“O miserable of happy! is this the end Of this new glorious World, and me so late The glory of that glory? who now, become Accursed of blessed, hide me from the face Of God, whom to behold was then my highth Of happiness! Yet well, if here would end The misery; I deserved it, and would bear My own deservings; but this will not serve: All that I eat or drink, or shall beget, Is propagated curse. O voice, once heard Delightfully, ‘Increase and multiply’; Now death to hear! for what can I increase Or multiply, but curses on my head? Who, of all ages to succeed, but, feeling The evil on him brought by me, will curse My head? ‘Ill fare our Ancestor impure! For this we may thank Adam!’ but his thanks Shall be the execration; so, besides Mine own that bide upon me, all from me Shall with a fierce reflux on me redound, On me, as on their natural centre, light Heavy, though in their place. O fleeting joys Of Paradise, dear bought with lasting woes! Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay