-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джеймс Джойс
-
- Портрет художника в юности
-
- Стр. 109/241
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
had
long
been
patient
,
pleading
with
the
sinful
soul
,
giving
it
time
to
repent
,
sparing
it
yet
awhile
.
But
that
time
had
gone
.
Time
was
to
sin
and
to
enjoy
,
time
was
to
scoff
at
God
and
at
the
warnings
of
His
holy
church
,
time
was
to
defy
His
majesty
,
to
disobey
His
commands
,
to
hoodwink
one
's
fellow
men
,
to
commit
sin
after
sin
and
to
hide
one
's
corruption
from
the
sight
of
men
.
But
that
time
was
over
.
Now
it
was
God
's
turn
:
and
He
was
not
to
be
hoodwinked
or
deceived
.
Every
sin
would
then
come
forth
from
its
lurking
place
,
the
most
rebellious
against
the
divine
will
and
the
most
degrading
to
our
poor
corrupt
nature
,
the
tiniest
imperfection
and
the
most
heinous
atrocity
.
What
did
it
avail
then
to
have
been
a
great
emperor
,
a
great
general
,
a
marvellous
inventor
,
the
most
learned
of
the
learned
?
All
were
as
one
before
the
judgement
seat
of
God
.
He
would
reward
the
good
and
punish
the
wicked
.
One
single
instant
was
enough
for
the
trial
of
a
man
's
soul
.
One
single
instant
after
the
body
's
death
,
the
soul
had
been
weighed
in
the
balance
.
The
particular
judgement
was
over
and
the
soul
had
passed
to
the
abode
of
bliss
or
to
the
prison
of
purgatory
or
had
been
hurled
howling
into
hell
.
Nor
was
that
all
.
God
's
justice
had
still
to
be
vindicated
before
men
:
after
the
particular
there
still
remained
the
general
judgement
.
The
last
day
had
come
.
The
doomsday
was
at
hand
.
The
stars
of
heaven
were
falling
upon
the
earth
like
the
figs
cast
by
the
fig-tree
which
the
wind
has
shaken
.
The
sun
,
the
great
luminary
of
the
universe
,
had
become
as
sackcloth
of
hair
.
The
moon
was
blood-red
.
The
firmament
was
as
a
scroll
rolled
away
.
The
archangel
Michael
,
the
prince
of
the
heavenly
host
,
appeared
glorious
and
terrible
against
the
sky
.
With
one
foot
on
the
sea
and
one
foot
on
the
land
he
blew
from
the
arch
-
angelical
trumpet
the
brazen
death
of
time
.
The
three
blasts
of
the
angel
filled
all
the
universe
.
Time
is
,
time
was
,
but
time
shall
be
no
more
.
At
the
last
blast
the
souls
of
universal
humanity
throng
towards
the
valley
of
Jehoshaphat
,
rich
and
poor
,
gentle
and
simple
,
wise
and
foolish
,
good
and
wicked
.
The
soul
of
every
human
being
that
has
ever
existed
,
the
souls
of
all
those
who
shall
yet
be
born
,
all
the
sons
and
daughters
of
Adam
,
all
are
assembled
on
that
supreme
day
.
And
lo
,
the
supreme
judge
is
coming
!
No
longer
the
lowly
Lamb
of
God
,
no
longer
the
meek
Jesus
of
Nazareth
,
no
longer
the
Man
of
Sorrows
,
no
longer
the
Good
Shepherd
,
He
is
seen
now
coming
upon
the
clouds
,
in
great
power
and
majesty
,
attended
by
nine
choirs
of
angels
,
angels
and
archangels
,
principalities
,
powers
and
virtues
,
thrones
and
dominations
,
cherubim
and
seraphim
,
God
Omnipotent
,
God
Everlasting
.
He
speaks
:
and
His
voice
is
heard
even
at
the
farthest
limits
of
space
,
even
In
the
bottomless
abyss
.
Supreme
Judge
,
from
His
sentence
there
will
be
and
can
be
no
appeal
.
He
calls
the
just
to
His
side
,
bidding
them
enter
into
the
kingdom
,
the
eternity
of
bliss
prepared
for
them
.
