The Adamus exul of Grotius; or The Prototype of Paradise Lost — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

10 ADAMUS EXUL. And furthest west, the broad Euphrates spreads His giant arms invincible, and fills Chaldea with his richness. Here I view The Elysium of the earth—the Paradise Of spirits immortal; if not lapsed so far In guilt as their lost brethren; soon to share Our curse, and sharing lighten or remove. Here the thick spicy groves repeat the voice Of many-tuned zephyr, and each tree Grows sensitive of ecstasy, and thrills To his most subtle whisperings. Here the light Sheds forth its radiant, scintillating smiles, Burning yet bashfully, and gilds the air With an ineffable pleasure. No damp cloud Impends ; nor from the vexed electric pole Black tempests roar; no thunder-blasting strokes Shake the sweet calm; nor triple lightnings dash Their horrible vengeance o’er these happy bowers. Here reigns perpetual spring, with dewy tears, Dissolving the chill vapour, nor permits Harsh winter’s foul intrusion. Whatsoe’er Is precious or desirable hath place In this voluptuous empire. When the God Had wrought the effulgent mechanism of heaven, With glittering spheres unnumbered, and ordained, In their harmonic periods, all the stars, That his first works might not his last excel, Like his own Son, divinest image and best, Adam he formed ; and man the wonderful, From the small dust arose. To him he gave Princedom and lordship o’er this planet Earth ; To him authority o’er all its kinds Of living forms or dead. And to increase The joy of this imperial son of clay, An Eve, the mother of his tyrannous heirs, Hath Heaven provided. Sooth to say, the world Was rarely more surprised than when the bone Of this sleep-cumbered Titan did assume That feminine form of beauty, which her spouse Declares his supereminent, his best, First, last, in love-taught oratory. And now, Both naked, walk this wilderness ef sweets. All modesty they have ; but nought of shame, ° It seems; for dreams of shame and infamy Have yet disturbed them little. So they dwell In worship, praise, glory, and innocence ; Smiling at death, pain, and the envenomed stings That wait on guilt. Alas, my stricken soul! Alas, my blasted heart | and my despair! How much we differ now! Whence have we fallen? What crime committed ? We, the sons of God, COL @ DOO <S (c@