Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

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СКАЧАТЬ laugh when those who at the spear are bold

      And venturous, if that fail them, shrink, and fear

      What yet they know must follow—to endure

      Exile, or igominy, or bonds, or pain,

      The sentence of their Conqueror. This is now

      Our doom; which if we can sustain and bear,

      Our Supreme Foe in time may much remit

      His anger, and perhaps, thus far removed,

      Not mind us not offending, satisfied

      With what is punished; whence these raging fires

      Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames.

      Our purer essence then will overcome

      Their noxious vapour; or, inured, not feel;

      Or, changed at length, and to the place conformed

      In temper and in nature, will receive

      Familiar the fierce heat; and, void of pain,

      This horror will grow mild, this darkness light;

      Besides what hope the never-ending flight

      Of future days may bring, what chance, what change

      Worth waiting—since our present lot appears

      For happy though but ill, for ill not worst,

      If we procure not to ourselves more woe.”

      Thus Belial, with words clothed in reason’s garb,

      Counselled ignoble ease and peaceful sloth,

      Not peace; and after him thus Mammon spake:—

      “Either to disenthrone the King of Heaven

      We war, if war be best, or to regain

      Our own right lost. Him to unthrone we then

      May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield

      To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife.

      The former, vain to hope, argues as vain

      The latter; for what place can be for us

      Within Heaven’s bound, unless Heaven’s Lord supreme

      We overpower? Suppose he should relent

      And publish grace to all, on promise made

      Of new subjection; with what eyes could we

      Stand in his presence humble, and receive

      Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne

      With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing

      Forced hallelujahs, while he lordly sits

      Our envied sovereign, and his altar breathes

      Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers,

      Our servile offerings? This must be our task

      In Heaven, this our delight. How wearisome

      Eternity so spent in worship paid

      To whom we hate! Let us not then pursue,

      By force impossible, by leave obtained

      Unacceptable, though in Heaven, our state

      Of splendid vassalage; but rather seek

      Our own good from ourselves, and from our own

      Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess,

      Free and to none accountable, preferring

      Hard liberty before the easy yoke

      Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear

      Then most conspicuous when great things of small,

      Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse,

      We can create, and in what place soe’er

      Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain

      Through labour and endurance. This deep world

      Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst

      Thick clouds and dark doth Heaven’s all-ruling Sire

      Choose to reside, his glory unobscured,

      And with the majesty of darkness round

      Covers his throne, from whence deep thunders roar.

      Mustering their rage, and Heaven resembles Hell!

      As he our darkness, cannot we his light

      Imitate when we please? This desert soil

      Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold;

      Nor want we skill or art from whence to raise

      Magnificence; and what can Heaven show more?

      Our torments also may, in length of time,

      Become our elements, these piercing fires

      As soft as now severe, our temper changed

      Into their temper; which must needs remove

      The sensible of pain. All things invite

      To peaceful counsels, and the settled state

      Of order, how in safety best we may

      Compose our present evils, with regard

      Of what we are and where, dismissing quite

      All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise.”

      He scarce had finished, when such murmur filled

      Th’ assembly as when hollow rocks retain

      The sound of blustering winds, which all night long

      Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull

      Seafaring men o’erwatched, whose bark by chance

      Or pinnace, anchors in a craggy bay

      After the tempest. Such applause was heard

      As СКАЧАТЬ