Paradise Lost - Milton John (читать книги полностью TXT) 📗

But infinite in pardon was my Judge,

That I who first brought Death on all, am grac't

The sourse of life; next favourable thou,

Who highly thus to entitle me voutsaf't,

Farr other name deserving. But the Field

To labour calls us now with sweat impos'd,

Though after sleepless Night; for see the Morn,

All unconcern'd with our unrest, begins

Her rosie progress smiling; let us forth,

I never from thy side henceforth to stray,

Wherere our days work lies, though now enjoind

Laborious, till day droop; while here we dwell,

What can be toilsom in these pleasant Walkes?

Here let us live, though in fall'n state, content.

So spake, so wish'd much-humbl'd EVE, but Fate

Subscrib'd not; Nature first gave Signs, imprest

On Bird, Beast, Aire, Aire suddenly eclips'd

After short blush of Morn; nigh in her sight

The Bird of JOVE, stoopt from his aerie tour,

Two Birds of gayest plume before him drove:

Down from a Hill the Beast that reigns in Woods,

First Hunter then, pursu'd a gentle brace,

Goodliest of all the Forrest, Hart and Hinde;

Direct to th' Eastern Gate was bent thir flight.

ADAM observ'd, and with his Eye the chase

Pursuing, not unmov'd to EVE thus spake.

O EVE, some furder change awaits us nigh,

Which Heav'n by these mute signs in Nature shews

Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn

Us haply too secure of our discharge

From penaltie, because from death releast

Some days; how long, and what till then our life,

Who knows, or more then this, that we are dust,

And thither must return and be no more.

VVhy else this double object in our sight

Of flight pursu'd in th' Air and ore the ground

One way the self-same hour? why in the East

Darkness ere Dayes mid-course, and Morning light

More orient in yon VVestern Cloud that draws

O're the blew Firmament a radiant white,

And slow descends, with somthing heav'nly fraught.

He err'd not, for by this the heav'nly Bands

Down from a Skie of Jasper lighted now

In Paradise, and on a Hill made alt,

A glorious Apparition, had not doubt

And carnal fear that day dimm'd ADAMS eye.

Not that more glorious, when the Angels met

JACOB in MAHANAIM, where he saw

The field Pavilion'd with his Guardians bright;

Nor that which on the flaming Mount appeerd

In DOTHAN, cover'd with a Camp of Fire,

Against the SYRIAN King, who to surprize

One man, Assassin-like had levied Warr,

Warr unproclam'd. The Princely Hierarch

In thir bright stand, there left his Powers to seise

Possession of the Garden; hee alone,

To finde where ADAM shelterd, took his way,

Not unperceav'd of ADAM, who to EVE,

While the great Visitant approachd, thus spake.

EVE, now expect great tidings, which perhaps

Of us will soon determin, or impose

New Laws to be observ'd; for I descrie

From yonder blazing Cloud that veils the Hill

One of the heav'nly Host, and by his Gate

None of the meanest, some great Potentate

Or of the Thrones above, such Majestie

Invests him coming; yet not terrible,

That I should fear, nor sociably mild,

As RAPHAEL, that I should much confide,

But solemn and sublime, whom not to offend,

With reverence I must meet, and thou retire.

He ended; and th' Arch-Angel soon drew nigh,

Not in his shape Celestial, but as Man

Clad to meet Man; over his lucid Armes

A militarie Vest of purple flowd

Livelier then MELIBOEAN, or the graine

Of SARRA, worn by Kings and Hero's old

In time of Truce; IRIS had dipt the wooff;

His starrie Helme unbuckl'd shew'd him prime

In Manhood where Youth ended; by his side

As in a glistering ZODIAC hung the Sword,

Satans dire dread, and in his hand the Spear.

ADAM bowd low, hee Kingly from his State

Inclin'd not, but his coming thus declar'd.

ADAM, Heav'ns high behest no Preface needs:

Sufficient that thy Prayers are heard, and Death,

Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress,

Defeated of his seisure many dayes

Giv'n thee of Grace, wherein thou may'st repent,

And one bad act with many deeds well done

Mayst cover: well may then thy Lord appeas'd

Redeem thee quite from Deaths rapacious claimes;

But longer in this Paradise to dwell

Permits not; to remove thee I am come,

And send thee from the Garden forth to till

The ground whence thou wast tak'n, fitter Soile.

He added not, for ADAM at the newes

Heart-strook with chilling gripe of sorrow stood,

That all his senses bound; EVE, who unseen

Yet all had heard, with audible lament

Discover'd soon the place of her retire.

O unexpected stroke, worse then of Death!

Must I thus leave thee Paradise? thus leave

Thee Native Soile, these happie Walks and Shades,

Fit haunt of Gods? where I had hope to spend,

Quiet though sad, the respit of that day

That must be mortal to us both. O flours,

That never will in other Climate grow,

My early visitation, and my last

At Eev'n, which I bred up with tender hand

From the first op'ning bud, and gave ye Names,

Who now shall reare ye to the Sun, or ranke

Your Tribes, and water from th' ambrosial Fount?

Thee lastly nuptial Bowre, by mee adornd

With what to sight or smell was sweet; from thee

How shall I part, and whither wander down

Into a lower World, to this obscure

And wilde, how shall we breath in other Aire

Less pure, accustomd to immortal Fruits?

Whom thus the Angel interrupted milde.

Lament not EVE, but patiently resigne

What justly thou hast lost; nor set thy heart,

Thus over fond, on that which is not thine;

Thy going is not lonely, with thee goes

Thy Husband, him to follow thou art bound;

Where he abides, think there thy native soile.

ADAM by this from the cold sudden damp

Recovering, and his scatterd spirits returnd,

To MICHAEL thus his humble words addressd.

Celestial, whether among the Thrones, or nam'd

Of them the Highest, for such of shape may seem

Prince above Princes, gently hast thou tould

Thy message, which might else in telling wound,

And in performing end us; what besides

Of sorrow and dejection and despair

Our frailtie can sustain, thy tidings bring,

Departure from this happy place, our sweet

Recess, and onely consolation left

Familiar to our eyes, all places else

Inhospitable appeer and desolate,

Nor knowing us nor known: and if by prayer

Incessant I could hope to change the will

Of him who all things can, I would not cease

To wearie him with my assiduous cries:

But prayer against his absolute Decree

No more availes then breath against the winde,

Blown stifling back on him that breaths it forth:

Therefore to his great bidding I submit.

This most afflicts me, that departing hence,

As from his face I shall be hid, deprivd

His blessed count'nance; here I could frequent,

With worship, place by place where he voutsaf'd

Presence Divine, and to my Sons relate;

On this Mount he appeerd, under this Tree

Stood visible, among these Pines his voice

I heard, here with him at this Fountain talk'd:

So many grateful Altars I would reare

Of grassie Terfe, and pile up every Stone

Of lustre from the brook, in memorie,

Or monument to Ages, and thereon

Offer sweet smelling Gumms & Fruits and Flours:

In yonder nether World where shall I seek

His bright appearances, or footstep trace?

For though I fled him angrie, yet recall'd