The Battle of Darkness and Light . Джон Мильтон

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      Thus down we took our way o'er that discharge

       Of stones, which oftentimes did move themselves

       Beneath my feet, from the unwonted burden.

      Thoughtful I went; and he said: "Thou art thinking

       Perhaps upon this ruin, which is guarded

       By that brute anger which just now I quenched.

      Now will I have thee know, the other time

       I here descended to the nether Hell,

       This precipice had not yet fallen down.

      But truly, if I well discern, a little

       Before His coming who the mighty spoil

       Bore off from Dis, in the supernal circle,

      Upon all sides the deep and loathsome valley

       Trembled so, that I thought the Universe

       Was thrilled with love, by which there are who think

      The world ofttimes converted into chaos;

       And at that moment this primeval crag

       Both here and elsewhere made such overthrow.

      But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near

       The river of blood, within which boiling is

       Whoe'er by violence doth injure others."

      O blind cupidity, O wrath insane,

       That spurs us onward so in our short life,

       And in the eternal then so badly steeps us!

      I saw an ample moat bent like a bow,

       As one which all the plain encompasses,

       Conformable to what my Guide had said.

      And between this and the embankment's foot

       Centaurs in file were running, armed with arrows,

       As in the world they used the chase to follow.

      Beholding us descend, each one stood still,

       And from the squadron three detached themselves,

       With bows and arrows in advance selected;

      And from afar one cried: "Unto what torment

       Come ye, who down the hillside are descending?

       Tell us from there; if not, I draw the bow."

      My Master said: "Our answer will we make

       To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour,

       That will of thine was evermore so hasty."

      Then touched he me, and said: "This one is Nessus,

       Who perished for the lovely Dejanira,

       And for himself, himself did vengeance take.

      And he in the midst, who at his breast is gazing,

       Is the great Chiron, who brought up Achilles;

       That other Pholus is, who was so wrathful.

      Thousands and thousands go about the moat

       Shooting with shafts whatever soul emerges

       Out of the blood, more than his crime allots."

      Near we approached unto those monsters fleet;

       Chiron an arrow took, and with the notch

       Backward upon his jaws he put his beard.

      After he had uncovered his great mouth,

       He said to his companions: "Are you ware

       That he behind moveth whate'er he touches?

      Thus are not wont to do the feet of dead men."

       And my good Guide, who now was at his breast,

       Where the two natures are together joined,

      Replied: "Indeed he lives, and thus alone

       Me it behoves to show him the dark valley;

       Necessity, and not delight, impels us.

      Some one withdrew from singing Halleluja,

       Who unto me committed this new office;

       No thief is he, nor I a thievish spirit.

      But by that virtue through which I am moving

       My steps along this savage thoroughfare,

       Give us some one of thine, to be with us,

      And who may show us where to pass the ford,

       And who may carry this one on his back;

       For 'tis no spirit that can walk the air."

      Upon his right breast Chiron wheeled about,

       And said to Nessus: "Turn and do thou guide them,

       And warn aside, if other band may meet you."

      We with our faithful escort onward moved

       Along the brink of the vermilion boiling,

       Wherein the boiled were uttering loud laments.

      People I saw within up to the eyebrows,

       And the great Centaur said: "Tyrants are these,

       Who dealt in bloodshed and in pillaging.

      Here they lament their pitiless mischiefs; here

       Is Alexander, and fierce Dionysius

       Who upon Sicily brought dolorous years.

      That forehead there which has the hair so black

       Is Azzolin; and the other who is blond,

       Obizzo is of Esti, who, in truth,

      Up in the world was by his stepson slain."

       Then turned I to the Poet; and he said,

       "Now he be first to thee, and second I."

      A little farther on the Centaur stopped

       Above a folk, who far down as the throat

       Seemed from that boiling stream to СКАЧАТЬ