7

类别:文学名著 作者:约翰·弥尔顿 本章:7

    Nohe Aire

    Made hir Shields [ 305 ]

    Blazd opposite, ion stood

    In ird

    fighrong,

    And left large field, unsafe he wind

    Of sucion, suco set forth [ 310 ]

    Great tures concord broke,

    Among tellations warr were sprung,

    ts rus maligne

    Of fiercest opposition in mid Skie,

    S, and thir jarring Sphears confound. [ 315 ]

    toget to Almightie Arme,

    Uplifted imminent one stroke they aimd

    t migermine, and not need repeate,

    As not of po once; nor odds appeerd

    In mig prevention; but the sword [ 320 ]

    Of Miche Armorie of God

    as givn emperd so, t neither keen

    Nor solid mig t edge: it met

    tan eep force to smite

    Descending, and in  said, [ 325 ]

    But  wring shard

    All  side; tan first knew pain,

    And o and fro convolvd; so sore

    tinuous wound

    Passd t tance closd [ 330 ]

    Not long divisible, and from the gash

    A stream of Nectarous humor issuing flowd

    Sanguin, sucial Spirits may bleed,

    And all aind ere w.

    Forto his aide was run [ 335 ]

    By Angels many and strong, werposd

    Defence, whir Shields

    Back to ; ood retird

    From off they him laid

    Gnase and shame [ 340 ]

    to find  matchless, and his pride

    h

    o equal God in power.


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