What would such an adventurous spirit make
| "Of man's first Disobedience and the Fruit |
| Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste |
| Brought Death into the World and all our woe, |
| With loss of Eden"? |
What would Milton make of Adam in his sheltered Paradise? And what would one whose whole life had been a passionate protest against the idea of submission to mere arbitrary power do with the element of arbitrariness which the theology of his day attributed to the Divine Ruler? And what of Satan?
| "One who brings |
| A mind not to be changed by Place or Time. |
| The mind is its own place, and in itself |
| Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven. |
| What matter where, if I be still the same?" |
There is a note in that proud creed that could not be altogether uncongenial to one who in his blindness could—
| "still bear up and steer |
| Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? |
| The Conscience, Friend, t' have lost them overplied |
| In liberty's defense, my noble task; |
| Of which all Europe rings from side to side. |
| This thought might lead me through this World's vain mask |
| Content though blind, had I no better Guide." |
In its ostensible plot "Paradise Lost" is a tragedy; but did Milton really feel it to be so? One fancies—though he may be mistaken—that as Adam and Eve leave Paradise he hears a sigh of relief from the poet, who was himself ever a lover of "the Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty." At any rate, there is an undertone of cheer.
| "Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon, |
| The World was all before them where to choose |
| Their place of rest, and Providence their guide." |
Adam, when the old sheltered life is over, and the possibilities of the new life of struggle were revealed,—