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

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in Heav’n, till then as one secure

      Sat on his Throne, upheld by old repute,

      Consent or custome, and his Regal State

      Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal’d,

      Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall.

      Henceforth his might we know, and know our own

      So as not either to provoke, or dread

      New warr, provok’t; our better part remains

      To work in close design, by fraud or guile

      What force effected not: that he no less

      At length from us may find, who overcomes

      By force, hath overcome but half his foe.

      Space may produce new Worlds; whereof so rife

      There went a fame in Heav’n that he ere long

      Intended to create, and therein plant

      A generation, whom his choice regard

      Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven:

      Thither, if but to prie, shall be perhaps

      Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:

      For this Infernal Pit shall never hold

      Caelestial Spirits in Bondage, nor th’ Abysse

      Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts

      Full Counsel must mature: Peace is despaird,

      For who can think Submission! Warr then, Warr

      Open or understood must be resolv’d.

      He spake: and to confirm his words, out-flew

      Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs

      Of mighty Cherubim; the sudden blaze

      Far round illumin’d hell: highly they rag’d

      Against the Highest, and fierce with grasped arm’s

      Clash’d on their sounding shields the din of war,

      Hurling defiance toward the vault of Heav’n.

      There stood a Hill not far whose griesly top

      Belch’d fire and rowling smoak; the rest entire

      Shon with a glossie scurff, undoubted sign

      That in his womb was hid metallic Ore,

      The work of Sulphur. Thither wing’d with speed

      A numerous Brigad hasten’d. As when bands

      Of Pioners with Spade and Pickaxe arm’d

      Forerun the Royal Camp, to trench a Field,

      Or cast a Rampart. Mammon led them on,

      Mammon, the least erected Spirit that fell

      From heav’n, for ev’n in heav’n his looks and thoughts

      Were always downward bent, admiring more

      The riches of Heav’ns pavement, trod’n Gold,

      Then aught divine or holy else enjoy’d

      In vision beatific: by him first

      Men also, and by his suggestion taught,

      Ransack’d the Center, and with impious hands

      Rifl’d the bowels of their mother Earth

      For Treasures better hid. Soon had his crew

      Op’nd into the Hill a spacious wound

      And dig’d out ribs of Gold. Let none admire

      That riches grow in Hell; that soyle may best

      Deserve the pretious bane. And here let those

      Who boast in mortal things, and wondring tell

      Of Babel, and the works Memphian Kings,

      Learn how thir greatest Monuments of Fame,

      And Strength and Art are easily outdone

      By Spirits reprobate, and in an hour

      What in an age they with incessant toyle

      And hands innumerable scarce perform.

      Nigh on the Plain in many cells prepar’d,

      That underneath had veins of liquid fire

      Sluc’d from the Lake, a second multitude

      With wondrous Art founded the massie Ore,

      Severing each kinde, and scum’d the Bullion dross:

      A third as soon had form’d within the ground

      A various mould, and from the boyling cells

      By strange conveyance fill’d each hollow nook,

      As in an Organ from one blast of wind

      To many a row of Pipes the sound-board breaths.

      Anon out of the earth a Fabrick huge

      Rose like an Exhalation, with the sound

      Of Dulcet Symphonies and voices sweet,

      Built like a Temple, where Pilasters round

      Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid

      With Golden Architrave; nor did there want

      Cornice or Freeze, with bossy Sculptures grav’n,

      The Roof was fretted Gold. Not Babilon,

      Nor great Alcairo such magnificence

      Equal’d in all thir glories, to inshrine

      Belus or Serapis thir Gods, or seat

      Thir Kings, when AEgypt with Assyria strove

      In wealth and luxurie. Th’ ascending pile

      Stood fixt her stately highth, and strait the dores

      Op’ning thir brazen foulds discover wide

      Within,

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