Innocence Once Lost - Religious Classics Collection. Джон Мильтон

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СКАЧАТЬ To leave the nest, and lets it downward droop,

      Even such was I, with the desire of asking

       Kindled and quenched, unto the motion coming

       He makes who doth address himself to speak.

      Not for our pace, though rapid it might be,

       My father sweet forbore, but said: "Let fly

       The bow of speech thou to the barb hast drawn."

      With confidence I opened then my mouth,

       And I began: "How can one meagre grow

       There where the need of nutriment applies not?"

      "If thou wouldst call to mind how Meleager

       Was wasted by the wasting of a brand,

       This would not," said he, "be to thee so sour;

      And wouldst thou think how at each tremulous motion

       Trembles within a mirror your own image;

       That which seems hard would mellow seem to thee.

      But that thou mayst content thee in thy wish

       Lo Statius here; and him I call and pray

       He now will be the healer of thy wounds."

      "If I unfold to him the eternal vengeance,"

       Responded Statius, "where thou present art,

       Be my excuse that I can naught deny thee."

      Then he began: "Son, if these words of mine

       Thy mind doth contemplate and doth receive,

       They'll be thy light unto the How thou sayest.

      The perfect blood, which never is drunk up

       Into the thirsty veins, and which remaineth

       Like food that from the table thou removest,

      Takes in the heart for all the human members

       Virtue informative, as being that

       Which to be changed to them goes through the veins

      Again digest, descends it where 'tis better

       Silent to be than say; and then drops thence

       Upon another's blood in natural vase.

      There one together with the other mingles,

       One to be passive meant, the other active

       By reason of the perfect place it springs from;

      And being conjoined, begins to operate,

       Coagulating first, then vivifying

       What for its matter it had made consistent.

      The active virtue, being made a soul

       As of a plant, (in so far different,

       This on the way is, that arrived already,)

      Then works so much, that now it moves and feels

       Like a sea-fungus, and then undertakes

       To organize the powers whose seed it is.

      Now, Son, dilates and now distends itself

       The virtue from the generator's heart,

       Where nature is intent on all the members.

      But how from animal it man becomes

       Thou dost not see as yet; this is a point

       Which made a wiser man than thou once err

      So far, that in his doctrine separate

       He made the soul from possible intellect,

       For he no organ saw by this assumed.

      Open thy breast unto the truth that's coming,

       And know that, just as soon as in the foetus

       The articulation of the brain is perfect,

      The primal Motor turns to it well pleased

       At so great art of nature, and inspires

       A spirit new with virtue all replete,

      Which what it finds there active doth attract

       Into its substance, and becomes one soul,

       Which lives, and feels, and on itself revolves.

      And that thou less may wonder at my word,

       Behold the sun's heat, which becometh wine,

       Joined to the juice that from the vine distils.

      Whenever Lachesis has no more thread,

       It separates from the flesh, and virtually

       Bears with itself the human and divine;

      The other faculties are voiceless all;

       The memory, the intelligence, and the will

       In action far more vigorous than before.

      Without a pause it falleth of itself

       In marvellous way on one shore or the other;

       There of its roads it first is cognizant.

      Soon as the place there circumscribeth it,

       The virtue informative rays round about,

       As, and as much as, in the living members.

      And even as the air, when full of rain,

       By alien rays that are therein reflected,

       With divers colours shows itself adorned,

      So there the neighbouring air doth shape itself

       Into that form which doth impress upon it

       Virtually the soul that has stood still.

      And then in manner of the little flame,

       Which followeth the fire where'er it shifts,

       After the spirit followeth its new form.

      Since afterwards it takes from this its semblance,

       It is called shade; and thence it organizes

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