No More Learning

Silence was pleased. Now glowed the firmament
With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led
The starry host, rode brightest, till the Moon,
Rising in clouded majesty, at length
Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light,
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw.

Adam and Eve talk ere they retire to rest--she questioning him

"Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistening with dew; fragrant the fertile Earth
After soft showers; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful Evening mild; then silent Night
With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon,
And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train;
But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds; nor rising Sun
On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower,
Glistening with dew; nor fragrance after showers,
Nor grateful Evening mild; nor silent Night,
With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon,
Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
But wherefore all night long shine these? For whom
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes? "

Adam replies:

"These have their course to finish round the Earth,
And they, though unbeheld in deep of night,
Shine not in vain. Nor think, though men were none,
That Heaven would want spectators, God want praise.
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep;
All these with ceaseless praise His works behold
Both day and night. ". . . .
Thus talking, hand in hand, alone they passed
On to their blissful bower.

Gabriel then sends the Cherubim, "armed to their night watches," and
commands Ithuriel and Zephon to search the Garden, where they find
Satan, "squat like a toad close to the ear of Eve," seeking to taint
her dreams.

Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear
Touched lightly; for no falsehood can endure
Touch of celestial temper, but returns
Of force to its own likeness.
Satan therefore starts up in his own person, and is conducted to
Gabriel, who sees him coming with them, "a third, of regal port, but
faded splendour wan. " Gabriel and he engage in a heated altercation,
and a fight seems imminent between the Fiend and the angelic squadrons
that "begin to hem him round," when, by a sign in the sky, Satan is
reminded of his powerlessness in open fight, and flees, murmuring;
"and with him fled the shades of Night. "


_V. --The Morning Hymn of Praise_

Adam, waking in the morning, finds Eve flushed and distraught, and she
tells him of her troublous dreams. He cheers her, and they pass out to
the open field, and, adoring, raise their morning hymn of praise.

"These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good,
Almighty! Thine this universal frame,
Thus wondrous fair--Thyself how wondrous then!
Unspeakable! Who sittest above these heavens
To us invisible, or dimly seen
In these Thy lowest works; yet these declare
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Speak, ye who best can tell, ye Sons of Light,
Angels--for ye behold Him, and with songs
And chloral symphonies, day without night,
Circle His throne rejoicing--ye in Heaven;
On Earth join, all ye creatures, to extol
Him first, Him last, Him midst, and without end.
Fairest of Stars, last in the train of Night,
If better than belong not to the Dawn,
Sure pledge of Day, that crown'st the smiling morn
With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Thou Sun, of this great World both eye and soul,
Acknowledge Him thy greater; sound His praise
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st
And when high noon hast gained, and when thou fall'st.
Moon, that now meet'st the orient Sun, now fliest,
With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb, that flies;
And ye five other wandering Fires, that move
In mystic dance, not without song, resound
His praise Who out of Darkness called up Light.
Ye Mists and Exhalations, that now rise
From hill or steaming lake, dusky or gray,
Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold,
In honour to the World's great Author rise;
Whether to deck with clouds the uncoloured sky,
Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers,
Rising or falling, still advance His praise.
His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow,
Breathe soft or loud; and wave your tops, ye Pines,
With every plant in sign of worship wave.
Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow,
Melodious murmurs, warbling, tune His praise.