The Battle of Darkness and Light - Джон Мильтон

Скачать книгу

Makes sweet thine anger in thy secrecy?

      What I was saying of that only bride

       Of the Holy Ghost, and which occasioned thee

       To turn towards me for some commentary,

      So long has been ordained to all our prayers

       As the day lasts; but when the night comes on,

       Contrary sound we take instead thereof.

      At that time we repeat Pygmalion,

       Of whom a traitor, thief, and parricide

       Made his insatiable desire of gold;

      And the misery of avaricious Midas,

       That followed his inordinate demand,

       At which forevermore one needs but laugh.

      The foolish Achan each one then records,

       And how he stole the spoils; so that the wrath

       Of Joshua still appears to sting him here.

      Then we accuse Sapphira with her husband,

       We laud the hoof-beats Heliodorus had,

       And the whole mount in infamy encircles

      Polymnestor who murdered Polydorus.

       Here finally is cried: 'O Crassus, tell us,

       For thou dost know, what is the taste of gold?'

      Sometimes we speak, one loud, another low,

       According to desire of speech, that spurs us

       To greater now and now to lesser pace.

      But in the good that here by day is talked of,

       Erewhile alone I was not; yet near by

       No other person lifted up his voice."

      From him already we departed were,

       And made endeavour to o'ercome the road

       As much as was permitted to our power,

      When I perceived, like something that is falling,

       The mountain tremble, whence a chill seized on me,

       As seizes him who to his death is going.

      Certes so violently shook not Delos,

       Before Latona made her nest therein

       To give birth to the two eyes of the heaven.

      Then upon all sides there began a cry,

       Such that the Master drew himself towards me,

       Saying, "Fear not, while I am guiding thee."

      "Gloria in excelsis Deo," all

       Were saying, from what near I comprehended,

       Where it was possible to hear the cry.

      We paused immovable and in suspense,

       Even as the shepherds who first heard that song,

       Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished.

      Then we resumed again our holy path,

       Watching the shades that lay upon the ground,

       Already turned to their accustomed plaint.

      No ignorance ever with so great a strife

       Had rendered me importunate to know,

       If erreth not in this my memory,

      As meditating then I seemed to have;

       Nor out of haste to question did I dare,

       Nor of myself I there could aught perceive;

      So I went onward timorous and thoughtful.

      XXI. The Poet Statius. Praise of Virgil.

       Table of Contents

      The natural thirst, that ne'er is satisfied

       Excepting with the water for whose grace

       The woman of Samaria besought,

      Put me in travail, and haste goaded me

       Along the encumbered path behind my Leader

       And I was pitying that righteous vengeance;

      And lo! in the same manner as Luke writeth

       That Christ appeared to two upon the way

       From the sepulchral cave already risen,

      A shade appeared to us, and came behind us,

       Down gazing on the prostrate multitude,

       Nor were we ware of it, until it spake,

      Saying, "My brothers, may God give you peace!"

       We turned us suddenly, and Virgilius rendered

       To him the countersign thereto conforming.

      Thereon began he: "In the blessed council,

       Thee may the court veracious place in peace,

       That me doth banish in eternal exile!"

      "How," said he, and the while we went with speed,

       "If ye are shades whom God deigns not on high,

       Who up his stairs so far has guided you?"

      And said my Teacher: "If thou note the marks

       Which this one bears, and which the Angel traces

       Well shalt thou see he with the good must reign.

      But because she who spinneth day and night

       For him had not yet drawn the distaff off,

       Which Clotho lays for each one and compacts,

      His soul, which is thy sister and my own,

       In coming upwards could not come alone,

       By reason that it sees not in our fashion.

      Whence I was drawn from out the ample throat

       Of Hell to be his guide, and I shall guide him

       As far on as my school has power to lead.

      But tell us, if thou knowest, why such a shudder

       Erewhile the mountain gave, and why together

       All seemed to cry, as far as its moist feet?"

      In asking he so hit the very eye

       Of my desire, that merely with the hope

       My thirst became the less unsatisfied.

      "Naught is there," he began, "that without order

       May the religion of the mountain feel,

       Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom.

      Free is it here from every permutation;

       What from itself heaven in itself receiveth

       Can be of this the cause, and naught beside;

      Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow,

       Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher falls

       Than the short, little stairway of three steps.

      Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied,

       Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas,

       That often upon earth her region shifts;

      No arid vapour any farther rises

       Than to the top of the three steps I spake of,

       Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet.

      Lower down perchance it trembles less or more,

       But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden

      

Скачать книгу