Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон
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Название: Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained

Автор: Джон Мильтон

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Классическая проза

Серия:

isbn: 9780007480609

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ Monarch, and prevented all reply;

      Prudent lest, from his resolution raised,

      Others among the chief might offer now,

      Certain to be refused, what erst they feared,

      And, so refused, might in opinion stand

      His rivals, winning cheap the high repute

      Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they

      Dreaded not more th’ adventure than his voice

      Forbidding; and at once with him they rose.

      Their rising all at once was as the sound

      Of thunder heard remote. Towards him they bend

      With awful reverence prone, and as a God

      Extol him equal to the Highest in Heaven.

      Nor failed they to express how much they praised

      That for the general safety he despised

      His own: for neither do the Spirits damned

      Lose all their virtue; lest bad men should boast

      Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites,

      Or close ambition varnished o’er with zeal.

      Thus they their doubtful consultations dark

      Ended, rejoicing in their matchless Chief:

      As, when from mountain-tops the dusky clouds

      Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o’erspread

      Heaven’s cheerful face, the louring element

      Scowls o’er the darkened landscape snow or shower,

      If chance the radiant sun, with farewell sweet,

      Extend his evening beam, the fields revive,

      The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds

      Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.

      O shame to men! Devil with devil damned

      Firm concord holds; men only disagree

      Of creatures rational, though under hope

      Of heavenly grace, and, God proclaiming peace,

      Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife

      Among themselves, and levy cruel wars

      Wasting the earth, each other to destroy:

      As if (which might induce us to accord)

      Man had not hellish foes enow besides,

      That day and night for his destruction wait!

      The Stygian council thus dissolved; and forth

      In order came the grand infernal Peers:

      Midst came their mighty Paramount, and seemed

      Alone th’ antagonist of Heaven, nor less

      Than Hell’s dread Emperor, with pomp supreme,

      And god-like imitated state: him round

      A globe of fiery Seraphim enclosed

      With bright emblazonry, and horrent arms.

      Then of their session ended they bid cry

      With trumpet’s regal sound the great result:

      Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim

      Put to their mouths the sounding alchemy,

      By herald’s voice explained; the hollow Abyss

      Heard far and wide, and all the host of Hell

      With deafening shout returned them loud acclaim.

      Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat raised

      By false presumptuous hope, the ranged Powers

      Disband; and, wandering, each his several way

      Pursues, as inclination or sad choice

      Leads him perplexed, where he may likeliest find

      Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain

      The irksome hours, till his great Chief return.

      Part on the plain, or in the air sublime,

      Upon the wing or in swift race contend,

      As at th’ Olympian games or Pythian fields;

      Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal

      With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form:

      As when, to warn proud cities, war appears

      Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush

      To battle in the clouds; before each van

      Prick forth the airy knights, and couch their spears,

      Till thickest legions close; with feats of arms

      From either end of heaven the welkin burns.

      Others, with vast Typhoean rage, more fell,

      Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air

      In whirlwind; Hell scarce holds the wild uproar:—

      As when Alcides, from Oechalia crowned

      With conquest, felt th’ envenomed robe, and tore

      Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines,

      And Lichas from the top of Oeta threw

      Into th’ Euboic sea. Others, more mild,

      Retreated in a silent valley, sing

      With notes angelical to many a harp

      Their own heroic deeds, and hapless fall

      By doom of battle, and complain that Fate

      Free Virtue should enthrall to Force or Chance.

      Their song was partial; but the harmony

      (What could it less when Spirits immortal СКАЧАТЬ