Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

journey’s end and our beginning woe.

      But first he casts to change his proper shape,

      Which else might work him danger or delay:

      And now a stripling Cherub he appears,

      Not of the prime, yet such as in his face

      Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb

      Suitable grace diffused, so well he feigned:

      Under a coronet his flowing hair

      In curls on either cheek played; wings he wore

      Of many a coloured plume, sprinkled with gold;

      His habit fit for speed succinct, and held

      Before his decent steps a silver wand.

      He drew not nigh unheard; the Angel bright,

      Ere he drew nigh, his radiant visage turned,

      Admonished by his ear, and straight was known

      The Arch-Angel Uriel, one of the seven

      Who in God’s presence, nearest to his throne,

      Stand ready at command, and are his eyes

      That run through all the Heavens, or down to the Earth

      Bear his swift errands over moist and dry,

      O’er sea and land: him Satan thus accosts.

      “Uriel, for thou of those seven Spirits that stand

      In sight of God’s high throne, gloriously bright,

      The first art wont his great authentic will

      Interpreter through highest Heaven to bring,

      Where all his sons thy embassy attend;

      And here art likeliest by supreme decree

      Like honour to obtain, and as his eye

      To visit oft this new creation round;

      Unspeakable desire to see, and know

      All these his wonderous works, but chiefly Man,

      His chief delight and favour, him for whom

      All these his works so wonderous he ordained,

      Hath brought me from the quires of Cherubim

      Alone thus wandering. Brightest Seraph, tell

      In which of all these shining orbs hath Man

      His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none,

      But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell;

      That I may find him, and with secret gaze

      Or open admiration him behold,

      On whom the great Creator hath bestowed

      Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces poured;

      That both in him and all things, as is meet,

      The universal Maker we may praise;

      Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes

      To deepest Hell, and, to repair that loss,

      Created this new happy race of Men

      To serve him better: Wise are all his ways.”

      So spake the false dissembler unperceived;

      For neither Man nor Angel can discern

      Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks

      Invisible, except to God alone,

      By his permissive will, through Heaven and Earth:

      And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps

      At wisdom’s gate, and to simplicity

      Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill

      Where no ill seems: Which now for once beguiled

      Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held

      The sharpest-sighted Spirit of all in Heaven;

      Who to the fraudulent impostor foul,

      In his uprightness, answer thus returned.

      “Fair Angel, thy desire, which tends to know

      The works of God, thereby to glorify

      The great Work-master, leads to no excess

      That reaches blame, but rather merits praise

      The more it seems excess, that led thee hither

      From thy empyreal mansion thus alone,

      To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps,

      Contented with report, hear only in Heaven:

      For wonderful indeed are all his works,

      Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all

      Had in remembrance always with delight;

      But what created mind can comprehend

      Their number, or the wisdom infinite

      That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep?

      I saw when at his word the formless mass,

      This world’s material mould, came to a heap:

      Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar

      Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined;

      Till at his second bidding Darkness fled,

      Light shone, and order from disorder sprung:

      Swift to their several quarters hasted then

      The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire;

      And this ethereal quintessence of Heaven

      Flew upward, spirited with various forms,

      That rolled orbicular, and turned to stars

      Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move;

      Each had his place appointed, each his course;

      The rest in circuit walls this universe.

      Look downward on that globe, whose hither side

      With light from hence, though but reflected, shines;

      That place is Earth, the seat of Man; that light

      His day, which else, as the other hemisphere,

      Night would invade; but there the neighbouring moon

      (So call that opposite fair star) her aid

      Timely interposes, and her monthly round

      Still ending, still renewing, through mid Heaven,

      With borrowed light her countenance triform

      Hence fills and empties to enlighten the Earth,

      And in her pale dominion checks the night.

      That spot, to which I point, is Paradise,

      Adam’s abode; those lofty shades, his bower.

      Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires.”

      Thus said, he turned; and Satan, bowing low,

      As to superior Spirits is wont in Heaven,

      Where honour due and reverence none neglects,

      Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath,

      Down from the ecliptic, sped with hoped success,

      Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel;

      Nor staid, till on Niphates’ top he lights.