The Battle of Darkness and Light . Джон Мильтон

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The Battle of Darkness and Light  - Джон Мильтон

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Nor mortal fancy that can go so far.

      And if thou notest that which is revealed

       By Daniel, thou wilt see that in his thousands

       Number determinate is kept concealed.

      The primal light, that all irradiates it,

       By modes as many is received therein,

       As are the splendours wherewith it is mated.

      Hence, inasmuch as on the act conceptive

       The affection followeth, of love the sweetness

       Therein diversely fervid is or tepid.

      The height behold now and the amplitude

       Of the eternal power, since it hath made

       Itself so many mirrors, where 'tis broken,

      One in itself remaining as before."

      XXX. The Tenth Heaven, or Empyrean. The River of Light. The Two Courts of Heaven. The White Rose of Paradise. The great Throne.

       Table of Contents

      Perchance six thousand miles remote from us

       Is glowing the sixth hour, and now this world

       Inclines its shadow almost to a level,

      When the mid-heaven begins to make itself

       So deep to us, that here and there a star

       Ceases to shine so far down as this depth,

      And as advances bright exceedingly

       The handmaid of the sun, the heaven is closed

       Light after light to the most beautiful;

      Not otherwise the Triumph, which for ever

       Plays round about the point that vanquished me,

       Seeming enclosed by what itself encloses,

      Little by little from my vision faded;

       Whereat to turn mine eyes on Beatrice

       My seeing nothing and my love constrained me.

      If what has hitherto been said of her

       Were all concluded in a single praise,

       Scant would it be to serve the present turn.

      Not only does the beauty I beheld

       Transcend ourselves, but truly I believe

       Its Maker only may enjoy it all.

      Vanquished do I confess me by this passage

       More than by problem of his theme was ever

       O'ercome the comic or the tragic poet;

      For as the sun the sight that trembles most,

       Even so the memory of that sweet smile

       My mind depriveth of its very self.

      From the first day that I beheld her face

       In this life, to the moment of this look,

       The sequence of my song has ne'er been severed;

      But now perforce this sequence must desist

       From following her beauty with my verse,

       As every artist at his uttermost.

      Such as I leave her to a greater fame

       Than any of my trumpet, which is bringing

       Its arduous matter to a final close,

      With voice and gesture of a perfect leader

       She recommenced: "We from the greatest body

       Have issued to the heaven that is pure light;

      Light intellectual replete with love,

       Love of true good replete with ecstasy,

       Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness.

      Here shalt thou see the one host and the other

       Of Paradise, and one in the same aspects

       Which at the final judgment thou shalt see."

      Even as a sudden lightning that disperses

       The visual spirits, so that it deprives

       The eye of impress from the strongest objects,

      Thus round about me flashed a living light,

       And left me swathed around with such a veil

       Of its effulgence, that I nothing saw.

      "Ever the Love which quieteth this heaven

       Welcomes into itself with such salute,

       To make the candle ready for its flame."

      No sooner had within me these brief words

       An entrance found, than I perceived myself

       To be uplifted over my own power,

      And I with vision new rekindled me,

       Such that no light whatever is so pure

       But that mine eyes were fortified against it.

      And light I saw in fashion of a river

       Fulvid with its effulgence, 'twixt two banks

       Depicted with an admirable Spring.

      Out of this river issued living sparks,

       And on all sides sank down into the flowers,

       Like unto rubies that are set in gold;

      And then, as if inebriate with the odours,

       They plunged again into the wondrous torrent,

       And as one entered issued forth another.

      "The high desire, that now inflames and moves thee

       To have intelligence of what thou seest,

       Pleaseth me all the more, the more it swells.

      But of this water it behoves thee drink

      

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