Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

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Egypt and her priests to seek

      Their wandering gods disguised in brutish forms

      Rather than human. Nor did Israel scape

      Th’ infection, when their borrowed gold composed

      The calf in Oreb; and the rebel king

      Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan,

      Likening his Maker to the grazed ox—

      Jehovah, who, in one night, when he passed

      From Egypt marching, equalled with one stroke

      Both her first-born and all her bleating gods.

      Belial came last; than whom a Spirit more lewd

      Fell not from Heaven, or more gross to love

      Vice for itself. To him no temple stood

      Or altar smoked; yet who more oft than he

      In temples and at altars, when the priest

      Turns atheist, as did Eli’s sons, who filled

      With lust and violence the house of God?

      In courts and palaces he also reigns,

      And in luxurious cities, where the noise

      Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers,

      And injury and outrage; and, when night

      Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons

      Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

      Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night

      In Gibeah, when the hospitable door

      Exposed a matron, to avoid worse rape.

      These were the prime in order and in might:

      The rest were long to tell; though far renowned

      Th’ Ionian gods—of Javan’s issue held

      Gods, yet confessed later than Heaven and Earth,

      Their boasted parents;—Titan, Heaven’s first-born,

      With his enormous brood, and birthright seized

      By younger Saturn: he from mightier Jove,

      His own and Rhea’s son, like measure found;

      So Jove usurping reigned. These, first in Crete

      And Ida known, thence on the snowy top

      Of cold Olympus ruled the middle air,

      Their highest heaven; or on the Delphian cliff,

      Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds

      Of Doric land; or who with Saturn old

      Fled over Adria to th’ Hesperian fields,

      And o’er the Celtic roamed the utmost Isles.

      All these and more came flocking; but with looks

      Downcast and damp; yet such wherein appeared

      Obscure some glimpse of joy to have found their Chief

      Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost

      In loss itself; which on his countenance cast

      Like doubtful hue. But he, his wonted pride

      Soon recollecting, with high words, that bore

      Semblance of worth, not substance, gently raised

      Their fainting courage, and dispelled their fears.

      Then straight commands that, at the warlike sound

      Of trumpets loud and clarions, be upreared

      His mighty standard. That proud honour claimed

      Azazel as his right, a Cherub tall:

      Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurled

      Th’ imperial ensign; which, full high advanced,

      Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind,

      With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,

      Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while

      Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds:

      At which the universal host up-sent

      A shout that tore Hell’s concave, and beyond

      Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night.

      All in a moment through the gloom were seen

      Ten thousand banners rise into the air,

      With orient colours waving: with them rose

      A forest huge of spears; and thronging helms

      Appeared, and serried shields in thick array

      Of depth immeasurable. Anon they move

      In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood

      Of flutes and soft recorders—such as raised

      To height of noblest temper heroes old

      Arming to battle, and instead of rage

      Deliberate valour breathed, firm, and unmoved

      With dread of death to flight or foul retreat;

      Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage

      With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase

      Anguish and doubt and fear and sorrow and pain

      From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they,

      Breathing united force with fixed thought,

      Moved on in silence to soft pipes that charmed

      Their painful steps o’er the burnt soil. And now

      Advanced in view they stand—a horrid front

      Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise

      Of warriors old, with ordered spear and shield,

      Awaiting what command their mighty

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