Irreconcileable to our grand foe,
Who now triumphs, and, in the' excess of joy
Sole reigning, holds the tyranny of Heaven.»>
So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair:
And him thus answer'd soon his bold compeer.
« O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers,
That led the' embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, indanger'd Heaven's perpetual king,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate;
Too well I see, and rue the dire event,
That with sad overthrow, and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heavenly essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory' extinct, and happy state
Here swallow'd up in endless misery.
Mais un enfant des cieux n'est point né pour
peut être vaincu, mais il ne peut périr. Imprudent! il nous fit des ames immortelles;
Eh bien! livrons-lui donc des guerres éternelles. rien les leçons du malheur?
Les revers n'ont-ils pas instruit notre valeur?
Profitons de nos maux : par
Attaquons le tyran, dont l'insolente ivresse
Triomphe dans les cieux, et, régnant sans rivaux,
Foule aux pieds nos débris, et jouit de nos maux. »
La terreur dans le sein et l'orgueil dans la bouche, Tel Satan exhaloit son désespoir farouche.
Belzebuth lui répond: « O chef de nos guerriers, Qui guidois, enflammois leurs courages altiers, Quand ces héros du ciel firent, par leur vaillance, Entre eux et l'Éternel chanceler la balance, Et laissèrent douter si la loi du destin, La force ou le hasard, le fit leur souverain; Qui verroit sans effroi leur chute épouvantable? Chérubins, séraphins, cette armée innombrable Qui fit trembler les cieux, tout en un même jour Dans l'éternel abîme a péri sans retour, (Autant qu'ont pu périr des essences divines): Notre ame échappa seule à ces vastes ruines: Nous vivons; et bientôt oubliant leur langueur, Nos esprits indomptés reprendront leur vigueur.
But what if he, our conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe Almighty, since no less
Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as ours),
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate'er his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy deep?
What can it then avail, though yet we feel
Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?»
Whereto with speedy words the' Arch-fiend replied. << Fall'n Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure,
To do ought good never will be our task;
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil,
Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destin'd aim.
But see, the
angry victor hath recall'd
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit,
Mais ce Dieu tout-puissant... (car ce débris immense
Me force enfin de croire à sa toute-puissance...)
Et quel autre qu'un Dieu put triompher de nous?
Qu'importe que sa main adoucisse ses coups,
Qu'il nous laisse assez forts pour traîner notre chaîne,
Pour endurer son sceptre, et suffire à sa haine?
Peut-être il nous faudra, serviles instruments,
Attiser ses brasiers, aider à nos tourments;
Et soumis en vaincus, châtiés en rebelles,
Exercer ou souffrir des peines éternelles. »
<< Foibles guerriers, jadis l'honneur des chérubins,
Travailler ou souffrir, quels que soient nos destins!
Il est dur, dit Satan, de sentir sa foiblesse.
Que nous veut de ce Dieu la fureur vengeresse?
Je ne sais, mais crois-moi, désormais aucun bien
N'est plus fait pour ton cœur, n'est plus fait pour le mien.
Eh bien! pour affliger ce monarque suprême,
Aimons ce qu'il abhorre, abhorrons ce qu'il aime.
Changer le mal en bien est le plaisir d'un Dieu;
Changer le bien en mal, voilà mon digne vou.
Remplissons nos destins; du moins la résistance
Pourra de ses desseins fatiguer la constance;
Et nos esprits pervers, combattant ses bontés,
Mêleront quelque charme à nos calamités.
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown, hath laid
The fiery surge, that from the precipice
Of Heaven receiv'd us falling; and the thunder,
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless deep.
Let us not slip the' occasion, whether scorn,
Or satiate fury, yield it from our foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there,
And re-assembling our afflicted Powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy; our own loss how repair;
How overcome this dire calamity;
What reinforcement we may gain from hope;
If not, what resolution from despair. »>
Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head up-lift above the waves, and eyes
That sparkling blaz'd, his other parts besides,
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name of monstrous size,
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