The
unjust
He
casts
from
Him
,
crying
in
His
offended
majesty
:
DEPART
FROM
ME
,
YE
CURSED
,
INTO
EVERLASTING
FIRE
WHICH
WAS
PREPARED
FOR
THE
DEVIL
AND
HIS
ANGELS
.
O
,
what
agony
then
for
the
miserable
sinners
!
Friend
is
torn
apart
from
friend
,
children
are
torn
from
their
parents
,
husbands
from
their
wives
.
The
poor
sinner
holds
out
his
arms
to
those
who
were
dear
to
him
in
this
earthly
world
,
to
those
whose
simple
piety
perhaps
he
made
a
mock
of
,
to
those
who
counselled
him
and
tried
to
lead
him
on
the
right
path
,
to
a
kind
brother
,
to
a
loving
sister
,
to
the
mother
and
father
who
loved
him
so
dearly
.
But
it
is
too
late
:
the
just
turn
away
from
the
wretched
damned
souls
which
now
appear
before
the
eyes
of
all
in
their
hideous
and
evil
character
.
O
you
hypocrites
,
O
,
you
whited
sepulchres
,
O
you
who
present
a
smooth
smiling
face
to
the
world
while
your
soul
within
is
a
foul
swamp
of
sin
,
how
will
it
fare
with
you
in
that
terrible
day
?
And
this
day
will
come
,
shall
come
,
must
come
:
the
day
of
death
and
the
day
of
judgement
.
It
is
appointed
unto
man
to
die
and
after
death
the
judgement
.
Death
is
certain
.
The
time
and
manner
are
uncertain
,
whether
from
long
disease
or
from
some
unexpected
accident
:
the
Son
of
God
cometh
at
an
hour
when
you
little
expect
Him
.
Be
therefore
ready
every
moment
,
seeing
that
you
may
die
at
any
moment
.
Death
is
the
end
of
us
all
.
Death
and
judgement
,
brought
into
the
world
by
the
sin
of
our
first
parents
,
are
the
dark
portals
that
close
our
earthly
existence
,
the
portals
that
open
into
the
unknown
and
the
unseen
,
portals
through
which
every
soul
must
pass
,
alone
,
unaided
save
by
its
good
works
,
without
friend
or
brother
or
parent
or
master
to
help
it
,
alone
and
trembling
.
Let
that
thought
be
ever
before
our
minds
and
then
we
can
not
sin
.
Death
,
a
cause
of
terror
to
the
sinner
,
is
a
blessed
moment
for
him
who
has
walked
in
the
right
path
,
fulfilling
the
duties
of
his
station
in
life
,
attending
to
his
morning
and
evening
prayers
,
approaching
the
holy
sacrament
frequently
and
performing
good
and
merciful
works
.
For
the
pious
and
believing
catholic
,
for
the
just
man
,
death
is
no
cause
of
terror
.
Was
it
not
Addison
,
the
great
English
writer
,
who
,
when
on
his
deathbed
,
sent
for
the
wicked
young
earl
of
Warwick
to
let
him
see
how
a
christian
can
meet
his
end
?
He
it
is
and
he
alone
,
the
pious
and
believing
christian
,
who
can
say
in
his
heart
:
O
grave
,
where
is
thy
victory
?
O
death
,
where
is
thy
sting
?
Every
word
of
it
was
for
him
.
Against
his
sin
,
foul
and
secret
,
the
whole
wrath
of
God
was
aimed
.
The
preacher
's
knife
had
probed
deeply
into
his
disclosed
conscience
and
he
felt
now
that
his
soul
was
festering
in
sin
.
Yes
,
the
preacher
was
right
.
God
's
turn
had
come
.
Like
a
beast
in
its
lair
his
soul
had
lain
down
in
its
own
filth
but
the
blasts
of
the
angel
's
trumpet
had
driven
him
forth
from
the
darkness
of
sin
into
the
light
.
The
words
of
doom
cried
by
the
angel
shattered
in
an
instant
his
presumptuous
peace
.
The
wind
of
the
last
day
blew
through
his
mind
,
his
sins
,
the
jewel-eyed
harlots
of
his
imagination
,
fled
before
the
hurricane
,
squeaking
like
mice
in
their
terror
and
huddled
under
a
mane
of
hair
.
