joy
  The good befallen him, author unsuspect,
  Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile. 
  What fear I then? rather what know to fear
  Under this ignorance of good and evil,
  Of God or death, of law or penalty? 
  Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine,
  Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste,
  Of virtue to make wise:  what hinders then
  To reach, and feed at once both body and mind?”
    So saying, her rash hand in evil hour
  Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she eat: 
  Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat
  Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe,
  That all was lost.  Back to the thicket slunk
  The guilty serpent, and well might, for Eve
  Intent now wholly on her taste nought else
  Regarded, such delight till then, as seemed,
  In fruit she never tasted, whether true
  Or fancied so, through expectation high
  Of knowledge:  nor was Godhead from her thought. 
  Greedily she ingorged without restraint,
  And knew not eating death.

BOOK XI.

  INTERCESSION AND REDEMPTION.

  Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood
  Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
  Prevenient grace descending had removed
  The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh
  Regenerate grow instead; that sighs now breathed
  Unutterable; which the spirit of prayer
  Inspired, and winged for Heaven with speedier flight
  Than loudest oratory:  yet their port
  Not of mean suitors; nor important less
  Seemed their petition, than when the ancient pair
  In fables old, less ancient yet than these,
  Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha, to restore
  The race of mankind drowned, before the shrine
  Of Themis stood devout.  To Heaven their prayers
  Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious winds
  Blown vagabond or frustrate:  in they passed
  Dimensionless through heavenly doors; then clad
  With incense, where the golden altar fumed,
  By their great Intercessor, came in sight
  Before the Father’s throne:  them the glad Son
  Presenting, thus to intercede began. 
    “See, Father, what first-fruits on Earth are sprung
  From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs
  And prayers, which in this golden censer, mixed
  With incense, I thy priest before thee bring;
  Fruits of more pleasing savor, from thy seed
  Sown with contrition in his heart, than those
  Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees
  Of Paradise could have produced ere fallen
  From innocence.  Now, therefore, bend thine ear
  To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute;
  Unskilful with what words to pray, let me
  Interpret for him; me, his advocate
  And propitiation; all his works on me,
  Good, or not good, ingraft; my merit those
  Shall perfect, and for these my death