EVE'S Speech in Milton, upon her Expulsion out of PARADISE

O Mournful Message! such transcendent Pain Not Death cou'd give, nor Expectation feign! Must I then leave these blissful Walks, and Bow'rs. My teeming Fruit-trees, and my rip'ning Flow'rs? Each verdant Lawn, and each delightful Grove, Where I was wont, where Gods might chuse, to rove? Those Pines, and Cedars, which luxuriant rise, And each fair Object that first met these Eyes? Yet here I hop'd to watch the springing Train; Here sooth my Fate, and mitigate my Pain; And here, abandon'd Wretch! at least, to know A lazy Grief, an lndolence of Woe.—

Ye Flow'rs whose nicer Frame, whose subtile Veins Refuse the Moisture of less fertile Plains! Ye Plants, which in no vulgar Soil can rise; Or bear the Impulse of inclement Skies! Who now, with glad'ning Streams, your Shoots shall raise; Or lead, to wanton in the solar Blaze? Who teach your Tints the kindly'st Change to know, And, by a just succession, doubly glow? To each your Names my early Fancy gave; And strove, from Fate, your Embryo-leaves to save. To you, at Ev'n I strict attendance paid; To you, in cool of early Dawn, I stray'd. Adieu, frail Beauty's! doom'd no more to share My Ev'ning's Labour, or my Morning's Care! And O my blissful Home! my nuptial Bow'r! Dear conscious Scene of many a tender Hour! Thee to adorn, I cull'd, with pleasing Toil, The fairest Produce of the choicest Soil: Round thee, the Vi'let blows, the Myrtle blooms, The Jasmine twines,—to lavish soft Perfumes: There breaths the Rose; and, in sweet Streams, distill The lovely Languor's of the faint Jonquill. How shall I then thy fragrant Shelter change, O'er dreary Wilds, and unknown Scenes to range? How leave this purer Air, these Fruits sublime, For the gross Product of a coarser Clime? Where Earth and Air refuse such soft Supplies: Ungrateful Desarts, and unfriendly Skies! How shall I part!