And on, methought, alone I passed through ways

That brought me on a sudden to the tree

Of interdicted knowledge: fair it seemed,

Much fairer to my fancy than by day:

And, as I wondering looked, beside it stood

One shaped and winged like one of those from Heaven

By us oft seen; his dewy locks distilled

Ambrosia; on that tree he also gazed;

And ‘O fair plant,’ said he, ‘with fruit surcharged,

Deigns none to ease thy load, and taste thy sweet,

Nor God, nor Man? Is knowledge so despised?

Or envy, or what reserve forbids to taste?

Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold

Longer thy offered good; why else set here?’

This said, he paused not, but with venturous arm

He plucked, he tasted; me damp horror chilled

At such bold words vouched with a deed so bold:

But he thus, overjoyed; ‘O fruit divine,

Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropt,

Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit

For Gods, yet able to make Gods of Men:

And why not Gods of Men; since good, the more

Communicated, more abundant grows,

The author not impaired, but honoured more?

Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve!

Partake thou also; happy though thou art,

Happier thou mayest be, worthier canst not be:

Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods

Thyself a Goddess, not to earth confined,

But sometimes in the air, as we, sometimes

Ascend to Heaven, by merit thine, and see

What life the Gods live there, and such live thou!’

So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held,

Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part

Which he had plucked; the pleasant savoury smell

So quickened appetite, that I, methought,

Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds

With him I flew, and underneath beheld

The earth outstretched immense, a prospect wide

And various: Wondering at my flight and change

To this high exaltation; suddenly

My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down,

And fell asleep; but O, how glad I waked

To find this but a dream!” Thus Eve her night

Related, and thus Adam answered sad.

“Best image of myself, and dearer half,

The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep

Affects me equally; nor can I like

This uncouth dream, of evil sprung, I fear;

Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,

Created pure. But know that in the soul

Are many lesser faculties, that serve

Reason as chief; among these Fancy next

Her office holds; of all external things

Which the five watchful senses represent,

She forms imaginations, aery shapes,

Which Reason, joining or disjoining, frames

All what we affirm or what deny, and call

Our knowledge or opinion; then retires

Into her private cell, when nature rests.

Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakes

To imitate her; but, misjoining shapes,

Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams;

Ill matching words and deeds long past or late.

Some such resemblances, methinks, I find