Innocence Once Lost - Religious Classics Collection. Джон Мильтон

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Innocence Once Lost - Religious Classics Collection - Джон Мильтон

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made them fairer.

      Round about this one came they and stood still,

       And a cry uttered of so loud a sound,

       It here could find no parallel, nor I

      Distinguished it, the thunder so o'ercame me.

      XXII. St. Benedict. His Lamentation over the Corruption of Monks. The Eighth Heaven, the Fixed Stars.

       Table of Contents

      Oppressed with stupor, I unto my guide

       Turned like a little child who always runs

       For refuge there where he confideth most;

      And she, even as a mother who straightway

       Gives comfort to her pale and breathless boy

       With voice whose wont it is to reassure him,

      Said to me: "Knowest thou not thou art in heaven,

       And knowest thou not that heaven is holy all

       And what is done here cometh from good zeal?

      After what wise the singing would have changed thee

       And I by smiling, thou canst now imagine,

       Since that the cry has startled thee so much,

      In which if thou hadst understood its prayers

       Already would be known to thee the vengeance

       Which thou shalt look upon before thou diest.

      The sword above here smiteth not in haste

       Nor tardily, howe'er it seem to him

       Who fearing or desiring waits for it.

      But turn thee round towards the others now,

       For very illustrious spirits shalt thou see,

       If thou thy sight directest as I say."

      As it seemed good to her mine eyes I turned,

       And saw a hundred spherules that together

       With mutual rays each other more embellished.

      I stood as one who in himself represses

       The point of his desire, and ventures not

       To question, he so feareth the too much.

      And now the largest and most luculent

       Among those pearls came forward, that it might

       Make my desire concerning it content.

      Within it then I heard: "If thou couldst see

       Even as myself the charity that burns

       Among us, thy conceits would be expressed;

      But, that by waiting thou mayst not come late

       To the high end, I will make answer even

       Unto the thought of which thou art so chary.

      That mountain on whose slope Cassino stands

       Was frequented of old upon its summit

       By a deluded folk and ill-disposed;

      And I am he who first up thither bore

       The name of Him who brought upon the earth

       The truth that so much sublimateth us.

      And such abundant grace upon me shone

       That all the neighbouring towns I drew away

       From the impious worship that seduced the world.

      These other fires, each one of them, were men

       Contemplative, enkindled by that heat

       Which maketh holy flowers and fruits spring up.

      Here is Macarius, here is Romualdus,

       Here are my brethren, who within the cloisters

       Their footsteps stayed and kept a steadfast heart."

      And I to him: "The affection which thou showest

       Speaking with me, and the good countenance

       Which I behold and note in all your ardours,

      In me have so my confidence dilated

       As the sun doth the rose, when it becomes

       As far unfolded as it hath the power.

      Therefore I pray, and thou assure me, father,

       If I may so much grace receive, that I

       May thee behold with countenance unveiled."

      He thereupon: "Brother, thy high desire

       In the remotest sphere shall be fulfilled,

       Where are fulfilled all others and my own.

      There perfect is, and ripened, and complete,

       Every desire; within that one alone

       Is every part where it has always been;

      For it is not in space, nor turns on poles,

       And unto it our stairway reaches up,

       Whence thus from out thy sight it steals away.

      Up to that height the Patriarch Jacob saw it

       Extending its supernal part, what time

       So thronged with angels it appeared to him.

      But to ascend it now no one uplifts

       His feet from off the earth, and now my Rule

       Below remaineth for mere waste of paper.

      The walls that used of old to be an Abbey

       Are changed to dens of robbers, and the cowls

       Are sacks filled full of miserable flour.

      But heavy usury is not taken up

       So much against God's pleasure as that fruit

       Which maketh so insane the heart of monks;

      For whatsoever hath

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