But if my dayes be long, and good enough, In vaine this sea shall enlarge, or enrough It selfe; for I will through the wave, and fome, And shall, in sad lone wayes a lively spright, Make my darke heavy Poëm light, and light. 55 For though through many streights, and lands I roame, I launch at paradise, and I saile towards home; The course I there began, shall here be staid, Sailes hoised there, stroke here, and anchors laid In Thames, which were at Tigrys, and Euphrates waide. 60 VII. For the great soule which here amongst us now Doth dwell, and moves that hand, and tongue, and brow, Which, as the Moone the sea, moves us; to heare Whose story, with long patience you will long; (For 'tis the crowne, and last straine of my song) 65 This soule to whom _Luther_, and _Mahomet_ were Prisons of flesh; this soule which oft did teare, And mend the wracks of th'Empire, and late Rome, And liv'd when every great change did come, Had first in paradise, a low, but fatall roome. 70 VIII. Yet no low roome, nor then the greatest, lesse, If (as devout and sharpe men fitly guesse) That Crosse, our joy, and griefe, where nailes did tye That All, which alwayes was all, every where; Which could not sinne, and yet all sinnes did beare; 75 Which could not die, yet could not chuse but die; Stood in the selfe same roome in Calvarie, Where first grew the forbidden learned tree, For on that tree hung in security This Soule, made by the Makers will from pulling free. 80 IX. Prince of the orchard, faire as dawning morne, Fenc'd with the law, and ripe as soone as borne That apple grew, which this Soule did enlive, Till the then climing serpent, that now creeps For that offence, for which all mankinde weepes, 85 Tooke it, and t'her whom the first man did wive (Whom and her race, only forbiddings drive) He gave it, she, t'her husband, both did eate; So perished the eaters, and the meate: And wee (for treason taints the blood) thence die and sweat. 90 X. Man all at once was there by woman slaine, And one by one we'are here slaine o'er againe By them. The mother poison'd the well-head, The daughters here corrupt us, Rivolets; No smalnesse scapes, no greatnesse breaks their nets; 95 She thrust us out, and by them we are led Astray, from turning, to whence we are fled. Were prisoners Judges, 'twould seeme rigorous, Shee sinn'd, we beare; part of our paine is, thus To love them, whose fault to this painfull love yoak'd us. 100 XI.