“Lead then,” said Eve. He leading swiftly rolled In tangles, and made intricate seem straight, To mischief swift. Hope elevates, and joy Brightens his crest. As when a wandering fire, Compact of unctuous vapour, which the night Condenses, and the cold environs round, Kindled through agitation to a flame (Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends), Hovering and blazing with delusive light, Misleads the amazed night-wanderer from his way To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool, There swallowed up and lost, from succour far: So glistered the dire Snake, and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of prohibition, root of all our woe; Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake: