Innocence Once Lost - Religious Classics Collection. Джон Мильтон

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with the primal motion

       Unless the circle is broken on some side,

      Upon this height, that all is disengaged

       In living ether, doth this motion strike

       And make the forest sound, for it is dense;

      And so much power the stricken plant possesses

       That with its virtue it impregns the air,

       And this, revolving, scatters it around;

      And yonder earth, according as 'tis worthy

       In self or in its clime, conceives and bears

       Of divers qualities the divers trees;

      It should not seem a marvel then on earth,

       This being heard, whenever any plant

       Without seed manifest there taketh root.

      And thou must know, this holy table-land

       In which thou art is full of every seed,

       And fruit has in it never gathered there.

      The water which thou seest springs not from vein

       Restored by vapour that the cold condenses,

       Like to a stream that gains or loses breath;

      But issues from a fountain safe and certain,

       Which by the will of God as much regains

       As it discharges, open on two sides.

      Upon this side with virtue it descends,

       Which takes away all memory of sin;

       On that, of every good deed done restores it.

      Here Lethe, as upon the other side

       Eunoe, it is called; and worketh not

       If first on either side it be not tasted.

      This every other savour doth transcend;

       And notwithstanding slaked so far may be

       Thy thirst, that I reveal to thee no more,

      I'll give thee a corollary still in grace,

       Nor think my speech will be to thee less dear

       If it spread out beyond my promise to thee.

      Those who in ancient times have feigned in song

       The Age of Gold and its felicity,

       Dreamed of this place perhaps upon Parnassus.

      Here was the human race in innocence;

       Here evermore was Spring, and every fruit;

       This is the nectar of which each one speaks."

      Then backward did I turn me wholly round

       Unto my Poets, and saw that with a smile

       They had been listening to these closing words;

      Then to the beautiful lady turned mine eyes.

      XXIX. The Triumph of the Church.

       Table of Contents

      Singing like unto an enamoured lady

       She, with the ending of her words, continued:

       "Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata."

      And even as Nymphs, that wandered all alone

       Among the sylvan shadows, sedulous

       One to avoid and one to see the sun,

      She then against the stream moved onward, going

       Along the bank, and I abreast of her,

       Her little steps with little steps attending.

      Between her steps and mine were not a hundred,

       When equally the margins gave a turn,

       In such a way, that to the East I faced.

      Nor even thus our way continued far

       Before the lady wholly turned herself

       Unto me, saying, "Brother, look and listen!"

      And lo! a sudden lustre ran across

       On every side athwart the spacious forest,

       Such that it made me doubt if it were lightning.

      But since the lightning ceases as it comes,

       And that continuing brightened more and more,

       Within my thought I said, "What thing is this?"

      And a delicious melody there ran

       Along the luminous air, whence holy zeal

       Made me rebuke the hardihood of Eve;

      For there where earth and heaven obedient were,

       The woman only, and but just created,

       Could not endure to stay 'neath any veil;

      Underneath which had she devoutly stayed,

       I sooner should have tasted those delights

       Ineffable, and for a longer time.

      While 'mid such manifold first-fruits I walked

       Of the eternal pleasure all enrapt,

       And still solicitous of more delights,

      In front of us like an enkindled fire

       Became the air beneath the verdant boughs,

       And the sweet sound as singing now was heard.

      O Virgins sacrosanct! if ever hunger,

       Vigils, or cold for you I have endured,

       The occasion spurs me their reward to claim!

      Now Helicon must needs pour forth for me,

       And with her choir Urania must assist me,

       To put in verse things difficult to think.

      A little farther on, seven trees of gold

      

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