Page:Paradise lost by Milton, John.djvu/160

154 All what we affimaffirm [sic] or what deny, and call Our knowledge or opinion; then retires Into her private cell, when Nature rests. Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakes To imitate her; but, misjoining shapes, Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams, Ill-matching words and deeds long past or late. Some such resemblances, methinks, I find Of our last evening's talk, in this thy dream, But with addition strange; yet be not sad. Evil into the mind of God or Man May come and go, so unapproved, and leave No spot or blame behind; which gives me hope That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream Waking thou never wilt consent to do. Be not disheartened then, nor cloud those looks, That wont be more cheerful and serene, Than when fair Morning first smiles on the world; And let us to our fresh employments rise, Among the groves, the fountains, and the flowers That open now their choicest bosomed smells, Reserved from night, and kept for thee in store."
 * So cheered he his fair spouse, and she was cheered,

But silently a gentle tear let fall From either eye, and wiped them with her hair. Two other precious drops that ready stood,