The Battle of Darkness and Light . Джон Мильтон

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The Battle of Darkness and Light  - Джон Мильтон

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style="font-size:15px;">       Stood rankt of Seraphim another row

       In posture to displode thir second tire

       Of Thunder: back defeated to return

       They worse abhorr’d. Satan beheld thir plight, And to his Mates thus in derision call’d.

      O Friends, why come not on these Victors proud?

       Ere while they fierce were coming, and when wee,

       To entertain them fair with open Front

       And Brest, (what could we more?) propounded terms

       Of composition, strait they chang’d thir minds,

       Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell,

       As they would dance, yet for a dance they seemd

       Somwhat extravagant and wilde, perhaps

       For joy of offerd peace: but I suppose

       If our proposals once again were heard

       We should compel them to a quick result.

      To whom thus Belial in like gamesom mood. Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight, Of hard contents, and full of force urg’d home, Such as we might perceive amus’d them all, And stumbl’d many, who receives them right, Had need from head to foot well understand; Not understood, this gift they have besides, They shew us when our foes walk not upright.

      So they among themselves in pleasant veine

       Stood scoffing, highthn’d in thir thoughts beyond

       All doubt of Victorie, eternal might

       To match with thir inventions they presum’d

       So easie, and of his Thunder made a scorn,

       And all his Host derided, while they stood

       A while in trouble; but they stood not long,

       Rage prompted them at length, & found them arms

       Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose.

       Forthwith (behold the excellence, the power

       Which God hath in his mighty Angels plac’d)

       Thir Arms away they threw, and to the Hills

       (For Earth hath this variety from Heav’n

       Of pleasure situate in Hill and Dale)

       Light as the Lightning glimps they ran, they flew,

       From thir foundations loosning to and fro

       They pluckt the seated Hills with all thir load,

       Rocks, Waters, Woods, and by the shaggie tops

       Up lifting bore them in thir hands: Amaze,

       Be sure, and terrour seis’d the rebel Host,

       When coming towards them so dread they saw

       The bottom of the Mountains upward turn’d,

       Till on those cursed Engins triple-row

       They saw them whelmd, and all thir confidence

       Under the weight of Mountains buried deep,

       Themselves invaded next, and on thir heads

       Main Promontories flung, which in the Air

       Came shadowing, and opprest whole Legions arm’d,

       Thir armor help’d thir harm, crush’t in and brus’d

       Into thir substance pent, which wrought them pain

       Implacable, and many a dolorous groan,

       Long strugling underneath, ere they could wind

       Out of such prison, though Spirits of purest light,

       Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown.

       The rest in imitation to like Armes

       Betook them, and the neighbouring Hills uptore;

       So Hills amid the Air encounterd Hills

       Hurl’d to and fro with jaculation dire,

       That under ground they fought in dismal shade;

       Infernal noise; Warr seem’d a civil Game

       To this uproar; horrid confusion heapt

       Upon confusion rose: and now all Heav’n

       Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspred,

       Had not th’ Almightie Father where he sits

       Shrin’d in his Sanctuarie of Heav’n secure,

       Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen

       This tumult, and permitted all, advis’d:

       That his great purpose he might so fulfill,

       To honour his Anointed Son aveng’d

       Upon his enemies, and to declare

       All power on him transferr’d: whence to his Son

       Th’ Assessor of his Throne he thus began.

      Effulgence of my Glorie, Son belov’d,

       Son in whose face invisible is beheld

       Visibly, what by Deitie I am,

       And in whose hand what by Decree I doe,

       Second Omnipotence, two dayes are past,

       Two dayes, as we compute the dayes of Heav’n,

       Since Michael and his Powers went forth to tame These disobedient; sore hath been thir fight, As likeliest was, when two such Foes met arm’d; For to themselves I left them, and thou knowst, Equal in their Creation they were form’d, Save what sin hath impaird, which yet hath wrought Insensibly, for I suspend thir doom; Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last Endless, and no solution will be found: Warr wearied hath perform’d what Warr can do, And to disorder’d rage let loose the reines, With Mountains as with Weapons arm’d, which makes Wild work in Heav’n, and dangerous to the maine. Two dayes are therefore past, the third is thine; For thee I have ordain’d it, and thus farr Have sufferd, that the Glorie may be thine Of ending this great Warr, since none but Thou Can end it. Into thee such Vertue and Grace Immense I have transfus’d, that all may know In Heav’n and Hell thy Power above compare, And this perverse Commotion governd thus, To manifest thee worthiest to be Heir Of all things, to be Heir and to be King By Sacred Unction, thy deserved right. Go then thou Mightiest in thy Fathers might, Ascend my Chariot, guide the rapid Wheeles That shake Heav’ns basis, bring forth all

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