Джон Мильтон

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


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Arms to try what may be yet

      Regained in Heav’n, or what more lost in Hell?

      So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub

      Thus answer’d. Leader of those Armies bright,

      Which but th’ Onmipotent none could have foyld,

      If once they hear that voyce, their liveliest pledge

      Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft

      In worst extreams, and on the perilous edge

      Of battel when it rag’d, in all assaults

      Their surest signal, they will soon resume

      New courage and revive, though now they lye

      Groveling and prostrate on yon Lake of fire

      As we erewhile, astounded and amaz’d,

      No wonder, fall’n such a pernicious highth.

      He scarce had ceas’t when the superior Fiend

      Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield

      Ethereal temper, massy, large and round,

      Behind him cast; the broad circumference

      Hung on his shoulders like the Moon, whose Orb

      Through Optic Glass the Tuscan Artist views

      At Ev’ning from the top of Fesole,

      Or in Valdarno, to descry new Lands,

      Rivers or Mountains in her spotty Globe.

      His Spear, to equal which the tallest Pine

      Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the Mast

      Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand,

      He walkt with to support uneasie steps

      Over the burning Marle, not like those steps

      On Heavens Azure, and the torrid Clime

      Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with Fire;

      Nathless he so endur’d, till on the Beach

      Of that inflamed Sea, he stood and call’d

      His Legions, Angel Forms, who lay intrans’t

      Thick as Autumnal Leaves that strow the Brooks

      In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades

      High overarch’t imbowr; or scatterd sedge

      Afloat, when with fierce Winds Orion arm’d

      Hath vext the Red-Sea Coast, whose waves orethrew

      Busiris and his Memphian Chivalrie,

      While with perfidious hatred they pursu’d

      The Sojourners of Goshen, who beheld

      From the safe shore their floating Carkases

      And broken Chariot Wheels, so thick bestrown

      Abject and lost lay these, covering the Flood,

      Under amazement of their hideous change.

      He call’d so loud, that all the hollow Deep

      Of Hell resounded. Princes, Potentates,

      Warriers, the Flowr of Heav’n, once yours, now lost,

      If such astonishment as this can sieze

      Eternal spirits; or have ye chos’n this place

      After the toyl of Battel to repose

      Your wearied vertue, for the ease you find

      To slumber here, as in the Vales of Heav’n?

      Or in this abject posture have ye sworn

      To adore the Conquerour? who now beholds

      Cherube and Seraph rowling in the Flood

      With scatter’d Arms and Ensigns, till anon

      His swift pursuers from Heav’n Gates discern

      Th’ advantage, and descending tread us down

      Thus drooping, or with linked Thunderbolts

      Transfix us to the bottom of this Gulfe.

      Awake, arise, or be for ever fall’n.

      plate03 They heard, and were abasht, and up they sprung

      plate04 So numberless were those bad Angels seen

      They heard, and were abasht, and up they sprung

      Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch

      On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,

      Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.

      Nor did they not perceave the evil plight

      In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;

      Yet to their Generals Voyce they soon obeyd

      Innumerable. As when the potent Rod

      Of Amrams Son in Egypts evill day

      Wav’d round the Coast, up call’d a pitchy cloud

      Of Locusts, warping on the Eastern Wind,

      That ore the Realm of impious Pharaoh hung

      Like Night, and darken’d all the Land of Nile:

      So numberless were those bad Angels seen

      Hovering on wing under the Cope of Hell

      ‘Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding Fires;

      Till, as a signal giv’n, th’ uplifted Spear

      Of their great Sultan waving to direct

      Thir course, in even ballance down they light

      On the firm brimstone, and fill all the Plain;

      A multitude, like which the populous North

      Pour’d never from her frozen loyns, to pass

      Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous Sons

      Came like a Deluge on the South, and spread

      Beneath Gibraltar to the Lybian sands.

      Forthwith from every Squadron and each Band

      The Heads and Leaders thither hast where stood

      Their great Commander; Godlike shapes and forms

      Excelling human, Princely Dignities,

      And Powers that earst in Heaven sat on Thrones;

      Though of their Names in heav’nly Records now

      Be no memorial, blotted out and ras’d

      By thir Rebellion, from the Books of Life.

      Nor had they yet among the Sons of Eve

      Got them new Names, till wandring ore the Earth,

      Through Gods high sufferance for the tryal of man,

      By falsities and lyes the greatest part

      Of Mankind they corrupted to forsake

      God their Creator, and th’ invisible

      Glory of him, that made them, to transform

      Oft to the Image of a Brute, adorn’d

      With gay Religions full of Pomp and Gold,

      And Devils to adore for Deities:

      Then were they known to men by various