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Book 4.
Paradiſe loſt.
And higher then that Wall a circling rowOf goodlieſt Trees loaden with faireſt Fruit,Bloſſoms and Fruits at once of golden hueAppeerd, with gay enameld colours mixt:On which the Sun more glad impreſs'd his beams 150Then in fair Evening Cloud, or humid Bow,When God hath ſhowrd the earth; ſo lovely ſeemdThat Lantskip: And of pure now purer aireMeets his approach, and to the heart inſpiresVernal delight and joy, able to driveAll ſadneſs but deſpair: now gentle galesFanning thir odoriferous wings diſpenſeNative perfumes, and whiſper whence they ſtoleThoſe balmie ſpoiles. As when to them who ſaileBeyond the Cape of Hope, and now are paſt 160Mozambic, off at Sea North-Eaſt windes blowSabean Odours from the ſpicie ſhoareOf Arabie the bleſt, with ſuch delayWell pleas'd they flack thir courſe, and many a LeagueCheard with the grateful ſmell old Ocean ſmiles.So entertaind thoſe odorous ſweets the FiendWho came thir bane, though with them better pleas'dThen Aſmodeus with the fiſhie fume,That drove him, though enamourd, from the SpouſeOf Tobits Son, and with a vengeance ſent 170From Media poſt to Ægypt, there faſt bound. Now to th' aſcent of that ſteep ſavage HillSatan had journied on, penſive and ſlow;But further way found none, ſo thick entwin'd,As one continu'd brake, the undergrowthOf ſhrubs and tangling buſhes had perplextAll path of Man or Beaſt that paſt that way:
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