THE CREATION OF THE EARTH.
God said,
Be gather’d now, ye waters under heav’n,
Into one place, and let dry land appear.
Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad backs upheave
Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky.
So high as heav’d the tumid hills, so low
Down sunk a hollow bottom, broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters: thither they
Hasted with glad precipitance, uproll’d
As drops on dust conglobing from the dry:
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct,
For haste; such flight the great command imprest
On the swift floods; as armies at the call
Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard)
Troop to their standard, so the wat’ry throng,
Wave rolling after wave, where way they found;
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain,
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill,
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide
With serpent error wand’ring, found their way,
And on the washy ooze deep channels wore,
Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry,
All but within those banks, where rivers now
Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train.
The dry land Earth, and the great receptacle
Of congregated waters he call’d Seas;
And saw that it was good, and said, Let th’ earth
Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed,
And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind;
Whose seed is in herself upon the earth.
He scarce had said, when the bare earth, till then
Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorn’d,
Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad
Her universal face with pleasant green;
Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower’d,
Op’ning their various colors, and made gay
Her bosom smelling sweet; and these scarce blown,
Forth flourish’d thick the clust’ring vine, forth crept
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattl’d in her field; and th’ humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit: last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemm’d
Their blossoms: with high wood the hills were crown’d;
With tufts the valleys and each fountain side,
With borders 'long the rivers: that earth now
Seem’d like to heav’n, a seat where Gods might dwell
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
Her sacred shades. * * * *
John Milton, 1608–1674.