Paradise Lost. Джон Мильтон

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       (Which is my present journey), and once more

       Erect the standard there of ancient Night.

       Yours be th' advantage all, mine the revenge!"

       Thus Satan; and him thus the Anarch old,

       With faltering speech and visage incomposed,

       Answered: "I know thee, stranger, who thou art—

       That mighty leading Angel, who of late

       Made head against Heaven's King, though overthrown.

       I saw and heard; for such a numerous host

       Fled not in silence through the frighted Deep,

       With ruin upon ruin, rout on rout,

       Confusion worse confounded; and Heaven-gates

       Poured out by millions her victorious bands,

       Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here

       Keep residence; if all I can will serve

       That little which is left so to defend,

       Encroached on still through our intestine broils

       Weakening the sceptre of old Night: first, Hell,

       Your dungeon, stretching far and wide beneath;

       Now lately Heaven and Earth, another world

       Hung o'er my realm, linked in a golden chain

       To that side Heaven from whence your legions fell!

       If that way be your walk, you have not far;

       So much the nearer danger. Go, and speed;

       Havoc, and spoil, and ruin, are my gain."

       He ceased; and Satan stayed not to reply,

       But, glad that now his sea should find a shore,

       With fresh alacrity and force renewed

       Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire,

       Into the wild expanse, and through the shock

       Of fighting elements, on all sides round

       Environed, wins his way; harder beset

       And more endangered than when Argo passed

       Through Bosporus betwixt the justling rocks,

       Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned

       Charybdis, and by th' other whirlpool steered.

       So he with difficulty and labour hard

       Moved on, with difficulty and labour he;

       But, he once passed, soon after, when Man fell,

       Strange alteration! Sin and Death amain,

       Following his track (such was the will of Heaven)

       Paved after him a broad and beaten way

       Over the dark Abyss, whose boiling gulf

       Tamely endured a bridge of wondrous length,

       From Hell continued, reaching th' utmost orb

       Of this frail World; by which the Spirits perverse

       With easy intercourse pass to and fro

       To tempt or punish mortals, except whom

       God and good Angels guard by special grace.

       But now at last the sacred influence

       Of light appears, and from the walls of Heaven

       Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night

       A glimmering dawn. Here Nature first begins

       Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire,

       As from her outmost works, a broken foe,

       With tumult less and with less hostile din;

       That Satan with less toil, and now with ease,

       Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light,

       And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds

       Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn;

       Or in the emptier waste, resembling air,

       Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold

       Far off th' empyreal Heaven, extended wide

       In circuit, undetermined square or round,

       With opal towers and battlements adorned

       Of living sapphire, once his native seat;

       And, fast by, hanging in a golden chain,

       This pendent World, in bigness as a star

       Of smallest magnitude close by the moon.

       Thither, full fraught with mischievous revenge,

       Accursed, and in a cursed hour, he hies.

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