Evening in Paradise

From “Paradise Lost,” Book IV. NOW came still evening on, and twilight gray Had in her sober livery all things clad; Silence accompanied; for beast and bird, They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale; She all night long her amorous descant sung. Silence was pleased: now glowed the firmament With living sapphires; Hesperus, that led The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon Rising in clouded majesty, at length Apparent queen, unveiled her peerless light, And o’er the dark her silver mantle threw.

Collection: 
1628
Sub Title: 
II. Light: Day: Night

More from Poet

  • Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud, Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crownèd fortune proud Hast reared God’s trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with...

  • From “Paradise Lost,” Book VI. THE ARRAY NOW went forth the morn, Such as in highest heaven, arrayed in gold Empyreal; from before her vanished night, Shot through with orient beams; when all the plain Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright, Chariots, and flaming arms...

  • From “Paradise Lost,” Book IV. TWO of far nobler shape, erect and tall, Godlike erect, with native honor clad In naked majesty, seemed lords of all: And worthy seemed; for in their looks divine The image of their glorious Maker shone, Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, (Severe, but in...

  • What needs my Shakespeare for his honored bones, The labor of an age in pilèd stones? Or that his hallowed relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need’st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built...

  • Hence, vain deluding joys, The brood of Folly without father bred! How little you bestead, Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sunbeams,— Or likest hovering...