Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained. Джон Мильтон

BOOK IV

      O, for that warning voice, which he, who saw

      The Apocalypse, heard cry in Heaven aloud,

      Then when the Dragon, put to second rout,

      Came furious down to be revenged on men,

      “Woe to the inhabitants on earth!” that now,

      While time was, our first parents had been warned

      The coming of their secret foe, and ’scaped,

      Haply so ’scaped his mortal snare: For now

      Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down,

      The tempter ere the accuser of mankind,

      To wreak on innocent frail Man his loss

      Of that first battle, and his flight to Hell:

      Yet, not rejoicing in his speed, though bold

      Far off and fearless, nor with cause to boast,

      Begins his dire attempt; which nigh the birth

      Now rolling boils in his tumultuous breast,

      And like a devilish engine back recoils

      Upon himself; horror and doubt distract

      His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir

      The Hell within him; for within him Hell

      He brings, and round about him, nor from Hell

      One step, no more than from himself, can fly

      By change of place: Now conscience wakes despair,

      That slumbered; wakes the bitter memory

      Of what he was, what is, and what must be

      Worse; of worse deeds worse sufferings must ensue.

      Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view

      Lay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad;

      Sometimes towards Heaven, and the full-blazing sun,

      Which now sat high in his meridian tower:

      Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began.

      “O thou, that, with surpassing glory crowned,

      Lookest from thy sole dominion like the God

      Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars

      Hide their diminished heads; to thee I call,

      But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,

      Of Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,

      That bring to my remembrance from what state

      I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;

      Till pride and worse ambition threw me down

      Warring in Heaven against Heaven’s matchless King:

      Ah, wherefore! he deserved no such return

      From me, whom he created what I was

      In that bright eminence, and with his good

      Upbraided none; nor was his service hard.

      What could be less than to afford him praise,

      The easiest recompense, and pay him thanks,

      How due! yet all his good proved ill in me,

      And wrought but malice; lifted up so high

      I ’sdeined subjection, and thought one step higher

      Would set me highest, and in a moment quit

      The debt immense of endless gratitude,

      So burdensome still paying, still to owe,

      Forgetful what from him I still received,

      And understood not that a grateful mind

      By owing owes not, but still pays, at once

      Indebted and discharged; what burden then

      O, had his powerful destiny ordained

      Me some inferior Angel, I had stood

      Then happy; no unbounded hope had raised

      Ambition! Yet why not some other Power

      As great might have aspired, and me, though mean,

      Drawn to his part; but other Powers as great

      Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within

      Or from without, to all temptations armed.

      Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand?

      Thou hadst: whom hast thou then or what to accuse,

      But Heaven’s free love dealt equally to all?

      Be then his love accursed, since love or hate,

      To me alike, it deals eternal woe.

      Nay, cursed be thou; since against his thy will

      Chose freely what it now so justly rues.

      Me miserable! which way shall I fly

      Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?

      Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;

      And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep

      Still threatening to devour me opens wide,

      To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heaven.

      O, then, at last relent: Is there no place

      Left for repentance, none for pardon left?

      None left but by submission; and that word

      Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame

      Among the Spirits beneath, whom I seduced

      With other promises and other vaunts

      Than to submit, boasting I could subdue

      The Omnipotent. Ay me! they little know

      How dearly I abide that boast so vain,

      Under what torments inwardly I groan,

      While they adore me on the throne of Hell.

      With diadem and scepter high advanced,

      The lower still I fall, only supreme

      In misery: Such joy ambition finds.

      But say I could repent, and could obtain,

      By act of grace, my former state; how soon

      Would hight recall high thoughts, how soon unsay

      What feigned submission swore? Ease would recant

      Vows made in pain, as violent and void.

      For never can true reconcilement grow,

      Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep:

      Which would but lead me to a worse relapse

      And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear

      Short intermission bought with double smart.

      This knows my Punisher; therefore as far

      From granting he, as I from begging, peace;

      All hope excluded thus, behold, instead

      Of us outcast, exil’d, his new delight,

      Mankind created, and for him this world.

      So farewell, hope; and with hope farewell, fear;

      Farewell, remorse!