Their orators thou then extoll'ft, as those
The top of eloquence, ftatifts indeed,
And lovers of their country, as may seem;
But herein to our prophets far beneath,
As men divinely taught, and better teaching
The folid rules of civil government
In their majestic unaffected stile
Than all th' oratory of Greece and Rome.
In them is plaineft taught, and easiest learnt,
What makes a nation happy', and keeps it so,
What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat;
These only with our law best form a king.
So fpake the Son of God; but Satan now
Quite at a lofs, for all his darts were spent,
Thus to our Saviour with ftern brow reply'd.
Since neither wealth nor honor, arms nor arts,
Kingdom nor empire pleases thee, nor ought
By me propos'd in life contemplative,
Or active, tended on by glory', or fame,
What doft thou in this world? The wilderness
For thee is fitteft place; I found thee there,
And thither will return thee; yet remember
What I foretel thee, foon thou shalt have cause
To wish thou never hadft rejected thus
Nicely or cautiously my offer'd aid,
Which would have set thee in fhort time with ease
Now at full age, fulness of time, thy feason,
When prophecies of thee are best fulfill'd.
Now contrary, if I read ought in Heaven,
On David's throne, or throne of all the world,
Or Heav'n write ought of fate, by what the stars
Voluminous, or fingle characters,
In their conjunction met, give me to fpell,
Sorrows, and labors, oppofition, hate
Attends thee, fcorns, reproaches, injuries,
Violence and stripes, and lastly cruel death;
A kingdom they portend thee, but what kingdom,
Real or allegoric, I difcern not,
Nor when, eternal fure, as without end,
Without beginning; for no date prefix'd
Directs me in the starry rubric fet.
So fay'ing he took (for still he knew his power
Not yet expir'd) and to the wilderness
Brought back the Son of God, and left him there,
Feigning to difappear. Darkness now rose,
As day-light funk, and brought in louring night
Her fhadowy offspring, unfubftantial both,
Privation mere of light and absent day.
Our Saviour meek and with untroubled mind
After his aery jaunt, though hurried fore,
Hungry and cold betook him to his reft,
Wherever, under fome concourfe of fhades,
Whofe branching arms thick intertwin'd might shield
From dews and damps of night his fhelter'd head,
But shelter'd flept in vain, for at his head
The Tempter watch'd, and foon with ugly dreams
Difturb'd his fleep; and either tropic now
'Gan thunder, and both ends of Heav'n, the clouds 410
From
many a horrid rift abortive pour'd
Fierce ran with lightning mix'd, water with fire
In ruin reconcil'd: nor flept the winds
Within their stony caves, but rush'd abroad
From the four hinges of the world, and fell
On the vex'd wilderness, whofe tallest pines,
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks
Bow'd their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blafts,
Or torn up fheer: ill waft thou shrouded then,
O patient Son of God, yet only stood'st
Unfhaken; nor yet stay'd the terror there;
Infernal ghofts, and hellish furies, round
Environ'd thee, fome howl'd, fome yell'd, some fhriek'd,
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou
Satft unappall'd in calm and finless peace.
Thus pafs'd the night fo foul, till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray,
Who with her radiant finger still'd the roar
Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grily spectres, which the Fiend had rais'd 430
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire.
And now the fun with more effectual beams
Had chear'd the face of earth, and dry'd the wet
From drooping plant, or dropping tree; the birds,
Who all things now behold more fresh and green, 435
After a night of storm fo ruinous,
Clear'd up their choiceft notes in bush and spray
To gratulate the fweet return of morn;
Nor yet amidst this joy and brightest morn
Was abfent, after all his mischief done,
The prince of darkness, glad would also feem
Of this fair change, and to our Saviour came,
Yet with no new device, they all were spent,
Rather by this his last affront resolv’d,
Desp'rate of better course, to vent his rage,
And mad despite to be fo oft repell'd.
Him walking on a funny hill he found,
Back'd on the north and weft by a thick wood;
Out of the wood he starts in wonted shape,
And in a careless mood thus to him faid.
Fair morning yet betides thee, Son of God,
After a difmal night; I heard the wrack
As earth and sky would mingle; but myself
Was diftant; and these flaws, though mortals fear them
As dang'rous to the pillar'd frame of Heaven,
Or to the earth's dark bafis underneath,
Are to the main as inconfiderable,
And harmless, if not wholesome, as a fneeze
To man's lefs univerfe, and foon are gone;
Yet as being oft times noxious where they light 460 On man, beast, plant, wafteful and turbulent,
Like turbulencies in th' affairs of men,
Over whofe heads they roar, and feem to point,
They oft fore-fignify and threaten ill :
This tempeft at this defert most was bent;
Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell'ft.
Did I not tell thee, if thou didft reject
The perfect season offer'd with my aid
To win thy deftin'd feat, but wilt prolong
All to the push of fate, pursue thy way
Of gaining David's throne no man knows when,
For both the when and how is no where told,
Thou shalt be what thou art ordain'd, no doubt;
For angels have proclam'd it, but concealing
The time and means: each act is rightlieft done, 475
Not when it muft, but when it may be best.
If thou observe not this, be fure to find,
What I foretold thee, many a hard assay
Of dangers, and adverfities, and pains,
Ere thou of Ifrael's scepter get fast hold;
Whereof this ominous night that clos'd thee round,
So many terrors, voices, prodigies,
May warn thee, as a fure fore-going fign.
So talk'd he while the Son of God went on
And stay'd not, but in brief him answer'd thus. 485
Me worse than wet thou find'ft not; other harm
Those terrors, which thou speak'st of, did me none;
I never fear'd they could, though noifing loud
And threatning nigh; what they can do as figns
Betokening, or ill boding, I contemn
As falfe portents, not fent from God, but thee;
Who, knowing I shall reign past thy preventing,
Obtrud'ft thy offer'd aid, that I accepting
At least might feem to hold all pow'r of thee,
Ambitious Spirit, and wouldst be thought my God,
And ftorm'ft refus'd, thinking to terrify
Me to thy will; defift, thou art difcern'd
And toil'ft in vain, nor me in vain moleft.
To whom the Fiend now swoln with rage reply'd.
Then hear, O Son of David, Virgin-born;
For Son of God to me is yet in doubt:
Of the Meffiah I have heard foretold
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