Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

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and turned to stars

      Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move;

      Each had his place appointed, each his course;

      The rest in circuit walls this universe.

      Look downward on that globe, whose hither side

      With light from hence, though but reflected, shines;

      That place is Earth, the seat of Man; that light

      His day, which else, as the other hemisphere,

      Night would invade; but there the neighbouring moon

      (So call that opposite fair star) her aid

      Timely interposes, and her monthly round

      Still ending, still renewing, through mid Heaven,

      With borrowed light her countenance triform

      Hence fills and empties to enlighten the Earth,

      And in her pale dominion checks the night.

      That spot, to which I point, is Paradise,

      Adam’s abode; those lofty shades, his bower.

      Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires.”

      Thus said, he turned; and Satan, bowing low,

      As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven,

      Where honour due and reverence none neglects,

      Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath,

      Down from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success,

      Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel;

      Nor staid, till on Niphates’ top he lights.

      O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw

      The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,

      Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,

      Came furious down to be revenged on men,

      “Woe to the inhabitants on earth!” that now,

      While time was, our first parents had been warned

      The coming of their secret foe, and ’scaped,

      Haply so ’scaped his mortal snare: For now

      Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,

      The tempter ere the accuser of mankind,

      To wreak on innocent frail Man his loss

      Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell:

      Yet, not rejoicing in his speed, though bold

      Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,

      Begins his dire attempt; which nigh the birth

      Now rolling boils in his tumultuous breast,

      And like a devilish engine back recoils

      Upon himself; horror and doubt distract

      His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir

      The Hell within him; for within him Hell

      He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell

      One step, no more than from himself, can fly

      By change of place: Now conscience wakes despair,

      That slumbered; wakes the bitter memory

      Of what he was, what is, and what must be

      Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue.

      Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view

      Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad;

      Sometimes towards Heaven, and the full-blazing sun,

      Which now sat high in his meridian tower:

      Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began.

      “O thou, that, with surpassing glory crowned,

      Lookest from thy sole dominion like the God

      Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars

      Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call,

      But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,

      Of Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,

      That bring to my remembrance from what state

      I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;

      Till pride and worse ambition threw me down

      Warring in Heaven against Heaven’s matchless King:

      Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such return

      From me, whom he created what I was

      In that bright eminence, and with his good

      Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.

      What could be less than to afford him praise,

      The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,

      How due! yet all his good proved ill in me,

      And wrought but malice; lifted up so high

      I ’sdeined subjection, and thought one step higher

      Would set me highest, and in a moment quit

      The debt immense of endless gratitude,

      So burdensome still paying, still to owe,

      Forgetful what from him I still received,

      And understood not that a grateful mind

      By owing owes not, but still pays, at once

      Indebted and discharged; what burden then

      O, had his powerful destiny ordained

      Me some inferior Angel, I had stood

      Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised

      Ambition!

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