The Adamus exul of Grotius; or The Prototype of Paradise Lost — page 53: what you’re looking at

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

36 Eve. Adam. Eve. Adam. Eve. Adam. Eve. ADAMUS EXUL. Words which begin in rapture, and then fade Into elegiac music, which still charms, And still subdues the melancholy soul. Alas! I doubt me, but her sportive step Hath hither strayed to the forbidden tree, Led on by metaphysical subtle craft, Or her own feminine ambition. Oh, Even here she is, wrapt in the atmosphere Of her own light and loveliness. My Eve, What luxury find’st thou on this haunted ground, That hath so long stolen thy dear company From him whose heart would break with more of love, Yet cannot live with less ?—Tell me, my prettiest. Nay, ask me not, my Lord. Dost thou not mark How this same tree scatters delicious shade Of fragrant coolness thro’ the noontide air, And lends unmatchable fruitage for bold hands To pluck what cowards only would refuse. What do I see !—Lo, is not this the fruit Whereof our God commanded not to eat ? Even so. And this the very reason is That I such harsh commands did violate. Look, my own spouse, see how the golden sheen Blends with the rosy vermeil! Canst thou think Such exquisite exteriors ever hide An inward mischief? nay, impossible ! The icy coldness shudders thro’ my frame ; A pang like death, sudden, unutterable. I faint, I die. Mute horror doth unfix My clustered locks ; -and the free breath of life Curdles within me. O ye spiritual powers, That in your sightless substances pervade And quicken boundless Nature, here direct Your many-flashing and infallible eyes, And, if capacity of grief be yours, Drop your full tears, and wail the Fall of Man. O my blest Lord, do not, for mercy, speak Those conscience-thrilling words! believe me, sweet, No crime have I committed to produce Such ominous sighs—such soul-expiring sobs Of bursting lamentation. Dry at once Thy needless tears; dare what thy wife-has dared ; And, from the hand so often kissed by lips Of burning love, accept the proffered fruit. And dost thou wish, my lost and fallen one, That I, too, should desert the righteous laws Of the sole God, and follow thee to death ? Were it not worthier, Adam, to exert Your own cool balanced reason, than give way COL @ DOO <S (c@ _—” Gps = =