Devoir de Philosophie

From Paradise Lost, Book I - anthology.

Publié le 12/05/2013

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From Paradise Lost, Book I - anthology. Although his work was later criticized by such authors as English poet William Blake and American-born English poet T. S. Eliot, John Milton's Paradise Lost (1667) is still considered the greatest epic poem of early modern English literature. This excerpt is from Book I, which explains the origin of the conflict between God and Satan. Milton's portrayal of Satan is unique--a character with real motivations and desires, Satan is led astray by excessive pride and belief in his own power over God's power. In the first lines of the poem, Milton follows the convention in epic poems of invoking the Muses, the Greek goddesses that inspired poets, musicians, and philosophers, and he explains his purpose in writing the poem. From Paradise Lost By John Milton Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden, till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat, Sing Heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning how the heav'ns and earth Rose out of chaos: or if Sion hill Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flowed Fast by the oracle of God; I thence Invoke thy aid to my advent'rous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Above th' Aonian mount, while it pursues Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. And chiefly thou O Spirit, that dost prefer Before all temples th' upright heart and pure, Instruct me, for thou know'st; thou from the first Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss And mad'st it pregnant: what in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support; That to the highth of this great argument I may assert Eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men. Say first, for heav'n hides nothing from thy view Nor the deep tract of hell, say first what cause Moved our grand parents in that happy state, Favored of Heav'n so highly, to fall off From their Creator, and transgress his will For one restraint, lords of the world besides? Who first seduced them to that foul revolt? Th' infernal Serpent; he it was, whose guile Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived The mother of mankind, what time his pride Had cast him out from heav'n, with all his host Of rebel angels, by whose aid aspiring To set himself in glory above his peers, He trusted to have equaled the Most High, If he opposed; and with ambitious aim Against the throne and monarchy of God Raised impious war in heav'n and battle proud With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power Hurled headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky With hideous ruin and combustion down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire, Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. Nine times the space that measures day and night To mortal men, he with his horrid crew Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf Confounded though immortal: but his doom Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought Both of lost happiness and lasting pain Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes That witnessed huge affliction and dismay Mixed with obdúrate pride and steadfast hate: At once as far as angels ken he views The dismal situation waste and wild, A dungeon horrible, on all sides round As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed: Such place Eternal Justice had prepared For those rebellious, here their prison ordained In utter darkness, and their portion set As far removed from God and light of heav'n As from the center thrice to th' utmost pole. O how unlike the place from whence they fell! There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmed With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire, He soon discerns, and welt'ring by his side One next himself in power, and next in crime, Long after known in Palestine, and named Beëlzebub. To whom th' Arch-Enemy, And thence in heav'n called Satan, with bold words Breaking the horrid silence thus began. 'If thou beest he; but O how fall'n! how changed From him, who in the happy realms of light Clothed with transcendent brightness didst outshine Myriads though bright: if he whom mutual league, United thoughts and counsels, equal hope And hazard in the glorious enterprise, Joined with me once, now misery hath joined In equal ruin: into what pit thou seest From what highth fall'n, so much the stronger proved He with his thunder: and till then who knew The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those, Nor what the potent victor in his rage Can else inflict, do I repent or change, Though changed in outward luster, that fixed mind And high disdain, from sense of injured merit, That with the mightiest raised me to contend, And to the fierce contention brought along Innumerable force of Spirits armed That durst dislike his reign, and me preferring, His utmost power with adverse power opposed In dubious battle on the plains of heav'n, And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome? That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power Who from the terror of this arm so late Doubted his empire, that were low indeed, That were an ignominy and shame beneath This downfall; since by fate the strength of gods And this empyreal substance cannot fail, Since through experience of this great event In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced, We may with more successful hope resolve To wage by force or guile eternal war Irreconcilable, to our grand foe, Who now triúmphs, and in th' excess of joy Sole reigning holds the tyranny of heav'n.' So spake th' apostate angel, though in pain, Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair: And him thus answered soon his bold compeer. 'O Prince, O Chief of many thronèd Powers, That led th' embattled Seraphim to war Under thy conduct, and in dreadful deeds Fearless, endangered heav'ns 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 heav'n, and all this mighty host In horrible destruction laid thus low, As far as gods and heav'nly essences Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains Invincible, and vigor soon returns, Though all our glory extinct, and happy state Here swallowed up in endless misery. But what if he our conqueror (whom I now Of force believe almighty, since no less Than such could have o'erpow'red 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 undiminished, or eternal being To undergo eternal punishment?' Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-Fiend replied. 'Fall'n Cherub, to be weak is miserable Doing or suffering: but of this be sure, To do aught 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 labor must be to pervert that end, And out of good still to find means of evil; Which ofttimes may succeed, so as perhaps Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb His inmost counsels from their destined aim. But see the angry victor hath recalled His ministers of vengeance and pursuit Back to the gates of heav'n: the sulphurous hail Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid The fiery surge, that from the precipice Of heav'n received us falling, and the thunder, Winged 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 th' 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 harbor there, And reassembling 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 uplift above the wave, and eyes That sparkling blazed, 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, Titanian, or Earth-born, that warred on Jove, Briareos or Typhon, whom the den By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hugest that swim th' ocean stream: Him haply slumb'ring on the Norway foam The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff, Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixèd anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wishèd morn delays: So stretched out huge in length the Arch-Fiend lay Chained on the burning lake, nor ever thence Had ris'n or heaved his head, but that the will And high permission of all-ruling Heaven Left him at large to his own dark designs, That with reiterated crimes he might Heap on himself damnation, while he sought Evil to others, and enraged might see How all his malice served but to bring forth Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shown On man by him seduced, but on himself Treble confusion, wrath and vengeance poured. Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool His mighty stature; on each hand the flames Driv'n backward slope their pointing spires, and rolled In billows, leave i' th' midst a horrid vale. Then with expanded wings he steers his flight Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air That felt unusual weight, till on dry land He lights, if it were land that ever burned With solid, as the lake with liquid fire, And such appeared in hue; as when the force Of subterranean wind transports a hill Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side Of thund'ring Etna, whose combustible And fueled entrails thence conceiving fire, Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds, And leave a singèd bottom all involved With stench and smoke: such resting found the sole Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate, Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood As gods, and by their own recovered strength, Not by the sufferance of supernal power. 'Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,' Said then the lost Archangel, 'this the seat That we must change for heav'n, this mournful gloom For that celestial light? Be it so, since he Who now is sovran can dispose and bid What shall be right: farthest from him is best Whom reason hath equaled, force hath made supreme Above his equals. Farwell happy fields Where joy for ever dwells: hail horrors, hail Infernal world, and thou profoundest hell Receive thy new possessor: one who brings A mind not to be changed by place or time. The mind is its own place, and in itself Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n. What matter where, if I be still the same, And what I should be, all but less than he Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least We shall be free; th' Almighty hath not built Here for his envy, will not drive us hence: Here we may reign secure, and in my choice To reign is worth ambition though in hell: Better to reign in hell, than serve in heav'n. But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, Th' associates and copartners of our loss Lie thus astonished on th' oblivious pool, And call them not to share with us their part In this unhappy mansion, or once more With rallied arms to try what may be yet Regained in heav'n, or what more lost in hell?' So Satan spake, and him Beëlzebub Thus answered. 'Leader of those armies bright, Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foiled, If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge Of battle when it raged, in all assaults Their surest signal, they will soon resume New courage and revive, though now they lie Groveling and prostrate on yon lake of fire, As we erewhile, astounded and amazed, No wonder, fall'n such a pernicious highth.' He scarce had ceased when the superior Fiend Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield Ethereal temper, massy, large and round, Behind him cast; the broad circumference Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views At evening from the top of Fesole, Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe. His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand, He walked with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marl, not like those steps On heaven's azure; and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire; Nathless he so endured, till on the beach Of that inflamèd sea, he stood and called His legions, angel forms, who lay entranced Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High overarched embow'r; or scattered sedge Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed Hath vexed the Red Sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew Busiris and his Memphian chivalry, While with perfidious hatred they pursued The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld From the safe shore their floating carcasses And broken chariot wheels. So thick bestrown Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood, Under amazement of their hideous change. He called so loud, that all the hollow deep Of hell resounded. 'Princes, Potentates, Warriors, the flow'r of heav'n, once yours, now lost, If such astonishment as this can seize Eternal Spirits: or have ye chos'n this place After the toil of battle to repose Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find To slumber here, as in the vales of heav'n? Or in this abject posture have ye sworn To adore the conqueror? who now beholds Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon His swift pursuers from heav'n gates discern Th' advantage, and descending tread us down Thus drooping, or with linkèd thunderbolts Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf. Awake, arise, or be for ever fall'n.' Source: Milton, John. Paradise Lost. Elledge, Scott, ed. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1993.

