The Battle of Darkness and Light . Джон Мильтон
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length West from Orantes to the Ocean barr’d At Darien, thence to the Land where flowes Ganges and Indus: thus the Orb he roam’d With narrow search; and with inspection deep Consider’d every Creature, which of all Most opportune might serve his Wiles, and found The Serpent suttlest Beast of all the Field. Him after long debate, irresolute Of thoughts revolv’d, his final sentence chose Fit Vessel, fittest Imp of fraud, in whom To enter, and his dark suggestions hide From sharpest sight: for in the wilie Snake, Whatever sleights none would suspicious mark, As from his wit and native suttletie Proceeding, which in other Beasts observ’d Doubt might beget of Diabolic pow’r Active within beyond the sense of brute. Thus he resolv’d, but first from inward griefe His bursting passion into plaints thus pour’d:
O Earth, how like to Heav’n, if not preferrd
More justly, Seat worthier of Gods, as built
With second thoughts, reforming what was old!
For what God after better worse would build?
Terrestrial Heav’n, danc’t round by other Heav’ns
That shine, yet bear thir bright officious Lamps,
Light above Light, for thee alone, as seems,
In thee concentring all thir precious beams
Of sacred influence: As God in Heav’n
Is Center, yet extends to all, so thou
Centring receav’st from all those Orbs; in thee,
Not in themselves, all thir known vertue appeers
Productive in Herb, Plant, and nobler birth
Of Creatures animate with gradual life
Of Growth, Sense, Reason, all summ’d up in Man.
With what delight could I have walkt thee round
If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange
Of Hill and Vallie, Rivers, Woods and Plaines,
Now Land, now Sea, & Shores with Forrest crownd,
Rocks, Dens, and Caves; but I in none of these
Find place or refuge; and the more I see
Pleasures about me, so much more I feel
Torment within me, as from the hateful siege
Of contraries; all good to me becomes
Bane, and in Heav’n much worse would be my state.
But neither here seek I, no nor in Heav’n
To dwell, unless by maistring Heav’ns Supreame;
Nor hope to be my self less miserable
By what I seek, but others to make such
As I though thereby worse to me redound:
For onely in destroying I finde ease
To my relentless thoughts; and him destroyd,
Or won to what may work his utter loss,
For whom all this was made, all this will soon
Follow, as to him linkt in weal or woe,
In wo then; that destruction wide may range:
To mee shall be the glorie sole among
The infernal Powers, in one day to have marr’d
What he Almightie styl’d, six Nights and Days Continu’d making, and who knows how long Before had bin contriving, though perhaps Not longer then since I in one Night freed From servitude inglorious welnigh half Th’ Angelic Name, and thinner left the throng Of his adorers: hee to be aveng’d, And to repaire his numbers thus impair’d, Whether such vertue spent of old now faild More Angels to Create, if they at least Are his Created or to spite us more, Determin’d to advance into our room A Creature form’d of Earth, and him endow, Exalted from so base original, With Heav’nly spoils, our spoils: What he decreed He effected; Man he made, and for him built Magnificent this World, and Earth his seat, Him Lord pronounc’d, and, O indignitie! Subjected to his service Angel wings, And flaming Ministers to watch and tend Thir earthlie Charge: Of these the vigilance I dread, and to elude, thus wrapt in mist Of midnight vapor glide obscure, and prie In every Bush and Brake, where hap may finde The Serpent sleeping, in whose mazie foulds To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. O foul descent! that I who erst contended With Gods to sit the highest, am now constraind Into a Beast, and mixt with bestial slime, This essence to incarnate and imbrute, That to the hight of Deitie aspir’d; But what will not Ambition and Revenge Descend to? who aspires must down as low As high he soard, obnoxious first or last To basest things. Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on it self recoiles; Let it; I reck not, so it light well aim’d, Since higher I fall short, on him who next Provokes my envie, this new Favorite Of Heav’n, this Man of Clay, Son of despite, Whom us the more to spite his Maker rais’d From dust: spite then with spite is best repaid.
So saying, through each Thicket Danck or Drie,
Like a black mist low creeping, he held on
His midnight search, where soonest he might finde
The Serpent: him fast sleeping soon he found
In Labyrinth of many a round self-rowl’d,
His head the midst, well stor’d with suttle wiles:
Not yet in horrid Shade or dismal Den,
Not nocent yet, but on the grassie Herbe
Fearless unfeard he slept: in at his Mouth
The Devil enterd, and his brutal sense,
In heart or head, possessing soon inspir’d
With act intelligential; but his sleep
Disturbd not, waiting close th’ approach of Morn.
Now whenas sacred Light began to dawne
In Eden on the humid Flours, that breathd Thir morning Incense, when all things that breath, From th’ Earths great Altar send up silent praise To the Creator, and his Nostrils fill With gratefull Smell, forth came the human pair And joynd thir vocal Worship to the Quire Of Creatures wanting voice, that done, partake The season, prime for sweetest Sents and Aires: Then commune how that day they best may ply Thir growing work: for much thir work outgrew The hands dispatch of two Gardning so wide. And Eve first to her Husband thus began.
Adam, well may we labour still to dress This Garden, still to tend Plant, Herb and Flour. Our pleasant task enjoyn’d, but till more hands Aid us, the work under our labour grows, Luxurious by restraint; what we by day Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, One night or two with wanton growth derides Tending to wilde. Thou therefore now advise Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present, Let us divide our labours, thou where choice Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind The Woodbine round this Arbour, or direct The clasping Ivie where to climb, while I In yonder Spring of Roses intermixt With Myrtle, find what to redress till Noon: For while so near each other thus all day Our task we choose, what wonder if no near Looks intervene and smiles, or object new Casual discourse draw on, which intermits Our dayes work brought to little, though begun Early, and th’ hour of Supper comes unearn’d.
To whom mild answer Adam thus return’d. Sole Eve, Associate sole, to me beyond Compare above all living Creatures deare, Well hast thou motion’d, wel thy thoughts imployd How we might best fulfill the work which here God hath assign’d us, nor of me shalt pass Unprais’d: for nothing lovelier can be found In woman, then to studie houshold good, And good workes in her Husband to promote. Yet not so strictly hath our Lord impos’d Labour, as to debarr us when we need Refreshment, whether food, or talk between, Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse Of looks and smiles, for smiles from Reason flow, To brute deni’d, and are of Love the food, Love not the lowest end of human life. For not to irksom toile, but to delight He made us, and delight to Reason joyn’d. These paths and Bowers doubt not but our joynt Will keep from Wilderness with ease, as wide As we need