Джон Мильтон

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


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he pass’d

      From Egypt marching, equal’d with one stroke

      Both her first born and all her bleating Gods.

      Belial came last, then whom a Spirit more lewd

      Fell not from Heaven, or more gross to love

      Vice for it self: To him no Temple stood

      Or Altar smoak’d; yet who more oft then hee

      In Temples and at Altars, when the Priest

      Turns Atheist, as did Elys Sons, who fill’d

      With lust and violence the house of God.

      In Courts and Palaces he also Reigns

      And in luxurious Cities, where the noyse

      Of riot ascends above thir loftiest Towrs,

      And injury and outrage: And when Night

      Darkens the Streets, then wander forth the Sons

      Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

      Witness the Streets of Sodom, and that night

      In Gibeah, when hospitable Dores

      Yielded thir Matrons to prevent worse rape.

      These were the prime in order and in might;

      The rest were long to tell, though far renown’d,

      Th’ Ionian Gods, of Javans Issue held

      Gods, yet confest later then Heav’n and Earth

      Thir boasted Parents; Titan Heav’ns first born

      With his enormous brood, and birthright seis’d

      By younger Saturn, he from mightier Jove

      His own and Rhea’s Son like measure found;

      So love usurping reign’d: these first in Creet

      And Ida known, thence on the Snowy top

      Of cold Olympus rul’d the middle Air

      Thir highest Heav’n; or on the Delphian Cliff,

      Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds

      Of Doric Land; or who with Saturn old

      Fled over Adria to th’ Hesperian Fields,

      And ore the Celtic roam’d the utmost Isles.

      All these and more came flocking; but with looks

      Down cast and damp, yet such wherein appear’d

      Obscure som glimps of joy, to have found thir chief

      Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost

      In loss it self; which on his count’nance cast

      Like doubtful hue: but he his wonted pride

      Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore

      Semblance of worth not substance, gently rais’d

      Their fainted courage, and dispel’d their fears.

      Then strait commands that at the warlike sound

      Of Trumpets loud and Clarions be upreard

      His mighty Standard; that proud honour claim’d

      Azazel as his right, a Cherube tall:

      Who forthwith from the glittering Staff unfurld

      Th’ Imperial Ensign, which full high advanc’t

      Shon like a Meteor streaming to the Wind

      With Gemms and Golden lustre rich imblaz’d,

      Seraphic arms and Trophies: all the while

      Sonorous mettal blowing Martial sounds:

      At which the universal Host upsent

      A shout that tore Hells Concave, and beyond

      Frighted the Reign of Chaos and old Night.

      All in a moment through the gloom were seen

      Ten thousand Banners rise into the Air

      With Orient Colours waving: with them rose

      A Forrest huge of Spears: and thronging Helms

      Appear’d, and serried shields in thick array

      Of depth immeasurable: Anon they move

      In perfect Phalanx to the Dorian mood

      Of flutes and soft Recorders; such as rais’d

      To highth of noblest temper Hero’s old

      Arming to Battel, and in stead of rage

      Deliberate valour breath’d, firm and unmov’d

      With dread of death to flight or foul retreat,

      Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage

      With solemn touches, troubl’d thoughts, and chase

      Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain

      From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they

      Breathing united force with fixed thought

      Mov’d on in silence to soft Pipes that charm’d

      Thir painful steps o’re the burnt soyle; and now

      Advanc’t in view they stand, a horrid Front

      Of dreadful length and dazling Arms, in guise

      Of Warriers old with order’d Spear and Shield,

      Awaiting what command thir mighty Chief

      Had to impose: He through the armed Files

      Darts his experienc’t eye, and soon traverse

      The whole Battalion views, thir order due,

      Thir visages and stature as of Gods,

      Thir number last he summs. And now his heart

      Distends with pride, and hardning in his strength

      Glories: For never since created man,

      Met such imbodied force, as nam’d with these

      Could merit more then that small infantry

      Warr’d on by Cranes: though all the Giant brood

      Of Phlegra with th’ Heroic Race were joyn’d

      That fought at Theb’s and Ilium, on each side

      Mixt with auxiliar Gods; and what resounds

      In Fable or Romance of Uthers Son

      Begirt with British and Armoric Knights;

      And all who since, Baptiz’d or Infidel

      Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,

      Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond,

      Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore

      When Charlemain with all his Peerage fell

      By Fontarabbia. Thus far these beyond

      Compare of mortal prowess, yet observ’d

      Thir dread Commander: he above the rest

      In shape and gesture proudly eminent

      Stood like a Towr; his form had yet not lost

      All her Original brightness, nor appear’d

      Less then Arch Angel ruind, and th’ excess

      Of Glory obscur’d: As when the Sun new ris’n

      Looks through the Horizontal misty Air

      Shorn of his Beams, or from behind the