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 set.
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 rofe,
As day-light funk, and brought in louring night
Her fhadowy offspring, unfubftantia! both,
Privation mere of light and abfent day.
Our Saviour meek and with untroubled mind
After his aery jaunt, though hurried fore,
Hungry and cold betook him to his rest,
Wherever, under fome concourse of shades,
Whose branching arms thick intertwin'd might fhield From dews and damps of night his fhelter'd head,
But shelter'd slept 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 slept the winds
Within their ftony 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 sturdieft 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 ftay'd the terror there ;
Infernal ghofts, and hellifh furies, round
Environ'd thee, fome howl'd, fome yell'd, fome fhriek'd,
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou
Satit unappall'd in calm and finlefs peace.
Thus pafs'd the night fo foul, till morning fair
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray,
Who with her radiant finger ftill'd the roar
Of thunder, chas'd the clouds, and laid the winds,
And grifly fpectres, which the Fiend had rais'd
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 ftorm 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 mifchief done,
The prince of darkness, glad would also seem
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,
Defp'rate of better course, to vent his rage,
And mad despite to be so 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 carelefs mood thus to him faid.
Fair morning yet betides thee, Son of God,
After a dismal 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 wholefome, as a sneeze
To man's lefs univerfe, and foon are gone;
Yet as being oft times noxious where they light 460 On man, beaft, 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 moft was bent;
Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell'st.
Did I not tell thee, if thou didst reject
The perfect feafon offer d with my aid
To win thy deftin'd feat, but wilt prolong
All to the push of fate, purfue 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 beft.
If thou obferve not this, be fure to find,
What I foretold thee, many a hard affay
Of dangers, and adversities, and pains,
Ere thou of Ifrael's fcepter 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 anfwer'd thus. 485
Me worse than wet thou find'st not; other harm
Those terrors, which thou speak'st of, did me none;
I never fear'd they could, though noising 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 fhall reign paft 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 storm'st 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 fwoln 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
By all the Prophets; of thy birth at length
Announc'd by Gabriel with the first I knew,
And of th' angelic fong in Bethlehem field,
On thy birth-night, that fung thee Saviour born.
From that time seldom have I ceas'd to eye
Thy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth,
Thy manhood laft, though yet in private bred;
Till at the ford of Jordan, whither all
Flock to the Baptift, I among the rest,
Though not to be baptiz'd, by voice from Heaven
Heard thee pronounc'd the Son of God belov'd.
Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer view
And narrower fcrutiny, that I might learn
In what degree or meaning thou art call'd
The Son of God, which bears no fingle fenfe;
The Son of God I alfo am, or was,
And if I was, I am; relation ftands;
All men are Sons of God; yet thee I thought
In fome respect far higher so declar'd.
Therefore I watch'd thy footsteps from that hour,
And follow'd thee ftill on to this waste wild;
Where by all beft conjectures I collect
Thou art to be my fatal enemy.
Good reafon then, if I before-hand feek
To understand my adversary, who
And what he is; his wifdom, pow'r, intent;
By parl, or compofition, truce, or league,
To win him, or win from him what I can.
And opportunity I here have had
To try thee, fift thee, and confefs have found thee
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