeLeft for repentence, none for pardon left?None left but by submission; and that wordDisdain forbids me, and my dread of shameAmong the Spirits beneath, whom I seducedWith other promises and other vauntsThan to submit, boasting I could subdueThe Omnipotent. Aye me! they little knowHow dearly I abide that boast so vain,Under what torments inwardly I groan.While they adore me on the throne of Hell,With diadem and sceptre high advanced,The lower still I fall, only supremeIn misery: such joy ambition finds!But say I could repent, and could obtain,By act of grace, my former state; how soonWould highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsayWhat feigned submission swore! Ease would recantVows made in pain, as violent and void(For never can true reconcilement growWhere wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep)Which would but lead me to a worse relapseAnd heavier fall: so should I purchase dearShort intermission, bought with double smart.This knows my Punisher; therefore as farFrom granting he, as I from begging, peace.All hope excluded thus, behold, insteadOf us, outcast, exiled, his new delight,Mankind, created, and for him this World!So farewell hope, and, with hope, farewell fear,Farewell remorse! All good to me is lost;Evil, be thou my Good: by thee at leastDivided empire with Heaven’s King I hold,By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign;As Man ere long, and this new World, shall know.”Thus while he spake, each passion dimmed his face,Thrice changed with pale—ire, envy, and despair;Which marred his borrowed visage, and betrayedHim counterfeit, if any eye beheld:For Heavenly minds from such distempers foulAre ever clear. Whereof he soon awareEach perturbation smoothed with outward calm,Artificer of fraud; and was the firstThat practised falsehood under saintly shew,Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge:Yet not enough had practised to deceiveUriel, once warned; whose eye pursued him downThe way he went, and on the Assyrian mountSaw him disfigured, more than could befallSpirit of happy sort: his gestures fierceHe marked and mad demeanour, then alone,As he supposed, all unobserved, unseen.So on he fares, and to the border comesOf Eden, where delicious Paradise,Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,As with a rural mound, the champain headOf a steep wilderness whose hairy sidesWith thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild.Access denied; and overhead up-grewInsuperable highth of loftiest shade,Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm,A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascendShade above shade, a woody theatreOf stateliest view. Yet higher than their topsThe verdurous wall of Paradise up-sprung;Which to our general Sire gave prospect largeInto his nether empire neighbouring round.And higher than that wall a circling rowOf goodliest trees, loaden with fairest fruit,Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue,Appeared, with gay enamelled colours mixed;On which the sun more glad impressed his beamsThan in fair evening cloud, or humid bow,When God hath showered the earth; so lovely seemedThat lantskip. And of pure now purer airMeets his approach, and to the heart inspiresVernal delight and joy, able to driveAll sadness but despair. Now gentle gales,Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispenseNative perfumes, and whisper whence they stoleThose balmy spoils. As when to them who sailBeyond the Cape of Hope, and now are pastMozambic, off at sea north-east winds blowSabean odours from the spicy shoreOf Araby the Blest, with such delayWell pleased they slack their course, and many a leagueCheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles;So entertained those odorous sweets the FiendWho came their bane, though with them better pleasedThan Asmodëus with the fishy fumeThat drove him, though enamoured, from the spouseOf Tobit’s son, and with a vengeance sentFrom Media post to Aegypt, there fast bound.Now to the ascent of that steep savage hillSatan had journeyed on, pensive and slow;But further way found none; so thick entwined,As one continued brake, the undergrowthOf shrubs and tangling bushes had perplexeaAll path of man or beast that passed that way.One gate there only was, and that looked eastOn the other side. Which when the Arch-Felon saw,Due entrance he disdained, and, in contempt,At one slight bound high overleaped all boundOf hill or highest wall, and sheer withinLights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf,Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey,Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve,In hurdled cotes amid the field secure,Leaps o’er the fence with ease into the fold;Or as a thief, bent to unhoard the cashOf some rich burgher, whose substantial doors,Cross-barred and bolted fast, fear no assault,In at the window climbs, or o’er the tiles;So clomb this first grand Thief into God’s fold:So since into his Church lewd hirelings climb.Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life,The middle tree and highest there that grew,Sat like a Cormorant; yet not true lifeThereby regained, but sat devising deathTo them who lived; nor on the virtue thoughtOf that life-giving plant, but only usedFor prospect what, well used, had been the pledgeOf immortality. So little knowsAny, but God alone, to value rightThe good before him, but perverts best thingsTo worst abuse, or to their meanest use.Beneath him, with new wonder, now he views,To all delight of human sense exposed,In narrow room Nature’s whole wealth; yea, more—A Heaven on Earth: for blissful ParadiseOf God the garden was, by him in the eastOf Eden planted. Eden stretched her lineFrom Auran eastward to the royal towersOf great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings,Or where the sons of Eden long beforeDwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soilHis far more pleasant garden God ordained.Out of the fertile ground he caused to growAll trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruitOf vegetable gold; and next to life,Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by—Knowledge of good, bought dear by knowing ill.Southward through Eden went a river large,Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hillPassed underneath ingulfed; for God had thrownThat mountain, as his garden-mould, high raisedUpon the rapid current, which, through veinsOf porous earth with kindly thirst updrawn,Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rillWatered the garden; thence united fellDown the steep glade, and met the nether flood,Which from his darksome passage now appears,And now, divided into four main streams,Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realmAnd country whereof here needs no account;But rather to tell how, if Art could tellHow, from that sapphire fount the crispèd brooks,Rowling on orient pearl and sands of gold,With mazy error under pendant shadesRan nectar, visiting each plant, and fedFlowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice ArtIn beds and curious knots, but Nature boonPoured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,Both where the morning sun first warmly smoteThe open field, and where the unpierced shadeImbrowned the noontide bowers. Thus was this place,A happy rural seat of various view:Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm,Others whose fruit, burnished with golden rind,Hung amiable—Hesperian fables true,If true, here only—and of delicious taste.Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocksGrazing the tender herb, were interposed,Or palmy hillock; or the flowery lapOf some irriguous valley spread her store,Flowers of all hue, and without thorn the rose.Another side, umbrageous grots and cavesOf cool recess, o’er which the mantling vineLays forth her purple grape, and gently creepsLuxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fallDown the slope hills dispersed, or in a lake,That to the fringèd bank with myrtle crownedHer crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.The birds their quire apply; airs, vernal airs,Breathing the smell of field and grove, attuneThe trembling leaves, while universal Pan,Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance,Led on the eternal Spring. Not that fair fieldOf Enna, where Proserpin gathering flowers,Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy DisWas gathered—which cost Ceres all that painTo seek her through the world—nor that sweet groveOf Daphne, by Orontes and the inspiredCastalian spring, might with this ParadiseOf Eden strive; nor that Nyseian isle,Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham,Whom Gentiles Ammon call and Libyan Jove,Hid Amalthea, and her florid son,Young Bacchus, from his stepdame Rhea’s eye;Nor, where Abassin kings their issue guard,Mount Amara (though this by some supposedTrue Paradise) under the Ethiop lineBy Nilus’ head, enclosed with shining rock,A whole day’s journey high, but wide remoteFrom this Assyrian garden, where the FiendSaw undelighted all delight, all kindOf living creatures, new to sight and strange.Two of far nobler shape, erect and tall,God-like erect, with native honour cladIn naked majesty, seemed lords of all,And worthy seemed; for in their looks divineThe image of their glorious Maker shon,Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure—Severe, but in true filial freedom placed,Whence true authority in men: though bothNot equal, as their sex not equal seemed;For contemplation he and valour formed,For softness she and sweet attractive grace;He for God only, she for God in him.His fair large front and eye sublime declaredAbsolute rule; and Hyacinthin locksRound from his parted forelock manly