Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and his sentence pleased,

      Advising peace: for such another field

      They dreaded worse than Hell; so much the fear

      Of thunder and the sword of Michael

      Wrought still within them; and no less desire

      To found this nether empire, which might rise,

      By policy and long process of time,

      In emulation opposite to Heaven.

      Which when Beelzebub perceived—than whom,

      Satan except, none higher sat—with grave

      Aspect he rose, and in his rising seemed

      A pillar of state. Deep on his front engraven

      Deliberation sat, and public care;

      And princely counsel in his face yet shone,

      Majestic, though in ruin. Sage he stood

      With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear

      The weight of mightiest monarchies; his look

      Drew audience and attention still as night

      Or summer’s noontide air, while thus he spake:—

      “Thrones and Imperial Powers, Offspring of Heaven,

      Ethereal Virtues! or these titles now

      Must we renounce, and, changing style, be called

      Princes of Hell? for so the popular vote

      Inclines—here to continue, and build up here

      A growing empire; doubtless! while we dream,

      And know not that the King of Heaven hath doomed

      This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat

      Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt

      From Heaven’s high jurisdiction, in new league

      Banded against his throne, but to remain

      In strictest bondage, though thus far removed,

      Under th’ inevitable curb, reserved

      His captive multitude. For he, to be sure,

      In height or depth, still first and last will reign

      Sole king, and of his kingdom lose no part

      By our revolt, but over Hell extend

      His empire, and with iron sceptre rule

      Us here, as with his golden those in Heaven.

      What sit we then projecting peace and war?

      War hath determined us and foiled with loss

      Irreparable; terms of peace yet none

      Vouchsafed or sought; for what peace will be given

      To us enslaved, but custody severe,

      And stripes and arbitrary punishment

      Inflicted? and what peace can we return,

      But, to our power, hostility and hate,

      Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow,

      Yet ever plotting how the Conqueror least

      May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice

      In doing what we most in suffering feel?

      Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need

      With dangerous expedition to invade

      Heaven, whose high walls fear no assault or siege,

      Or ambush from the Deep. What if we find

      Some easier enterprise? There is a place

      (If ancient and prophetic fame in Heaven

      Err not)—another World, the happy seat

      Of some new race, called Man, about this time

      To be created like to us, though less

      In power and excellence, but favoured more

      Of him who rules above; so was his will

      Pronounced among the Gods, and by an oath

      That shook Heaven’s whole circumference confirmed.

      Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn

      What creatures there inhabit, of what mould

      Or substance, how endued, and what their power

      And where their weakness: how attempted best,

      By force of subtlety. Though Heaven be shut,

      And Heaven’s high Arbitrator sit secure

      In his own strength, this place may lie exposed,

      The utmost border of his kingdom, left

      To their defence who hold it: here, perhaps,

      Some advantageous act may be achieved

      By sudden onset—either with Hell-fire

      To waste his whole creation, or possess

      All as our own, and drive, as we were driven,

      The puny habitants; or, if not drive,

      Seduce them to our party, that their God

      May prove their foe, and with repenting hand

      Abolish his own works. This would surpass

      Common revenge, and interrupt his joy

      In our confusion, and our joy upraise

      In his disturbance; when his darling sons,

      Hurled headlong to partake with us, shall curse

      Their frail original, and faded bliss—

      Faded so soon! Advise if this be worth

      Attempting, or to sit in darkness here

      Hatching vain empires.” Thus Beelzebub

      Pleaded СКАЧАТЬ