Джон Мильтон

Paradise Lost and Its Sequel, Paradise Regained (Illustrated Edition)


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with ease

      Through the pure marble Air his oblique way

      Amongst innumerable Starrs, that shon

      Stars distant, but nigh hand seemd other Worlds,

      Or other Worlds they seemd, or happy Iles,

      Like those Hesperian Gardens of old,

      Fortunate Fields, and Groves and flourie Vales,

      Thrice happy Iles, but who dwelt happy there

      He stayd to enquire: above them all

      The golden Sun in splendor likest Heaven

      Allur’d his eye: Thither his course he bends

      Through the calm Firmament; but up or downe

      By center, or eccentric, hard to tell,

      Or Longitude, where the great Luminarie

      Alooff the vulgar Constellations thick,

      That from his Lordly eye keep distance due,

      Dispenses Light from farr; they as they move

      Thir Starry dance in numbers that compute

      Days, months, and years, towards his all-chearing Lamp

      Turn swift their various motions, or are turnd

      By his Magnetic beam, that gently warms

      The Univers, and to each inward part

      With gentle penetration, though unseen,

      Shoots invisible vertue even to the deep:

      So wondrously was set his Station bright.

      There lands the Fiend, a spot like which perhaps

      Astronomer in the Sun’s lucent Orbe

      Through his glaz’d Optic Tube yet never saw.

      The place he found beyond expression bright,

      Compar’d with aught on Earth, Medal or Stone;

      Not all parts like, but all alike informd

      With radiant light, as glowing Iron with fire;

      If mettal, part seemd Gold, part Silver cleer;

      If stone, Carbuncle most or Chrysolite,

      Rubie or Topaz, to the Twelve that shon

      In Aarons Brestplate, and a stone besides

      Imagind rather oft then elsewhere seen,

      That stone, or like to that which here below

      Philosophers in vain so long have sought,

      In vain, though by thir powerful Art they binde

      Volatil Hermes, and call up unbound

      In various shapes old Proteus from the Sea,

      Draind throuhh a Limbec to his Native forme.

      What wonder then if fields and regions here

      Breathe forth Elixir pure, and Rivers run

      Potable Gold, when with one vertuous touch

      Th’ Arch-chimic Sun so farr from us remote

      Produces with Terrestrial Humor mixt

      Here in the dark so many precious things

      Of colour glorious and effect so rare?

      Here matter new to gaze the Devil met

      Undazl’d, fair and wide his eye commands,

      For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade,

      But all Sun-shine, as when his Beams at Noon

      Culminate from th’ AEquator, as they now

      Shot upward still direct, whence no way round

      Shadow from body opaque can fall, and the Aire,

      No where so cleer, sharp’nd his visual ray

      To objects distant farr, whereby he soon

      Saw within kenn a glorious Angel stand,

      The same whom John saw also in the Sun:

      His back was turnd, but not his brightness hid;

      Of beaming sunnie Raies, a golden tiar

      Circl’d his Head, nor less his Locks behind

      Illustrious on his Shoulders fledge with wings

      Lay waving round; on som great charge imploy’d

      Hee seemd, or fixt in cogitation deep.

      Glad was the Spirit impure; as now in hope

      To find who might direct his wandring flight

      To Paradise the happie seat of Man,

      His journies end and our beginning woe.

      But first he casts to change his proper shape,

      Which else might work him danger or delay:

      And now a stripling Cherube he appeers,

      Not of the prime, yet such as in his face

      Youth smil’d Celestial, and to every Limb

      Sutable grace diffus’d, so well he feignd;

      Under a Coronet his flowing haire

      In curles on either cheek plaid, wings he wore

      Of many a colourd plume sprinkl’d with Gold,

      His habit fit for speed succinct, and held

      Before his decent steps a Silver wand.

      He drew not nigh unheard, the Angel bright,

      Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turnd,

      Admonisht by his eare, and strait was known

      Th’ Arch-Angel Uriel, one of the seav’n

      Who in God’s presence, neerest to his Throne

      Stand ready at command, and are his Eyes

      That run through all the Heav’ns, or down to th’ Earth

      Bear his swift errands over moist and dry,

      O’re Sea and Land; him Satan thus accostes.

      Uriel, for thou of those seav’n Spirits that stand

      In sight of Gods high Throne, gloriously bright,

      The first art wont his great authentic will

      Interpreter through highest Heav’n to bring,

      Where all his Sons thy Embassie attend;

      And here art likeliest by supream decree

      Like honour to obtain, and as his Eye

      To visit oft this new Creation round;

      Unspeakable desire to see, and know

      All these his wondrous works, but chiefly Man,

      His chief delight and favour, him for whom

      All these his works so wondrous he ordaind,

      Hath brought me from the Quires of Cherubim

      Alone thus wandring. Brightest Seraph tell

      In which of all these shining Orbes hath Man

      His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,

      But all these shining Orbes his choice to dwell;

      That I may find him, and with secret gaze,

      Or open admiration him behold

      On whom the great Creator hath bestowd

      Worlds,