« At once as far as angels ken he viewsThe dismal situation waste and wild,A dungeon horrible, on all sides roundAs one great furnace flamed, yet from those flamesNo light, but rather darkness visibleServed only to discover sights of woe,Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peaceAnd rest can never dwell, hope never comesThat comes to all; but torture without endStill urges, and a fiery deluge, fedWith ever-burning sulphur unconsumed:Such place Eternal Justice had preparedFor those rebellious, here their prison ordainedIn utter darkness, and their portion setAs far removed from God and light of heav'nAs from the center thrice to th' utmost pole.O how unlike the place from whence they fell!There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelmedWith floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,He soon discerns, and welt'ring by his sideOne next himself in power, and next in crime,Long after known in Palestine, and namedBeëlzebub.

To whom th' Arch-Enemy,And thence in heav'n called Satan, with bold wordsBreaking the horrid silence thus began. 'If thou beest he; but O how fall'n! how changedFrom him, who in the happy realms of lightClothed with transcendent brightness didst outshineMyriads though bright: if he whom mutual league,United thoughts and counsels, equal hopeAnd hazard in the glorious enterprise,Joined with me once, now misery hath joinedIn equal ruin: into what pit thou seestFrom what highth fall'n, so much the stronger provedHe with his thunder: and till then who knewThe force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,Nor what the potent victor in his rageCan else inflict, do I repent or change,Though changed in outward luster, that fixed mindAnd high disdain, from sense of injured merit,That with the mightiest raised me to contend,And to the fierce contention brought alongInnumerable force of Spirits armedThat durst dislike his reign, and me preferring,His utmost power with adverse power opposedIn dubious battle on the plains of heav'n,And shook his throne.

What though the field be lost?All is not lost; the unconquerable will,And study of revenge, immortal hate,And courage never to submit or yield:And what is else not to be overcome?That glory never shall his wrath or mightExtort from me.

To bow and sue for graceWith suppliant knee, and deify his powerWho from the terror of this arm so lateDoubted his empire, that were low indeed,That were an ignominy and shame beneathThis downfall; since by fate the strength of godsAnd this empyreal substance cannot fail,Since through experience of this great eventIn arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,We may with more successful hope resolveTo wage by force or guile eternal warIrreconcilable, to our grand foe,Who now triúmphs, and in th' excess of joySole reigning holds the tyranny of heav'n.' So spake th' apostate angel, though in pain,Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair:And him thus answered soon his bold compeer. 'O Prince, O Chief of many thronèd Powers,That led th' embattled Seraphim to war. »

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