Comes this way moving; seems another morn

Risen on mid-noon; some great behest from Heaven

To us perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe

This day to be our guest. But go with speed,

And, what thy stores contain, bring forth, and pour

Abundance, fit to honour and receive

Our heavenly stranger: Well we may afford

Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow

From large bestowed, where Nature multiplies

Her fertile growth, and by disburthening grows

More fruitful, which instructs us not to spare.

To whom thus Eve. “Adam, earth’s hallowed mould,

Of God inspired! small store will serve, where store,

All seasons, ripe for use hangs on the stalk;

Save what by frugal storing firmness gains

To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes:

But I will haste, and from each bough and brake,

Each plant and juciest gourd, will pluck such choice

To entertain our Angel-guest, as he

Beholding shall confess, that here on Earth

God hath dispensed his bounties as in Heaven.”

So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste

She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent

What choice to choose for delicacy best,

What order, so contrived as not to mix

Tastes, not well joined, inelegant, but bring

Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change;

Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk

Whatever Earth, all-bearing mother, yields

In India East or West, or middle shore

In Pontus or the Punick coast, or where

Alcinous reigned, fruit of all kinds, in coat

Rough, or smooth rind, or bearded husk, or shell,

She gathers, tribute large, and on the board

Heaps with unsparing hand; for drink the grape

She crushes, inoffensive must, and meaths

From many a berry, and from sweet kernels pressed

She tempers dulcet creams; nor these to hold

Wants her fit vessels pure; then strows the ground

With rose and odours from the shrub unfumed.

Meanwhile our primitive great sire, to meet

His God-like guest, walks forth, without more train

Accompanied than with his own complete

Perfections; in himself was all his state,

More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits

On princes, when their rich retinue long

Of horses led, and grooms besmeared with gold,

Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape.

Nearer his presence Adam, though not awed,

Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek,

As to a superior nature bowing low,

Thus said: “Native of Heaven, for other place

None can than Heaven such glorious shape contain;

Since, by descending from the thrones above,

Those happy places thou hast deigned a while

To want, and honour these, vouchsafe with us

Two only, who yet by sovran gift possess

This spacious ground, in yonder shady bower

To rest; and what the garden choicest bears

To sit and taste, till this meridian heat

Be over, and the sun more cool decline.”

Whom thus the angelic Virtue answered mild:

“Adam, I therefore came; nor art thou such

Created, or such place hast here to dwell,

As may not oft invite, though Spirits of Heaven,

To visit thee; lead on then where thy bower