Paradise Lost and Its Sequel, Paradise Regained (Illustrated Edition). Джон Мильтон

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Paradise Lost and Its Sequel, Paradise Regained (Illustrated Edition) - Джон Мильтон

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but long I sat not, till my womb

      Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown

      Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes.

      At last this odious offspring whom thou seest

      Thine own begotten, breaking violent way

      Tore through my entrails, that with fear and pain

      Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew

      Transform’d: but he my inbred enemie

      Forth issu’d, brandishing his fatal Dart

      Made to destroy: I fled, and cry’d out Death;

      Hell trembl’d at the hideous Name, and sigh’d

      From all her Caves, and back resounded Death.

      I fled, but he pursu’d (though more, it seems,

      Inflam’d with lust then rage) and swifter far,

      Me overtook his mother all dismaid,

      And in embraces forcible and foule

      Ingendring with me, of that rape begot

      These yelling Monsters that with ceasless cry

      Surround me, as thou sawst, hourly conceiv’d

      And hourly born, with sorrow infinite

      To me, for when they list into the womb

      That bred them they return, and howle and gnaw

      My Bowels, their repast; then bursting forth

      Afresh with conscious terrours vex me round,

      That rest or intermission none I find.

      Before mine eyes in opposition sits

      Grim Death my Son and foe, who sets them on,

      And me his Parent would full soon devour

      For want of other prey, but that he knows

      His end with mine involvd; and knows that

      Should prove a bitter Morsel, and his bane,

      When ever that shall be; so Fate pronounc’d.

      But thou O Father, I forewarn thee, shun

      His deadly arrow; neither vainly hope

      To be invulnerable in those bright Arms,

      Though temper’d heav’nly, for that mortal dint,

      Save he who reigns above, none can resist.

      She finish’d, and the suttle Fiend his lore

      Soon learnd, now milder, and thus answerd smooth.

      Dear Daughter, since thou claim’st me for thy Sire,

      And my fair Son here showst me, the dear pledge

      Of dalliance had with thee in Heav’n, and joys

      Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change

      Befalln us unforeseen, unthought of, know

      I come no enemie, but to set free

      From out this dark and dismal house of pain,

      Both him and thee, and all the heav’nly Host

      Of Spirits that in our just pretenses arm’d

      Fell with us from on high: from them I go

      This uncouth errand sole, and one for all

      My self expose, with lonely steps to tread

      Th’ unfounded deep, & through the void immense

      To search with wandring quest a place foretold

      Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now

      Created vast and round, a place of bliss

      In the Pourlieues of Heav’n, and therein plac’t

      A race of upstart Creatures, to supply

      Perhaps our vacant room, though more remov’d,

      Least Heav’n surcharg’d with potent multitude

      Might hap to move new broiles: Be this or aught

      Then this more secret now design’d, I haste

      To know, and this once known, shall soon return,

      And bring ye to the place where Thou and Death

      Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen

      Wing silently the buxom Air, imbalm’d

      With odours; there ye shall be fed and fill’d

      Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey.

      He ceas’d, for both seemd highly pleasd, and Death

      Grinnd horrible a gastly smile, to hear

      His famine should be fill’d, and blest his mawe

      Destin’d to that good hour: no less rejoyc’d

      His mother bad, and thus bespake her Sire.

      The key of this infernal Pit by due,

      And by command of Heav’ns all-powerful King

      I keep, by him forbidden to unlock

      These Adamantine Gates; against all force

      Death ready stands to interpose his dart,

      Fearless to be o’rematcht by living might.

      But what ow I to his commands above

      Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down

      Into this gloom of Tartarus profound,

      To sit in hateful Office here confin’d,

      Inhabitant of Heav’n, and heav’nlie-born,

      Here in perpetual agonie and pain,

      With terrors and with clamors compasst round

      Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed:

      Thou

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