Equal in days and nights, except to those

Beyond the polar circles; to them day

Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun,

To recompense his distance, in their sight

Had rounded still the horizon, and not known

Or east or west; which had forbid the snow

From cold Estotiland, and south as far

Beneath Magellan. At that tasted fruit

The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, turned

His course intended; else, how had the world

Inhabited, though sinless, more than now,

Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat?

These changes in the Heavens, though slow, produced

Like change on sea and land; sideral blast,

Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot,

Corrupt and pestilent: Now from the north

Of Norumbega, and the Samoed shore,

Bursting their brazen dungeon, armed with ice,

And snow, and hail, and stormy gust and flaw,

Boreas, and Caecias, and Argestes loud,

And Thrascias, rend the woods, and seas upturn;

With adverse blast upturns them from the south

Notus, and Afer black with thunderous clouds

From Serraliona; thwart of these, as fierce,

Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds,

Eurus and Zephyr, with their lateral noise,

Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began

Outrage from lifeless things; but Discord first,

Daughter of Sin, among the irrational

Death introduced, through fierce antipathy:

Beast now with beast ‘gan war, and fowl with fowl,

And fish with fish; to graze the herb all leaving,

Devoured each other; nor stood much in awe

Of Man, but fled him; or, with countenance grim,

Glared on him passing. These were from without

The growing miseries, which Adam saw

Already in part, though hid in gloomiest shade,

To sorrow abandoned, but worse felt within;

And, in a troubled sea of passion tost,

Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint.

“O miserable of happy! Is this the end

Of this new glorious world, and me so late

The glory of that glory, who now become

Accursed, of blessed? hide me from the face

Of God, whom to behold was then my hight

Of happiness!—Yet well, if here would end

The misery; I deserved it, and would bear

My own deservings; but this will not serve:

All that I eat or drink, or shall beget,

Is propagated curse. O voice, once heard

Delightfully, Encrease and multiply;

Now death to hear! for what can I encrease,

Or multiply, but curses on my head?

Who of all ages to succeed, but, feeling

The evil on him brought by me, will curse

My head? Ill fare our ancestor impure,

For this we may thank Adam! but his thanks

Shall be the execration: so, besides

Mine own that bide upon me, all from me

Shall with a fierce reflux on me rebound;

On me, as on their natural center, light

Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys

Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes!

Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay

To mould me Man? did I solicit thee

From darkness to promote me, or here place