Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

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СКАЧАТЬ the throne and monarchy of God,

      Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,

      With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power

      Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,

      With hideous ruin and combustion, down

      To bottomless perdition, there to dwell

      In adamantine chains and penal fire,

      Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.

      Nine times the space that measures day and night

      To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,

      Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,

      Confounded, though immortal. But his doom

      Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought

      Both of lost happiness and lasting pain

      Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,

      That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,

      Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.

      At once, as far as Angels ken, he views

      The dismal situation waste and wild.

      A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,

      As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames

      No light; but rather darkness visible

      Served only to discover sights of woe,

      Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace

      And rest can never dwell, hope never comes

      That comes to all, but torture without end

      Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed

      With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.

      Such place Eternal Justice has prepared

      For those rebellious; here their prison ordained

      In utter darkness, and their portion set,

      As far removed from God and light of Heaven

      As from the centre thrice to th’ utmost pole.

      Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!

      There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed

      With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,

      He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,

      One next himself in power, and next in crime,

      Long after known in Palestine, and named

      Beelzebub. To whom th’ Arch-Enemy,

      And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words

      Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:—

      “If thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changed

      From him who, in the happy realms of light

      Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine

      Myriads, though bright!—if he whom mutual league,

      United thoughts and counsels, equal hope

      And hazard in the glorious enterprise

      Joined with me once, now misery hath joined

      In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest

      From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved

      He with his thunder; and till then who knew

      The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,

      Nor what the potent Victor in his rage

      Can else inflict, do I repent, or change,

      Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,

      And high disdain from sense of injured merit,

      That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,

      And to the fierce contentions brought along

      Innumerable force of Spirits armed,

      That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,

      His utmost power with adverse power opposed

      In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,

      And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?

      All is not lost—the unconquerable will,

      And study of revenge, immortal hate,

      And courage never to submit or yield:

      And what is else not to be overcome?

      That glory never shall his wrath or might

      Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace

      With suppliant knee, and deify his power

      Who, from the terror of this arm, so late

      Doubted his empire—that were low indeed;

      That were an ignominy and shame beneath

      This downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,

      And this empyreal sybstance, cannot fail;

      Since, through experience of this great event,

      In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,

      We may with more successful hope resolve

      To wage by force or guile eternal war,

      Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,

      Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy

      Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.”

      So spake th’ apostate Angel, though in pain,

      Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;

      And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:—

      “O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers

      That СКАЧАТЬ