Paradise Lost - Milton John - Страница 23

• Предыдущая
• 23/65
• Следующая

In counterpoise, now ponders all events,

Battels and Realms: in these he put two weights

The sequel each of parting and of fight;

The latter quick up flew, and kickt the beam;

Which GABRIEL spying, thus bespake the Fiend.

SATAN, I know thy strength, and thou knowst mine,

Neither our own but giv'n; what follie then

To boast what Arms can doe, since thine no more

Then Heav'n permits, nor mine, though doubld now

To trample thee as mire: for proof look up,

And read thy Lot in yon celestial Sign

Where thou art weigh'd, & shown how light, how weak,

If thou resist. The Fiend lookt up and knew

His mounted scale aloft: nor more; but fled

Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night.

Now Morn her rosie steps in th' Eastern Clime

Advancing, sow'd the Earth with Orient Pearle,

When ADAM wak't, so customd, for his sleep

Was Aerie light, from pure digestion bred,

And temperat vapors bland, which th' only sound

Of leaves and fuming rills, AURORA's fan,

Lightly dispers'd, and the shrill Matin Song

Of Birds on every bough; so much the more

His wonder was to find unwak'nd EVE

With Tresses discompos'd, and glowing Cheek,

As through unquiet rest: he on his side

Leaning half-rais'd, with looks of cordial Love

Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld

Beautie, which whether waking or asleep,

Shot forth peculiar Graces; then with voice

Milde, as when ZEPHYRUS on FLORA breathes,

Her hand soft touching, whisperd thus. Awake

My fairest, my espous'd, my latest found,

Heav'ns last best gift, my ever new delight,

Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh field

Calls us, we lose the prime, to mark how spring

Our tended Plants, how blows the Citron Grove,

What drops the Myrrhe, & what the balmie Reed,

How Nature paints her colours, how the Bee

Sits on the Bloom extracting liquid sweet.

Such whispering wak'd her, but with startl'd eye

On ADAM, whom imbracing, thus she spake.

O Sole in whom my thoughts find all repose,

My Glorie, my Perfection, glad I see

Thy face, and Morn return'd, for I this Night,

Such night till this I never pass'd, have dream'd,

If dream'd, not as I oft am wont, of thee,

Works of day pass't, or morrows next designe,

But of offence and trouble, which my mind

Knew never till this irksom night; methought

Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walk

With gentle voice, I thought it thine; it said,

Why sleepst thou EVE? now is the pleasant time,

The cool, the silent, save where silence yields

To the night-warbling Bird, that now awake

Tunes sweetest his love-labor'd song; now reignes

Full Orb'd the Moon, and with more pleasing light

Shadowie sets off the face of things; in vain,

If none regard; Heav'n wakes with all his eyes,

Whom to behold but thee, Natures desire,

In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment

Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze.

I rose as at thy call, but found thee not;

To find thee I directed then my walk;

And on, methought, alone I pass'd through ways

That brought me on a sudden to the Tree

Of interdicted Knowledge: fair it seem'd,

Much fairer to my Fancie then by day:

And as I wondring lookt, beside it stood

One shap'd & wing'd like one of those from Heav'n

By us oft seen; his dewie locks distill'd

Ambrosia; on that Tree he also gaz'd;

And O fair Plant, said he, with fruit surcharg'd,

Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet,

Nor God, nor Man; is Knowledge so despis'd?

Or envie, or what reserve forbids to taste?

Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold

Longer thy offerd good, why else set here?

This said he paus'd not, but with ventrous Arme

He pluckt, he tasted; mee damp horror chil'd

At such bold words voucht with a deed so bold:

But he thus overjoy'd, O Fruit Divine,

Sweet of thy self, but much more sweet thus cropt,

Forbidd'n here, it seems, as onely fit

For Gods, yet able to make Gods of Men:

And why not Gods of Men, since good, the more

Communicated, more abundant growes,

The Author not impair'd, but honourd more?

Here, happie Creature, fair Angelic EVE,

Partake thou also; happie though thou art,

Happier thou mayst be, worthier canst not be:

Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods

Thy self a Goddess, not to Earth confind,

But somtimes in the Air, as wee, somtimes

Ascend to Heav'n, by merit thine, and see

What life the Gods live there, and such live thou.

So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held,

Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part

Which he had pluckt; the pleasant savourie smell

So quick'nd appetite, that I, methought,

Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the Clouds

With him I flew, and underneath beheld

The Earth outstretcht immense, a prospect wide

And various: wondring at my flight and change

To this high exaltation; suddenly

My Guide was gon, and I, me thought, sunk down,

And fell asleep; but O how glad I wak'd

To find this but a dream! Thus EVE her Night

Related, and thus ADAM answerd sad.

Best Image of my self and dearer half,

The trouble of thy thoughts this night in sleep

Affects me equally; nor can I like

This uncouth dream, of evil sprung I fear;

Yet evil whence? in thee can harbour none,

Created pure. But know that in the Soule

Are many lesser Faculties that serve

Reason as chief; among these Fansie next

Her office holds; of all external things,

Which the five watchful Senses represent,

She forms Imaginations, Aerie shapes,

Which Reason joyning or disjoyning, frames

All what we affirm or what deny, and call

Our knowledge or opinion; then retires

Into her private Cell when Nature rests.

Oft in her absence mimic Fansie wakes

To imitate her; but misjoyning shapes,

Wilde work produces oft, and most in dreams,

Ill matching words and deeds long past or late.

Som such resemblances methinks I find

Of our last Eevnings talk, in this thy dream,

But with addition strange; yet be not sad.

Evil into the mind of God or Man

May come and go, so unapprov'd, and leave

No spot or blame behind: Which gives me hope

That what in sleep thou didst abhorr to dream,

Waking thou never wilt consent to do.

Be not disheart'nd then, nor cloud those looks

That wont to be more chearful and serene

Then when fair Morning first smiles on the World,

And let us to our fresh imployments rise

Among the Groves, the Fountains, and the Flours

That open now thir choicest bosom'd smells

Reservd from night, and kept for thee in store.

So cheard he his fair Spouse, and she was cheard,

But silently a gentle tear let fall

From either eye, and wip'd them with her haire;

Two other precious drops that ready stood,

Each in thir chrystal sluce, hee ere they fell

Kiss'd as the gracious signs of sweet remorse

And pious awe, that feard to have offended.

So all was cleard, and to the Field they haste.

But first from under shadie arborous roof,

Soon as they forth were come to open sight

Of day-spring, and the Sun, who scarce up risen

With wheels yet hov'ring o're the Ocean brim,

Shot paralel to the earth his dewie ray,

Discovering in wide Lantskip all the East

Of Paradise and EDENS happie Plains,

Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began

Thir Orisons, each Morning duly paid

• Предыдущая
• 23/65
• Следующая