Even then, to them the Spirit of Lies suggests That they were blind, because they saw not Ill; And breathes into their incorrupted breasts, A curious Wish, which did corrupt their Will. For that same Ill they straight desired to know, Which Ill (being nought but a defect of Good); In all GOD's works, the Devil could not show, While Man, their Lord, in his perfection stood. So that themselves were first to _do_ the Ill Ere they thereof the _knowledge_ could attain; Like him, that knew not poison's power to kill, Until, by tasting it, himself was slain. Even so, by tasting of that fruit forbid, Where they sought Knowledge, they did Error find; Ill they desired to know, and Ill, they did; And to give Passion eyes, made Reason blind. For then their minds did first in Passion see, Those wretched Shapes of Misery and Woe, Of Nakedness, of Shame, of Poverty, Which then their own experience made them know. But then grew Reason dark, that she no more Could the fair forms of Good and Truth discern: Bats they became, that eagles were before; And this they got by their Desire to Learn. But we, their wretched offspring, what do we? Do not we still taste of the fruit forbid? Whiles, with fond fruitless curiosity, In books profane we seek for knowledge hid? What is this Knowledge but the sky-stol'n fire For which the Thief still chained in ice doth sit, And which the poor rude Satyr did admire, And needs would kiss, but burnt his lips with it? What is it, but the cloud of empty rain, Which when JOVE'S guest embraced, he monsters got? Or the false pails, which oft being filled with pain, Received the water, but retained it not? Shortly, what is it but the fiery Coach Which the Youth sought, and sought his death withal? Or the Boy's wings, which when he did approach The sun's hot beams, did melt, and let him fall? And yet, alas, when all our lamps are burned, Our bodies wasted, and our spirits spent; When we have all the learned volumes turned, Which yield men's wits, both help and ornament: What can we know? or what can we discern? When Error chokes the windows of the Mind; The divers Forms of things how can we learn, That have been, ever from our birthday, blind? When Reason's lamp (which, like the sun in sky, Throughout man's little world her beams did spread) Is now become a Sparkle, which doth lie Under the ashes, half extinct, and dead; How can we hope, that through the Eye and Ear, This dying Sparkle, in this cloudy place, Can re-collect these beams of knowledge clear, Which were infused in the first minds, by grace?