Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

defiance here and scorn,

      Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more,

      Thy king and lord? Back to thy punishment,

      False fugitive; and to thy speed add wings,

      Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue

      Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart

      Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before.”

      So spake the grisly Terror, and in shape,

      So speaking and so threatening, grew tenfold,

      More dreadful and deform. On th’ other side,

      Incensed with indignation, Satan stood

      Unterrified, and like a comet burned,

      That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge

      In th’ arctic sky, and from his horrid hair

      Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head

      Levelled his deadly aim; their fatal hands

      No second stroke intend; and such a frown

      Each cast at th’ other as when two black clouds,

      With heaven’s artillery fraught, came rattling on

      Over the Caspian,—then stand front to front

      Hovering a space, till winds the signal blow

      To join their dark encounter in mid-air.

      So frowned the mighty combatants that Hell

      Grew darker at their frown; so matched they stood;

      For never but once more was wither like

      To meet so great a foe. And now great deeds

      Had been achieved, whereof all Hell had rung,

      Had not the snaky Sorceress, that sat

      Fast by Hell-gate and kept the fatal key,

      Risen, and with hideous outcry rushed between.

      “O father, what intends thy hand,” she cried,

      “Against thy only son? What fury, O son,

      Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart

      Against thy father’s head? And know’st for whom?

      For him who sits above, and laughs the while

      At thee, ordained his drudge to execute

      Whate’er his wrath, which he calls justice, bids—

      His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both!”

      She spake, and at her words the hellish Pest

      Forbore: then these to her Satan returned:—

      “So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange

      Thou interposest, that my sudden hand,

      Prevented, spares to tell thee yet by deeds

      What it intends, till first I know of thee

      What thing thou art, thus double-formed, and why,

      In this infernal vale first met, thou call’st

      Me father, and that phantasm call’st my son.

      I know thee not, nor ever saw till now

      Sight more detestable than him and thee.”

      T’ whom thus the Portress of Hell-gate replied:—

      “Hast thou forgot me, then; and do I seem

      Now in thine eye so foul?—once deemed so fair

      In Heaven, when at th’ assembly, and in sight

      Of all the Seraphim with thee combined

      In bold conspiracy against Heaven’s King,

      All on a sudden miserable pain

      Surprised thee, dim thine eyes and dizzy swum

      In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast

      Threw forth, till on the left side opening wide,

      Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright,

      Then shining heavenly fair, a goddess armed,

      Out of thy head I sprung. Amazement seized

      All th’ host of Heaven; back they recoiled afraid

      At first, and called me Sin, and for a sign

      Portentous held me; but, familiar grown,

      I pleased, and with attractive graces won

      The most averse—thee chiefly, who, full oft

      Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing,

      Becam’st enamoured; and such joy thou took’st

      With me in secret that my womb conceived

      A growing burden. Meanwhile war arose,

      And fields were fought in Heaven: wherein remained

      (For what could else?) to our Almighty Foe

      Clear victory; to our part loss and rout

      Through all the Empyrean. Down they fell,

      Driven headlong from the pitch of Heaven, down

      Into this Deep; and in the general fall

      I also: at which time this powerful key

      Into my hands was given, with charge to keep

      These gates for ever shut, which none can pass

      Without my opening. Pensive here I sat

      Alone; but long I sat not, till my womb,

      Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown,

      Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes.

      At last this odious offspring whom thou seest,

      Thine own begotten, breaking violent way,

      Tore through my entrails, that, with fear and pain

      Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew

      Transformed: but he my inbred enemy

      Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart,

      Made to destroy. I fled, and cried out Death!

      Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sighed

      From all her caves, and back resounded Death!

      I fled; but he pursued (though more, it seems,

      Inflamed with lust than rage), and, swifter far,

      Me overtook, his mother, all dismayed,

      And, in embraces forcible and foul

      Engendering with me, of that rape begot

      These yelling monsters, that with ceaseless cry

      Surround me, as thou saw’st—hourly conceived

      And hourly born, with sorrow infinite

      To me; for, when they list, into the womb

      That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw

      My bowels, their repast; then, bursting forth

      Afresh, with conscious terrors vex me round,

      That rest or intermission none I find.

      Before mine eyes in opposition sits

      Grim Death, my son and foe, who set them on,

      And me, his parent, would full soon devour

      For