el to admonish him of his obedience, of his free estate, of
his enemy near at hand; who he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else
may avail Adam to know. Raphael comes down to Paradise; his appearance
describ'd, his coming discern'd by Adam afar off sitting at the door of
his Bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, entertains
him with the choycest fruits of Paradise got together by Eve; their
discourse at Table: Raphael performs his message, minds Adam of his
state and of his enemy; relates at Adams request who that enemy is, and
how he came to be so, beginning with his first revolt in Heaven and the
occasion thereof; how he drew his Legions after him to the parts of the
North, and there incited them to rebel with him, perswading all but only
Abdiel a Seraph, who in Argument diswades and opposes him, then forsakes
him.

Now Morn her rosie steps in th' Eastern Clime
Advancing, sow'd the Earth with Orient Pearle,
When Adam wak't, so customd, for his sleep
Was Aerie light, from pure digestion bred,
And temperat vapors bland, which th' only sound
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,
Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill Matin Song
Of Birds on every bough; so much the more
His wonder was to find unwak'nd Eve
With Tresses discompos'd, and glowing Cheek, 10
As through unquiet rest: he on his side
Leaning half-rais'd, with looks of cordial Love
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld
Beautie, which whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar Graces; then with voice
Milde, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
Her hand soft touching, whisperd thus. Awake
My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found,
Heav'ns last best gift, my ever new delight,
Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh field 20
Calls us, we lose the prime, to mark how spring
Our tended Plants, how blows the Citron Grove,
What drops the Myrrhe, & what the balmie Reed,
How Nature paints her colours, how the Bee
Sits on the Bloom extracting liquid sweet.
Such whispering wak'd her, but with startl'd eye
On Adam, whom imbracing, thus she spake.
O Sole in whom my thoughts find all repose,
My Glorie, my Perfection, glad I see
Thy face, and Morn return'd, for I this Night, 30
Such night till this I never pass'd, have dream'd,
If dream'd, not as I oft am wont, of thee,
Works of day pass't, or morrows next designe,
Bu