Welsh literature -- 18th century; Welsh literature -- Translations into English; Wynne, Ellis, 1671-1734
He ceased. Then Apolyon uprose and spoke: “I know of nought more certain
to lead them hither than what brought you here, {107} and that is Pride;
once it plants its straight stake in them and puffs them up, there is no
need to fear that they will condescend to bear the cross or go through
the narrow gate. I will go with your daughter Pride, and before they can
realise where they are, I will drive the Welsh hither headlong while
admiring the pomp of the English, and the English while imitating the
vivacity of the French.”
After him arose Asmodai, the devil of lust: “’T is not unknown to you,
mightiest King of the deep, nor to you, princes of the land of despair,
how many of the gulfs of hell have I filled through voluptuousness and
lewdness. What of the time I kindled such a flame of lust over all the
world that the deluge had needs be sent to clear the earth of men, and to
sweep them all into our unquenchable fire? What of Sodoma and Gomorrah,
fine and fair cities, which I so consumed with licentiousness that a
hell-shower blazed in their infernal lusts and beat them down here alive,
to burn for ages on ages. And what of the great hosts of the Assyrians,
who were all slain in one night on my account? I disappointed Sarah of
seven husbands’ {108} and Solomon and many a thousand other kings did I
bring to shame through women. Wherefore let me and this sweet sin go,
and I will kindle the hellish spark so generally that it will at length
become one with this inextinguishable flame, for scarce one will ever
return from following me to walk in the paths of life.” At that he sat
down.
Then Belphegor, chief of sloth and idleness, stood up and spake thus: “I
am the great prince of listlessness and sloth, who have great influence
upon millions of all sorts and conditions of men; I am that stagnant pond
where the spawn of every evil is bred, where the dregs of every
corruption and baleful slime grows rank. What good wouldst thou be,
Asmodai, or ye, chief damned evils, were I not? I, who keep the windows
open and unguarded that ye may enter into the man when ye will, through
his eyes, his ears and his mouth. I will go and roll them all over the
precipice unto you in their sleep.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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