7

类别:文学名著 作者:约翰·弥尔顿 本章:7

    O Son, w we her viewing [ 235 ]

    Idlely,  Authrives

    In ot provides

    For us  cannot be

    But t success attends him; if mishap,

    Ere turnd, h fury drivn [ 240 ]

    By his

    Can fit , or their revenge.

    Metrengthin me rise,

    ings growing, and Dominion givn me large

    Beyond tever drawes me on, [ 245 ]

    Or sympatural force

    Po greatest distance to unite

    it amity things of like kinde

    By secretest conveyance. thou my Shade

    Inseparable must h mee along: [ 250 ]

    For Deate.

    But least tie of passing back

    Stay urn perhis Gulfe

    Impassable, Impervious, let us try

    Adventrous  to thy power and mine [ 255 ]

    Not unagreeable, to found a path

    Over to t new orld

    an no

    Of merit o all t,

    Easing tercourse, [ 260 ]

    Or transmigration, as t shall lead.

    Nor can I miss trongly drawn

    By t attraction and instinct.

    he meager Shadow answerd soon.

    Goe ion strong [ 265 ]

    Leads t lag behinde, nor erre

    t I draw

    Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste

    t live:

    Nor so terprisest [ 270 ]

    Be ing, but afford thee equal aid,

    So saying,  he smell

    Of mortal ch. As when a flock

    Of ravenous Foe,

    Against ttel, to a Field, [ 275 ]

    , come flying, lurd

    it of living Carcasses designd

    For deat.


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