Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

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СКАЧАТЬ his devilish counsel—first devised

      By Satan, and in part proposed: for whence,

      But from the author of all ill, could spring

      So deep a malice, to confound the race

      Of mankind in one root, and Earth with Hell

      To mingle and involve, done all to spite

      The great Creator? But their spite still serves

      His glory to augment. The bold design

      Pleased highly those infernal States, and joy

      Sparkled in all their eyes: with full assent

      They vote: whereat his speech he thus renews:—

      “Well have ye judged, well ended long debate,

      Synod of Gods, and, like to what ye are,

      Great things resolved, which from the lowest deep

      Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate,

      Nearer our ancient seat—perhaps in view

      Of those bright confines, whence, with neighbouring arms,

      And opportune excursion, we may chance

      Re-enter Heaven; or else in some mild zone

      Dwell, not unvisited of Heaven’s fair light,

      Secure, and at the brightening orient beam

      Purge off this gloom: the soft delicious air,

      To heal the scar of these corrosive fires,

      Shall breathe her balm. But, first, whom shall we send

      In search of this new World? whom shall we find

      Sufficient? who shall tempt with wandering feet

      The dark, unbottomed, infinite Abyss,

      And through the palpable obscure find out

      His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight,

      Upborne with indefatigable wings

      Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive

      The happy Isle? What strength, what art, can then

      Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe,

      Through the strict senteries and stations thick

      Of Angels watching round? Here he had need

      All circumspection: and we now no less

      Choice in our suffrage; for on whom we send

      The weight of all, and our last hope, relies.”

      This said, he sat; and expectation held

      His look suspense, awaiting who appeared

      To second, or oppose, or undertake

      The perilous attempt. But all sat mute,

      Pondering the danger with deep thoughts; and each

      In other’s countenance read his own dismay,

      Astonished. None among the choice and prime

      Of those Heaven-warring champions could be found

      So hardy as to proffer or accept,

      Alone, the dreadful voyage; till, at last,

      Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised

      Above his fellows, with monarchal pride

      Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake:—

      “O Progeny of Heaven! Empyreal Thrones!

      With reason hath deep silence and demur

      Seized us, though undismayed. Long is the way

      And hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.

      Our prison strong, this huge convex of fire,

      Outrageous to devour, immures us round

      Ninefold; and gates of burning adamant,

      Barred over us, prohibit all egress.

      These passed, if any pass, the void profound

      Of unessential Night receives him next,

      Wide-gaping, and with utter loss of being

      Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf.

      If thence he scape, into whatever world,

      Or unknown region, what remains him less

      Than unknown dangers, and as hard escape?

      But I should ill become this throne, O Peers,

      And this imperial sovereignty, adorned

      With splendour, armed with power, if aught proposed

      And judged of public moment in the shape

      Of difficulty or danger, could deter

      Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume

      These royalties, and not refuse to reign,

      Refusing to accept as great a share

      Of hazard as of honour, due alike

      To him who reigns, and so much to him due

      Of hazard more as he above the rest

      High honoured sits? Go, therefore, mighty Powers,

      Terror of Heaven, though fallen; intend at home,

      While here shall be our home, what best may ease

      The present misery, and render Hell

      More tolerable; if there be cure or charm

      To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain

      Of this ill mansion: intermit no watch

      Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad

      Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek

      Deliverance for us all. This enterprise

      None shall partake with me.” Thus saying, rose

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