Satan, having gained admission to the Garden by overleaping the tangled thicket of shrubs and bushes which formed an impenetrable barrier and prevented any access to the enclosure within, he flew up on to the Tree of Life—
Beneath him, with new wonder, now he views,
To all delight of human sense exposed,
In narrow room Nature’s whole wealth; yea, more!—
A Heaven on Earth: for blissful Paradise
Of God the garden was, by Him in the east
Of Eden planted, Eden stretched her line
From Auran eastward to the royal towers
Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings,
Or where the sons of Eden long before
Dwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soil
His far more pleasant garden God ordained.
Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow
All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste;
And all amid them stood the Tree of Life,
High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit
Of vegetable gold; and next to life,
Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by—
Knowledge of good, bought dear by knowing ill.
Southward through Eden went a river large,
Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill
Passed underneath ingulfed; for God had thrown
That mountain, as his garden mould, high raised
Upon the rapid current, which, through veins
Of porous earth with kindly thirst up-drawn,
Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill
Watered the garden; thence united fell
Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood,
Which from his darksome passage now appears,
And now, divided into four main streams,
Runs diverse, wandering many a famous realm
And country whereof here needs no account;
But rather to tell how, if Art could tell
How, from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks,
Boiling on orient-pearl and sands of gold,
With mazy error under pendent shades
Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed
Flowers worthy of Paradise, which not nice Art
In beds and curious knots, but Nature boon
Poured forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,
Both where the morning Sun first warmly smote
The open field, and where the unpierced shade
Imbrowned the noontide bowers.—iv. 205-46.
Milton’s description of Paradise is not less remarkable in its way than the lurid scenes depicted by him in Pandemonium. The versatility of his poetic genius is nowhere more apparent than in the charming pastoral verse contained in this part of his poem. The poet has lavished the whole wealth of his luxuriant imagination in his description of Eden and blissful Paradise with its ‘vernal airs’ and ‘gentle gales,’ its verdant meads, and murmuring streams, ‘rolling on orient-pearl and sands of gold;’ its stately trees laden with blossom and fruit; its spicy groves and shady bowers, over which there breathed the eternal Spring.
In Book IX. Satan expresses himself in an eloquent apostrophe to the primitive Earth, over which he previously wandered for seven days—
O Earth, how like to Heaven, if not preferred
More justly, seat worthier of gods, as built
With second thoughts, reforming what was old!
For what God, after better, worse would build?
Terrestrial Heaven, danced round by other Heavens,
That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps,
Light above light, for thee alone, as seems,
In thee concentring all their precious beams
Of sacred influence! As God in Heaven
Is centre, yet extends to all, so thou
Centring receiv’st from all those orbs; in thee,
Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears,
Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth
Of creatures animate with gradual life
Of growth, sense, reason, all summed up in Man,
With what delight I could have walked thee round,
If I could joy in aught—sweet interchange
Of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains,
Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crowned,
Rocks, dens, and caves.—ix. 99-118.
Though it is impossible to regard the Earth as possessing the importance ascribed to it by the ancient Ptolemaists; nevertheless, our globe is a great and mighty world, and appears to be one of the most favourably situated of all the planets, being neither near the Sun nor yet very far distant from the orb; and although, when compared with the universe, it is no more than a leaf on a tree in the midst of a vast forest; still, it is not the least important among other circling worlds, and unfailingly fulfils the part allotted to it in the great scheme of creation.
THE PLANET HESPERUS
This is the beautiful morning and evening star, the peerless planet that ushers in the twilight and the dawn, the harbinger of day and unrivalled queen of the evening. Venus, called after the Roman goddess of Love, and also identified with the Greek Aphrodite of ideal beauty, is the name by which the planet is popularly known; but Milton does not so designate it, and the name ‘Venus’ is not found in ‘Paradise Lost.’ The ancients called it Lucifer and Phosphor when it shone as a morning star before sunrise, and Hesperus and Vesper when it became visible after sunset. It is the most lustrous of all the planets, and at times its brilliancy is so marked as to throw a distinct shadow at night.
Venus is the second planet in order from the Sun. Its orbit lies between that of Mercury and the Earth, and in form approaches nearer to a circle than that of any of the other planets. It travels round the Sun in 224·7 days, at a mean distance of 67,000,000 miles, and with an average velocity of 80,000 miles an hour. Its period of rotation is unknown. By the observation of dusky spots on its surface, it has been surmised that the planet completes a revolution on its axis in 23¼ hours; but other observers doubt this and are inclined to believe that it always presents the same face to the Sun. When at inferior conjunction Venus approaches nearer to the Earth than any other planet, its distance then being 27,000,000 miles. Its greatest elongation varies from 45° to 47° 12'; it therefore can never be much more than three hours above the horizon before sunrise, or after sunset. Venus is a morning star when passing from inferior to superior conjunction, and during the other half of its synodical period it is an evening star. The planet attains its greatest brilliancy at an elongation 40° west or east of the Sun—five weeks before and after inferior conjunction. It is at these periods, when at its greatest brilliancy, that it casts a shadow at night.
Though so pleasing an object to the unaided eye, Venus, when observed with the telescope, is often a source of disappointment—this is on account of its dazzling brilliancy, which renders any accurate definition of its surface impossible. Sir John Herschel writes: ‘The intense lustre of its illuminated part dazzles the sight, and exaggerates every imperfection of the telescope; yet we see clearly that its surface is not mottled over with permanent spots like the Moon; we notice in it neither mountains nor shadows, but a uniform brightness, in which sometimes we may indeed fancy, or perhaps more than fancy, brighter or obscurer portions, but can seldom or never rest fully satisfied of the fact.’ It is believed that the surface of the planet is invisible on account of the existence of a cloud-laden atmosphere by which it is enveloped, and which may serve as a protection against the intense glare of the sunshine and heat poured down by the not far-distant Sun. Schröter, a German astronomer, believed that he saw lofty mountains on the surface of the planet, but their existence has not been confirmed by any other observer. The Sun if viewed from Venus would have a diameter nearly half as large again as when seen from the Earth; it is therefore probable that the planet is subjected to a much higher temperature than what is experienced on our globe.