hungClustering, but not beneath his shoulders broad:She, as a veil down to the slender waist,Her unadornèd golden tresses woreDishevelled, but in wanton ringlets wavedAs the vine curls her tendrils—which impliedSubjection, but required with gentle sway,And by her yielded, by him best received—Yielded, with coy submission, modest pride,And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay.Nor those mysterious parts were then concealed:Then was not guilty shame. Dishonest shameOf Nature’s works, honour dishonourable,Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankindWith shews instead, mere shews of seeming pureAnd banished from man’s life his happiest life,Simplicity and spotless innocence!So passed they naked on, nor shunned the sightOf God or Angel; for they thought no ill:So hand in hand they passed, the loveliest pairThat ever since in love’s embraces met—Adam the goodliest man of men since bornHis sons; the fairest of her daughters Eve.Under a tuft of shade that on a greenStood whispering soft, by a fresh fountain-side,They sat them down; and, after no more toilOf their sweet gardening labour than sufficedTo recommend cool Zephyr, and make easeMore easy, wholesome thirst and appetiteMore grateful, to their supper-fruits they fell—Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughsYielded them, sidelong as they sat reclineOn the soft downy bank damasked with flowers.The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind,Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming streamNor gentle purpose, nor endearing smilesWanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseemsFair couple linked in happy nuptial league,Alone as they. About them frisking playedAll beasts of the earth, since wild, and of all chaseIn wood or wilderness, forest or den.Sporting the lion ramped, and in his pawDandled the kid; bears, tigers, ounces, pards,Gambolled before them; the unwieldy elephant,To make them mirth, used all his might, and wreathedHis lithe proboscis; close the serpent sly,Insinuating, wove with Gordian twineHis breaded train, and of his fatal guileGave proof unheeded. Others on the grassCouched, and, now filled with pasture, gazing sat,Or bedward ruminating; for the sun,Declined, was hastening now with prone careerTo the Ocean Isles, and in the ascending scaleOf Heaven the stars that usher evening rose:When Satan, still in gaze as first he stood,Scarce thus at length failed speech recovered sad:—“O Hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold?Into our room of bliss thus high advancedCreatures of other mould—Earth-born perhaps,Not Spirits, yet to Heavenly Spirits brightLittle inferior—whom my thoughts pursueWith wonder, and could love; so lively shinesIn them divine resemblance, and such graceThe hand that formed them on their shape hath poured.Ah! gentle pair, ye little think how nighYour change approaches, when all these delightsWill vanish, and deliver ye to woe—More woe, the more your taste is now of joy:Happy, but for so happy ill securedLong to continue, and this high seat, your Heaven,Ill fenced for Heaven to keep out such a foeAs now is entered; yet no purposed foeTo you, whom I could pity thus forlorn,Though I unpitied. League with you I seek,And mutual amity, so strait, so close,That I with you must dwell, or you with me,Henceforth. My dwelling, haply, may not please,Like this fair Paradise, your sense; yet suchAccept your Maker’s work; he gave it me,Which I as freely give. Hell shall unfold,To entertain you two, her widest gates,And send forth all her kings; there will be room,Not like these narrow limits, to receiveYour numerous offspring; if no better place,Thank him who puts me, loath, to this revengeOn you, who wrong me not, for him who wronged.And, should I at your harmless innocenceMelt, as I do, yet public reason just—Honour and empire with revenge enlargedBy conquering this new World—compels me nowTo do what else, though damned, I should abhor.”So spake the Fiend, and with necessity,The tyrant’s plea, excused his devilish deeds.Then from his lofty stand on that high treeDown he alights among the sportful herdOf those four-footed kinds, himself now one,Now other, as their shape served best his endNearer to view his prey, and, unespied,To mark what of their state he more might learnBy word or action marked.
The guide ends on page 164 in the middle of a sentence whose verse paragraph runs on into Adam’s long speech on page 165 (about three quarters of a page); the reading stops at the last sentence end on page 164, “By word or action marked.”, leaving out the half-line “About them round” that begins the next sentence.
Volume 4, pages 154–164 · See the scanned page on archive.org
This is the reading for August 20 in Fifteen Minutes a Day: The Reading Guide (1930 edition), page 69. There the assignment reads “Vol. 4, pp. 154–164.” Read it in the guide.